[ For a split second, Kaveh thinks he'll just shrug the other man's hand off his shoulder and walk away... and then the words spoken by the scribe start to stir an angry, heated frustration in his heart. He's tired of this stupid bullshit; after all Alhaitham's insistence on him sharing his troubles, now the scribe is essentially telling him he doesn't expect to be told, that it's not worth—
He whirls to face the other man, knocking that gentle hand off his shoulder and glaring up at him, revealing without intending to the tears clinging to his lashes, the way his lower lip trembles despite himself; overall adding to the complicated, messy look that he has about him this morning. ]
"So much", Alhaitham? Is that what you think we have here?
[ The words are laced with bitter agony, glaring despite the swimming wet of his eyes, and there are thousands of things he needs to say and not enough words to say them. And when he does speak, what comes out is wrong: ]
What is it, then? The "so much" you talk about. You said it yourself: this is a last resort for me, so why should I fight to keep it?
[ A pause, and his eyes close, a catch of his breath being the only thing keeping him from breaking down in tears over this whole stupid thing. That was too much, that— He was unfair, he spoke out of turn... ]
I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just... [ His gaze finally drops from the other's, the steam of anger and hurt leaving him as quickly as it built back up. ] Sorry.
What? I wasn't talking about us. I was talking about you.
[ alhaitham retorts defensively, mostly because his meaning had been more kaveh's reputation, his career, his future which could be in jeopardy if he kept on the course of this overemotional spiral of his. his reply is too quick though, as if the blonde's response had actually hurt him - as if the prospect of what they'd been through together over the years, whether or not it had been interspersed with an egregious amount of bickering, had meant nothing.
alhaitham didn't choose to spend time around many people. he kept largely to himself, lived a quiet life, and maintained a very small circle of colleagues that he entertained the company of - 'friends' would probably be the more acceptable term, but it wasn't one the scribe had ever really paid much attention to.
the fact that he was still here, had taken kaveh in when he'd asked without even a second thought was already significant in relation to his other relationships. maybe that's why it smarts, he thinks, when the longest, most frustrating constant in his life didn't seem to consider their history as significant.
and so, alhaitham doesn't really know what to say after the apology. he's equal parts pissed off, hurt and guilty, observant gaze catching the tears collecting at the edges of kaveh's painfully beautiful eyes. it's an alien feeling, guilt, but seeing his roommate in this state was making everything a thousand times more difficult to handle objectively.
silence hangs heavily between them as they stand there awkwardly in the hallway, both drowning in foreign territory.
finally, alhaitham asks the only question that would seem to explain a lot of what had happened the past couple of days, his voice quiet but blunt; ]
[ If he were thinking in any sort of rational manner at this point, it might occur to Kaveh that the scribe, just like him, is being defensive, is choosing his words out of self-protection more than a desire to hurt. But he's all emotion right now, no logic, no capability to see past the way the words sound on Alhaitham's lips, accusatory tone throwing the architect's rejection right back at him. To him, "I was talking about you" hints at something the scribe is already feeling based on his own earlier words, that the other feels as if none of the time spent between them has been worth anything at all. And that hurts more than he likes to admit— even though he himself is guilty of implying the exact same thing literally moments before.
The thing is though that Kaveh knows he doesn't mean it. Alhaitham's thoughts, as always, are a complete fucking mystery.
...Or maybe not, because the blonde definitely doesn't expect that happens next. Do you hate me? Alhaitham asks, and ruby eyes widen, looking back up from the floor to meet the scribe's gaze, confusion written over his own expression at the vulnerability edging into the other man's voice, and for a second his mouth hangs open inelegantly, because what?
Of course he doesn't hate Alhaitham, is the immediate concession in his own mind. After all, as much as he likes to claim he has nowhere else to go, as much as he finds himself embarrassed and indignant about the fact that he's living here, the scribe was still the person he asked when he found himself in this pitiful situation. He's the one he seeks out when he needs or wants information, even though he knows the other's reply is destined to piss him the fuck off.
No, he doesn't hate him. If anything, it's the opposite. He— ]
Fuck.
[ That's not an answer. That's not even remotely an answer to a question like that, and he's vaguely aware of that. But right now he's staring, eyes wide and mouth gaping, and his tongue seems to be refusing to form even a single additional word. ]
[ is alhaitham's dry response at kaveh's curse, only just resisting the urge to roll his eyes if only because this situation felt like treading on eggshells. considering the state the other was in, one wrong move or one wrong word could likely send him back into tears - always overemotional, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. unfortunately for kaveh, alhaitham was all wrong words when it came to 'feelings'. too hard to sort neatly into boxes; too tiring to think too much about.
perhaps he'd misjudged their relationship? perhaps it was purely transactional, after all? why else would the question be so hard to answer?
for alhaitham, there was rarely grey areas - at least, up until recently. 'yes' and 'no' were arguably simple conclusions to reach. ]
What am I supposed to interpret from that? [ the scribe touches his hand to his own forehead in annoyance, a sigh escaping his lips. ] Is it an imperative? Indicative? Or did you simply expend yourself so entirely last night that constructing a full sentence is now beyond your capability?
[ his attempt at clarification comes across, as usual, as cold and analytical as it often did. but rarely was kaveh rendered speechless, and now alhaitham had witnessed this miracle several times within the space of 48 hours. whatever had snuck under his skin to rile him up so much must be significant for the blonde not to snatch at such a low hanging fruit of a question.
so why did he feel at least some minor satisfaction at the fact the answer hadn't been an outright, 'yes, i hate your fucking guts'? 'yes, now leave me the hell alone'? it felt almost as compelling as the urge to exercise whatever means he had to prevent those tears from spilling down kaveh's face. ]
[ It takes Kaveh a moment— and an admonishment on Alhaitham's behalf— to register the fact that he has not, in fact, said anything beyond that singular curse word, an answer neither helpful nor kind when Alhaitham has spoken with genuine vulnerability.
If it weren't for the scribe's irritated retort— which brings a touch of warmth to Kaveh's cheeks at the suggestion he may have been making an imperative statement with that singular word— he may have chosen to apologize yet again; as it is, however, he simply fixes the other with a frustrated glare for a few too-long seconds before he looks away with a sigh. ]
I don't hate you, Alhaitham.
[ What else is he to say but that? Too much more and he risks giving everything away, from the dream itself to the sudden realization that his feelings run deeper than they should. The latter is too new, too unexamined and untested; the former too liable to have him kicked out of the house for real. And yet at the same time, five words don't feel like enough of an answer after what they've gone through in the last twelve or so hours.
It's with another sigh that he reaches up, impatient hands dashing away the remnants of the saltwater lingering at the corners of his eyes. ]
You drive me completely fucking insane sometimes, but I don't hate you.
[ Is it enough? Too much? Even for someone who usually does handle emotions well, Kaveh is struggling right now. ]
[ alhaitham replies dryly; there was no-one that got under his skin quite like kaveh was able to, no-one that pissed him off quite like kaveh could. the clarification should be enough, but there's still doubt in the taller man's mind - something just didn't quite add up, not after all the carry-on of the past couple of days.
if he didn't loathe him, why was he constantly acting like he did?
the scribe lets out a tired sigh as he closes his eyes for a moment, telling of how little sleep he'd gotten last night. he was used to burning the candle at both ends in terms of work, but the emotional outlay of all this had been more exhausting than a week of overtime, and as such, dark circles lined the pale skin underneath his eyes. ]
If that's the case, what do you want me to do?
[ because trying to anticipate need obviously hadn't worked so far. it was a foreign concept to alhaitham in the first place, trying to assist in a personal capacity rather than simply a professional one - and as much as he hates to admit he's shit at something, it appeared he was rather shit at this. it had been a long time since he'd bothered to make an effort with much of anything outside of work, and he's not quite sure why kaveh is now that catalyst, but - alhaitham rarely ignored his instincts. ]
[ The words, rich with emotion, are halfway out Kaveh's mouth before he cuts himself off, focusing in momentary silence on the way Alhaitham's eyes close for that moment or two, noticing for the first time the dark circles that, like the bruise marring his jaw, are only made more obvious by the pale hue of his skin.
"—stay out of my business" isn't going to work. Not this time. Nor can Kaveh just tell the other man the truth of it, though, not when he's already reasoned out that doing so would be a terrible idea. For as much as he was ready to pack up and leave when he thought he had no option, he really would prefer to stay here, if he can.
...Maybe that's what he needs to say. Maybe, right now, it's the only thing he can say. ]
I want you to let me keep living here. [ A breath, another drop of his gaze. ] I know I'm a terrible roommate... tenant. I'm always late on rent, I steal your wine, I'm noisy around the clock, I get myself locked out in the middle of the night, I start fights, I—
[ Kaveh frowns. In an effort to avoid saying either of those two damning things, he has instead started a long laundry list of his own faults. Perhaps not ideal... but also perhaps better than admitting to how he woke up a few days ago, drenched in sweat and aching with arousal.
A stray thought that sends another flush of heat to his cheeks. ]
...Listen, I'm bad at this, okay? But I like living here. Even if I don't always show it.
[ he almost, almost resists, but can't help but let slip some sass at kaveh's list - although it appears to be in jest, considering the barest ghost of a smirk tugs up the corners of his lips. ]
At least you're self-aware.
[ truth be told - and alhaitham would never, ever admit this out loud to anyone, not even the lesser lord - kaveh wasn't an awful roommate. yes, they could never agree on where their belongings went; yes, he was bad at keeping up with his chores; yes, he causes an unreasonable amount of noise building his little architectural dioramas in their study - but he never loathed coming home.
on the contrary, the house felt alive with kaveh with it. ]
Anyway - forget I said it. We made an agreement and I don't intend to carve out a reputation for broken promises.
[ his 'demand' had never really had any heat behind it anyway - certainly not the intention of making kaveh leave. it wasn't often that alhaitham slipped up and had that sort of knee-jerk, emotional reaction, but here he was, cleaning up after it.
but this was a resolution, wasn't it? didn't that mean they could move on to more pressing issues like, say, the crimson staining kaveh's cheeks? brow furrowing, pale, cool fingers reach for the blonde's chin like it was the most normal thing in the world, the scribe peering at him with that piercing, emerald gaze - just as intense, even through alhaitham's obvious exhaustion ]
This might be the worst hangover I've seen you enjoy yet. Are you ill?
[ It's annoying, but nothing can quite stop the way relief looks on him when Alhaitham tells him to forget what he said earlier about Kaveh needing to find somewhere new to live. It's enough of a positive feeling in fact that he even forces himself to ignore that little jab about him being self-aware, focusing instead on the positives in this moment— and really, the fact that there are positives at all is somewhat of a miracle considering how this whole mess started.
He should probably, he thinks, check in on the bruise he can see on the scribe's jaw. Despite his anger in the moment, he feels genuinely bad that he's hurt it enough to bruise. He starts to lift a hand, but he's interrupted in the process when a hand comes instead to his face, a grip on his chin and an intense gaze on his face that makes him freeze for a second or two, a stutter on his lips.
Oh, come on...
The reaction is almost instantaneous, once he realizes what's going on; he jerks his head to the side, forcing Alhaitham's hand to fall away. Unfortunately, though, that quick movement doesn't stop the color from creeping darker and higher up his cheeks. ]
What? No, I'm fine. No worse than usual.
[ It's not quite true; it's a bear of a hangover actually. But he's already shown quite enough weakness today, thank you very much... especially with this stupid blush that seems to remain particularly insistent on betraying him.
Thankfully, he's reasonably sure that Alhaitham is clueless when it comes to matters of attraction. Otherwise he might be in some hot water with this.
Although he's still smart enough to put two and two together if Kaveh isn't careful.
Perhaps a pivot, then. ]
...What about your jaw? [ He's careful this time not to follow his original instinct to reach up to touch the injury— nor does he apologize just yet. ] I see it left a bruise. Is it tender?
[ the contact between them was broken almost as soon as it was initiated, but alhaitham doesn't think too much of it (except that it was likely kaveh was simply lying about the hangover - and that his skin was unexpectedly soft?). the image the pair of them must make right now - the scribe with a bruise blossoming across his jaw and the pale face of someone who hadn't slept in two days, and kaveh, red as a beet and ruffled in almost every way he could possibly be ruffled. dimly, alhaitham thanks whatever powers that be that this episode of the saga hadn't spilled over to the streets again, because there were several acquaintances who would be happy not to let either of them live their appearances down.
if cyno asks why his face looks that way, alhaitham's just going to tell him he fell down the stairs. evenly; ]
The only thing that's bruised is my ego, which I'm sure you're thrilled about.
[ subconsciously, he reaches up to touch the spot where kaveh had punched him last night. it had since started to turn purple and yes, perhaps hurt more than he'd let on - not that it particularly bothered him. the worst thing about it was that he can't actually remember anyone managing to land a punch on him in such a way before, but at least kaveh had been nice enough not to give him a black eye. ]
Turns out you're stronger than you look.
[ genuinely. and with the tension between them starting to ease just a fraction, alhaitham gives the blonde a weary but wicked smirk - an expression much more in line with his usual attitude. ]
How are you going to make it up to me? Pretty sure that decking a sage is a jailable offense.
[ Something about Alhaitham's smirk makes him relax, helps him reconcile for sure in his mind that things aren't as bad as they were all of ten minutes ago, which is what causes him to roll his eyes in response to the question, a shrug that for all intents and purposes looks irritated, but in reality is just falling back into the natural rhythm that exists between them. The normal. When he doesn't need to think about uncomfortable new realizations or anything else that might make it weird.
The color in his cheeks, little by little, begins to fade. ]
Pretty sure I'm already in jail, you know, living here and all. So what are you gonna do, Alhaitham— tie me up?
[ Supremely bad choice of words. Kaveh clears his throat, forces a laugh, and folds his arms across his chest. ]
Seriously, though... I have some medicinal cream that will help fix it up. [ Bruises are a reasonably common part of life when you're often drunk, after all. Or prone to getting yourself covered in hickeys, like he is right now. Not that the latter has happened as often as it used to since he's moved in here. Last night was something of an anomaly, in more ways than one. ] Sit down. Let me get it.
[ He doesn't wait for an answer, disappearing into his own room and digging through the top drawer of the bureau for the cream in question, trying to ignore as he does the rakish look to his reflection. What on Teyvat possessed him to think any part of last night was a good idea? He's an embarrassment.
[ he replies dryly, though the secondary interpretation of the question isn't lost on him. that's just kaveh, though - outgoing, charming, overly flirtatious. alhaitham's been used to this manner of speech for some time, and had decided it was probably best if he didn't try to read too far into it back while they were still students at the akademiya. when someone's so charismatic, when they can weave words so eloquently they can hide behind them - what's really truth, and what's not?
in the best interests in maintaining this tenuous peace, the scribe bestows kaveh with a rare favour and does what he's told for once. after watching the blonde disappear down the hallway into his rooms - still in a state from last night with his top untucked and hair scattered down his back, the cut out section of his shirt giving way to the pale skin of his back - alhaitham realises he's been staring, of all things. for observation's sake, of course, because at the state of kaveh's collarbone, who knew what else lay underneath what he couldn't see?
but even then - why would he care?
feeling as if a headache was coming on at the very question, alhaitham lets out a single heavy exhale as the chaos, confusion and fatigue catches up with him and pads over to the sofa in the main living area, sitting unceremoniously down on it.
[ It's a gibe ignored in its entirety until Kaveh gets back to the living area with the cream in his hands, moving to perch on the armrest closest to where Alhaitham is sitting, and ignored still further as he reaches up to take the scribe's head in his hands, pulling it to rest gently on his thigh and giving himself a better angle from which to apply it. Only then, in fact, is it answered, complete with a dramatic roll of his crimson eyes and a forceful sigh: ]
You talk as if I have any idea what they do in jail, Alhaitham. Last I remember, you're the only one of us to have actually been arrested. So why don't you tell me?
[ Overly dramatic he may have been, but it's a useful defense mechanism against the mid-sentence realization that he's just tugged the scribe's head practically into his lap. And perhaps it's all for the best that he knows not of the way the other man was left staring at him as he walked down the hall, because that would only serve to make this whole thing infinitely more uncomfortable. Mostly because his mind would be reeling and spinning with questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask aloud.
As it is, the situation is already weird at best, and it only gets weirder as Kaveh dips his fingers into the jar of cream and proceeds to start smoothing and dabbing it carefully over the bruise-marred skin of Alhaitham's jaw.
He finds himself talking as he works, the words quick and light and altogether far too nervous for his liking. ]
This stuff's pretty amazing, actually. It'll get rid of the pain mostly and make the bruise heal quicker, too.
[ the lack of sleep had begun to catch up to him, and to that end his eyes had slipped closed as kaveh excavated whatever he was looking for out of his rooms - no doubt every bit a mess as he left the rest of the house. it was welcome, though, this relief from the stress of the past 48 hours, and although several more questions had ebbed to the fore? at least kaveh had seemed to calm down from whatever it was that had been bothering him, and at least the status quo hadn't been disturbed. routine, routine, routine.
the scribe isn't quite nodding off when he hears his roommate return to the lounge, but his eyes certainly open as kaveh sits down and moves him without a second thought. not... quite what he'd expected, when he could've simply been handed the jar and told to get lost - or even sit side by side on the sofa, really. the positioning feels strangely intimate, the warmth of kaveh's lap against the back of his head, and for all the blonde's outbursts and frayed edges, his touch was remarkably reserved. gentle.
alhaitham simply looks up at blonde as he works from the odd angle, his tired analytical mind trying to figure him out. categorise the things he does, is doing. it felt much like riding the wind of a storm, bearing the brunt of kaveh's passionate anger one minute and the soft graze of his fingers against his skin the next. ]
You do recall that was a ploy, right? I don't have an arrest record.
[ he reminds kaveh, because facts are everything, and -
alhaitham winces briefly as even with the gentle touch, pain spikes through a certain spot on the bruise as its treated. he can't even be mad at kaveh for this though, because managing not only to hit him, but deck him this hard? impressive.
weirdly attractive.
his eyes slip closed again as he simply listens to the blonde's incessant talking, the lyrical lilt to his voice actually proving more soothing than the balm. ]
How far do I get to push being the victim? Is being waited on hand and foot too much to expect?
[ Unfortunately, it's not until Kaveh's fingers are actually on Alhaitham's face, smoothing as gently as possible over the bruise on his jaw, that the architect actually realizes exactly what he's done, and recognizes in turn the danger in which he's just placed himself. It's weird, but it's also intimate in a way that he's never quite allowed himself to be— or, for that matter, that he's never believed the scribe would have accepted from him. And yet, here they are, because Kaveh's an idiot and now he has to pretend it means absolutely nothing. ]
I'm aware. [ And technically, he never even saw the inside of a cell— he was just temporarily exiled. But far be it from Kaveh to focus on irrelevant details like that.
A relevant detail, though, is the slight wince on that handsome face as he's rubbing the ointment into it, and the architect's touch falters for a moment, a frown creasing his brows. For as straight-faced as the other man has been about it, it looks like he hurt him more than he intended— a realization that sends another awkward jolt of guilt into his chest.
At any other time, Alhaitham's teasing questions might have been met with an eyeroll and a retort steeped in borderline irritation, but the new guilt holds back any kind of snarky rejoinder, and once again the blonde finds himself momentarily lost for words— a phenomenon that has happened all too often on this particular day, and one of which he is not particularly fond. When he does eventually answer, his voice is a little too strained, despite the fact that he's trying for a playful tone of his own. ]
I'll cook you dinner tonight, but that's it. The rest is made up for by the fact you tried to kick me out.
[ He finishes applying the cream before carefully pulling his fingers back, wiping the residue off on his pants without a second thought, a slight movement of his legs to indicate that Alhaitham should move now. And as all this is happening, his mouth keeps talking without allowing him to stop and think about the words or why he has the sudden urge to say them: ]
I didn't actually sleep with anyone last night, you know.
[ he'd expected kaveh to give him some sort of rebuttal like 'you can look after yourself' - certainly not acquiescence. alhaitham always had an unending stream of flippant comments that he could throw out at the other, and they rarely landed. however, kaveh wasn't a bad cook (another secret he'd clutch to his chest on the way to the grave), and the sentiment was actually fairly thoughtful.
that, and the fact the rest was indeed made up by alhaitham trying to kick him out was entirely fair. ]
You must be feeling bad.
[ is his droll reply as he shifts back up into a proper sitting position, fingers subconsciously brushing against the bruise now that kaveh was finished. he was just about to point out it was actually working - numbing the area, at least, so it didn't smart so badly - when an addition spills out of the blonde's mouth, completely irrelevant to the rest of the conversation.
looking mildly surprised at the other, partially because he'd figured that kaveh having sought out a one night stand had been a fairly forgone conclusion considering the state he'd wandered back in, alhaitham wonders why this had been brought up at all, if not... now, when kaveh had seemed to calm down?
but strangely, there is an odd sense of relief somewhere deep down inside him, a knot of jealousy that slips undone because for some reason, the thought of someone else touching the architect; running their hands across his skin, tugging at that fine, blonde hair, making his toes curl - infuriates him.
maybe it's just that he's protective. he's been protecting kaveh for some time now, in his own ways - some visible, some not - but even alhaitham's not enough of a dolt emotionally to be satisfied that's the entire answer. ]
Why are you telling me?
[ leaning back into the soft green cushions of the sofa, the scribe averts his eyes for the first time since kaveh had slinked back into their house, an unreadable expression on his face. ]
You're an adult. What you do at night is your own business, not mine. [ a pause, as he adds: ] - unless I can hear it through the walls.
[ Great. As per fucking usual, his mouth has run off all by itself and left him to mop up the mess it's made in the process. There was really no need at all for him to suddenly blurt that out, much less once things have actually started to settle down, and yet now it's out there in the air and there's approximately nothing Kaveh can do about it.
He's kind of glad that Alhaitham isn't looking at him, because he's pretty sure that red color has started to leech back into his cheeks like some magical tell-tale highlighter. His own eyes are averted in turn, his arms folding protectively over his own chest, and he shakes his head, an embarrassed laugh on his lips. ]
Honestly... I'm not sure. I guess I don't like lying to you.
[ Avoiding the truth is one thing— he'll do that all day every day if he needs to— but actually telling an outright lie isn't something of which he's fond. Not even if it's to get under the other's skin... which happened, he thinks, given that threat to throw him out. What he doesn't get it why it was able to irritate the scribe so easily.
The peace between the two of them is tenuous enough that he doesn't think he should ask, but at the very least there's a small, stubborn part of him that wants Alhaitham to be aware that he noticed it. Maybe it's stupid, but it's something right now he can't ignore. And so it's after a moment that he turns back to him, a slight frown gracing his features as his eyes look over that strange, indecipherable expression the other man wears. ]
It seemed like it pissed you off, and if you're gonna be angry at me I'd rather it to be for something I actually did. I guess.
[ Another thing to regret the moment it's out of his mouth. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all—
[ alhaitham replies bluntly, choosing that very moment to look back to kaveh with that piercing emerald stare. he catches the quizzical frown, the telltale red of the blush creeping up the blonde's neck and into his cheeks, and briefly wonders why he'd bothered to tell him if it was going to embarrass him so much. like he'd ever had a say in what kaveh could or couldn't do - thing or person - and he hadn't expected that to start now, nor for his roommate to care what he thought, for once.
the silence hangs there for a moment as alhaitham calmly gazes at him with an impressively neutral expression, like he's watching for clues. more giveaways. there wasn't enough information yet for him to parse precisely what was going on here and why it was deviating from their normal dynamic so much, so until there was? he'd simply stick to fact. ]
It appeared as if you were flaunting the state you arrived in to irritate me.
[ and, it had worked. with a stilted sigh; ]
How many details do I need to know, then? So, you didn't sleep with them. Was it a simple hookup in an alleyway? Did you go back to their place? Do you intend to see them again?
[ the claws of fatigue were curling into him and his façade was starting to slip. alhaitham's tone was still even, like this was one of their normal bickering back-and-forths - but having the topic brought up again felt like opening a raw wound for some reason, and it had switched the scribe back into his usual defensive mode. ]
[ He wanted to piss him off, and he succeeded... so why does the piercing look in Alhaitham's eyes make his stomach tie itself up into even more knots than before? The scribe's expression is neutral, and yet there's still something about the stare that bothers him, and this time it's Kaveh's turn to look away, wishing that the stupid heat in his cheeks would recede already and let him be normal about this for even a second—
Alas, though, it is not to be; Alhaitham is suddenly asking questions, and a lot of them, and his eyes widen as they turn immediately back to the other's face. ]
W-What? Why—
[ The words die in his mouth the instant they form, the wide-eyed expression quickly turning into a slight frown. For as much as the scribe speaks with his usual blunt honesty, there's something buried between the words for someone with Kaveh's emotional depth of understanding, something that gives him cause to a strange, fluttery anticipation in his chest— Or is it that hope giving rise to him hearing things that aren't there? Either is equally possible... and yet he feels like there's something to dig into here, an answer he needs to seek.
His crimson eyes are serious now, searching, as he looks over Alhaitham's face once more; the red of his embarrassment is gone from his cheeks, expression replaced with the analytical curiosity of a scholar.
(It is, at least in part, a mask.) ]
Those are strange questions to ask, Alhaitham... Didn't you just say I'm adult, and so it's not your business? [ His tone is measured, but the closest thing that exists to giving him away right now, the emotion creeping into the corners of his voice despite his best efforts. ] I'll answer you, but first you have to answer a question for me: Why did it piss you off?
You are an adult, and it's not my business, but you decided to share the details despite the fact I already stated that. I'm just testing where your boundary actually is, considering you seem to want to share the information with me anyway for whatever reason.
[ his tone is contrary, like he often is in their arguments, though it was rare to see kaveh actually quiet down instead of fire up when they got into it. not one to give away anything, especially in a potentially vulnerable situation, alhaitham looks coolly back at kaveh from where he'd sunken back into the couch, maintaining the very image of being unbothered. he hadn't actually expected any answers to the barrage of testing questions, and he's mildly surprised that kaveh seemed prepared to answer them.
to what end would that even serve him, to share such intimate details with him? to add further insult to injury?
raising an eyebrow, the expression on alhaitham's face obviously spells out he thinks the question asked of him is a stupid one. ]
Like I said just before, it seemed like you were flaunting your rakish state on purpose. To what end? Who knows?
[ exhaling in tired frustration, emerald eyes slip shut again as his head sinks further back into the top of the couch. he didn't have the energy for the kind of analytical endeavour that this conversation risked turning into. ]
That you'd rather go out and have someone jump you than accept help from me? That you obviously wanted me to notice what someone had done to you, considering you came straight to the study instead of taking five minutes to straighten yourself out?
[ It is, at the very least, a quiet that doesn't last for long. The expression implying he's asking stupid questions, yet another battery of queries to follow it, not to mention the tired irritation on Alhaitham's face that speaks to the fact that maybe he didn't sleep too well himself, and the architect doesn't know what to think anymore, despite the strange little thread of hope just moments before.
Perhaps it's dramatic, the way he suddenly stands from the couch and starts pacing in front of it, but Kaveh's always been one for a little bit of drama, and as much as there's a small part of his brain telling him he should show some restraint, let the other man rest, he can't quite stop his own irritation from driving the conversation forward. ]
Not everything can be helped by talking it through, Alhaitham. Has it occurred to you that maybe getting "jumped", as you so charmingly put it, is the kind of help I needed in that moment?
[ None of this, of course, explains the deliberate choice to flaunt himself this morning. Although the conversation does have him feeling oddly self-conscious, and Kaveh frowns yet more deeply, both hands reaching to try to tug his shirt into something of a more presentable state. ]
What would you have had me do? Bend myself over your desk and ask nicely for you to please fuck me until I wasn't thinking about it anymore?
[ ...Why does he feel like that's a question he's going to regret later? ]
[ opening his eyes again at the sound of fabric shifting to see kaveh getting up and begin pacing the floor in front of the couch like a protagonist in a mystery thriller novel, alhaitham immediately, intensely regrets the direction this 'discussion' seemed to have taken.
but this was what they did, wasn't it? smooth things over only to immediately fuck them up again? irritated, alhaitham frowns at the suggestion that what kaveh said was reasonable by any measure. ]
Right. You're telling me that the help you needed, for a problem so major you ended up punching me in the face over - was that you needed to get laid? While you were so drunk you could barely walk? Are you serious?
[ his tone is incredulous now, because kaveh isn't making any sense and even when he's in the most heated phases of his rants, at least he could rely on the fact that there was probably something substantial in there somewhere. the other was thoughtful and famously intelligent, so why is his logic so distorted right now?
- and then, he drops the other bomb.
subconsciously, alhaitham tenses up, a look of shock crossing his face for the briefest of moments before it quickly rearranged into a perplexed sort of scowl. that kind of phrase coming out of kaveh's mouth, in that charmingly musical voice of his, directed at him - it obviously twinged something inside the scribe visibly, perceptibly. it sparked an unfamiliar thrill deep inside him, set a fire burning that would easily spiral out of control, and for a moment, he considers simply fulfilling the demand.
suddenly, the fatigue is relatively forgotten and the tenuous peace between them is shattered, one of alhaitham's hands curling in on itself to try and meter his feelings as he draws himself decisively up from the sofa. the reactive, raw part of him wants to ask unreasonable things right back, like 'what the fuck kind of question is that' - but the placidity somehow wins out.
he doesn't know what kaveh's doing, but he would not let him get under his skin for a third time.
they're close again, much like they'd been the previous night during their last argument, alhaitham glowering down at the other. ]
I'd choose what you're going to say next very carefully. I'm not a toy to be played with.
[ He's met with a roll of his eyes, an irritated little huff that says Alhaitham has it all wrong. For someone as astute as the scribe is, his emotional intelligence is lacking at best, in the architect's eyes. Alhaitham may not have said out loud that Kaveh's logic makes no sense, but his incredulous tone makes his thoughts on the subject clear, which only serves to piss him off even more.
So maybe, maybe he takes just a little pleasure in how the shock floods the other's face, no matter how briefly the expression exists. While he can't quite place the effect he's had, he it's almost enough to know that he's triggered something in him—
It's a pleasure he doesn't get to keep for long though, because Alhaitham is up and getting in his face, emerald eyes burning with a strange, fiery heat that makes Kaveh feel very suddenly like his mouth is much too dry, speaking words that immediately have the more senior of the two wanting to backpedal and apologize for pushing it too far.
Instead, he holds his ground, glares right back up at the other man, tries very sincerely not to think about how easy it would be just to close this space between them— basically a less-drunk version of what he did less than a day ago. If it wasn't for the fact that he remembers it reasonably clearly (as clearly as he can when he was that smashed), he'd posit that they'd found themselves in a samsara, a strange sort of loop in time of which some scholars have talked in the past. They've always argued, but lately it just seems to be getting worse—
He's getting dangerously close to losing himself in his own thoughts, so he breaks the chain by taking a small step back, shaking his head. ]
[ for the step that kaveh takes back, alhaitham matches it, follows him because this time, he refuses to back down. the advance doesn't last long though, because the blonde's back is soon up against the adjoining wall with no room left to retreat.
for all the similarities the situation bore to the one the previous night, the scribe doesn't look furious like he did then - he looks pissed, but with the undertones of being hurt rather than simply frustrated at loud, drunken antics. unlike kaveh, alhaitham remembers and correlates every detail between the two arguments; the expression on kaveh's face, the words that had been yelled, the feeling of his weight and warmth against his shoulder.
and so, too, alhaitham catalogues those details now, like a decent academic would. the fire that kaveh had ignited thrums through his veins as his eyes drag over every inch of the other from the chin up - the slight sheen on his lips, the blonde locks of hair that would normally be braided up and out of sight now framing his face... the dark marks on his neck, hiding just out of view and largely obscured by the fact his hair was down.
the intense gaze lingers over them for longer than anything else, the flash of something possessive flickering across the scribe's face as he reaches up to run his thumb over one of the worst - a particularly egregious mark marring the skin just above kaveh's collarbone.
he doesn't even think about it, he'd argue. doesn't even think about how soft the skin is under his fingers or the jolt of electricity that spikes through him as they connect, because all he can think about is that someone else did this to him. ]
If you haven't toyed with me: you didn't come into the study like this for any reason other than simply being lazy?
[ alhaitham murmurs, voice low and even. he's still looking at the mark. ]
[ When his retreating step is followed, Kaveh responds by taking another— and before long he's backed up against a wall, nowhere to go and Alhaitham bearing down on him, all anger and intensity and something that looks remarkably like hurt, leaving him to swallow against the dryness of his mouth as he watches the way those eyes trail over him, once again taking in the unkempt, debauched state he so confidently paraded around not even an hour ago.
There's something else, too, something he can't quite read just before the scribe's thumb lifts to swipe over that dark patch of skin above his collarbone; between that something and the spark of electricity from that contact, Kaveh's mouth betrays him with a shaky exhale, body with a slight lift of his chin, as if to afford Alhaitham more room to explore.
And the whole time, he's trying to think of a way to answer what is honestly a completely warranted question, even if it feels unfair to his mind. Mostly, he's irritated with himself. They were at peace again; he should have just shut his fucking mouth and not tried to provoke Alhaitham further.
Because now he's paying the price. Up close like this, the scribe is frighteningly handsome, even with the dark circles of fatigue and the bruise, all soft skin and hard jaw and piercing eyes; it's sheer stubbornness that keeps his eyes on the other's face, not allowing them to visually explore more of his body— more muscles, and more— the way he wants to.
He's trapped, and this time it isn't as simple as him trying to say he'll move out. Alhaitham has him cornered. ]
...I wanted your attention, [ is the admission that finally appears, and compared to the even timbre of Alhaitham's voice, Kaveh's is shaky with honesty. ] I wanted you to be jealous. You're the... the reason I was so riled up in the first place, so... so I wanted you to see.
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sempiternals2023-02-11 10:39 pm
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He whirls to face the other man, knocking that gentle hand off his shoulder and glaring up at him, revealing without intending to the tears clinging to his lashes, the way his lower lip trembles despite himself; overall adding to the complicated, messy look that he has about him this morning. ]
"So much", Alhaitham? Is that what you think we have here?
[ The words are laced with bitter agony, glaring despite the swimming wet of his eyes, and there are thousands of things he needs to say and not enough words to say them. And when he does speak, what comes out is wrong: ]
What is it, then? The "so much" you talk about. You said it yourself: this is a last resort for me, so why should I fight to keep it?
[ A pause, and his eyes close, a catch of his breath being the only thing keeping him from breaking down in tears over this whole stupid thing. That was too much, that— He was unfair, he spoke out of turn... ]
I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just... [ His gaze finally drops from the other's, the steam of anger and hurt leaving him as quickly as it built back up. ] Sorry.
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[ alhaitham retorts defensively, mostly because his meaning had been more kaveh's reputation, his career, his future which could be in jeopardy if he kept on the course of this overemotional spiral of his. his reply is too quick though, as if the blonde's response had actually hurt him - as if the prospect of what they'd been through together over the years, whether or not it had been interspersed with an egregious amount of bickering, had meant nothing.
alhaitham didn't choose to spend time around many people. he kept largely to himself, lived a quiet life, and maintained a very small circle of colleagues that he entertained the company of - 'friends' would probably be the more acceptable term, but it wasn't one the scribe had ever really paid much attention to.
the fact that he was still here, had taken kaveh in when he'd asked without even a second thought was already significant in relation to his other relationships. maybe that's why it smarts, he thinks, when the longest, most frustrating constant in his life didn't seem to consider their history as significant.
and so, alhaitham doesn't really know what to say after the apology. he's equal parts pissed off, hurt and guilty, observant gaze catching the tears collecting at the edges of kaveh's painfully beautiful eyes. it's an alien feeling, guilt, but seeing his roommate in this state was making everything a thousand times more difficult to handle objectively.
silence hangs heavily between them as they stand there awkwardly in the hallway, both drowning in foreign territory.
finally, alhaitham asks the only question that would seem to explain a lot of what had happened the past couple of days, his voice quiet but blunt; ]
Do you hate me, Kaveh?
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The thing is though that Kaveh knows he doesn't mean it. Alhaitham's thoughts, as always, are a complete fucking mystery.
...Or maybe not, because the blonde definitely doesn't expect that happens next. Do you hate me? Alhaitham asks, and ruby eyes widen, looking back up from the floor to meet the scribe's gaze, confusion written over his own expression at the vulnerability edging into the other man's voice, and for a second his mouth hangs open inelegantly, because what?
Of course he doesn't hate Alhaitham, is the immediate concession in his own mind. After all, as much as he likes to claim he has nowhere else to go, as much as he finds himself embarrassed and indignant about the fact that he's living here, the scribe was still the person he asked when he found himself in this pitiful situation. He's the one he seeks out when he needs or wants information, even though he knows the other's reply is destined to piss him the fuck off.
No, he doesn't hate him. If anything, it's the opposite. He— ]
Fuck.
[ That's not an answer. That's not even remotely an answer to a question like that, and he's vaguely aware of that. But right now he's staring, eyes wide and mouth gaping, and his tongue seems to be refusing to form even a single additional word. ]
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[ is alhaitham's dry response at kaveh's curse, only just resisting the urge to roll his eyes if only because this situation felt like treading on eggshells. considering the state the other was in, one wrong move or one wrong word could likely send him back into tears - always overemotional, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. unfortunately for kaveh, alhaitham was all wrong words when it came to 'feelings'. too hard to sort neatly into boxes; too tiring to think too much about.
perhaps he'd misjudged their relationship? perhaps it was purely transactional, after all? why else would the question be so hard to answer?
for alhaitham, there was rarely grey areas - at least, up until recently. 'yes' and 'no' were arguably simple conclusions to reach. ]
What am I supposed to interpret from that? [ the scribe touches his hand to his own forehead in annoyance, a sigh escaping his lips. ] Is it an imperative? Indicative? Or did you simply expend yourself so entirely last night that constructing a full sentence is now beyond your capability?
[ his attempt at clarification comes across, as usual, as cold and analytical as it often did. but rarely was kaveh rendered speechless, and now alhaitham had witnessed this miracle several times within the space of 48 hours. whatever had snuck under his skin to rile him up so much must be significant for the blonde not to snatch at such a low hanging fruit of a question.
so why did he feel at least some minor satisfaction at the fact the answer hadn't been an outright, 'yes, i hate your fucking guts'? 'yes, now leave me the hell alone'? it felt almost as compelling as the urge to exercise whatever means he had to prevent those tears from spilling down kaveh's face. ]
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If it weren't for the scribe's irritated retort— which brings a touch of warmth to Kaveh's cheeks at the suggestion he may have been making an imperative statement with that singular word— he may have chosen to apologize yet again; as it is, however, he simply fixes the other with a frustrated glare for a few too-long seconds before he looks away with a sigh. ]
I don't hate you, Alhaitham.
[ What else is he to say but that? Too much more and he risks giving everything away, from the dream itself to the sudden realization that his feelings run deeper than they should. The latter is too new, too unexamined and untested; the former too liable to have him kicked out of the house for real. And yet at the same time, five words don't feel like enough of an answer after what they've gone through in the last twelve or so hours.
It's with another sigh that he reaches up, impatient hands dashing away the remnants of the saltwater lingering at the corners of his eyes. ]
You drive me completely fucking insane sometimes, but I don't hate you.
[ Is it enough? Too much? Even for someone who usually does handle emotions well, Kaveh is struggling right now. ]
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[ alhaitham replies dryly; there was no-one that got under his skin quite like kaveh was able to, no-one that pissed him off quite like kaveh could. the clarification should be enough, but there's still doubt in the taller man's mind - something just didn't quite add up, not after all the carry-on of the past couple of days.
if he didn't loathe him, why was he constantly acting like he did?
the scribe lets out a tired sigh as he closes his eyes for a moment, telling of how little sleep he'd gotten last night. he was used to burning the candle at both ends in terms of work, but the emotional outlay of all this had been more exhausting than a week of overtime, and as such, dark circles lined the pale skin underneath his eyes. ]
If that's the case, what do you want me to do?
[ because trying to anticipate need obviously hadn't worked so far. it was a foreign concept to alhaitham in the first place, trying to assist in a personal capacity rather than simply a professional one - and as much as he hates to admit he's shit at something, it appeared he was rather shit at this. it had been a long time since he'd bothered to make an effort with much of anything outside of work, and he's not quite sure why kaveh is now that catalyst, but - alhaitham rarely ignored his instincts. ]
What do you want from me?
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[ The words, rich with emotion, are halfway out Kaveh's mouth before he cuts himself off, focusing in momentary silence on the way Alhaitham's eyes close for that moment or two, noticing for the first time the dark circles that, like the bruise marring his jaw, are only made more obvious by the pale hue of his skin.
"—stay out of my business" isn't going to work. Not this time. Nor can Kaveh just tell the other man the truth of it, though, not when he's already reasoned out that doing so would be a terrible idea. For as much as he was ready to pack up and leave when he thought he had no option, he really would prefer to stay here, if he can.
...Maybe that's what he needs to say. Maybe, right now, it's the only thing he can say. ]
I want you to let me keep living here. [ A breath, another drop of his gaze. ] I know I'm a terrible roommate... tenant. I'm always late on rent, I steal your wine, I'm noisy around the clock, I get myself locked out in the middle of the night, I start fights, I—
[ Kaveh frowns. In an effort to avoid saying either of those two damning things, he has instead started a long laundry list of his own faults. Perhaps not ideal... but also perhaps better than admitting to how he woke up a few days ago, drenched in sweat and aching with arousal.
A stray thought that sends another flush of heat to his cheeks. ]
...Listen, I'm bad at this, okay? But I like living here. Even if I don't always show it.
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At least you're self-aware.
[ truth be told - and alhaitham would never, ever admit this out loud to anyone, not even the lesser lord - kaveh wasn't an awful roommate. yes, they could never agree on where their belongings went; yes, he was bad at keeping up with his chores; yes, he causes an unreasonable amount of noise building his little architectural dioramas in their study - but he never loathed coming home.
on the contrary, the house felt alive with kaveh with it. ]
Anyway - forget I said it. We made an agreement and I don't intend to carve out a reputation for broken promises.
[ his 'demand' had never really had any heat behind it anyway - certainly not the intention of making kaveh leave. it wasn't often that alhaitham slipped up and had that sort of knee-jerk, emotional reaction, but here he was, cleaning up after it.
but this was a resolution, wasn't it? didn't that mean they could move on to more pressing issues like, say, the crimson staining kaveh's cheeks? brow furrowing, pale, cool fingers reach for the blonde's chin like it was the most normal thing in the world, the scribe peering at him with that piercing, emerald gaze - just as intense, even through alhaitham's obvious exhaustion ]
This might be the worst hangover I've seen you enjoy yet. Are you ill?
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He should probably, he thinks, check in on the bruise he can see on the scribe's jaw. Despite his anger in the moment, he feels genuinely bad that he's hurt it enough to bruise. He starts to lift a hand, but he's interrupted in the process when a hand comes instead to his face, a grip on his chin and an intense gaze on his face that makes him freeze for a second or two, a stutter on his lips.
Oh, come on...
The reaction is almost instantaneous, once he realizes what's going on; he jerks his head to the side, forcing Alhaitham's hand to fall away. Unfortunately, though, that quick movement doesn't stop the color from creeping darker and higher up his cheeks. ]
What? No, I'm fine. No worse than usual.
[ It's not quite true; it's a bear of a hangover actually. But he's already shown quite enough weakness today, thank you very much... especially with this stupid blush that seems to remain particularly insistent on betraying him.
Thankfully, he's reasonably sure that Alhaitham is clueless when it comes to matters of attraction. Otherwise he might be in some hot water with this.
Although he's still smart enough to put two and two together if Kaveh isn't careful.
Perhaps a pivot, then. ]
...What about your jaw? [ He's careful this time not to follow his original instinct to reach up to touch the injury— nor does he apologize just yet. ] I see it left a bruise. Is it tender?
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if cyno asks why his face looks that way, alhaitham's just going to tell him he fell down the stairs. evenly; ]
The only thing that's bruised is my ego, which I'm sure you're thrilled about.
[ subconsciously, he reaches up to touch the spot where kaveh had punched him last night. it had since started to turn purple and yes, perhaps hurt more than he'd let on - not that it particularly bothered him. the worst thing about it was that he can't actually remember anyone managing to land a punch on him in such a way before, but at least kaveh had been nice enough not to give him a black eye. ]
Turns out you're stronger than you look.
[ genuinely. and with the tension between them starting to ease just a fraction, alhaitham gives the blonde a weary but wicked smirk - an expression much more in line with his usual attitude. ]
How are you going to make it up to me? Pretty sure that decking a sage is a jailable offense.
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The color in his cheeks, little by little, begins to fade. ]
Pretty sure I'm already in jail, you know, living here and all. So what are you gonna do, Alhaitham— tie me up?
[ Supremely bad choice of words. Kaveh clears his throat, forces a laugh, and folds his arms across his chest. ]
Seriously, though... I have some medicinal cream that will help fix it up. [ Bruises are a reasonably common part of life when you're often drunk, after all. Or prone to getting yourself covered in hickeys, like he is right now. Not that the latter has happened as often as it used to since he's moved in here. Last night was something of an anomaly, in more ways than one. ] Sit down. Let me get it.
[ He doesn't wait for an answer, disappearing into his own room and digging through the top drawer of the bureau for the cream in question, trying to ignore as he does the rakish look to his reflection. What on Teyvat possessed him to think any part of last night was a good idea? He's an embarrassment.
...After this, he'll clean up. ]
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[ he replies dryly, though the secondary interpretation of the question isn't lost on him. that's just kaveh, though - outgoing, charming, overly flirtatious. alhaitham's been used to this manner of speech for some time, and had decided it was probably best if he didn't try to read too far into it back while they were still students at the akademiya. when someone's so charismatic, when they can weave words so eloquently they can hide behind them - what's really truth, and what's not?
in the best interests in maintaining this tenuous peace, the scribe bestows kaveh with a rare favour and does what he's told for once. after watching the blonde disappear down the hallway into his rooms - still in a state from last night with his top untucked and hair scattered down his back, the cut out section of his shirt giving way to the pale skin of his back - alhaitham realises he's been staring, of all things. for observation's sake, of course, because at the state of kaveh's collarbone, who knew what else lay underneath what he couldn't see?
but even then - why would he care?
feeling as if a headache was coming on at the very question, alhaitham lets out a single heavy exhale as the chaos, confusion and fatigue catches up with him and pads over to the sofa in the main living area, sitting unceremoniously down on it.
coffee would probably fix this. ]
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You talk as if I have any idea what they do in jail, Alhaitham. Last I remember, you're the only one of us to have actually been arrested. So why don't you tell me?
[ Overly dramatic he may have been, but it's a useful defense mechanism against the mid-sentence realization that he's just tugged the scribe's head practically into his lap. And perhaps it's all for the best that he knows not of the way the other man was left staring at him as he walked down the hall, because that would only serve to make this whole thing infinitely more uncomfortable. Mostly because his mind would be reeling and spinning with questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask aloud.
As it is, the situation is already weird at best, and it only gets weirder as Kaveh dips his fingers into the jar of cream and proceeds to start smoothing and dabbing it carefully over the bruise-marred skin of Alhaitham's jaw.
He finds himself talking as he works, the words quick and light and altogether far too nervous for his liking. ]
This stuff's pretty amazing, actually. It'll get rid of the pain mostly and make the bruise heal quicker, too.
no subject
the scribe isn't quite nodding off when he hears his roommate return to the lounge, but his eyes certainly open as kaveh sits down and moves him without a second thought. not... quite what he'd expected, when he could've simply been handed the jar and told to get lost - or even sit side by side on the sofa, really. the positioning feels strangely intimate, the warmth of kaveh's lap against the back of his head, and for all the blonde's outbursts and frayed edges, his touch was remarkably reserved. gentle.
alhaitham simply looks up at blonde as he works from the odd angle, his tired analytical mind trying to figure him out. categorise the things he does, is doing. it felt much like riding the wind of a storm, bearing the brunt of kaveh's passionate anger one minute and the soft graze of his fingers against his skin the next. ]
You do recall that was a ploy, right? I don't have an arrest record.
[ he reminds kaveh, because facts are everything, and -
alhaitham winces briefly as even with the gentle touch, pain spikes through a certain spot on the bruise as its treated. he can't even be mad at kaveh for this though, because managing not only to hit him, but deck him this hard? impressive.
weirdly attractive.
his eyes slip closed again as he simply listens to the blonde's incessant talking, the lyrical lilt to his voice actually proving more soothing than the balm. ]
How far do I get to push being the victim? Is being waited on hand and foot too much to expect?
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I'm aware. [ And technically, he never even saw the inside of a cell— he was just temporarily exiled. But far be it from Kaveh to focus on irrelevant details like that.
A relevant detail, though, is the slight wince on that handsome face as he's rubbing the ointment into it, and the architect's touch falters for a moment, a frown creasing his brows. For as straight-faced as the other man has been about it, it looks like he hurt him more than he intended— a realization that sends another awkward jolt of guilt into his chest.
At any other time, Alhaitham's teasing questions might have been met with an eyeroll and a retort steeped in borderline irritation, but the new guilt holds back any kind of snarky rejoinder, and once again the blonde finds himself momentarily lost for words— a phenomenon that has happened all too often on this particular day, and one of which he is not particularly fond. When he does eventually answer, his voice is a little too strained, despite the fact that he's trying for a playful tone of his own. ]
I'll cook you dinner tonight, but that's it. The rest is made up for by the fact you tried to kick me out.
[ He finishes applying the cream before carefully pulling his fingers back, wiping the residue off on his pants without a second thought, a slight movement of his legs to indicate that Alhaitham should move now. And as all this is happening, his mouth keeps talking without allowing him to stop and think about the words or why he has the sudden urge to say them: ]
I didn't actually sleep with anyone last night, you know.
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that, and the fact the rest was indeed made up by alhaitham trying to kick him out was entirely fair. ]
You must be feeling bad.
[ is his droll reply as he shifts back up into a proper sitting position, fingers subconsciously brushing against the bruise now that kaveh was finished. he was just about to point out it was actually working - numbing the area, at least, so it didn't smart so badly - when an addition spills out of the blonde's mouth, completely irrelevant to the rest of the conversation.
looking mildly surprised at the other, partially because he'd figured that kaveh having sought out a one night stand had been a fairly forgone conclusion considering the state he'd wandered back in, alhaitham wonders why this had been brought up at all, if not... now, when kaveh had seemed to calm down?
but strangely, there is an odd sense of relief somewhere deep down inside him, a knot of jealousy that slips undone because for some reason, the thought of someone else touching the architect; running their hands across his skin, tugging at that fine, blonde hair, making his toes curl - infuriates him.
maybe it's just that he's protective. he's been protecting kaveh for some time now, in his own ways - some visible, some not - but even alhaitham's not enough of a dolt emotionally to be satisfied that's the entire answer. ]
Why are you telling me?
[ leaning back into the soft green cushions of the sofa, the scribe averts his eyes for the first time since kaveh had slinked back into their house, an unreadable expression on his face. ]
You're an adult. What you do at night is your own business, not mine. [ a pause, as he adds: ] - unless I can hear it through the walls.
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He's kind of glad that Alhaitham isn't looking at him, because he's pretty sure that red color has started to leech back into his cheeks like some magical tell-tale highlighter. His own eyes are averted in turn, his arms folding protectively over his own chest, and he shakes his head, an embarrassed laugh on his lips. ]
Honestly... I'm not sure. I guess I don't like lying to you.
[ Avoiding the truth is one thing— he'll do that all day every day if he needs to— but actually telling an outright lie isn't something of which he's fond. Not even if it's to get under the other's skin... which happened, he thinks, given that threat to throw him out. What he doesn't get it why it was able to irritate the scribe so easily.
The peace between the two of them is tenuous enough that he doesn't think he should ask, but at the very least there's a small, stubborn part of him that wants Alhaitham to be aware that he noticed it. Maybe it's stupid, but it's something right now he can't ignore. And so it's after a moment that he turns back to him, a slight frown gracing his features as his eyes look over that strange, indecipherable expression the other man wears. ]
It seemed like it pissed you off, and if you're gonna be angry at me I'd rather it to be for something I actually did. I guess.
[ Another thing to regret the moment it's out of his mouth. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all—
Too late, though. It's out there now. ]
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[ alhaitham replies bluntly, choosing that very moment to look back to kaveh with that piercing emerald stare. he catches the quizzical frown, the telltale red of the blush creeping up the blonde's neck and into his cheeks, and briefly wonders why he'd bothered to tell him if it was going to embarrass him so much. like he'd ever had a say in what kaveh could or couldn't do - thing or person - and he hadn't expected that to start now, nor for his roommate to care what he thought, for once.
the silence hangs there for a moment as alhaitham calmly gazes at him with an impressively neutral expression, like he's watching for clues. more giveaways. there wasn't enough information yet for him to parse precisely what was going on here and why it was deviating from their normal dynamic so much, so until there was? he'd simply stick to fact. ]
It appeared as if you were flaunting the state you arrived in to irritate me.
[ and, it had worked. with a stilted sigh; ]
How many details do I need to know, then? So, you didn't sleep with them. Was it a simple hookup in an alleyway? Did you go back to their place? Do you intend to see them again?
[ the claws of fatigue were curling into him and his façade was starting to slip. alhaitham's tone was still even, like this was one of their normal bickering back-and-forths - but having the topic brought up again felt like opening a raw wound for some reason, and it had switched the scribe back into his usual defensive mode. ]
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Alas, though, it is not to be; Alhaitham is suddenly asking questions, and a lot of them, and his eyes widen as they turn immediately back to the other's face. ]
W-What? Why—
[ The words die in his mouth the instant they form, the wide-eyed expression quickly turning into a slight frown. For as much as the scribe speaks with his usual blunt honesty, there's something buried between the words for someone with Kaveh's emotional depth of understanding, something that gives him cause to a strange, fluttery anticipation in his chest— Or is it that hope giving rise to him hearing things that aren't there? Either is equally possible... and yet he feels like there's something to dig into here, an answer he needs to seek.
His crimson eyes are serious now, searching, as he looks over Alhaitham's face once more; the red of his embarrassment is gone from his cheeks, expression replaced with the analytical curiosity of a scholar.
(It is, at least in part, a mask.) ]
Those are strange questions to ask, Alhaitham... Didn't you just say I'm adult, and so it's not your business? [ His tone is measured, but the closest thing that exists to giving him away right now, the emotion creeping into the corners of his voice despite his best efforts. ] I'll answer you, but first you have to answer a question for me: Why did it piss you off?
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[ his tone is contrary, like he often is in their arguments, though it was rare to see kaveh actually quiet down instead of fire up when they got into it. not one to give away anything, especially in a potentially vulnerable situation, alhaitham looks coolly back at kaveh from where he'd sunken back into the couch, maintaining the very image of being unbothered. he hadn't actually expected any answers to the barrage of testing questions, and he's mildly surprised that kaveh seemed prepared to answer them.
to what end would that even serve him, to share such intimate details with him? to add further insult to injury?
raising an eyebrow, the expression on alhaitham's face obviously spells out he thinks the question asked of him is a stupid one. ]
Like I said just before, it seemed like you were flaunting your rakish state on purpose. To what end? Who knows?
[ exhaling in tired frustration, emerald eyes slip shut again as his head sinks further back into the top of the couch. he didn't have the energy for the kind of analytical endeavour that this conversation risked turning into. ]
That you'd rather go out and have someone jump you than accept help from me? That you obviously wanted me to notice what someone had done to you, considering you came straight to the study instead of taking five minutes to straighten yourself out?
I'm not you. I don't know.
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Perhaps it's dramatic, the way he suddenly stands from the couch and starts pacing in front of it, but Kaveh's always been one for a little bit of drama, and as much as there's a small part of his brain telling him he should show some restraint, let the other man rest, he can't quite stop his own irritation from driving the conversation forward. ]
Not everything can be helped by talking it through, Alhaitham. Has it occurred to you that maybe getting "jumped", as you so charmingly put it, is the kind of help I needed in that moment?
[ None of this, of course, explains the deliberate choice to flaunt himself this morning. Although the conversation does have him feeling oddly self-conscious, and Kaveh frowns yet more deeply, both hands reaching to try to tug his shirt into something of a more presentable state. ]
What would you have had me do? Bend myself over your desk and ask nicely for you to please fuck me until I wasn't thinking about it anymore?
[ ...Why does he feel like that's a question he's going to regret later? ]
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but this was what they did, wasn't it? smooth things over only to immediately fuck them up again? irritated, alhaitham frowns at the suggestion that what kaveh said was reasonable by any measure. ]
Right. You're telling me that the help you needed, for a problem so major you ended up punching me in the face over - was that you needed to get laid? While you were so drunk you could barely walk? Are you serious?
[ his tone is incredulous now, because kaveh isn't making any sense and even when he's in the most heated phases of his rants, at least he could rely on the fact that there was probably something substantial in there somewhere. the other was thoughtful and famously intelligent, so why is his logic so distorted right now?
- and then, he drops the other bomb.
subconsciously, alhaitham tenses up, a look of shock crossing his face for the briefest of moments before it quickly rearranged into a perplexed sort of scowl. that kind of phrase coming out of kaveh's mouth, in that charmingly musical voice of his, directed at him - it obviously twinged something inside the scribe visibly, perceptibly. it sparked an unfamiliar thrill deep inside him, set a fire burning that would easily spiral out of control, and for a moment, he considers simply fulfilling the demand.
suddenly, the fatigue is relatively forgotten and the tenuous peace between them is shattered, one of alhaitham's hands curling in on itself to try and meter his feelings as he draws himself decisively up from the sofa. the reactive, raw part of him wants to ask unreasonable things right back, like 'what the fuck kind of question is that' - but the placidity somehow wins out.
he doesn't know what kaveh's doing, but he would not let him get under his skin for a third time.
they're close again, much like they'd been the previous night during their last argument, alhaitham glowering down at the other. ]
I'd choose what you're going to say next very carefully. I'm not a toy to be played with.
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So maybe, maybe he takes just a little pleasure in how the shock floods the other's face, no matter how briefly the expression exists. While he can't quite place the effect he's had, he it's almost enough to know that he's triggered something in him—
It's a pleasure he doesn't get to keep for long though, because Alhaitham is up and getting in his face, emerald eyes burning with a strange, fiery heat that makes Kaveh feel very suddenly like his mouth is much too dry, speaking words that immediately have the more senior of the two wanting to backpedal and apologize for pushing it too far.
Instead, he holds his ground, glares right back up at the other man, tries very sincerely not to think about how easy it would be just to close this space between them— basically a less-drunk version of what he did less than a day ago. If it wasn't for the fact that he remembers it reasonably clearly (as clearly as he can when he was that smashed), he'd posit that they'd found themselves in a samsara, a strange sort of loop in time of which some scholars have talked in the past. They've always argued, but lately it just seems to be getting worse—
He's getting dangerously close to losing himself in his own thoughts, so he breaks the chain by taking a small step back, shaking his head. ]
Since when have I ever toyed with you?
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for all the similarities the situation bore to the one the previous night, the scribe doesn't look furious like he did then - he looks pissed, but with the undertones of being hurt rather than simply frustrated at loud, drunken antics. unlike kaveh, alhaitham remembers and correlates every detail between the two arguments; the expression on kaveh's face, the words that had been yelled, the feeling of his weight and warmth against his shoulder.
and so, too, alhaitham catalogues those details now, like a decent academic would. the fire that kaveh had ignited thrums through his veins as his eyes drag over every inch of the other from the chin up - the slight sheen on his lips, the blonde locks of hair that would normally be braided up and out of sight now framing his face... the dark marks on his neck, hiding just out of view and largely obscured by the fact his hair was down.
the intense gaze lingers over them for longer than anything else, the flash of something possessive flickering across the scribe's face as he reaches up to run his thumb over one of the worst - a particularly egregious mark marring the skin just above kaveh's collarbone.
he doesn't even think about it, he'd argue. doesn't even think about how soft the skin is under his fingers or the jolt of electricity that spikes through him as they connect, because all he can think about is that someone else did this to him. ]
If you haven't toyed with me: you didn't come into the study like this for any reason other than simply being lazy?
[ alhaitham murmurs, voice low and even. he's still looking at the mark. ]
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There's something else, too, something he can't quite read just before the scribe's thumb lifts to swipe over that dark patch of skin above his collarbone; between that something and the spark of electricity from that contact, Kaveh's mouth betrays him with a shaky exhale, body with a slight lift of his chin, as if to afford Alhaitham more room to explore.
And the whole time, he's trying to think of a way to answer what is honestly a completely warranted question, even if it feels unfair to his mind. Mostly, he's irritated with himself. They were at peace again; he should have just shut his fucking mouth and not tried to provoke Alhaitham further.
Because now he's paying the price. Up close like this, the scribe is frighteningly handsome, even with the dark circles of fatigue and the bruise, all soft skin and hard jaw and piercing eyes; it's sheer stubbornness that keeps his eyes on the other's face, not allowing them to visually explore more of his body— more muscles, and more— the way he wants to.
He's trapped, and this time it isn't as simple as him trying to say he'll move out. Alhaitham has him cornered. ]
...I wanted your attention, [ is the admission that finally appears, and compared to the even timbre of Alhaitham's voice, Kaveh's is shaky with honesty. ] I wanted you to be jealous. You're the... the reason I was so riled up in the first place, so... so I wanted you to see.
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