I can keep the intention of a promise. [ the scribe murmurs, eyes drifting to where kaveh's lips met the skin of his hand. ] Making commitments I can't keep seems disingenuous, when it appears neither of us have been motivated by malice. Even when we talk, we've repeatedly proven that it can just as easily devolve into an argument because of perspective. Emotion.

[ things he's still coming to grips with in their nuance, really. and it's so hard to focus on the conversation when he's torn between feeling like shit warmed up or frustratingly charmed by how beautiful kaveh looks as his lips graze his skin, doing something to stir up the flicker of feeling deep down inside him - but alhaitham is doing his best to put what he considers ephemeral concepts into words, because kaveh's right.

this all needed to be addressed, perhaps even breaking the issues down to their core components so there was absolutely no room for misinterpretation since they both seemed to run a mile with it; because the scribe doesn't want a repeat of the confronting emptiness of the past week. it felt too familiar, that hollow echo of pain just distant enough to be reminiscent of something else.

then the architect says something that makes alhaitham purse his lips in displeasure, the ghost of a frown on his face. ]

Don't say that. [ it comes out more as a demand than he intends, but the taller man had never bothered mincing words. ] It wouldn't be in the spirit of a new start if you took all the blame, when the very definition of a relationship is a fine balance.

[ he adds as an afterthought; ] - apparently.