[ If it were anyone else Kaveh was talking to about this, the blonde might simply assume that they had taken action out of kindness. Those who know the closely-held secret of his shameful debt also know how wearing it is on him, how much stress and anxiety it causes him on a daily basis. Lacking mora to freely do what he might otherwise, forced to live a lie, trapped for all intents and purposes in a house not his own—
(Not that, despite his loud and frequent protestations, he actually thinks of himself as trapped. He likes living with Alhaitham, even when the other man drives him up the wall, sometimes even then. Moreso, now that they're dating, now that he can wander into the other's room in the middle of the night and slip under the covers to be greeted with a lazy, half-asleep kiss.
He just wishes that he had the choice. That he could say he's staying in Alhaitham's house because he wants to, not purely because he must.)
And so, greeted with the frequent and loud complaints of the architect, there might be those who, in the right financial situation, would take care of things for him— never at his request, and always to his chagrin.
But it's not something he thought he'd ever have to worry about with Alhaitham.
It's not that the other isn't a good person, of course... but this just isn't the sort of thing he does. The scribe practically lives by the rule of lex talionis, for actions both good and bad— what is given must be equally returned, what is received must be repaid in kind. (Never mind that in their case, such reciprocation has always been Kaveh's choice, Kaveh's sense of obligation driving him to return favors through chores, acts Alhaitham has never actually requested of him.)
And yet here they are, Kaveh bending to pick the fallen items from the floor with trembling fingers, knuckles that ache under the pressure he slammed into them mere moments before. Here they are, with Alhaitham confirming that he not only did exactly the one thing Kaveh thought he would never do, but did it out of a sense of the architect being hindered, impacted. Wanting to be free. ]
You—
[ He's halfway through picking up a folder that has fallen onto the floor when he stops, the card slipping from his fingers and back onto the rug— and he recognizes the pattern on it, he thinks, something remarkably similar to the scribblings Alhaitham makes while he's deep in thought—
Wanting to be free, and what if such words are true not only for himself, but for the other man? What if Alhaitham is finally tired of the frustrated hammering in the small hours, the moments stolen under the covers of his bed, the contretemps over what's for breakfast, or what the bartender actually said about the wine he'd brought home, or if that cocked die had really landed on Dendro or actually Electro? What if he's tired of having his wine stolen or stealing beer in return, of waking every morning to stray blonde hairs in his bed—
What if he just wants his quiet back, and closing Kaveh's debt is the way for him to do that?
What if he's tired of Kaveh?
By the time he straightens up again, the anger has drained from Kaveh's face, and his eyes, as they fix on that impassive, pale face, are aching. ]
I guess you're right. [ His voice is hoarse, even as he tries to keep it steady, even as he tries to smile. ] It was a hindrance. Now I can— now I can look for— I can buy a house. I'm always talking about moving out, now I can finally do it, right?
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(Not that, despite his loud and frequent protestations, he actually thinks of himself as trapped. He likes living with Alhaitham, even when the other man drives him up the wall, sometimes even then. Moreso, now that they're dating, now that he can wander into the other's room in the middle of the night and slip under the covers to be greeted with a lazy, half-asleep kiss.
He just wishes that he had the choice. That he could say he's staying in Alhaitham's house because he wants to, not purely because he must.)
And so, greeted with the frequent and loud complaints of the architect, there might be those who, in the right financial situation, would take care of things for him— never at his request, and always to his chagrin.
But it's not something he thought he'd ever have to worry about with Alhaitham.
It's not that the other isn't a good person, of course... but this just isn't the sort of thing he does. The scribe practically lives by the rule of lex talionis, for actions both good and bad— what is given must be equally returned, what is received must be repaid in kind. (Never mind that in their case, such reciprocation has always been Kaveh's choice, Kaveh's sense of obligation driving him to return favors through chores, acts Alhaitham has never actually requested of him.)
And yet here they are, Kaveh bending to pick the fallen items from the floor with trembling fingers, knuckles that ache under the pressure he slammed into them mere moments before. Here they are, with Alhaitham confirming that he not only did exactly the one thing Kaveh thought he would never do, but did it out of a sense of the architect being hindered, impacted. Wanting to be free. ]
You—
[ He's halfway through picking up a folder that has fallen onto the floor when he stops, the card slipping from his fingers and back onto the rug— and he recognizes the pattern on it, he thinks, something remarkably similar to the scribblings Alhaitham makes while he's deep in thought—
Wanting to be free, and what if such words are true not only for himself, but for the other man? What if Alhaitham is finally tired of the frustrated hammering in the small hours, the moments stolen under the covers of his bed, the contretemps over what's for breakfast, or what the bartender actually said about the wine he'd brought home, or if that cocked die had really landed on Dendro or actually Electro? What if he's tired of having his wine stolen or stealing beer in return, of waking every morning to stray blonde hairs in his bed—
What if he just wants his quiet back, and closing Kaveh's debt is the way for him to do that?
What if he's tired of Kaveh?
By the time he straightens up again, the anger has drained from Kaveh's face, and his eyes, as they fix on that impassive, pale face, are aching. ]
I guess you're right. [ His voice is hoarse, even as he tries to keep it steady, even as he tries to smile. ] It was a hindrance. Now I can— now I can look for— I can buy a house. I'm always talking about moving out, now I can finally do it, right?