[ Today is officially the worst day of Kaveh's life. The worst day, to be more specific, in thirty years, something he would much prefer to forget— something he hasn't been allowed to forget: between clients somehow being informed of the fact in the days leading up to the event, his friends planning a blowout of a party for him, and even the Traveler somehow remembering to send him a card, he's overwhelmed and exhausted, and the day has barely begun.
He can't exactly blame anyone; in the years leading up to this, he's always celebrated his birthday, enjoyed the greetings and the blowouts, the presents and the free drinks in such copious amounts that he would invariably wake up the next day hungover and miserable. (That part was less fun, but it was a pain forgotten in each following year.) He can't blame them for not being able to read his mind— but he's miserable about it nonetheless.
Which is how he ended up here, face-down on one of the divans, face in a cushion as if he's trying to drown in it, groaning loud enough for his voice to be heard clearly through the stuffing and the layers of fabric. ]
I don't wanna go tonight, [ is the complaint between his frustrated whines. There are still hours to kill before the party— it's not even mid-morning— but he's dreading it nonetheless. ] Can't you just tell Tighnari I'm sick?
[ (He's not even sure Alhaitham is still around listening to his tantrum, but just in case, he talks as if he is.) ]
Turning th— thirty is nothing to celebrate. I won't do it, Alhaitham, I won't!
[ He had so many plans for his twenties, and he's succeeded in approximately none of them. Worse than that, he's still broke, living in someone else's house, single (and worse still, pining after the person on whose kindness he exists). And now he's officially no longer in his twenties, and his whole plan is a mess and he has no idea what he's meant to do now. ]
[ Objectively speaking, one's thirtieth birthday holds no more significance than one's twenty-ninth. Birthdays and anniversaries are just markers of time, but some are ascribed more importance than others because humans are innately drawn to patterns and milestones. The reason people do this with multiples of five and ten in particular is probably the same reason the people of Sumeru have worked in base ten for well over a thousand years: ten can be counted on fingers, making it a convenient and intuitive number of digits to keep track of.
He's just about to step out of the kitchen into the main living area when Kaveh begins to complain into the cushions, prompting him to stop in the doorway and lean against the jamb as he listens. Bringing the rim of his cup to his lips, he takes the first sip as he considers why Kaveh is like this today when he's previously enjoyed his birthdays despite inevitably having to deal with the consequences of excessive drinking every time. ]
Tell him yourself. [ He replies immediately without pause, peering at the other man over the rim of his cup. ] I'm not going to force you to go, but I'm not going to lie to Tighnari just because you're seemingly having a mid-life crisis a decade early.
[ Blank refusal is met with a groan that's more whine than anything else; on any other year he would pout and sulk and complain that it's his birthday and Alhaitham should just do as he asks for once, but his current mood precludes such a reaction, leaving him to continue complaining with his face pressed into the cushion. ]
I am not having a mid-life crisis! This is just the logical conclusion to the realization that the best years of my life have slipped me by and I have nothing to show for it!
[ In other words, he's having a mid-life crisis. Kaveh may be overemotional and rash, but even he realizes the irony in what he's just said. It's enough to bring him back to his senses just a little, and he peers up from the cushion, looking over the top of it with shimmering, red-rimmed eyes. ]
Well, there's clearly something wrong with my brain. That counts as sick, so you wouldn't be lying. [ The edge of a whine is still in his voice, but there's something steely in his gaze, something meant to warn Alhaitham away from commenting on the fact that he's clearly shed a few tears in the midst of his emotional outburst.
And why wouldn't he have been? When his parents were thirty, they were already married. They had a son. They had successful careers, and a group of friends with whom they spent their leisure time. And they lived well— they weren't borrowing money to make ends meet, or living in the spare room of someone else's house.
They'd been brave enough to go for the things they really wanted. The things that mattered. ]
Would you please just tell him I'm unwell? I just... [ He sighs. ] I just want to keep it quiet this year. I'm sorry that I didn't say so sooner. I didn't know.
[ Okay, this definitely is an early midlife crisis, but thankfully Alhaitham tactfully refrains from pointing this out when he sees the wetness in Kaveh's eyes. This necessitates a careful approach; he could turn this into their one of their debates and pick apart everything Kaveh has to say, but he's learned that being correct sometimes means nothing at all. This is isn't something he needs to win; what he needs is for Kaveh to not be like this. So he listens without interrupting, waiting until Kaveh stops talking before replying. ]
...All right. [ He acquiesces without second thought, lowering his cup after a slow sip. Kaveh has reached this milestone of perceived importance, and is now regretting the things he wasn't able to do or accomplish in his twenties. He's still neck deep in debt he could've easily avoided and living in someone else's house while so many of his peers are homeowners with children and great social lives.
He's also fast approaching the age his father was when he died. The knowledge that he'll soon outlive him might also be a factor in his current crisis. ]
I'll go tell him at noon. You have until then to change your mind.
[ Alhaitham doesn't particularly care about these gatherings (they're okay and he's come to appreciate them somewhat after rescuing their Archon brought him closer to Cyno and the others, but he can still do without them) and doesn't intend to convince him to go, but he knows Kaveh's enjoyed them previously—so he wants to leave this particular avenue open for a few hours so Kaveh can reassess his feelings on the matter once this outburst has been given time to subside. People are prone to blurting things out during emotional episodes that they later regret. ]
[ The agreement is met with a sigh of relief— there was a part of him genuinely expecting Alhaitham to insist again that he should go to the party, and he's glad to be proven wrong. Still more into the pillow than to the room, he murmurs a "thank you" that can barely be heard; at the very least, however, he doesn't bury himself back in its depths, but stays where he is, looking half at Alhaitham and half at the kitchen beyond him as he mulls over the other's question.
What would he like to do? The truth is, he doesn't want to do anything. He's just feeling— he feels— ]
I just want to rest. [ Kaveh sighs, a brief close of his eyes as he lowers his head back against the pillow— not hiding, but reclining. He's not really thinking about what he's doing, or the words that come to his lips as he continues: ] Do you have any plans for the day? I'd like to... will you just rest with me, Alhaitham?
[ Perhaps it's selfish of him, asking to monopolize his roommate's time like this, for seeking Alhaitham's attention when it hasn't been offered to him— but doesn't he deserve one small boon from today, for reaching a milestone that makes him feel like he's wasted his life until this moment? Even if that boon is the tiniest fragment of attention from a single person—
(And no, there's nothing to stop him from seeking that recognition from others, like he has before, but they're not him, not the person he wants to look at him and only him, not the man with whom he's been in love since they were both boys and before Kaveh even knew what love is—)
His smile is weak, tired as he offers the other a way out of the request— because asking at all is selfish, but not giving a fair cause for rejection even more so: ] If you're busy, of course, you don't have to worry—
[ There's the slightest lift to his eyebrow—the one hidden by silver bangs—as the linguist in him analyzes Kaveh's words like one might examine a microscope with an unknown specimen. Kaveh asked if he has any plans today, then followed up with "I'd like..." before rephrasing the question; so he specifically wants to spend time with him. Presumably because the alternative is solitude and Alhaitham is the only available option for company at the moment since he doesn't want to see Tighnari or any one else in his social circle. ]
I'm not busy. [ He replies immediately, then falls silent for a beat or two as he weighs his options and how to best navigate the situation at hand; the last thing he wants is for Kaveh to become more upset and emotionally volatile than he already is. ]
There's cake in the kitchen. We can either eat it here or take it with us on a picnic. [ Another sip of coffee, flavor notes of orchard fruits lingering upon his tongue before the hot liquid travels down his throat. ]
Fresh air might do you good; research suggests that being outside can stimulate the brain to produce serotonin, which improves one's mood and reduces feelings of stress and anxiety.
[ In his mind, Kaveh has already convinced himself that Alhaitham will take the offered out— after all, why would the other man choose to spend time alone with him, even on a day earmarked (to his chagrin) for celebration? So when the scribe not only agrees to the suggestion, but does so with such speed, the blonde finds himself pressing his face a little deeper into the pillow to hide the smile that starts to creep onto his lips. It's selfish of him to ask for such a thing, and yet Alhaitham has given it to him so easily— showing his happiness would be inappropriate, and far too telling on top of that.
However, he's unable to hide the way his head shoots back up when the other man says that there's a cake, his eyes widening, the smile on his lips softening to an expression of surprise. ]
You... Alhaitham, you got me a cake?
[ There are other words, of course— something about eating here, or taking the cake on a picnic, something about the fresh air being good for him— but they're lost in the understanding that there's cake, that Alhaitham went out of his way to do something so sweet—
He blinks; he feels like there are fresh tears welling in his eyes, threatening to fall in response to such kindness. Honestly, he wants to just... go to him, show his gratitude through an embrace, but— but that would be even more inappropriate than a smile. ]
Then... let's go out. You're right. A picnic... going outside will be good. [ As the cloud of his emotion finally starts to clear, he finally catches the scent of coffee in the air, and he sits up, reaching a hand out toward the other man. ] Let me have a sip to clear my head first though.
[ Alhaitham tips his head slightly in a nod at the question, his inscrutable gaze studying Kaveh's expression and body language. Good, he doesn't need any further convincing and he's glad he made decision to pick up that cake as early as possible now. ]
...I'd tell you to make your own coffee, but I'll allow it this time. [ His coffee is sacrosanct, but Kaveh continues to be the exception to many things in his life; really, it'd be easier if he wasn't in love with this living, breathing disruption to his routine. But people don't choose who they love nor can they just stop at will so Alhaitham will simply have to keep making these exceptions to his hallowed logic and let this wildly irrational emotion continue to take up residence in his heart.
He takes one last sip, leaving little over a third of liquid in the cup before stepping away from the doorway to press said cup into Kaveh's hand. ]
[ His eyes widen when Alhaitham mentions the cake, jaw dropping as the cup is pressed into his hand— not because the scribe actually did as he asked, but because not only was the other serious about the cake, but also...
He remembers it all too clearly: the bitter pout on his lips as he picked at the plate of baklava in front of him, the soft whine in his companion's direction that it's not the same— the baklava being perfectly good for what it was, but not what he wanted— Alhaitham barely looking up from his coffee as he replies, as deadpan as ever, to take it to management instead of disrupting their study time. To know, despite that, his old friend listened closely enough to remember not only what he loved, but even his favorite kind of it—
Where Kaveh disallowed himself the embrace in the moment before, he finds himself getting back to his feet, the coffee still tight in one hand as the other circles Alhaitham, pulling him in close for a single moment. (And he tries not to breathe too deeply, tries not to take in the soft musk of the other's scent, but it fills his nose regardless, a shaky sigh on his lips in response.)
He pulls back again, looking up at Alhaitham with red-rimmed eyes as he falls away a step, lifting the coffee to his lips and inhaling the orchard scent— an attempt at clearing his roommate's heady muskiness— before taking a sip. ]
My tastes haven't changed, Haitham. [ The nickname slips out naturally, affectionate and sweet, despite being one he hasn't used since their Akademiya days. ] Thank you.
[ Alhaitham's back stiffens as he gets pulled into the hug, not having expected him to initiate physical contact like this—sure, Kaveh can get clingy at times when he has to carry him home after he's had too many drinks at Lambad's, but he's not like this when sober. It's not unwelcome though, and the tension seeps out of his spine as soon as the initial surprise passes and he makes no effort to disengage, letting the hug run its course.
His hands hover awkwardly above Kaveh's back, not quite sure where to land, or even if they should—and before he can come to a decision, Kaveh has already stepped away. Damn. He doesn't particularly enjoy physical affection, but Kaveh continues to be the exception and he would have liked it to last a little longer. He drops his hands back to his sides and watches Kaveh take a sip, his brow lifting with a touch of barely perceptible confusion at the nickname. What prompted this? Did his crisis stir feelings of nostalgia for years gone by, before their friendship shattered? ]
Remember to repeat that two more times before the day is over. [ Earnest thanks, etc. He considers asking what prompted the nickname, but instead turns around. ]
I'll go pack the picnic basket.
[ And with that, he disappears into the kitchen to pack some picnic food—some fresh fruit, a half-eaten box of kolompeh, and of course the cake—and put on a fresh pot of coffee to put in a thermos. It won't be anything particularly elegant since he didn't plan ahead of time, but hopefully Kaveh won't mind as long as it tastes good. He considers packing a bottle of wine as well, but decides against it. Even if one shared bottle won't be enough to get either of them drunk, it's better if he doesn't give the man anything alcoholic.
Once he finishes packing, he returns to the living room, basket hanging from his left arm. ]
[ As always, the gap between them seems impossible to bridge; Kaveh feels Alhaitham's back stiffen under his brief hold, and it's one of the reasons he's so quick to pull away in the end as he mistakes it for discomfort, for the scribe bracing himself against a touch he doesn't want. Luckily, he has the coffee to focus on, sipping at it once again as his eyes drop— only to lift again as a look of irritated disbelief crosses his face. ]
Are you joking, Alhaitham? You—
[ But the other man is already halfway to the kitchen, leaving Kaveh's words to land in midair. Kaveh directs an annoyed face at his back before realizing— somewhat belatedly— that going out for a picnic means potentially being seen in public, something for which he's certainly not dressed, given his earlier tantrum on the divan. So with the other in the kitchen to sort out the basket, the blonde disappears back into his own room, changing out of his old home clothes in favor of deciding on something even halfway decent—
(But he's going out with Alhaitham, and as much as his feelings may be the furthest thing from requited that Kaveh can imagine... damnit, if he has to turn 30, he's going to do it how he wants. If that makes him selfish, so be it!)
—deciding on something nice to wear.
It takes him longer than it should, but when Kaveh emerges from his room again, he's dressed up: an oversized crushed silk shirt in red, neckline plunging almost to his navel and showing off the delicate chains of gold against his pale skin; lightweight white pants that hug his legs, a hint of flare around the ankles. His usual dusting of red eyeshadow is a hint more dramatic today, and the look is finished by a pair of red slip-on dress shoes— and honestly, he probably looks like he's going on a date, but
Well, he's allowing himself this one small selfishness, isn't he?
He finds Alhaitham with the basket draped over one arm and a book in one hand; a brief, apologetic smile finds his lips. ]
Sorry to keep you waiting. I didn't want to go out looking like that.
[ When Alhaitham sees that Kaveh has left the living room, he picks up the copy of Rex Incognito he'd left on the table the previous day and seats himself on the divan. Kaveh's probably getting changed, might as well read a chapter or two in the meantime. At the height of Liyue Harbor's prosperity, a myriad goods and treasures flowed endless in and out of the land like the rising and falling tides...
He glances up when he hears Kaveh's voice, his gaze lingering just a split second too long on the other's figure before settling on his face. As always, Kaveh is pleasant to look at; he's the kind of person who could wear a burlap sack and somehow find a way to make it look good. Red suits him, is the thought that crosses Alhaitham's mind. Kaveh's always favored reds in his wardrobe and every once in a while he thinks about how it's the colour he associates with Kaveh, along with golds. ]
...Took you long enough. [ He snaps his book shut with a soft thumb as he stands up. ] Let's get going.
[ And with that, the two of them leave to find a suitable place for a picnic, their walk taking them from the bustle of the city to the far-stretching slopes of Gandha Hill. The weather is perfect for spending the day in the outdoors—warm with a pleasantly cool breeze, the sky a vivid blue with scattered fluffy white clouds. One slope is a bit steeper than the others but the trek up is worth it, offering both a shade-providing tree, its roots clutching the hill like a fist with fingers sunk into the ground, and a stunning view of Sumeru City.
Taking the folded-up blanket out of the basket, Alhaitham spreads it out on the grass between the roots of the tree, placing it so it's halfway in the sun and halfway in the shade. The best of both worlds. ]
[ Any selfish fantasy Kaveh has allowed himself in taking the time to dress up is ruined in a single moment by the comment Alhaitham makes as the book closes between his hands, the action overriding any small realization that may have struck over the eyes tracing his figure for just too long, any wonderment over the effort the other has made to give him something just for the two of them. The scribe is met therefore with a petulant roll of Kaveh's eyes, a displeased mutter, the blonde's mood seemingly taking a turn back towards the sullen displeasure of his tantrum just a little while before.
Honestly, he shouldn't have bothered.
But as they make the trek up the steep slopes of Gandha Hill, leaving the whole of Sumeru to stretch out in front of them like the most beautiful of paintings, the pendulum turns back once more; a hint of a smile pulls at Kaveh's lips as Alhaitham sets the blanket out, crimson gaze absorbing the scenery as he relaxes into the sounds and scents of the natural world now surrounding them.
(He doesn't get to see Alhaitham outside often enough, he thinks, the gold of the sunlight glinting off the silver of his hair, warming the pale of his skin, bringing a beautiful glow to his emerald eyes.)
Kaveh nods in response to the question, and then moves to take a seat mostly in the shadow, legs stretching out to enjoy the sun's light, and leaving enough room for the other man to do the same. ]
This is good.
[ He takes a breath, looking out over the scenery. He needs to focus on the good right now, not the things making him feel so awful— ]
[ Alhaitham does the same, joining the space next to Kaveh in the shade with his legs stretched out in front of him. Setting down the basket between the two of them, he begins to unpack it and sets out plates, cups, the thermos of coffee, and so on. He then takes a kolompeh and pops it in his mouth, chewing slowly as he unties the white ribbon keeping the cake box's lid secured. ]
No. [ He says with a shake of his head, swallowing the last bit of kolompeh in his mouth. ] It's not big enough for a party.
[ I just wanted something for the two of us, is the thought that accompanies his words but goes unsaid. Flipping the lid open, he reveals the cake within—it's on the plainer side but gloriously browned all around, with a white glaze that's perfectly smooth and even, garnished with crushed pistachios, almonds and rose petals. A pleasant scent of cardamom and rosewater wafts from it, filling his nostrils and making his mouth begin to water a little.
He then carefully cuts the first piece and transfers it to Kaveh's plate. ]
[ With the thermos and cups laid out on the blanket, Kaveh sets about pouring them each a coffee while his companion opens and slices the cake— and it looks and smells beautiful, just the perfect blend of spices and flavors, and the architect almost certainly licks his lips in a silent anticipation as he works— but, yes: coffee. (A sip reveals that the other man added sugar for them already, putting Kaveh's preferences before his own in preparation, and the blonde's heart melts just a little.)
And Kaveh tries, genuinely tries not to think about the inferences that could be made into Alhaitham's actions and words, into why the scribe would choose a cake for them not big enough for the party that had been planned— an attempt that in the end the other man aids with by wishing him a happy birthday, shaking free the good and hopeful thoughts and replacing them once more with the reminder of that dark cloud hanging over him. ]
Right, [ he says, clearing his throat against a sudden thickness, and then, with an urge to chase away the negativity lest it taint his enjoyment of the cake: ] Did I ever tell you the story behind this?
[ He's sure he has; back then, he found any reason he could to talk Alhaitham's ear off. But he doesn't want for an answer, instead continues on without pause, his plate sitting in his lap. ]
Most mythological sources agree that Deshret and Nabu Malikata were never actually lovers, although they seem to differ widely on why. In some versions of the story, he confessed his feelings to her, and she rejected him for reasons unknown. The belief is that despite her refusal, she loved him too, and made the first kayk-e eshgh to confess the truth of her feelings even as she spurned him.
[ Somehow, his story isn't helping. ]
Of course, in some versions, he never gave her the chance to reject him. He just closed himself off from his own feelings until she died, and then went mad in his grief. Why? Maybe he was scared. They were friends after all—
[ His lips snap shut, and his eyes drop to the food in his lap. Archons, he's not even drunk, what is he doing? ]
[ Yes, he's been told this before—not that Alhaitham gets the chance to actually say it because Kaveh immediate continues without pause. If he recalls correctly, he was nineteen at the time and he'd responded by pointing out that the earliest known record of a cake matching the description of a kayk-e eshgh was from six hundred years ago, making the story extremely implausible. Kaveh, of course, had rolled his eyes at him and told him not to ruin a perfectly good story just because it's not one hundred percent historically accurate.
Once he finishes cutting a piece of cake for himself, Alhaitham brings his cup of coffee to his lips for his lips, feeling the heat coming through the ceramic. As expected, it's too sweet for his tastes, but still within the parameters of acceptable coffee. Black is definitely superior, though. ]
I'd imagine the forbidden knowledge outbreak laying waste to the land was a more pressing concern than pursuing romantic entanglements.
[ Setting the cup down on its saucer, he then pinches a piece of his cake between his fingers and lifts it to his mouth, chewing slowly as he mulls over the story. Maybe he was scared. They were friends after all. He'd be lying if he said he couldn't relate, having said nothing about his true feelings in the many years he's had them; always telling himself that it's better to maintain the status quo than to ruin what they have by getting rejected. And now that Kaveh is back in his life, the status quo is even more important; he can't risk him leaving him alone again. ]
Being indirect isn't a very effective communication method, besides. How is a cake supposed to convey one's true feelings?
[ He hates the way his face falls, the way he feels rejected even though Alhaitham's comment is entirely fair: on its own, a cake does not communicate feeling. Like any gift, one needs to understand not only the occasion, but also the motivation of the person giving it, along with their relationship to the recipient. And sometimes, even that isn't enough. Take this very situation now, with two people who were friends— and now are not, but still somehow seem to be closer than either them would claim to be— with one having purchased a cake to eat with the other, presumably to celebrate, having chosen a cake laced with history and nostalgia...
And Kaveh let himself buy into it for a moment, didn't he? He let himself melt, asked himself why Alhaitham would go to this effort, let himself start to hope—
But if the scribe's earlier birthday wish distracted him from those thoughts, the latest comment tears them to shreds in front of him. Why would this cake have any meaning when the man himself says that cakes aren't meant to do that?
Ugh.
...He doesn't want Alhaitham to see that he's disappointed. It would be too telling, wouldn't it?
Kaveh takes a bite of the cake; despite the bitter ache in his chest, its sweetness fills him with a nostalgia that brings a gentle smile to his lips, and the laugh he offers is genuine enough as a result as he shakes his head, rolling his eyes. ]
Just because you don't have a romantic bone in your body, Alhaitham— Don't you know that events like those draw people together? Even during Sumeru's recent emergency, people were still coming together and falling in love.
[ Despite his best attempts, his words falter and quaver right at the end, and Kaveh's eyes drop back to the cake in his lap as he catches his breath. Fuck. What's wrong with him today? ]
Ha. I'm sure you're right though. If cakes are a declaration of love, then what was I saying to Tighnari last month?
Most of Sumeru wasn't even aware there was an emergency to begin with, so that point lacks merit.
[ He says, deadpan as ever, attention fixed on that slight falter at the end and the way Kaveh's gaze suddenly drops to his lap. Alhaitham finds himself wishing he had the ability to simply read the other man's thoughts; it'd certainly make it a lot easier to understand what's going on with him today—there has to be something else that's factoring into his ongoing crisis that hasn't been made evident yet, but surmising what it is just from watching his body language is getting more frustrating by the second.
Then Kaveh talks about cakes and Tighnari in the same sentence and Alhaitham falls into an uncharacteristic silence, the kind that stretches on long enough for it to be uncomfortable and makes the very air around them feel still and oppressive; almost like the pressure drop right before the coming storm. The gears in his head start to move, as if something is verge of slotting into place as he turns every word in their conversation up until now over in his head, analyzing them with this new information in mind.
Tighnari's birthday is in December so it definitely wasn't intended to congratulate him... and Kaveh had just launched into the historically inaccurate story behind the love cake entirely unprompted, for some reason, while completely sober. The romantic aspect of it means something to him; it's therefore not unreasonable to assume that he would give someone a cake with the intention of expressing certain sentiment toward the recipient.
Also... didn't Tighnari and Cyno make their relationship official recently? ]
...So that's what this is about, then? You're upset because you were too late in confessing your feelings for Tighnari. [ It doesn't show on his face, but something in his stomach churns at the thought, a tendril of jealousy rising in his chest. ]
[ If he's honest, Kaveh has no idea what he's expecting Alhaitham to say or do in response to his words. He feels like he's left himself too open, made his feelings too obvious; the heaviness of the other man's silence doesn't help, either, and it's with a choked sigh that he picks at the cake, apparently unsure if he's meant to eat it or tear it to shreds in his anxiety. In the end, as the silence stretches on, uncomfortable and oppressive, he settles for putting a small piece of it between his lips as if somehow it will prevent him from wedging his foot further between them instead. His eyes sting with warning, and he chews the mouthful, trying for slow, trying for steady—
And then Alhaitham finally speaks, and Kaveh nearly chokes.
Somehow, the scribe has pieced together two and two to come up with seven, a fact as embarrassing as it is a relief. And it's tempting, so tempting, to let him believe it, if only to stop this line of questioning— but Kaveh can't lie about this, can't will himself between Tighnari and Cyno even to save his own skin. So he shakes his head, a gathering thickness in his throat; if nothing else, the confusion on his face should show Alhaitham that he's genuine. ]
What? I don't have feelings for Tighnari. [ It would be wisest, perhaps, to end the statement there, but ever the over-achiever, Kaveh continues: ] Anyway, it's not just about love. There are other things too, it's just—
[ His words melt into an oddly-strangled noise as he realizes what he's said. And then, for the second time in mere minutes: ]
[ The confusion glinting across the red of Kaveh's eyes tells Alhaitham that he isn't lying about his lack of feelings for Tighnari. Is this line of reasoning predicated upon the wrong premise, then, and romantic feelings don't factor into the blond's ongoing crisis at all? But then Kaveh keeps talking like he's had too much wine despite being (to his knowledge) entirely sober, giving him more to analyze and dissect like an Amurtan student would a frog on a biology lab table. ]
No, do continue. What were you about to say?
[ The skin between his brows crease in thought as looks Kaveh in the eye, gaze akin to the claws of an eagle as it sinks into the soft body of a rabbit; he's not going to let him get away with a "never mind". ]
[ He doesn't want to continue. It's bad enough that he's slipped up, confirmed (to his knowledge at least) that love plays into it in some way— but he recognizes the look on Alhaitham's face all too well, the predatory glint in his eyes that only ever shows up when he knows he's got someone dead to rights, a look that always comes along with a tightening of the noose around the neck of the person in his sights. Kaveh can run, but Alhaitham will catch him. He can hide, but he'll be found. Refusing to answer, he knows, is only delaying the inevitable.
But he doesn't have to tell the whole of the truth, does he.
He takes a breath, breaks off the barest morsel of the cake (and he hates how it tastes like sawdust in a mouth filled with the sickness of anxiety). ]
I had plans, that's all. I wanted to be a real success. By the time my parents were my age, they had careers and a house. They were married. They were living well, Alhaitham, they weren't broke and hiding in someone else's spare room while they tried to make ends meet. They weren't going from dead-end relationship to dead-end relationship while waiting for the right person to even notice they existed.
[ Too much. Wasn't that too much? Surely the only person in his life who barely notices he exists is Alhaitham
(even if that's decidedly untrue, if he looks at it from an unbiased, unbroken perspective: it's his birthday, and he's sitting under a tree on Gandha Hill with a cake the other went out of his way to buy, after canceling an appointment set by others on the strength of a tantrum)
and surely that means that he's basically confessed his feelings to the other man through a statement that may as well have said a name— He barely notices it through the gathering of tears clouding his vision, bleeding slow drops of saltwater into the cake in his lap.
He swipes impatiently at his own eyes, sniffling against the emotion. ]
Until I fucked it up for them, they had a real life, something amazing, something to be proud of. I... I haven't even had enough of anything worth fucking up. And now I'm thirty, and I just— I feel like I've wasted too much time, Alhaitham, that's all.
[ A wet, miserable laugh. He bets the other regrets his line of questioning now. ]
[ Again, he listens in silence without interrupting at any point to let Kaveh get it all out, his piercing gaze never once leaving the other man's face. His sights are trained on him and he begins to dissect his words, demeanour, and tone as if it's some scrap of unpondered lore or an ancient script inscribed upon stone pillars of old, waiting to be deciphered.
Most of it isn't new information. He's well aware of the guilt Kaveh carries like a millstone around his neck, his perceived responsibility for his father dying out in the desert even though the blame should be placed upon Sachin. This is where most other people would perhaps try to assuage it by saying it wasn't your fault, you were just a child. But Alhaitham isn't most other people and he leaves the topic of Kaveh's guilt be. That is something Kaveh ought to discuss with a therapist because it's way above his pay grade.
The metaphorical scalpel continues to make its incision. As he thought; in hitting this milestone that's a multiple of ten, he's become painfully aware of the things he failed to accomplish in his twenties. His earlier conclusion was only slightly off in assuming he was comparing his accomplishments (or lack thereof) to those of his peers rather than his parents's.
He lifts his hand as though he's about to reach out and wipe Kaveh's tears away, but aborts the motion and lets it drop back down to his lap. "—waiting for the right person to even notice they existed."
This is new information. And as previously established, it cannot be Tighnari. Not that he would even fit the description of someone who'd fail to notice that he exists. But who could it be? He cannot think of a single person in Kaveh's social circle who would fit. And it can't be him, given that he went out of his way to buy him the cake he's now crying into. From a logical point of view, he doesn't fit at all. But this is Kaveh, driven by emotion and not always moderated by reason. From his point of view, Alhaitham is a cold and unfeeling asshole. Of course he would think he never noticed him.
Something indescribable tightens in his chest as the thought settles into his mind, resting heavily against his ribcage. Alhaitham's hands ball into fists against his legs. He can remain silent and maintain the status quo as he's already done for over a decade, or... speak, not knowing for certain if conclusion is even the right one. ]
Perhaps the right person was waiting for signs of reciprocal interest. [ A quiet exhale. He still doesn't avert his gaze, as tempting it is to look at Sumeru City instead as the words leave his mouth. ] I assumed you weren't interested in me.
[ The words are barely out of Alhaitham's mouth before Kaveh whirls to face him, tears on his cheeks and yet more burning unshed in his eyes, and there's something almost wild to the upturn of his lips, the bitter laugh on his tongue as he shakes his head. ]
Of course you'd think that—! Do you have any idea how many people I've seen over the years trying to get your attention, all to be responded to with the cluelessness of a hydro fungus in a rainstorm? Why would I imagine it's any different for me, even when we— we—
[ The stream of words stops as abruptly as it started, Kaveh's voice trailing into nothingness as wide, wet crimson eyes blink once, twice, three times, the whole of Alhaitham's statement finally hitting home, leaving him to sit in stupefied silence. Alhaitham assumed that Kaveh wasn't interested in him, but— but he was waiting— hoping? This whole time, has the scribe had the same hesitation as Kaveh?
The hope, silenced by the rejection of the cake's meaning, swells and beats in his chest, fills his stomach with crystalflies, and Kaveh's lips part around words that won't quite come, questions and statements that won't quite form from the addled recesses of his mind.
...Besides, through it all, isn't there only one thing that matters? ]
Then... let me clear up any doubts you might have. I am interested, Alhaitham. I'm— [ A breath. His mouth feels dry, the words still heavy on his tongue despite finally knowing they're safe to say. ] I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for years.
[ Oh. Oh. That indescribable feeling tightens further still as Kaveh speaks the words he's longed to hear since he was just a boy; it's followed by a sense of relief filling his heart as it becomes clear that the feelings he kept quiet about for so long were mutual after all. Perhaps in time he will feel the regret of not saying anything sooner but right now he can only feel joy. Something visibly softens in the way he looks at Kaveh and without thinking he brings his hand to the other's face and gently wipes at a tear with his thumb. ]
...Do you remember our first academic debate, Kaveh? That's the precise moment I fell in love.
[ It was around five months after their first encounter in the library; he was fourteen at the time, right on the cusp of entering puberty, and he wasn't used to debating with people who could keep up with him. But then Kaveh had entered his life and proved his mettle by keeping pace with him for well over two hours, red eyes alight with unmatched brilliance and passion. It had knocked the metaphorical breath out of Alhaitham and the debate could've easily lasted even longer than it did had they not needed to eat.
Somewhat begrudgingly, he ceded victory to Kaveh and concluded that his own inexperience with debates in a proper academic setting was the reason he had lost, vowing to work on articulating his arguments with better precision and gravitas and to better avoid the fallacies that weaken his position. ]
You're the only person I've ever wanted to be with.
[ Even with everything Alhaitham has said, there's still an odd terror in the core of him, something that twists and tries to eat at him as the words leave his lips, as he's left sitting in silence and waiting for a response, his fingers curling into the soft material of his leggings. Old habits, perhaps, those that sound like the fearful silence stretching impossibly wide between them, like the arguments instigated just to have something to say.
And under the shroud of the fear, it feels like forever before the other actually responds, and Kaveh's hand lifts to lay across that thumbing at his tear, a smile finding his lips as he nods, as he laughs— and then as his brows lift in surprise. Alhaitham... in love with him since they were just kids? He thought he had been waiting for a long time, but this...
He remembers that day, too: the near excitement gleaming in Alhaitham's emerald eyes as he realized he'd met his match, the strength and reasoning behind each argument. Then, once both of their stomachs were audibly growling their hunger, the frustration behind his words as he ceded victory to Kaveh for the first and last time. The senior of the two boys had been curious about his junior from the start, had seen his brilliance, but on that day Kaveh recognized just how brilliant Alhaitham was.
As to whether that's when he fell in love, he doesn't know. Kaveh's love awakened more slowly, invisible to him until it had swallowed him whole.
And so there's a lot to discuss, probably, answers and explanations of his own to give... but very suddenly all he can think about is the pink of the other man's lips, how sweet they must taste with the dusting of fragmented glaze across them, how they might part against his own, stealing a taste Kaveh has for so long dreamed of offering.
[ I just confessed my feelings and you're asking for permission to do what I've wanted to do for over a decade?
That's the reply in Alhaitham's mind, but he doesn't verbalize it—in fact, he says nothing at all and decides to give his answer by scooting closer and reaching up to capture the sides of Kaveh's face with both hands; he then proceeds to gently angle his head slightly to the side so their noses won't collide as he leans closer and closer until their lips meet. His eyes slide closed as he makes a soft noise against the other's mouth, relishing in the feeling of those soft lips against his own and focusing his senses on nothing else but that sensation he's drowning himself in.
It's stiff and a little awkward, but that's Alhaitham's inexperience shining through rather than a sign that he isn't enjoying every second; it is, after all, his very first kiss and although he's read about kissing in many of the thousands of books he's read in his life it doesn't translate into real life experience. Kaveh tastes faintly of rosewater and cardamom and in that moment it feels like they were made to slot perfectly together, like two intertwined roots of the very tree they're sitting under. ]
[ The first thing on Kaveh's mind is bliss. The feel of Alhaitham's mouth on his— something he hasn't even allowed himself to dream about— the sweet taste of sugared glaze and almonds on his lips, the soft sound that slips unbidden from the other's tongue, the grounding sensation of those hands clasping his face on both sides. His own hands fall to rest on the other's thighs, anchoring them together as he cants his head into the kiss, answering that sweet sound with one of his own.
It's overwhelming enough that it takes him a moment for him to recognize it for what it is, to understand that the angle of Alhaitham's lips is ever so slightly awkward, that there's something just that little bit stiff that speaks to something not quite being right
—and Kaveh is a smart man, despite how he may sometimes act, and he remembers what his own first kiss felt like, all awkward placements and nervous energy—
He pulls away, crimson eyes wide and soft with emotions he can't quite place just yet. ]
That... Alhaitham, you've never kissed anyone before? [ And then, with devastating clarity: ] Were you— were you waiting for me?
[ It feels like their lips part far too soon, but all good things mut come to an end eventually—not to mention that he needs oxygen as he'd held his breath without thinking as he sunk into that sweet bliss of his first ever kiss, drawing deep breaths of air into his lungs. His hands are still cradling the sides of the blond's head, the pad of his thumb delicately stroking over his cheek before tucking a lock of golden hair away from his face.
At the question, he just gives the other a long look. ]
Didn't I just say that you're the only person I've ever wanted to be with? Try paying attention, Kaveh.
[ He never saw the point in intimate acts like kissing if it wasn't with Kaveh, didn't feel like he was missing out. It just seemed like a hassle he didn't want to bother with if he couldn't do those things with the one person that mattered the most. All these years, it's only been him. So yes, he has in fact been waiting. ]
[ How is it possible for this man to go from kissing him in one moment to irritating the Abyss out of him in the next? Kaveh stares for a second or two in silence, then shakes his head with a huff of breath, the emotion quashed all too quickly by irritation. ]
If you've got the ability to be an ass, then I clearly haven't kissed you properly enough.
[ There's a lot of things he should say. That Alhaitham is clearly more sentimental than he lets on. That he didn't need to wait. That he should have said something sooner rather than later. He's a hypocrite, he knows. And he should tell him, Kaveh thinks again, when he realized his own feelings.
But they've got time for that. And right now, today, they've got a lot of time to make up.
So he closes the space between them once more instead, and this time his fingers curl fists into the tight material of Alhaitham's clothing, pulling him close, his tongue skating over the scribe's lower lip. ]
You need practice, [ he mumbles by way of explanation, a soft laugh whispering between their mouths. ]
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sempiternals2023-07-10 11:35 am
a mid-life birthday crisis
He can't exactly blame anyone; in the years leading up to this, he's always celebrated his birthday, enjoyed the greetings and the blowouts, the presents and the free drinks in such copious amounts that he would invariably wake up the next day hungover and miserable. (That part was less fun, but it was a pain forgotten in each following year.) He can't blame them for not being able to read his mind— but he's miserable about it nonetheless.
Which is how he ended up here, face-down on one of the divans, face in a cushion as if he's trying to drown in it, groaning loud enough for his voice to be heard clearly through the stuffing and the layers of fabric. ]
I don't wanna go tonight, [ is the complaint between his frustrated whines. There are still hours to kill before the party— it's not even mid-morning— but he's dreading it nonetheless. ] Can't you just tell Tighnari I'm sick?
[ (He's not even sure Alhaitham is still around listening to his tantrum, but just in case, he talks as if he is.) ]
Turning th— thirty is nothing to celebrate. I won't do it, Alhaitham, I won't!
[ He had so many plans for his twenties, and he's succeeded in approximately none of them. Worse than that, he's still broke, living in someone else's house, single (and worse still, pining after the person on whose kindness he exists). And now he's officially no longer in his twenties, and his whole plan is a mess and he has no idea what he's meant to do now. ]
I don't want to go.
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Alhaitham knows this is one such milestone, and had ordered a small cake for the occasion. Tighnari's arranging a big celebration to be held at Puspa Café later today, of course, but he wanted to get his roommate his favourite kind of cake so they can eat it together without anyone else. He'd even gotten out of bed earlier than usual to go pick it up at the Bazaar and said cake is now sitting in a box on the kitchen counter as Alhaitham finishes making himself some coffee.
He's just about to step out of the kitchen into the main living area when Kaveh begins to complain into the cushions, prompting him to stop in the doorway and lean against the jamb as he listens. Bringing the rim of his cup to his lips, he takes the first sip as he considers why Kaveh is like this today when he's previously enjoyed his birthdays despite inevitably having to deal with the consequences of excessive drinking every time. ]
Tell him yourself. [ He replies immediately without pause, peering at the other man over the rim of his cup. ] I'm not going to force you to go, but I'm not going to lie to Tighnari just because you're seemingly having a mid-life crisis a decade early.
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I am not having a mid-life crisis! This is just the logical conclusion to the realization that the best years of my life have slipped me by and I have nothing to show for it!
[ In other words, he's having a mid-life crisis. Kaveh may be overemotional and rash, but even he realizes the irony in what he's just said. It's enough to bring him back to his senses just a little, and he peers up from the cushion, looking over the top of it with shimmering, red-rimmed eyes. ]
Well, there's clearly something wrong with my brain. That counts as sick, so you wouldn't be lying. [ The edge of a whine is still in his voice, but there's something steely in his gaze, something meant to warn Alhaitham away from commenting on the fact that he's clearly shed a few tears in the midst of his emotional outburst.
And why wouldn't he have been? When his parents were thirty, they were already married. They had a son. They had successful careers, and a group of friends with whom they spent their leisure time. And they lived well— they weren't borrowing money to make ends meet, or living in the spare room of someone else's house.
They'd been brave enough to go for the things they really wanted. The things that mattered. ]
Would you please just tell him I'm unwell? I just... [ He sighs. ] I just want to keep it quiet this year. I'm sorry that I didn't say so sooner. I didn't know.
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...All right. [ He acquiesces without second thought, lowering his cup after a slow sip. Kaveh has reached this milestone of perceived importance, and is now regretting the things he wasn't able to do or accomplish in his twenties. He's still neck deep in debt he could've easily avoided and living in someone else's house while so many of his peers are homeowners with children and great social lives.
He's also fast approaching the age his father was when he died. The knowledge that he'll soon outlive him might also be a factor in his current crisis. ]
I'll go tell him at noon. You have until then to change your mind.
[ Alhaitham doesn't particularly care about these gatherings (they're okay and he's come to appreciate them somewhat after rescuing their Archon brought him closer to Cyno and the others, but he can still do without them) and doesn't intend to convince him to go, but he knows Kaveh's enjoyed them previously—so he wants to leave this particular avenue open for a few hours so Kaveh can reassess his feelings on the matter once this outburst has been given time to subside. People are prone to blurting things out during emotional episodes that they later regret. ]
What would you like to do in the meantime?
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What would he like to do? The truth is, he doesn't want to do anything. He's just feeling— he feels— ]
I just want to rest. [ Kaveh sighs, a brief close of his eyes as he lowers his head back against the pillow— not hiding, but reclining. He's not really thinking about what he's doing, or the words that come to his lips as he continues: ] Do you have any plans for the day? I'd like to... will you just rest with me, Alhaitham?
[ Perhaps it's selfish of him, asking to monopolize his roommate's time like this, for seeking Alhaitham's attention when it hasn't been offered to him— but doesn't he deserve one small boon from today, for reaching a milestone that makes him feel like he's wasted his life until this moment? Even if that boon is the tiniest fragment of attention from a single person—
(And no, there's nothing to stop him from seeking that recognition from others, like he has before, but they're not him, not the person he wants to look at him and only him, not the man with whom he's been in love since they were both boys and before Kaveh even knew what love is—)
His smile is weak, tired as he offers the other a way out of the request— because asking at all is selfish, but not giving a fair cause for rejection even more so: ] If you're busy, of course, you don't have to worry—
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I'm not busy. [ He replies immediately, then falls silent for a beat or two as he weighs his options and how to best navigate the situation at hand; the last thing he wants is for Kaveh to become more upset and emotionally volatile than he already is. ]
There's cake in the kitchen. We can either eat it here or take it with us on a picnic. [ Another sip of coffee, flavor notes of orchard fruits lingering upon his tongue before the hot liquid travels down his throat. ]
Fresh air might do you good; research suggests that being outside can stimulate the brain to produce serotonin, which improves one's mood and reduces feelings of stress and anxiety.
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However, he's unable to hide the way his head shoots back up when the other man says that there's a cake, his eyes widening, the smile on his lips softening to an expression of surprise. ]
You... Alhaitham, you got me a cake?
[ There are other words, of course— something about eating here, or taking the cake on a picnic, something about the fresh air being good for him— but they're lost in the understanding that there's cake, that Alhaitham went out of his way to do something so sweet—
He blinks; he feels like there are fresh tears welling in his eyes, threatening to fall in response to such kindness. Honestly, he wants to just... go to him, show his gratitude through an embrace, but— but that would be even more inappropriate than a smile. ]
Then... let's go out. You're right. A picnic... going outside will be good. [ As the cloud of his emotion finally starts to clear, he finally catches the scent of coffee in the air, and he sits up, reaching a hand out toward the other man. ] Let me have a sip to clear my head first though.
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Yes. A Port Ormos-style love cake with rosewater and cardamom; your favourite, unless your tastes have changed recently. [ Back during their Akademiya days, before the two of them started working on the joint research project that would one day carve a chasm in their relationship, the two of them would sometimes go to Puspa Café and study together for their respective courses. They'd order coffee and cake before hitting the books, and Kaveh had been devastated when management took the love cake off the menu and replaced it with baklava. Alhaitham, of course, didn't particularly care; all he needed while memorizing the grammatical morphemes of King Deshret's language was a cup of well-made coffee to fuel his mind and body. ]
...I'd tell you to make your own coffee, but I'll allow it this time. [ His coffee is sacrosanct, but Kaveh continues to be the exception to many things in his life; really, it'd be easier if he wasn't in love with this living, breathing disruption to his routine. But people don't choose who they love nor can they just stop at will so Alhaitham will simply have to keep making these exceptions to his hallowed logic and let this wildly irrational emotion continue to take up residence in his heart.
He takes one last sip, leaving little over a third of liquid in the cup before stepping away from the doorway to press said cup into Kaveh's hand. ]
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He remembers it all too clearly: the bitter pout on his lips as he picked at the plate of baklava in front of him, the soft whine in his companion's direction that it's not the same— the baklava being perfectly good for what it was, but not what he wanted— Alhaitham barely looking up from his coffee as he replies, as deadpan as ever, to take it to management instead of disrupting their study time. To know, despite that, his old friend listened closely enough to remember not only what he loved, but even his favorite kind of it—
Where Kaveh disallowed himself the embrace in the moment before, he finds himself getting back to his feet, the coffee still tight in one hand as the other circles Alhaitham, pulling him in close for a single moment. (And he tries not to breathe too deeply, tries not to take in the soft musk of the other's scent, but it fills his nose regardless, a shaky sigh on his lips in response.)
He pulls back again, looking up at Alhaitham with red-rimmed eyes as he falls away a step, lifting the coffee to his lips and inhaling the orchard scent— an attempt at clearing his roommate's heady muskiness— before taking a sip. ]
My tastes haven't changed, Haitham. [ The nickname slips out naturally, affectionate and sweet, despite being one he hasn't used since their Akademiya days. ] Thank you.
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His hands hover awkwardly above Kaveh's back, not quite sure where to land, or even if they should—and before he can come to a decision, Kaveh has already stepped away. Damn. He doesn't particularly enjoy physical affection, but Kaveh continues to be the exception and he would have liked it to last a little longer. He drops his hands back to his sides and watches Kaveh take a sip, his brow lifting with a touch of barely perceptible confusion at the nickname. What prompted this? Did his crisis stir feelings of nostalgia for years gone by, before their friendship shattered? ]
Remember to repeat that two more times before the day is over. [ Earnest thanks, etc. He considers asking what prompted the nickname, but instead turns around. ]
I'll go pack the picnic basket.
[ And with that, he disappears into the kitchen to pack some picnic food—some fresh fruit, a half-eaten box of kolompeh, and of course the cake—and put on a fresh pot of coffee to put in a thermos. It won't be anything particularly elegant since he didn't plan ahead of time, but hopefully Kaveh won't mind as long as it tastes good. He considers packing a bottle of wine as well, but decides against it. Even if one shared bottle won't be enough to get either of them drunk, it's better if he doesn't give the man anything alcoholic.
Once he finishes packing, he returns to the living room, basket hanging from his left arm. ]
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Are you joking, Alhaitham? You—
[ But the other man is already halfway to the kitchen, leaving Kaveh's words to land in midair. Kaveh directs an annoyed face at his back before realizing— somewhat belatedly— that going out for a picnic means potentially being seen in public, something for which he's certainly not dressed, given his earlier tantrum on the divan. So with the other in the kitchen to sort out the basket, the blonde disappears back into his own room, changing out of his old home clothes in favor of deciding on something even halfway decent—
(But he's going out with Alhaitham, and as much as his feelings may be the furthest thing from requited that Kaveh can imagine... damnit, if he has to turn 30, he's going to do it how he wants. If that makes him selfish, so be it!)
—deciding on something nice to wear.
It takes him longer than it should, but when Kaveh emerges from his room again, he's dressed up: an oversized crushed silk shirt in red, neckline plunging almost to his navel and showing off the delicate chains of gold against his pale skin; lightweight white pants that hug his legs, a hint of flare around the ankles. His usual dusting of red eyeshadow is a hint more dramatic today, and the look is finished by a pair of red slip-on dress shoes— and honestly, he probably looks like he's going on a date, but
Well, he's allowing himself this one small selfishness, isn't he?
He finds Alhaitham with the basket draped over one arm and a book in one hand; a brief, apologetic smile finds his lips. ]
Sorry to keep you waiting. I didn't want to go out looking like that.
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He glances up when he hears Kaveh's voice, his gaze lingering just a split second too long on the other's figure before settling on his face. As always, Kaveh is pleasant to look at; he's the kind of person who could wear a burlap sack and somehow find a way to make it look good. Red suits him, is the thought that crosses Alhaitham's mind. Kaveh's always favored reds in his wardrobe and every once in a while he thinks about how it's the colour he associates with Kaveh, along with golds. ]
...Took you long enough. [ He snaps his book shut with a soft thumb as he stands up. ] Let's get going.
[ And with that, the two of them leave to find a suitable place for a picnic, their walk taking them from the bustle of the city to the far-stretching slopes of Gandha Hill. The weather is perfect for spending the day in the outdoors—warm with a pleasantly cool breeze, the sky a vivid blue with scattered fluffy white clouds. One slope is a bit steeper than the others but the trek up is worth it, offering both a shade-providing tree, its roots clutching the hill like a fist with fingers sunk into the ground, and a stunning view of Sumeru City.
Taking the folded-up blanket out of the basket, Alhaitham spreads it out on the grass between the roots of the tree, placing it so it's halfway in the sun and halfway in the shade. The best of both worlds. ]
Is this good, or should I move it?
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Honestly, he shouldn't have bothered.
But as they make the trek up the steep slopes of Gandha Hill, leaving the whole of Sumeru to stretch out in front of them like the most beautiful of paintings, the pendulum turns back once more; a hint of a smile pulls at Kaveh's lips as Alhaitham sets the blanket out, crimson gaze absorbing the scenery as he relaxes into the sounds and scents of the natural world now surrounding them.
(He doesn't get to see Alhaitham outside often enough, he thinks, the gold of the sunlight glinting off the silver of his hair, warming the pale of his skin, bringing a beautiful glow to his emerald eyes.)
Kaveh nods in response to the question, and then moves to take a seat mostly in the shadow, legs stretching out to enjoy the sun's light, and leaving enough room for the other man to do the same. ]
This is good.
[ He takes a breath, looking out over the scenery. He needs to focus on the good right now, not the things making him feel so awful— ]
Was the cake meant to be for the party?
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No. [ He says with a shake of his head, swallowing the last bit of kolompeh in his mouth. ] It's not big enough for a party.
[ I just wanted something for the two of us, is the thought that accompanies his words but goes unsaid. Flipping the lid open, he reveals the cake within—it's on the plainer side but gloriously browned all around, with a white glaze that's perfectly smooth and even, garnished with crushed pistachios, almonds and rose petals. A pleasant scent of cardamom and rosewater wafts from it, filling his nostrils and making his mouth begin to water a little.
He then carefully cuts the first piece and transfers it to Kaveh's plate. ]
Happy birthday, Kaveh.
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And Kaveh tries, genuinely tries not to think about the inferences that could be made into Alhaitham's actions and words, into why the scribe would choose a cake for them not big enough for the party that had been planned— an attempt that in the end the other man aids with by wishing him a happy birthday, shaking free the good and hopeful thoughts and replacing them once more with the reminder of that dark cloud hanging over him. ]
Right, [ he says, clearing his throat against a sudden thickness, and then, with an urge to chase away the negativity lest it taint his enjoyment of the cake: ] Did I ever tell you the story behind this?
[ He's sure he has; back then, he found any reason he could to talk Alhaitham's ear off. But he doesn't want for an answer, instead continues on without pause, his plate sitting in his lap. ]
Most mythological sources agree that Deshret and Nabu Malikata were never actually lovers, although they seem to differ widely on why. In some versions of the story, he confessed his feelings to her, and she rejected him for reasons unknown. The belief is that despite her refusal, she loved him too, and made the first kayk-e eshgh to confess the truth of her feelings even as she spurned him.
[ Somehow, his story isn't helping. ]
Of course, in some versions, he never gave her the chance to reject him. He just closed himself off from his own feelings until she died, and then went mad in his grief. Why? Maybe he was scared. They were friends after all—
[ His lips snap shut, and his eyes drop to the food in his lap. Archons, he's not even drunk, what is he doing? ]
Never mind. Thanks, Alhaitham.
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Once he finishes cutting a piece of cake for himself, Alhaitham brings his cup of coffee to his lips for his lips, feeling the heat coming through the ceramic. As expected, it's too sweet for his tastes, but still within the parameters of acceptable coffee. Black is definitely superior, though. ]
I'd imagine the forbidden knowledge outbreak laying waste to the land was a more pressing concern than pursuing romantic entanglements.
[ Setting the cup down on its saucer, he then pinches a piece of his cake between his fingers and lifts it to his mouth, chewing slowly as he mulls over the story. Maybe he was scared. They were friends after all. He'd be lying if he said he couldn't relate, having said nothing about his true feelings in the many years he's had them; always telling himself that it's better to maintain the status quo than to ruin what they have by getting rejected. And now that Kaveh is back in his life, the status quo is even more important; he can't risk him leaving him alone again. ]
Being indirect isn't a very effective communication method, besides. How is a cake supposed to convey one's true feelings?
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And Kaveh let himself buy into it for a moment, didn't he? He let himself melt, asked himself why Alhaitham would go to this effort, let himself start to hope—
But if the scribe's earlier birthday wish distracted him from those thoughts, the latest comment tears them to shreds in front of him. Why would this cake have any meaning when the man himself says that cakes aren't meant to do that?
Ugh.
...He doesn't want Alhaitham to see that he's disappointed. It would be too telling, wouldn't it?
Kaveh takes a bite of the cake; despite the bitter ache in his chest, its sweetness fills him with a nostalgia that brings a gentle smile to his lips, and the laugh he offers is genuine enough as a result as he shakes his head, rolling his eyes. ]
Just because you don't have a romantic bone in your body, Alhaitham— Don't you know that events like those draw people together? Even during Sumeru's recent emergency, people were still coming together and falling in love.
[ Despite his best attempts, his words falter and quaver right at the end, and Kaveh's eyes drop back to the cake in his lap as he catches his breath. Fuck. What's wrong with him today? ]
Ha. I'm sure you're right though. If cakes are a declaration of love, then what was I saying to Tighnari last month?
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[ He says, deadpan as ever, attention fixed on that slight falter at the end and the way Kaveh's gaze suddenly drops to his lap. Alhaitham finds himself wishing he had the ability to simply read the other man's thoughts; it'd certainly make it a lot easier to understand what's going on with him today—there has to be something else that's factoring into his ongoing crisis that hasn't been made evident yet, but surmising what it is just from watching his body language is getting more frustrating by the second.
Then Kaveh talks about cakes and Tighnari in the same sentence and Alhaitham falls into an uncharacteristic silence, the kind that stretches on long enough for it to be uncomfortable and makes the very air around them feel still and oppressive; almost like the pressure drop right before the coming storm. The gears in his head start to move, as if something is verge of slotting into place as he turns every word in their conversation up until now over in his head, analyzing them with this new information in mind.
Tighnari's birthday is in December so it definitely wasn't intended to congratulate him... and Kaveh had just launched into the historically inaccurate story behind the love cake entirely unprompted, for some reason, while completely sober. The romantic aspect of it means something to him; it's therefore not unreasonable to assume that he would give someone a cake with the intention of expressing certain sentiment toward the recipient.
Also... didn't Tighnari and Cyno make their relationship official recently? ]
...So that's what this is about, then? You're upset because you were too late in confessing your feelings for Tighnari. [ It doesn't show on his face, but something in his stomach churns at the thought, a tendril of jealousy rising in his chest. ]
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And then Alhaitham finally speaks, and Kaveh nearly chokes.
Somehow, the scribe has pieced together two and two to come up with seven, a fact as embarrassing as it is a relief. And it's tempting, so tempting, to let him believe it, if only to stop this line of questioning— but Kaveh can't lie about this, can't will himself between Tighnari and Cyno even to save his own skin. So he shakes his head, a gathering thickness in his throat; if nothing else, the confusion on his face should show Alhaitham that he's genuine. ]
What? I don't have feelings for Tighnari. [ It would be wisest, perhaps, to end the statement there, but ever the over-achiever, Kaveh continues: ] Anyway, it's not just about love. There are other things too, it's just—
[ His words melt into an oddly-strangled noise as he realizes what he's said. And then, for the second time in mere minutes: ]
Never mind.
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No, do continue. What were you about to say?
[ The skin between his brows crease in thought as looks Kaveh in the eye, gaze akin to the claws of an eagle as it sinks into the soft body of a rabbit; he's not going to let him get away with a "never mind". ]
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But he doesn't have to tell the whole of the truth, does he.
He takes a breath, breaks off the barest morsel of the cake (and he hates how it tastes like sawdust in a mouth filled with the sickness of anxiety). ]
I had plans, that's all. I wanted to be a real success. By the time my parents were my age, they had careers and a house. They were married. They were living well, Alhaitham, they weren't broke and hiding in someone else's spare room while they tried to make ends meet. They weren't going from dead-end relationship to dead-end relationship while waiting for the right person to even notice they existed.
[ Too much. Wasn't that too much? Surely the only person in his life who barely notices he exists is Alhaitham
(even if that's decidedly untrue, if he looks at it from an unbiased, unbroken perspective: it's his birthday, and he's sitting under a tree on Gandha Hill with a cake the other went out of his way to buy, after canceling an appointment set by others on the strength of a tantrum)
and surely that means that he's basically confessed his feelings to the other man through a statement that may as well have said a name— He barely notices it through the gathering of tears clouding his vision, bleeding slow drops of saltwater into the cake in his lap.
He swipes impatiently at his own eyes, sniffling against the emotion. ]
Until I fucked it up for them, they had a real life, something amazing, something to be proud of. I... I haven't even had enough of anything worth fucking up. And now I'm thirty, and I just— I feel like I've wasted too much time, Alhaitham, that's all.
[ A wet, miserable laugh. He bets the other regrets his line of questioning now. ]
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Most of it isn't new information. He's well aware of the guilt Kaveh carries like a millstone around his neck, his perceived responsibility for his father dying out in the desert even though the blame should be placed upon Sachin. This is where most other people would perhaps try to assuage it by saying it wasn't your fault, you were just a child. But Alhaitham isn't most other people and he leaves the topic of Kaveh's guilt be. That is something Kaveh ought to discuss with a therapist because it's way above his pay grade.
The metaphorical scalpel continues to make its incision. As he thought; in hitting this milestone that's a multiple of ten, he's become painfully aware of the things he failed to accomplish in his twenties. His earlier conclusion was only slightly off in assuming he was comparing his accomplishments (or lack thereof) to those of his peers rather than his parents's.
He lifts his hand as though he's about to reach out and wipe Kaveh's tears away, but aborts the motion and lets it drop back down to his lap. "—waiting for the right person to even notice they existed."
This is new information. And as previously established, it cannot be Tighnari. Not that he would even fit the description of someone who'd fail to notice that he exists. But who could it be? He cannot think of a single person in Kaveh's social circle who would fit. And it can't be him, given that he went out of his way to buy him the cake he's now crying into. From a logical point of view, he doesn't fit at all. But this is Kaveh, driven by emotion and not always moderated by reason. From his point of view, Alhaitham is a cold and unfeeling asshole. Of course he would think he never noticed him.
Something indescribable tightens in his chest as the thought settles into his mind, resting heavily against his ribcage. Alhaitham's hands ball into fists against his legs. He can remain silent and maintain the status quo as he's already done for over a decade, or... speak, not knowing for certain if conclusion is even the right one. ]
Perhaps the right person was waiting for signs of reciprocal interest. [ A quiet exhale. He still doesn't avert his gaze, as tempting it is to look at Sumeru City instead as the words leave his mouth. ] I assumed you weren't interested in me.
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Of course you'd think that—! Do you have any idea how many people I've seen over the years trying to get your attention, all to be responded to with the cluelessness of a hydro fungus in a rainstorm? Why would I imagine it's any different for me, even when we— we—
[ The stream of words stops as abruptly as it started, Kaveh's voice trailing into nothingness as wide, wet crimson eyes blink once, twice, three times, the whole of Alhaitham's statement finally hitting home, leaving him to sit in stupefied silence. Alhaitham assumed that Kaveh wasn't interested in him, but— but he was waiting— hoping? This whole time, has the scribe had the same hesitation as Kaveh?
The hope, silenced by the rejection of the cake's meaning, swells and beats in his chest, fills his stomach with crystalflies, and Kaveh's lips part around words that won't quite come, questions and statements that won't quite form from the addled recesses of his mind.
...Besides, through it all, isn't there only one thing that matters? ]
Then... let me clear up any doubts you might have. I am interested, Alhaitham. I'm— [ A breath. His mouth feels dry, the words still heavy on his tongue despite finally knowing they're safe to say. ] I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for years.
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...Do you remember our first academic debate, Kaveh? That's the precise moment I fell in love.
[ It was around five months after their first encounter in the library; he was fourteen at the time, right on the cusp of entering puberty, and he wasn't used to debating with people who could keep up with him. But then Kaveh had entered his life and proved his mettle by keeping pace with him for well over two hours, red eyes alight with unmatched brilliance and passion. It had knocked the metaphorical breath out of Alhaitham and the debate could've easily lasted even longer than it did had they not needed to eat.
Somewhat begrudgingly, he ceded victory to Kaveh and concluded that his own inexperience with debates in a proper academic setting was the reason he had lost, vowing to work on articulating his arguments with better precision and gravitas and to better avoid the fallacies that weaken his position. ]
You're the only person I've ever wanted to be with.
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And under the shroud of the fear, it feels like forever before the other actually responds, and Kaveh's hand lifts to lay across that thumbing at his tear, a smile finding his lips as he nods, as he laughs— and then as his brows lift in surprise. Alhaitham... in love with him since they were just kids? He thought he had been waiting for a long time, but this...
He remembers that day, too: the near excitement gleaming in Alhaitham's emerald eyes as he realized he'd met his match, the strength and reasoning behind each argument. Then, once both of their stomachs were audibly growling their hunger, the frustration behind his words as he ceded victory to Kaveh for the first and last time. The senior of the two boys had been curious about his junior from the start, had seen his brilliance, but on that day Kaveh recognized just how brilliant Alhaitham was.
As to whether that's when he fell in love, he doesn't know. Kaveh's love awakened more slowly, invisible to him until it had swallowed him whole.
And so there's a lot to discuss, probably, answers and explanations of his own to give... but very suddenly all he can think about is the pink of the other man's lips, how sweet they must taste with the dusting of fragmented glaze across them, how they might part against his own, stealing a taste Kaveh has for so long dreamed of offering.
He bites his lip. ]
Can I kiss you?
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That's the reply in Alhaitham's mind, but he doesn't verbalize it—in fact, he says nothing at all and decides to give his answer by scooting closer and reaching up to capture the sides of Kaveh's face with both hands; he then proceeds to gently angle his head slightly to the side so their noses won't collide as he leans closer and closer until their lips meet. His eyes slide closed as he makes a soft noise against the other's mouth, relishing in the feeling of those soft lips against his own and focusing his senses on nothing else but that sensation he's drowning himself in.
It's stiff and a little awkward, but that's Alhaitham's inexperience shining through rather than a sign that he isn't enjoying every second; it is, after all, his very first kiss and although he's read about kissing in many of the thousands of books he's read in his life it doesn't translate into real life experience. Kaveh tastes faintly of rosewater and cardamom and in that moment it feels like they were made to slot perfectly together, like two intertwined roots of the very tree they're sitting under. ]
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It's overwhelming enough that it takes him a moment for him to recognize it for what it is, to understand that the angle of Alhaitham's lips is ever so slightly awkward, that there's something just that little bit stiff that speaks to something not quite being right
—and Kaveh is a smart man, despite how he may sometimes act, and he remembers what his own first kiss felt like, all awkward placements and nervous energy—
He pulls away, crimson eyes wide and soft with emotions he can't quite place just yet. ]
That... Alhaitham, you've never kissed anyone before? [ And then, with devastating clarity: ] Were you— were you waiting for me?
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At the question, he just gives the other a long look. ]
Didn't I just say that you're the only person I've ever wanted to be with? Try paying attention, Kaveh.
[ He never saw the point in intimate acts like kissing if it wasn't with Kaveh, didn't feel like he was missing out. It just seemed like a hassle he didn't want to bother with if he couldn't do those things with the one person that mattered the most. All these years, it's only been him. So yes, he has in fact been waiting. ]
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If you've got the ability to be an ass, then I clearly haven't kissed you properly enough.
[ There's a lot of things he should say. That Alhaitham is clearly more sentimental than he lets on. That he didn't need to wait. That he should have said something sooner rather than later. He's a hypocrite, he knows. And he should tell him, Kaveh thinks again, when he realized his own feelings.
But they've got time for that. And right now, today, they've got a lot of time to make up.
So he closes the space between them once more instead, and this time his fingers curl fists into the tight material of Alhaitham's clothing, pulling him close, his tongue skating over the scribe's lower lip. ]
You need practice, [ he mumbles by way of explanation, a soft laugh whispering between their mouths. ]