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sempiternals2023-02-11 10:39 pm
indigently) wrote in sempiternals2023-02-11 10:39 pm
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[ the rest of the night had been at the very least, uneventful.
perhaps alhaitham had pettily locked the front door from the inside so kaveh couldn't get in, but it turns out that he hadn't tried anyway - likely still out barhopping until the small hours of the morning, and then passed out on a friendlier couch than he'd be able to find inside this house in particular.
even though the blonde hadn't kicked down his door looking for more trouble, alhaitham's mood remained decidedly sour even through until the next morning. he'd say that he doesn't like interruption to his routine and that's what's ruffling his feathers, but the truth is: his jaw still hurt (a faint bruise marring the skin) and he was still pissed off about the entire argument.
so, he'd done the only reasonable thing that came to mind and thrown himself into his work. headphones on, he'd retired before the sun had even come up to the study in the house because sleep had been evasive and his mind, busy. alhaitham's buried nose-deep in stacks of semiotic texts that required review to be added to the haravatat curriculum - a thoroughly menial, endless task, which was exactly what he needed to distract himself right now.
the most aggravating thing, though? as hard as he tried to concentrate on the words and the notes he was taking, unwelcome flashbacks to the previous night kept snaking in between the lines.
sighing in annoyance, he turns his headphones up louder. perhaps the volume would drown kaveh out, wherever he was. ]
perhaps alhaitham had pettily locked the front door from the inside so kaveh couldn't get in, but it turns out that he hadn't tried anyway - likely still out barhopping until the small hours of the morning, and then passed out on a friendlier couch than he'd be able to find inside this house in particular.
even though the blonde hadn't kicked down his door looking for more trouble, alhaitham's mood remained decidedly sour even through until the next morning. he'd say that he doesn't like interruption to his routine and that's what's ruffling his feathers, but the truth is: his jaw still hurt (a faint bruise marring the skin) and he was still pissed off about the entire argument.
so, he'd done the only reasonable thing that came to mind and thrown himself into his work. headphones on, he'd retired before the sun had even come up to the study in the house because sleep had been evasive and his mind, busy. alhaitham's buried nose-deep in stacks of semiotic texts that required review to be added to the haravatat curriculum - a thoroughly menial, endless task, which was exactly what he needed to distract himself right now.
the most aggravating thing, though? as hard as he tried to concentrate on the words and the notes he was taking, unwelcome flashbacks to the previous night kept snaking in between the lines.
sighing in annoyance, he turns his headphones up louder. perhaps the volume would drown kaveh out, wherever he was. ]
[ It's probably the worst hangover Kaveh's had in a while, something that given the circumstances isn't entirely surprising. (The circumstances, of course, being: was already too drunk to walk straight, got into an argument that killed the buzz, and then went and drank more. A lot more. ...Honestly, it's probably a miracle he's still alive.) He feels like shit, and quite frankly if it weren't for the fact that he has work to do today, he'd have likely stayed on that friendly couch, resting and drinking water until the worst of the hammering stopped in his skull.
But alas, it is not to be.
There are a few stops that he makes before he returns to the house he reluctantly calls his home: he goes first to the tavern to pick up Alhaitham's stained cape and then— with mora borrowed from Tighnari— to have it properly laundered. As such, by the time he arrives at the scribe's front door, it's bundled up in his arms, folded and warm and smelling like soap and padisarah.
The door is locked. From the inside. Kaveh thinks about dropping the freshly-laundered cape in a puddle of mud.
Instead, he uses a hairpin to pick the lock after five minutes of banging and yelling gets him nowhere.
He should probably clean up before getting to work— the stench of alcohol is coming off him in waves even now, and a glance in the hall mirror has him do a slight double-take (he looks like he's been fucked senseless, he thinks)— but instead he walks straight into the shared study, dropping the bundled cape unceremoniously on Alhaitham's desk before moving to sit behind his own, reaching to pull the feather quill out of his hair so he continue working on the sketch laid out over its surface.
The feather frees the last few strands of his hair, leaving it to fall loose around his face without the pins, messy and yet a perfect match for the debauched state of the rest of him— even a cursory glance at his person will discover that his shirt is sitting a little wider open than usual, his pale skin marred with a number of dark hickeys.
And for now, he says nothing. ]
But alas, it is not to be.
There are a few stops that he makes before he returns to the house he reluctantly calls his home: he goes first to the tavern to pick up Alhaitham's stained cape and then— with mora borrowed from Tighnari— to have it properly laundered. As such, by the time he arrives at the scribe's front door, it's bundled up in his arms, folded and warm and smelling like soap and padisarah.
The door is locked. From the inside. Kaveh thinks about dropping the freshly-laundered cape in a puddle of mud.
Instead, he uses a hairpin to pick the lock after five minutes of banging and yelling gets him nowhere.
He should probably clean up before getting to work— the stench of alcohol is coming off him in waves even now, and a glance in the hall mirror has him do a slight double-take (he looks like he's been fucked senseless, he thinks)— but instead he walks straight into the shared study, dropping the bundled cape unceremoniously on Alhaitham's desk before moving to sit behind his own, reaching to pull the feather quill out of his hair so he continue working on the sketch laid out over its surface.
The feather frees the last few strands of his hair, leaving it to fall loose around his face without the pins, messy and yet a perfect match for the debauched state of the rest of him— even a cursory glance at his person will discover that his shirt is sitting a little wider open than usual, his pale skin marred with a number of dark hickeys.
And for now, he says nothing. ]
[ the music in his ears - classical conservatory sumeru repertoire with a layer of ambient noise over the top for concentration - is much too engrossing for him to be able to hear kaveh's carrying on outside, nor the banging on the door. really, he's doing his very best to bring some semblance of order back into his life after the absolute mess that the previous night was, and after a couple of hours trying to get into the headspace to actually do the work on his plate, alhaitham had finally managed to get somewhere.
unfortunately, ten minutes after that breakthrough, he'd been snapped out of his reverie by his cape being dumped on his desk out of nowhere. normally unflappable, even he jumped a little at that because he was certain he'd locked the fucking door and no-one should be able to worm their way in without him noticing, let alone the one person he'd been trying to keep out.
a slender finger taps on the side of his headphones, momentarily muting them with an irritated look on his face as he looks up from the interruption. however, he only sees kaveh's retreating back before the other sits himself down on his side of the office - takes in the telltale signs that the architect had indeed stayed out for a second round of self destruction last night, like the messy blonde locks of his hair spilling over his shoulders instead of neatly braided; like the fact he was still wearing the same shirt from the night before, with all the damage it had incurred then.
the blasé way kaveh saunters in to a locked house, the wordless entrance as if nothing had actually gone on and he hadn't suckerpunched alhaitham in the face in public last night, and the fact that he obviously looked like he'd done more than simply drinking his life away? the scribe doesn't know why the last part pisses him off so much more than the breaking and entering, but it almost felt like that part was being flaunted as well.
'you weren't satisfactory enough to help me, so i found someone who was.'
turning halfway in his chair, a gloved hand tightens around the cape before he yanks it from the desk and throws it just as unceremoniously over the back of the sofa behind them. ]
An architect, of all people, should be able to understand a locked door.
[ alhaitham's tone is bitter, and he's unapologetic about it. really? he's in half a mind to stalk over, haul kaveh up and throw him back out like a stray cat. ]
unfortunately, ten minutes after that breakthrough, he'd been snapped out of his reverie by his cape being dumped on his desk out of nowhere. normally unflappable, even he jumped a little at that because he was certain he'd locked the fucking door and no-one should be able to worm their way in without him noticing, let alone the one person he'd been trying to keep out.
a slender finger taps on the side of his headphones, momentarily muting them with an irritated look on his face as he looks up from the interruption. however, he only sees kaveh's retreating back before the other sits himself down on his side of the office - takes in the telltale signs that the architect had indeed stayed out for a second round of self destruction last night, like the messy blonde locks of his hair spilling over his shoulders instead of neatly braided; like the fact he was still wearing the same shirt from the night before, with all the damage it had incurred then.
the blasé way kaveh saunters in to a locked house, the wordless entrance as if nothing had actually gone on and he hadn't suckerpunched alhaitham in the face in public last night, and the fact that he obviously looked like he'd done more than simply drinking his life away? the scribe doesn't know why the last part pisses him off so much more than the breaking and entering, but it almost felt like that part was being flaunted as well.
'you weren't satisfactory enough to help me, so i found someone who was.'
turning halfway in his chair, a gloved hand tightens around the cape before he yanks it from the desk and throws it just as unceremoniously over the back of the sofa behind them. ]
An architect, of all people, should be able to understand a locked door.
[ alhaitham's tone is bitter, and he's unapologetic about it. really? he's in half a mind to stalk over, haul kaveh up and throw him back out like a stray cat. ]
Edited (GRAMMAR????????) 2023-02-12 10:30 (UTC)
[ Admittedly, there's a small part of Kaveh— okay, a reasonably big part actually— that kind of sort of intended to flaunt the love bites visible over his chest and throat, that would be quite self-satisfied with the knowledge that Alhaitham is bothered by them; it's the same part that has his lips twisting into a nasty smirk in response to the irritated look on the scribe's face and the bitter tone in his voice, has him shrugging in the most nonchalant way he can muster, as if there isn't a single thing about it that matters.
Never mind that it does matter, that his stomach is twisting in guilt over the bruise he can see darkening Alhaitham's jaw, that his heart is still aching and angry over the scribe's insults— coward— that his brain is still stamped with the desire burned into it by that dream a few nights ago, a dream so vivid that not even throwing himself drunkenly at a stranger or two was enough to make it disappear. ]
I let myself in.
[ A much simpler way of explaining what actually happened, which was five minutes of expletive-ridden shouting and banging and staring from onlookers followed by several more minutes of fiddling with his hairpins— plural because he broke at least one in the process— while making sure to explain to anyone walking past that he's not actually breaking in, he lives here— a fact in his opinion, far too many people know now. But given the situation, there was no other option unless he wanted to find himself face to face with the matra. ]
I had work to do.
[ His tone is light— not friendly, that would be too much— but calm and measured, staying away from the acid timbres that currently lace the other's voice or the sharp emotion that would usually enrich his own. And it's tempting, admittedly, to follow his words with a question, such as how's your jaw, but he bites back the anger for now in favor of infuriating aloofness. A lesson taken straight from Alhaitham's book, as a matter of fact, echoed down to the way he indicates the paper in front of him as he talks, illustrating his words as if the other needs clarification on what his work is— like he's some kind of idiot— before returning to the work in front of him.
See how he likes it, Kaveh thinks, his stomach making another ugly twist in his abdomen. ]
Never mind that it does matter, that his stomach is twisting in guilt over the bruise he can see darkening Alhaitham's jaw, that his heart is still aching and angry over the scribe's insults— coward— that his brain is still stamped with the desire burned into it by that dream a few nights ago, a dream so vivid that not even throwing himself drunkenly at a stranger or two was enough to make it disappear. ]
I let myself in.
[ A much simpler way of explaining what actually happened, which was five minutes of expletive-ridden shouting and banging and staring from onlookers followed by several more minutes of fiddling with his hairpins— plural because he broke at least one in the process— while making sure to explain to anyone walking past that he's not actually breaking in, he lives here— a fact in his opinion, far too many people know now. But given the situation, there was no other option unless he wanted to find himself face to face with the matra. ]
I had work to do.
[ His tone is light— not friendly, that would be too much— but calm and measured, staying away from the acid timbres that currently lace the other's voice or the sharp emotion that would usually enrich his own. And it's tempting, admittedly, to follow his words with a question, such as how's your jaw, but he bites back the anger for now in favor of infuriating aloofness. A lesson taken straight from Alhaitham's book, as a matter of fact, echoed down to the way he indicates the paper in front of him as he talks, illustrating his words as if the other needs clarification on what his work is— like he's some kind of idiot— before returning to the work in front of him.
See how he likes it, Kaveh thinks, his stomach making another ugly twist in his abdomen. ]
[ a sharp intake of breath at the flippant remarks, a clear sign of vexation as alhaitham takes his headphones off and plants them on his desk with significantly more force than necessary. no work would be getting done until kaveh left. ]
Do it somewhere else.
[ the scribe responds almost instantly, his voice frostier than usual. getting up from his chair, he stalks over to the blonde's desk, bare feet resounding against the wooden floor just as angrily as his voice had sounded. if kaveh didn't want to resolve anything, alhaitham definitely would - and just because his roommate thought that teyvat currently revolved around him doesn't mean he'd let that justify work that needed to be done getting interrupted.
at least, that's what he tells himself.
as he bends slightly to slam a hand down on top of the papers kaveh is currently working on so he can't possibly brush him off this time, he hates that it gives him a better view of the litany of marks scattering over that porcelain skin; the state of his hair that would've only been a result of another's hands running through it.
it almost, almost makes him ball his fist up in the papers, but luckily for kaveh, alhaitham had more respect for academic work than that.
for now. ]
You had no problem running from reality last night, so I'm sure you can do it again. Did you keep their address?
[ the addendum slips out without a second thought, and he distantly wonders why he added it. it felt almost like the sour taste of jealousy, but really, it's just that kaveh has proven he has elsewhere he can freeload off of; other people to annoy (or sleep with, whatever came first). ]
Do it somewhere else.
[ the scribe responds almost instantly, his voice frostier than usual. getting up from his chair, he stalks over to the blonde's desk, bare feet resounding against the wooden floor just as angrily as his voice had sounded. if kaveh didn't want to resolve anything, alhaitham definitely would - and just because his roommate thought that teyvat currently revolved around him doesn't mean he'd let that justify work that needed to be done getting interrupted.
at least, that's what he tells himself.
as he bends slightly to slam a hand down on top of the papers kaveh is currently working on so he can't possibly brush him off this time, he hates that it gives him a better view of the litany of marks scattering over that porcelain skin; the state of his hair that would've only been a result of another's hands running through it.
it almost, almost makes him ball his fist up in the papers, but luckily for kaveh, alhaitham had more respect for academic work than that.
for now. ]
You had no problem running from reality last night, so I'm sure you can do it again. Did you keep their address?
[ the addendum slips out without a second thought, and he distantly wonders why he added it. it felt almost like the sour taste of jealousy, but really, it's just that kaveh has proven he has elsewhere he can freeload off of; other people to annoy (or sleep with, whatever came first). ]
[ There's a singular smug thread of pleasure tugged in Kaveh's spine at the way Alhaitham inhales and puts— thumps?— his headphones down on his own desk. He's pissed off? Good. He should be, after the way he—
—is storming across the room with feet thumping in a rhythm a lot more violent than usual, a heated contrast to the cold of his voice only emphasized by the slam of his hand over the top of Kaveh's work. There's a visible twitch in his fingers that has the architect's gaze following the length of his— long, muscled, strong— arms and up to his face, to the cold fury in his emerald eyes.
Kaveh's stomach does another awkward little flip, and something like panic settles in the back of his mind because he's not sure he's ever seen Alhaitham this angry, not ever, and if he gets kicked out now he's got nowhere else to go, and maybe he should have considered that before actively trying to worm his way so deeply under the scribe's skin.
(But also he looks frighteningly good, another little part of his brain says, that part of course being the one burned indelibly with the memory of the filthy fucking dream responsible for all this mess.)
For a moment, Alhaitham's verbal jab leaves him feeling like he's been backhanded across the face. Whether it's because he's implying cowardice yet again or judging him for the marks across his skin, there's something about it that stings, and it's nearly enough to break through the aloofness he's wearing like a shield. But it's followed by another smug little thread, one of realization that something about the whole thing has bothered him in a way Kaveh has never bothered him before. A small realization, but one that is enough to keep his gaze cool and steady as it locks with the other's. ]
I try not to work with people I've fucked, [ he says, and his voice is cold, the words blunt. ] It's not usually good for rapport.
[ So much for being worried about getting himself kicked out. ]
—is storming across the room with feet thumping in a rhythm a lot more violent than usual, a heated contrast to the cold of his voice only emphasized by the slam of his hand over the top of Kaveh's work. There's a visible twitch in his fingers that has the architect's gaze following the length of his— long, muscled, strong— arms and up to his face, to the cold fury in his emerald eyes.
Kaveh's stomach does another awkward little flip, and something like panic settles in the back of his mind because he's not sure he's ever seen Alhaitham this angry, not ever, and if he gets kicked out now he's got nowhere else to go, and maybe he should have considered that before actively trying to worm his way so deeply under the scribe's skin.
(But also he looks frighteningly good, another little part of his brain says, that part of course being the one burned indelibly with the memory of the filthy fucking dream responsible for all this mess.)
For a moment, Alhaitham's verbal jab leaves him feeling like he's been backhanded across the face. Whether it's because he's implying cowardice yet again or judging him for the marks across his skin, there's something about it that stings, and it's nearly enough to break through the aloofness he's wearing like a shield. But it's followed by another smug little thread, one of realization that something about the whole thing has bothered him in a way Kaveh has never bothered him before. A small realization, but one that is enough to keep his gaze cool and steady as it locks with the other's. ]
I try not to work with people I've fucked, [ he says, and his voice is cold, the words blunt. ] It's not usually good for rapport.
[ So much for being worried about getting himself kicked out. ]
Edited 2023-02-13 01:07 (UTC)
[ for a second, alhaitham has no response to kaveh's blunt statement, despite the fact that his question itself had been pushing a boundary.
annoyance and then what looks like an ice cold anger flicker across his face for a moment as he simply stares back at the blonde with narrowed eyes, the silence hanging heavily between them for far longer than it should. he hates this, hates how unpredictable kaveh is making him - he's a fan of his routines, of predictability. he's known for his reliable nature, his unflappable sense of self, and here kaveh is, digging his fingernails in and tearing it down. ]
Oh, is that so?
[ as he glowers at the other, it's anyone's guess what he'd do next now that their normal dynamics had been thrown out the window; now that they'd been given credence to simply act as if anything goes. in a fluid movement, the hand planted on top of the graphing papers kaveh had been working on swipes down towards the floor, sending them all scattering - probably not damaged (alhaitham still has standards) but definitely a big fucking mess.
straightening up, he then grabs at a stack of books sitting on the architect's desk and picks them up, striding over to a storage trunk near the door to the study - once decorative, now fit for purpose - and kicks it open his his bare heel, dumping them all inside. ]
Since you're now suddenly so resourceful, you can move out.
[ and he goes for a second stack of books, intent on this one task. he could, should be alone again - why did he ever think it was remotely a good idea for kaveh to live here in the first place? his life could've been peaceful, normal, but instead, here he is, fucking furious for lord know's why, all because every second sentence out of kaveh's mouth made him feel like some sort of jilted lover.
and if he bothered to look closer instead of trying to gather all of the blonde's worldly possessions? he'd probably realise he's just hurt. ]
annoyance and then what looks like an ice cold anger flicker across his face for a moment as he simply stares back at the blonde with narrowed eyes, the silence hanging heavily between them for far longer than it should. he hates this, hates how unpredictable kaveh is making him - he's a fan of his routines, of predictability. he's known for his reliable nature, his unflappable sense of self, and here kaveh is, digging his fingernails in and tearing it down. ]
Oh, is that so?
[ as he glowers at the other, it's anyone's guess what he'd do next now that their normal dynamics had been thrown out the window; now that they'd been given credence to simply act as if anything goes. in a fluid movement, the hand planted on top of the graphing papers kaveh had been working on swipes down towards the floor, sending them all scattering - probably not damaged (alhaitham still has standards) but definitely a big fucking mess.
straightening up, he then grabs at a stack of books sitting on the architect's desk and picks them up, striding over to a storage trunk near the door to the study - once decorative, now fit for purpose - and kicks it open his his bare heel, dumping them all inside. ]
Since you're now suddenly so resourceful, you can move out.
[ and he goes for a second stack of books, intent on this one task. he could, should be alone again - why did he ever think it was remotely a good idea for kaveh to live here in the first place? his life could've been peaceful, normal, but instead, here he is, fucking furious for lord know's why, all because every second sentence out of kaveh's mouth made him feel like some sort of jilted lover.
and if he bothered to look closer instead of trying to gather all of the blonde's worldly possessions? he'd probably realise he's just hurt. ]
[ There's a single moment where Kaveh doesn't know what Alhaitham is going to do... and something about that is unsettling to the point of fear. Usually, the scribe is predictable down to the very last detail; it's rare that he surprises the architect with anything that he says or does— in hindsight, even his showing up to the bar when Kaveh told him not to makes a certain kind of sense, as does locking the door overnight and trying to return to a sense of normalcy this morning.
But the anger writing itself over Alhaitham's face is new. The smooth scatter of Kaveh's papers over the floor is newer. ]
What the fuck, Alhaitham?
[ As carefree as he can be with certain things, these papers are important, and so Kaveh doesn't miss a beat, kneeling down amongst the mess and trying to gather them back into some semblance of order, making sure nothing has been damaged or misplaced by the sudden way they were flung to the floor. It's the sounds that follow, though— the scribe's cold voice, the slam the bare heel against the storage trunk, the thump of falling books— that make him look up from where he's working to see what the other is doing now—
Panic grips his heart like a vice, and for a moment Kaveh thinks he's going to be sick. He can't move out. He can't. He has nowhere else to go—
(and maybe he should have thought of that before provoking Alhaitham to the point of no return)
Unthinking, he shoves himself back onto his feet, quick strides taking him around the desk and in front of the storage trunk, arms out as if doing so will somehow stop the scribe from packing his life into a box and throwing him out onto the streets. When he speaks, it's in the pleading tone of someone desperate, the aloof cold chased immediately out of his voice by the panic. ]
Alhaitham, don't. Please. You know I don't have anywhere else to go.
But the anger writing itself over Alhaitham's face is new. The smooth scatter of Kaveh's papers over the floor is newer. ]
What the fuck, Alhaitham?
[ As carefree as he can be with certain things, these papers are important, and so Kaveh doesn't miss a beat, kneeling down amongst the mess and trying to gather them back into some semblance of order, making sure nothing has been damaged or misplaced by the sudden way they were flung to the floor. It's the sounds that follow, though— the scribe's cold voice, the slam the bare heel against the storage trunk, the thump of falling books— that make him look up from where he's working to see what the other is doing now—
Panic grips his heart like a vice, and for a moment Kaveh thinks he's going to be sick. He can't move out. He can't. He has nowhere else to go—
(and maybe he should have thought of that before provoking Alhaitham to the point of no return)
Unthinking, he shoves himself back onto his feet, quick strides taking him around the desk and in front of the storage trunk, arms out as if doing so will somehow stop the scribe from packing his life into a box and throwing him out onto the streets. When he speaks, it's in the pleading tone of someone desperate, the aloof cold chased immediately out of his voice by the panic. ]
Alhaitham, don't. Please. You know I don't have anywhere else to go.
Edited 2023-02-13 09:51 (UTC)
[ his voice is level, but cold - his face neutral except for the kink in his brow that denotes a focused scowl. the scribe doesn't stop what he's doing, but he'd be lying if he said that the tone change in kaveh's voice didn't give him pause and he loathes that he, alhaitham, the acting grand sage had somehow become so easily manipulated by the stray he'd taken in.
coming back for the second round of books to be dumped in the trunk, he finds kaveh decidedly in the way of him doing so now, positioned directly between him and the box. frowning down at the other, he finds himself at an impasse - it's not exactly like he can move kaveh out of the way while he's holding several thick, extremely heavy tomes on structural design, but something's also nagging in the back of his mind that the longer he looks into those fiery eyes, the more he'd lose his resolve. ]
Just because you have nowhere else to go isn't a sound enough reason to stay.
[ the taller man says flatly, tone low. ]
This is just your last resort, not your home.
[ which is more a statement from his perspective - like kaveh living here in the first place was some dirty little secret to be kept hidden; like he was simply some sort of capitalist landlord rather than anything else. he had no need for either of these things, not when it left him feeling so aggravatingly hollow.
the books he's holding get set heavily down on the floor next to the trunk as the stalemate continues, the thud echoing around the otherwise silent room. ]
Moreover - [ he turns his head, looking around to try and spot other books, items, anything to aggregate - anything that's not looking at the hurt on kaveh's face. ] - I'm not a wondrous machine that dispenses what you need whenever you need it, much less one that's happy to have it thrown back at them like some petulant child.
coming back for the second round of books to be dumped in the trunk, he finds kaveh decidedly in the way of him doing so now, positioned directly between him and the box. frowning down at the other, he finds himself at an impasse - it's not exactly like he can move kaveh out of the way while he's holding several thick, extremely heavy tomes on structural design, but something's also nagging in the back of his mind that the longer he looks into those fiery eyes, the more he'd lose his resolve. ]
Just because you have nowhere else to go isn't a sound enough reason to stay.
[ the taller man says flatly, tone low. ]
This is just your last resort, not your home.
[ which is more a statement from his perspective - like kaveh living here in the first place was some dirty little secret to be kept hidden; like he was simply some sort of capitalist landlord rather than anything else. he had no need for either of these things, not when it left him feeling so aggravatingly hollow.
the books he's holding get set heavily down on the floor next to the trunk as the stalemate continues, the thud echoing around the otherwise silent room. ]
Moreover - [ he turns his head, looking around to try and spot other books, items, anything to aggregate - anything that's not looking at the hurt on kaveh's face. ] - I'm not a wondrous machine that dispenses what you need whenever you need it, much less one that's happy to have it thrown back at them like some petulant child.
[ The worst thing about the first set of words spoken in that cold, flat tone is the fact that they're true— it's no secret between them that Kaveh has, at least while sober, made a concerted effort to conceal from others the fact that he's living with Alhaitham. It is, however, an issue of his own wounded pride more than anything, a desperate grasp in the direction of keeping even some of his once-healthy reputation alive; he's the light of Kshahrewar, damnit, a genius architect, he's not meant to be broke and living off the good will of another.
(If you consider being forced to pay rent to a landlord in a house that was originally meant to be half his as "good will", anyway.)
That doesn't change the fact though that he's never once stopped to consider how it must make Alhaitham feel when he so frantically denies the fact that they're living together. In fact, to further the point, he doesn't often consider the scribe's feelings at all— Honestly, until last night, he wasn't actually sure he had any.
The books land next to him with a resounding thud, and Kaveh swallows against the emotion building too fast in his throat. ]
Alhaitham— [ But the scribe is talking again, his head swiveling as if trying to decide which of the architect's few possessions to pack up next, and this time the words from his lips are quite simply unfair, the blonde's hands dropping momentarily to his sides and his brows narrowing in protest, a lyrical anger in his voice as he retorts: ] How can I throw back in your face something I never actually asked for?! I told you I didn't want your help—
[ Kaveh cuts the sentence abruptly in two, closing his eyes and curling his hands into fists, trying to calm himself down. He's not wrong, not on this, but this isn't the time for that. Not when he's at risk of finding himself on the streets. He takes in a deep breath, trying in desperation to steady himself, to control the emotion that wants to reign over the situation, and opens his eyes again, searching for Alhaitham's gaze with his own. ]
I'm sorry, okay? Please don't throw me out. I'm not— [ a swallow against the lump in his throat, the pride that tries to keep him from admitting his faults, the feeling of sick that's half-hungover and half-panicked turmoil ] —I'm not as okay as I pretend to be, Alhaitham, you know that.
(If you consider being forced to pay rent to a landlord in a house that was originally meant to be half his as "good will", anyway.)
That doesn't change the fact though that he's never once stopped to consider how it must make Alhaitham feel when he so frantically denies the fact that they're living together. In fact, to further the point, he doesn't often consider the scribe's feelings at all— Honestly, until last night, he wasn't actually sure he had any.
The books land next to him with a resounding thud, and Kaveh swallows against the emotion building too fast in his throat. ]
Alhaitham— [ But the scribe is talking again, his head swiveling as if trying to decide which of the architect's few possessions to pack up next, and this time the words from his lips are quite simply unfair, the blonde's hands dropping momentarily to his sides and his brows narrowing in protest, a lyrical anger in his voice as he retorts: ] How can I throw back in your face something I never actually asked for?! I told you I didn't want your help—
[ Kaveh cuts the sentence abruptly in two, closing his eyes and curling his hands into fists, trying to calm himself down. He's not wrong, not on this, but this isn't the time for that. Not when he's at risk of finding himself on the streets. He takes in a deep breath, trying in desperation to steady himself, to control the emotion that wants to reign over the situation, and opens his eyes again, searching for Alhaitham's gaze with his own. ]
I'm sorry, okay? Please don't throw me out. I'm not— [ a swallow against the lump in his throat, the pride that tries to keep him from admitting his faults, the feeling of sick that's half-hungover and half-panicked turmoil ] —I'm not as okay as I pretend to be, Alhaitham, you know that.
I know that's hardly a secret.
[ something twists inside him at the pleading tone of kaveh's voice and the taller man finds himself looking back into those ruby eyes, expression unreadable. in a subconsciously defensive move, he crosses his arms over his chest, muscles tensing at the fraught atmosphere crackling between them.
kaveh's retort feels like a rehashing of the public display they'd created last night and it makes the raw wounds of the evening sting all over again - annoying, annoying, annoying. alhaitham's jaw sets as he tries to quell the rising urge to match kaveh's emotional level, not wanting to lose himself again like he had in their last argument. it wouldn't do, he couldn't let himself loose like that - but he was finding himself doing it more and more when the blonde was involved.
gesturing sharply, accusingly at kaveh with one hand; ]
"You didn't ask for it. You didn't want it." Do you know the only thing that's worse than seeing 'the light of Kshashrewar' repeatedly, unfailingly choose elaborate self-destruction as someone who's job it is to maintain the reputation of the Akademiya?
[ an indirect compliment wrapped in a barb, his voice forceful and scathing. ]
Having a front row seat to it. [ he pauses, as if considering whether or not he should say the quiet part out loud. ] Having a front row seat to it, and being relatively powerless to stop it.
So - fine. You don't want my assistance? Great, it's one less thing I need to worry about. But I'm not coming along for this foolish ride of yours, lest I get punched in the face again.
[ something twists inside him at the pleading tone of kaveh's voice and the taller man finds himself looking back into those ruby eyes, expression unreadable. in a subconsciously defensive move, he crosses his arms over his chest, muscles tensing at the fraught atmosphere crackling between them.
kaveh's retort feels like a rehashing of the public display they'd created last night and it makes the raw wounds of the evening sting all over again - annoying, annoying, annoying. alhaitham's jaw sets as he tries to quell the rising urge to match kaveh's emotional level, not wanting to lose himself again like he had in their last argument. it wouldn't do, he couldn't let himself loose like that - but he was finding himself doing it more and more when the blonde was involved.
gesturing sharply, accusingly at kaveh with one hand; ]
"You didn't ask for it. You didn't want it." Do you know the only thing that's worse than seeing 'the light of Kshashrewar' repeatedly, unfailingly choose elaborate self-destruction as someone who's job it is to maintain the reputation of the Akademiya?
[ an indirect compliment wrapped in a barb, his voice forceful and scathing. ]
Having a front row seat to it. [ he pauses, as if considering whether or not he should say the quiet part out loud. ] Having a front row seat to it, and being relatively powerless to stop it.
So - fine. You don't want my assistance? Great, it's one less thing I need to worry about. But I'm not coming along for this foolish ride of yours, lest I get punched in the face again.
[ In response to this newest tirade, it's all Kaveh can do to stand there, staring up at Alhaitham as his gut twists in his stomach, as he fights back now not just a lump of emotion and panic but a rising gorge that he's pretty sure is going to be the visible results of last night's drunken escapades if he's not careful. His eyes flicker to the bruise marring the other's pale skin, and then back to the cold, indecipherable look in his eyes, and he knows that at this point, there's probably only two ways this can go:
Either he tells Alhaitham the truth, or he finds himself and his belongings on the streets.
Crimson eyes fall to the floor, to the scribe's bare feet and the pile of books, and his fists slowly loosen, a breath catching in his throat before he can do anything about it. He's swallowed enough pride today already; there's no way at all he can bring himself to share that one, horrible thing. ]
...Alright. [ His voice is smaller than he would like, weaker than it should by rights be, and he steps around the taller man, moving to the desk to pick up the most urgent of his belongings, blinking back the tears that are very suddenly springing to the corners of his eyes. ] I'll leave, then. I'll send someone to collect my things later.
[ Tighnari, perhaps, or Cyno, if he can bear to look either of them in the face after this. If he can look anyone in the face after this.
He's quick to gather what he needs, heading for the study's door without another glance in the other man's direction. He's afraid that if he looks him in the face once more, the desperation will cause him to break... and he can't do that. ]
I'm sorry.
[ All this, and apparently Alhaitham was right anyway— he is a coward. ]
Either he tells Alhaitham the truth, or he finds himself and his belongings on the streets.
Crimson eyes fall to the floor, to the scribe's bare feet and the pile of books, and his fists slowly loosen, a breath catching in his throat before he can do anything about it. He's swallowed enough pride today already; there's no way at all he can bring himself to share that one, horrible thing. ]
...Alright. [ His voice is smaller than he would like, weaker than it should by rights be, and he steps around the taller man, moving to the desk to pick up the most urgent of his belongings, blinking back the tears that are very suddenly springing to the corners of his eyes. ] I'll leave, then. I'll send someone to collect my things later.
[ Tighnari, perhaps, or Cyno, if he can bear to look either of them in the face after this. If he can look anyone in the face after this.
He's quick to gather what he needs, heading for the study's door without another glance in the other man's direction. He's afraid that if he looks him in the face once more, the desperation will cause him to break... and he can't do that. ]
I'm sorry.
[ All this, and apparently Alhaitham was right anyway— he is a coward. ]
Edited 2023-02-13 13:24 (UTC)
That's it?
[ his response is incredulous as kaveh simply gives up and begins to saunter dejectedly off like he was a dog that had just been admonished. perhaps alhaitham had suggested he leave in the first place, but he'd expected some pushback, at least; some of that fiery defiance that kaveh was so well known for. where was the protest? where was the snapback argument where he actually tries to fight for himself?
kaveh's dejection surprises alhaitham far more than anything else he could've done in response to the scribe's call-out, and he's briefly rendered speechless as his mind races.
wasn't he getting what he wanted? hadn't he longed to finally be free again, untethered from the chaos and unpredictability that kaveh constantly dragged in through the door with him? so - why did it ache so fucking much to see the blonde give up so easily and choose to walk out the door rather than stand up for himself, stand up for being here?
he finds himself following kaveh a few steps behind if he doesn't stop, his expression more perplexed than anything at this point. ]
You're just giving up? [ the scribe demands in disbelief, reaching out for kaveh's shoulder with a slender hand - though his touch isn't aggressive this time, doesn't fall heavily on him. ] Why?
[ his response is incredulous as kaveh simply gives up and begins to saunter dejectedly off like he was a dog that had just been admonished. perhaps alhaitham had suggested he leave in the first place, but he'd expected some pushback, at least; some of that fiery defiance that kaveh was so well known for. where was the protest? where was the snapback argument where he actually tries to fight for himself?
kaveh's dejection surprises alhaitham far more than anything else he could've done in response to the scribe's call-out, and he's briefly rendered speechless as his mind races.
wasn't he getting what he wanted? hadn't he longed to finally be free again, untethered from the chaos and unpredictability that kaveh constantly dragged in through the door with him? so - why did it ache so fucking much to see the blonde give up so easily and choose to walk out the door rather than stand up for himself, stand up for being here?
he finds himself following kaveh a few steps behind if he doesn't stop, his expression more perplexed than anything at this point. ]
You're just giving up? [ the scribe demands in disbelief, reaching out for kaveh's shoulder with a slender hand - though his touch isn't aggressive this time, doesn't fall heavily on him. ] Why?
[ It's a day full of surprises when it comes to Alhaitham, it seems, because where Kaveh imagines he'll be left to walk through the door in silent desolation, the reality of the situation is that he's not only called after, but followed, a hand landing— surprisingly gentle— on his shoulder as the scribe's questioning voice demands answers. Why would he do that? Why, when he got what he wanted out of this whole thing anyway?
And worst of all, why doesn't Kaveh have an answer for him outside of those same words he's already promised himself not to speak aloud?
Kaveh desperately wants to just push that hand off and keep moving, but there's a magic about it that somehow keeps him held in place despite everything. His eyes close against the tears wetting his lashes and he sucks in a breath; he just wants this to be over. ]
You're surprised? But you said it yourself, didn't you? [ His voice is thick, too thick, with the emotion clogging his throat, and it's almost by reflex that he lifts a hand to his own neck, a troubled frown falling over his features. ] I'm a coward.
[ It hurts more than he thought to say the words out loud, a truthful admission that he would rather walk away than speak honestly about what's been troubling him. ]
And worst of all, why doesn't Kaveh have an answer for him outside of those same words he's already promised himself not to speak aloud?
Kaveh desperately wants to just push that hand off and keep moving, but there's a magic about it that somehow keeps him held in place despite everything. His eyes close against the tears wetting his lashes and he sucks in a breath; he just wants this to be over. ]
You're surprised? But you said it yourself, didn't you? [ His voice is thick, too thick, with the emotion clogging his throat, and it's almost by reflex that he lifts a hand to his own neck, a troubled frown falling over his features. ] I'm a coward.
[ It hurts more than he thought to say the words out loud, a truthful admission that he would rather walk away than speak honestly about what's been troubling him. ]
This isn't you.
[ alhaitham replies flatly, as if it was the most obvious observation in the world. he doesn't even think to remove his hand from kaveh's shoulder, or realise that he's effectively holding the other in place, preventing him from doing the one thing he'd suggested just a few minutes ago. but, drama aside - this was still, by all accounts, a ridiculous situation.
the man in front of him built elaborate palaces and plazas; sailed to the top of his class in the kshahrewar; was always loudly, unapologetically himself and true to his values, even when alhaitham thought it was idiocy to be so emotionally dedicated to one school of thought.
it was almost equal idiocy that kaveh seems to have forgotten all this.
a heavy sigh escapes the scribe - he's not as good with words as the other, especially not in situations like this. he's all rigid fact and well-placed sass, not a font of comforting words or encouragement. ]
Look - I don't know what's happened to you, and I probably won't end up knowing either. I'm not exactly a confidant.
[ alhaitham frowns, though it seems to be more akin to concern than of the 'i'm kicking you out of the fucking house' from ten minutes ago. ]
Even without the specifics, is it really something big enough to warrant throwing so much away?
[ he doesn't even think that the 'so much' in this case could be interpreted as their living situation, as dysfunctional as it was. accidentally? it's quite sentimental. ]
[ alhaitham replies flatly, as if it was the most obvious observation in the world. he doesn't even think to remove his hand from kaveh's shoulder, or realise that he's effectively holding the other in place, preventing him from doing the one thing he'd suggested just a few minutes ago. but, drama aside - this was still, by all accounts, a ridiculous situation.
the man in front of him built elaborate palaces and plazas; sailed to the top of his class in the kshahrewar; was always loudly, unapologetically himself and true to his values, even when alhaitham thought it was idiocy to be so emotionally dedicated to one school of thought.
it was almost equal idiocy that kaveh seems to have forgotten all this.
a heavy sigh escapes the scribe - he's not as good with words as the other, especially not in situations like this. he's all rigid fact and well-placed sass, not a font of comforting words or encouragement. ]
Look - I don't know what's happened to you, and I probably won't end up knowing either. I'm not exactly a confidant.
[ alhaitham frowns, though it seems to be more akin to concern than of the 'i'm kicking you out of the fucking house' from ten minutes ago. ]
Even without the specifics, is it really something big enough to warrant throwing so much away?
[ he doesn't even think that the 'so much' in this case could be interpreted as their living situation, as dysfunctional as it was. accidentally? it's quite sentimental. ]
[ 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.
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; ]
Do you hate me, Kaveh?
[ 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?
[ 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. ]
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. ]
How eloquent.
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
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. ]
Edited 2023-02-14 16:38 (UTC)
The feeling is mutual.
[ 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?
[ 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?
I want you to—
[ 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.
[ 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?
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?
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.
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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