[ Despite the ease in his heart, and how little proper rest he has earned over the past week, for Kaveh sleep does not come so easily. Or, to put it more correctly, it comes and goes in bursts, lulling him into the world of dreams only to wake him with a start some time later, eyes open wide in the darkness and heart pounding in his chest until he's lucid enough to remember the events of the evening, to recognize the solidness of Alhaitham's form against him, wrapped around him,
until he recalls that he's not alone anymore.
Better than he's managed in a week, and hand in hand with the belief that it will only get better from here, but still restless— which is why (paired with the hangover, he's sure) Kaveh is awake in the end so much earlier than the other man, lying in the soft wash of morning light and listening to his breathing, thinking over how badly they nearly ruined things— again— over a misunderstanding. It's too much to bear, and in the end he gets out of bed early, not exactly wanting to leave but wanting to keep himself busy, and so by the time Alhaitham wakes up, Kaveh's things are back where they belong, the kitchen is cleaned, there's coffee on the table and the blonde is walking back into the other's bedroom with coffee of his own, and toast on a plate in his other hand, ready to work its magic on that hangover.
His eyes roll at the sass, and the rejoinder is quick to find his tongue, a joke that isn't funny, something about moving out, and Kaveh swallows its bitter taste as he shakes his head, moving to sit next to the other on the bed. ]
I moved my things back where they belong, [ he says instead, holding out the plate of toast. Where he belongs. He's not going anywhere. But still, he can't help but add a little snark of his own, even as his shoulder comes flush with the other man's: ] The house looked embarrassingly dull without them.
[ Worse than that, it looked wrong in a way Kaveh couldn't quite place. For all those months he'd made noise about moving out, finding his own space— when he finally did, even for a week, nothing about it was right.
He sips at his own coffee, gaze falling to the plate between them. ]
no subject
until he recalls that he's not alone anymore.
Better than he's managed in a week, and hand in hand with the belief that it will only get better from here, but still restless— which is why (paired with the hangover, he's sure) Kaveh is awake in the end so much earlier than the other man, lying in the soft wash of morning light and listening to his breathing, thinking over how badly they nearly ruined things— again— over a misunderstanding. It's too much to bear, and in the end he gets out of bed early, not exactly wanting to leave but wanting to keep himself busy, and so by the time Alhaitham wakes up, Kaveh's things are back where they belong, the kitchen is cleaned, there's coffee on the table and the blonde is walking back into the other's bedroom with coffee of his own, and toast on a plate in his other hand, ready to work its magic on that hangover.
His eyes roll at the sass, and the rejoinder is quick to find his tongue, a joke that isn't funny, something about moving out, and Kaveh swallows its bitter taste as he shakes his head, moving to sit next to the other on the bed. ]
I moved my things back where they belong, [ he says instead, holding out the plate of toast. Where he belongs. He's not going anywhere. But still, he can't help but add a little snark of his own, even as his shoulder comes flush with the other man's: ] The house looked embarrassingly dull without them.
[ Worse than that, it looked wrong in a way Kaveh couldn't quite place. For all those months he'd made noise about moving out, finding his own space— when he finally did, even for a week, nothing about it was right.
He sips at his own coffee, gaze falling to the plate between them. ]
I missed you.