[Mindlessness coats his actions as he rolls them so Kaveh is strewn across his body, settling back and reveling in the kisses, still trembling from his climax, calling out for Kaveh in small, almost imperceptible mewls, like he's seeing how the word tastes in his mouth, how each sillable weighs on his tongue. He's smiling, forgetful of all the troubles and misdirections and aimless feelings and personas, focused only on the slide down from both their peaks.
He craves more, greed tracing at the lowest, most base part of him that he tends to so promptly discard. He wishes for more only because he knows that he probably could have had it if this were any other way.
So Alhaitham is determined to cherish what he gets, even if his heart is surging with some sort of strange and thoughtless hint at happiness that he's never experienced before.]
Good morning, [he says after a while, his mouth in a smile, tracing Kaveh's shoulder with a fingertip.]
[ There's always something sweet about the aftermath, about seeing the usually-stoic Alhaitham so thoroughly unwound, mewling his name and panting for breath even as he continues to kiss and stroke and touch, all the mindless and secretive little smiles forming the corners of his mouth. It makes Kaveh happy to watch, seeing each play out on his face one after the other before he buries his own expressions in the crook of the other's neck with a sigh, arms winding around him tight.
(His own face is a jumble, mixed emotions and feelings, the clench of his heart tells him he knows his answer when he believes completely he does not, the staccato of his breath is short and sweet against sweated skin as he sighs and sighs and sighs.) ]
Good morning, [ he whispers back, and his heart trembles with both fullness and fear. ]
Do you want to order that coffee now? [He asks, though he doesn't let go of him yet as he strokes his hair, as he wipes his hand on the far side of the bed (room service will get it, he must remember to tug and bundle the sheets so the staff doesn't have to deal with all of that). Alhaitham keeps pecking at his temple, at his hair, content and sated like a very pleased cat who had the most loveliest of sleeps under the sun. Like he hadn't grumpily asked for more time just a few minutes before.]
laughs, a bright and genuine noise even as his hands come up to Alhaitham's chest, push at him slightly. ]
Oh, my God. You're incorrigible. Get the guy and the coffee, huh...
[ He's acting offended, but there's a smile on his face and in his voice that gives the game away before he can really pretend otherwise, and he laughs as he leans up, presses a sweet kiss to Alhaitham's mouth before using his leverage on the other's chest to push himself just slightly away, turning for his phone.
The chime sounds at the same time as he picks it up, and there's another laugh, a half-started statement on his lips about perfect timing, but as crimson eyes fall on the short, urgent message on the screen, they widen and he fumbles the phone in his grip, dropping it momentarily onto the mess of sheets between them.
It bounces from the bed onto the floor. Kaveh's eyes, wide, settle on Alhaitham's face. ]
[Alhaitham is halfway through a chuckle, riding the smooth sailing of the endorphins in his body and even rolling to pretend to chase after Kaveh, pressing kisses to his spine where he can reach—
Only for Kaveh's back to tense under his lips; at first, Alhaitham thinks he has found a ticklish part. But quickly he sees the phone fumbling and falling, and he looks up to find Kaveh's eyes panicking, fear and excitement and anxiousness all at once.
He crawls up and kisses him quickly, rolling the both of them up and off the bed and patting Kaveh's behind to the bathroom.] Go, I'll clean the room first.
[ The day is both the longest and the shortest of Kaveh's life. It's spent largely in the Fontaine hospital, sometimes in his mother's room and sometimes in the waiting room, holding her hand and pacing halls and having awkward conversations with his obviously-terrified step-father. He's who he is, so he would never impose the thoughts on anyone except Alhaitham, who already knows, but he's terrified too, caught between an older brother's affection for a soon-to-be-born sibling and the sickening fear that this baby will replace him, the worry that the fear will lead to hate—
But then Nadia is born and he realizes he never should have worried at all, because Kaveh's not sure he's ever loved anyone as much as he loves her.
He spends the rest of the day at the hospital, and most of the day after too, seeing Alhaitham when he can and checking in when he can't. His mother is still too tired for guests outside Nadia's father and brother, and Kaveh's small greetings and messages are apologetic, the blonde feeling no small measure of guilt over having dragged the other man all the way to another country just to abandon him in the hotel.
On the third day, though, Faranak asks Kaveh to bring Alhaitham to the hospital with him. Something about Alhaitham being an "important friend" of her son's, something Kaveh doesn't pass on because despite their distance, his mother knows him far too well and it's embarrassing. But he does bring the other with him as requested, and before long they're stepping together into Faranak's room, Kaveh holding a fresh bouquet of flowers.
The woman in question is sitting up in bed, bright and smiling as she greets them, and no sooner does she see Alhaitham than an offer is made:
[Alhaitham had been by Kaveh’s side throughout the past few days, offering quiet reassurances and steadfast support. He’d seen the tension in Kaveh’s body during the long hours of waiting, his pacing, the mixture of excitement and fear, and he was never far from Kaveh’s side, offering quiet support when needed and space when necessary. And when Nadia was born, he had watched Kaveh fall instantly in love with his little sister, the joy in his eyes replacing the worry that had haunted him. He never once complained about the waiting or the awkwardness of being a silent presence in the hospital. Instead, Alhaitham did what he did best: observed, absorbed, and made himself useful in quiet, thoughtful ways. He was Kaveh's anchor, offering comfort with his presence and allowing Kaveh the space to process his emotions. He made sure Kaveh had dinner, a steady shoulder to hold onto, a chest to fall asleep to as Alhaitham described to him the latest chapter of the book he had just purchased as he waited for Kaveh to come back to him.
Now, stepping into Faranak’s hospital room with Kaveh beside him, he’s greeted with the bright smile of Kaveh’s mother, her face a mix of exhaustion and joy. The room is softly lit, the air hushed as though the space itself is aware of the preciousness it holds. Alhaitham feels a certain reverence in his movements, keeping his voice quiet and his gestures gentle, making sure not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. He is courteous towards Faranak, offering a polite nod as he steps in beside Kaveh, who carries a fresh bouquet.]
Congratulations. [He speaks softly, his eyes taking in the quiet scene before him—Nadia, a small bundle of life swaddled in a pale blanket beside her mother, fast asleep.
When Faranak asks if Alhaitham wants to hold Nadia, his eyes dart immediately to Kaveh. He searches his face, silently asking for permission. Despite their closeness, this is still a delicate moment—a family moment—and Alhaitham wants to ensure Kaveh is okay with him stepping into such an intimate role.
Kaveh gives a small nod, and Alhaitham returns his attention to Faranak, his expression soft but composed as he accepts the offer. He approaches the bed, moving carefully as he crouches slightly to gently lift the tiny bundle of blankets. With all the knowledge he has accumulated from reading various books on child-rearing, he instinctively cradles the newborn in the crook of his arm, supporting her head with practiced ease. His movements are slow, deliberate—he is determined to hold her as carefully as possible.
As Nadia stirs slightly in his arms, her tiny face scrunches before her scarlet eyes, the same shade as Kaveh’s and Faranak’s, blink open. They’re foggy, as newborns’ eyes tend to be, but they fixate upwards, right at him, her curiosity as palpable as her smallness. For a moment, Alhaitham freezes. Nadia’s eyes, though foggy with newborn innocence, are unmistakably the same shade of red as Kaveh’s and Faranak’s. It strikes him, how powerful and vibrant that color is, even in its softness. Alhaitham feels something stir deep within him, an unexpected warmth blossoming in his chest. He’s instantly smitten, mesmerized by how fragile and yet how alive she is.
Alhaitham’s breath catches as her gaze—unfocused, yet curious—settles on him. Her tiny body feels impossibly delicate in his arms, her small chest rising and falling in quiet, rhythmic breaths. And yet, she is already so alive, so intent on the shapes and lights around her, though her little eyes can’t fully comprehend them yet.
Her soft, downy hair barely dusts her head, and Alhaitham can’t help but lean in just slightly to inhale the faint scent of her. She smells like a newborn—clean, sweet, and somehow innocent in a way that is hard to describe.
With the utmost care, Alhaitham walks towards the window, cradling Nadia in his arms. The soft glow of the city beyond catches her attention, her tiny head turning slightly as if she’s drawn to the colors and lights, even though her eyes can’t quite make sense of them yet. Alhaitham watches as her gaze, though unfocused, follows the movements outside with a kind of rapt attention.
He adjusts the little collar of her bib with a gentle finger, and as he does, Nadia’s tiny hand reaches up, her fingers curling around his finger. The grip is soft but surprisingly strong for someone so small, and Alhaitham’s heart melts instantly. He’s not one to be easily swayed by sentimentality, but there’s something undeniably powerful about this tiny life wrapped in his arms, so curious and full of potential.
Alhaitham feels something in his chest tighten and melt all at once.]
How strong you are already, [he whispers softly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that rarely colors his words. His eyes never leave her, completely absorbed by the tiny life in his arms.]
[ It's a strange feeling indeed, the one that settles in Kaveh's heart when his mother asks Alhaitham if he'd like to hold Nadia. There's no hesitation in him at all when the other man—his friend, his roommate, his... situationship, for lack of a better word—seeks permission not only from the woman asking but from him too, and yet there's a hint of trepidation in his heart, something he can't fully understand as the scholar gathers the bundle of blankets that is his baby sister into his arms. Faranak, entirely trusting of Alhaitham in a way Kaveh did not foresee, turns her attention to the flowers her son brought, but her words of thanks and praise fall on ears near-deaf as his own attention remains on the other man: watching.
At first, it's with a strange sense of older brother's protectiveness: he trusts Alhaitham, of course, but has he ever held a baby before? But within moments of the younger man gathering his sister into his arms, that protectiveness fades, replaced by a feeling in his stomach Kaveh can't quite understand.
It's the look on Alhaitham's face, surprised and yet so deeply fond, as Nadia's eyes open to meet his. It's the way he leans in ever-so-slightly to breathe in the faint scent that is so undeniably her. It's the care with which he walks to the window, showing her scenes she can't yet comprehend. It's the soft, whispered awe in his voice when Kaveh's sister takes his finger in her small hand, answering his readjustment of her clothing.
And Kaveh—
Kaveh feels his mother's hand on his, gentle even as it squeezes, pulling his attention away from the man at the window. Crimson eyes meet crimson, and the smile on her face is one of knowing affection, one of knowing the answer before he has even fully accepted it himself.
But she's right, and it's true, and he's in love, he realizes. He's in love, and he has been for a while now.
Faranak smiles, and Kaveh smiles back, something tremulous even as he nods. Tears threaten to well in his eyes, but he fights them back, instead sets about quietly putting the flowers he brought in a vase, propping up his mother's pillows even as she tuts at him and tells him to stop fussing.
But the whole time, his attention remains on Alhaitham, and the love in those emerald eyes. ]
[For a moment, it’s as if the world has narrowed to him and Nadia. The sensation is foreign to him—this kind of connection. He grew up an only child, raised mostly by his grandmother after his parents passed away. His childhood had been happy, yes, but solitary in many ways. He was always content with his books, his studies, his quiet world. But this? This moment of holding a newborn, a fragile life wrapped in warmth and possibility—this was something entirely new, and it filled him with an emotion he hadn't expected.
He had never been a part of something like this before, and now, standing here, a part of Kaveh's world, he realizes just how wonderful it feels. How fulfilling it is to be here, holding Kaveh’s sister, sharing in this monumental moment of his life. There’s a quiet joy that bubbles up in his chest, a deep satisfaction that feels like it’s settling into his bones.]
You’re incredible already, [he whispers again, his voice full of wonder as he gently adjusts Nadia’s swaddle once more. The small life in his arms stirs slightly, her head tilting just enough to rest against his chest, and for a fleeting second, Alhaitham feels like he's protecting something far more precious than anything he's ever held.
And then he feels it—the subtle shift in the room. He glances up, his eyes meeting Kaveh’s from across the space, and for a brief moment, the world seems to stop. The hospital room, the city outside, the past few days—all of it fades away as those familiar crimson eyes, so full of warmth and something deeper, lock onto his. Alhaitham can see it. In that moment, everything feels right. He feels a part of this, a part of something bigger than himself, and the warmth that fills him is overwhelming in its simplicity.
Alhaitham smiles—soft, genuine, a rare expression that is usually reserved for only the most precious of moments.
He turns, carefully making his way back to the bedside where Faranak is waiting. With the same gentleness he had when he first took Nadia, Alhaitham returns the baby to her mother, cradling her small body as though handling the most delicate treasure.]
She’s wonderful, [he says softly, his voice filled with quiet reverence. He straightens slightly, watching as Faranak takes her daughter back, and there’s a sense of completeness in the air, a quiet acknowledgment that something beautiful has just been shared between them all.]
[ Kaveh's ears are sharp enough to catch Alhaitham's whispers to Nadia, and yet not sharp enough to understand the words he says. And yet, he thinks, perhaps it doesn't matter. Standing here, watching him from across the room as he cradles his baby sister, the barest hint of a smile on his face as he watches her, adjusts her, Kaveh's heart fills with still more fondness. He doesn't know how he didn't see it before, but perhaps that doesn't matter. He sees it now, and his heart aches with it, bursts with excitement and that feeling that he needs to share—
Coppered eyes glance up, and a moment stretches into eternity as viridian meets carmine. In that moment, they both know. Everything is as it's meant to be. Outside of it, later, the words must still be spoken. But right now—
Kaveh can only watch as Alhaitham moves back to the bed, returns daughter to mother, and perhaps he should hold his own baby sister for a while, but Faranak sees moments that even now he fails to parse, yawns as she hugs her daughter close before placing her in the crib at her side. She's tired, she tells them, she's sorry for having them come so far for so short a visit, but perhaps they can return a little later in the day, if they're so inclined?
The words see them out of the hospital once more, a meaningful look offered to her son, who even now fiddles with his phone, a frown on his expression as his brain tries to catch up to the head-start his heart has so suddenly taken. ]
Should we... go back to the hotel to eat? And I guess we can figure out if we wanna do anything after that...?
[As they step out of the hospital, the weight of the moment lingers in the air between them, though there’s a certain quiet peace that has settled over Alhaitham. He glances over at Kaveh, noticing the subtle frown on his face, the way he fiddles with his phone as if searching for some sort of distraction. Him, too, feels the weight of unspoken words pressing gently at the edges of his mind, he supposes.
Kaveh’s suggestion of going back to the hotel feels like a welcome reprieve from the emotional intensity of the hospital. Alhaitham smiles softly, slipping his hand onto Kaveh’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance.]
That sounds good. [There's an undercurrent of affection that slips through as he speaks.] Let’s head back, eat something, and take it slow.
[He’s grateful for the space to breathe, the quiet between them not awkward but simply reflective, as they make their way back to the hotel. The streets of Fontaine bustle around them, but for once, Alhaitham isn’t paying attention to the architecture or the intricacies of the city. His thoughts remain fixed on the way Kaveh had watched him with Nadia, the look they shared, the quiet between them that seemed to settle deeper than words ever could.
They reach the hotel, and as they step inside the familiar warmth of their room, Alhaitham finally lets out a soft sigh. He glances over at Kaveh, and for a moment, it’s just the two of them again, away from the hospital, the family, the expectations. He moves toward the small sitting area, the gentle glow of the city still casting shadows across the room as he sets his things down.]
What do you feel like eating? Something light? Or should we indulge a little more after the day we’ve had?
[ Eat something. Take it slow. They're wise words, and yet Kaveh's heart refuses to slow down, rushing forward at a constant, breakneck pace with which his head can't keep up. What Alhaitham sees as space to breathe is experienced by the elder of the two as something of a dizzying fog, unable to take his mind away from the experience that the two of them just shared, the buried meaning beneath the moment chasing him, seizing him, holding him still even in the wake of the the other's words as they arrive back in the hotel, as he crosses their room to the seating area, bathed in the evening shadows.
What does he feel like eating—How can Alhaitham even think of food at a time like this? Everything is so different now—
He shakes as he crosses the room, putting his own things down, trembling fingers still clutching tight to his phone as if it's some sort of lifeline.
The answer has been in front of him all along, and yet even now he can't just reach out and take it, not yet. First, he—
No. First: food. He takes a breath. ]
I—
[ He can't decide. How can he decide when his heart and mind are in a shambles like this? Indulgence seems to be the letter of the day, but what if he speaks up and everything comes crumbling down around him like it was made from the beginning of glass? What if, after all of this, nothing plays out the way he imagines it would? He feels ill with unease, so maybe something light is smarter after all, just in case...
His fingers grip tighter around his phone, and he looks up at Alhaitham, expression troubled. ]
Trembling fingers grip his phone tightly—too tightly. The tension in Kaveh's body laps at Alhaitham's skin, and for a moment, his heart sinks. The quiet certainty he had felt in the hospital, that shared look—it all feels it’s slipping through his fingers like sand.
Perhaps he had misread everything.
Perhaps he had misread all of it. Granted, he needed to reciprocation—he made that very clear, Kaveh does not have to reciprocate the feelings and the affection he wants to place upon him.
And yet, the warmth and connection he’d felt, the peace in holding Nadia, the shared look with Kaveh, the moment of quiet what he thought was love—it all feels wrong, misplaced. Had Kaveh been imagining someone else? Had he been thinking of Euler, of someone who wasn’t standing there with him, holding his baby sister, sharing that intimate moment with his family? Maybe that look between them hadn’t been an affirmation at all, but rather Kaveh’s longing for Euler to be there in Alhaitham’s place.
The thought twists something deep inside him, something that feels suspiciously like hurt. Alhaitham thought he had been enough—he thought he had been the person Kaveh wanted to be there with him. But now, the doubt creeps in, and it’s insidious. The very idea that Kaveh had been wanting someone else all along, that all of this—the affection, the closeness—wasn’t meant for him but for the version of himself he had created as Euler...
He swallows hard, his hand pausing where it had been reaching out to brush Kaveh’s shoulder. The movement stalls, hovers, and then falls onto the shoulder nonetheless, concerned.]
I see. [He doesn’t want to make this about himself, doesn’t want to burden Kaveh with his own emotions when Kaveh is struggling. But still, it lingers, a quiet ache that twists in his chest.
Maybe Kaveh’s heart was with Euler all along.
Alhaitham clears his throat softly, his eyes flicking toward the window, the city lights casting long shadows across the room.]
[ Kaveh doesn't realize how the words may come across until they're spoken, filling the space between them with a sudden, frightening amount of uncertainty. In his mind, there's no denying at all the moments that stretched between them in the hospital. Against his better judgement, almost against his very will, his heart opened like a flower in bloom and showed all the truths hidden inside—showed them not just to Alhaitham, but to Kaveh himself, who understands now that there's no point in running. And he was so sure that they felt that same thing in that moment that his words were spoken in tune with it, an admission of understanding that can no longer be denied.
But Alhaitham's hand flutters, he speaks with hurt in his voice, and as Kaveh looks up at him, confusion writ into his features, he realizes—they weren't singing quite the same melody after all.
Somehow, that only makes things all the more terrifying. Naturally, the whole thing makes him want to start running all over again, to never look back—
But he also knows, deep down, that there's no running from this. Not anymore.
He takes a breath, shakes his head—slow. Thoughtful. ]
That's not what I mean.
[ His voice is shaky with nerves, and yet strong with certainty, and he steps forward, turns, places himself between Alhaitham and the window, taking up as much as he can of the other's view. ]
I just... I need to talk to him, because—because things have changed for me, and I think he deserves to know.
[ It's a change that's been happening, little by little, for a while—even longer than he realized. But he sees it now, clear as the bright look in Nadia's eyes when she took Alhaitham's finger in her little hand. And now that he sees it, he has to honor it. Because— ]
[The world stills once more, but this time, it’s not the same ache as before. There’s something different in the air now, something that both calms and unsettles him.
Kaveh’s words cut through the doubt that had been settling like a fog around him, but Alhaitham hesitates. He’s heard the words, but a part of him still isn’t sure. After all, they’ve both been dancing around so many unspoken things, misreading moments, emotions tied up in complicated knots. And Alhaitham, more than anything, doesn’t want to make assumptions. He needs to hear it clearly.]
You… want it to be me? [Cautious as he watches Kaveh, his eyes searching for something deeper, for confirmation that this isn’t just a fleeting thought or an emotional reaction to the intensity of the day.
Alhaitham steps closer, his hand finding Kaveh’s shoulder, but there’s a gentleness to the gesture—a carefulness that wasn’t there before. His other hand lifts, cupping Kaveh’s cheek, brushing his thumb gently across the skin. But he pauses, his eyes locking onto Kaveh’s, searching.]
Tell me what you mean? [His breath catches slightly as he speaks, but he holds Kaveh’s gaze, waiting. Alhaitham has always been careful with his heart, guarding it behind logic and reason, but now, standing in front of Kaveh, he’s open in a way he rarely allows himself to be.]
[ After all that's happened between them, it's more than fair that Alhaitham seeks the clarification. For months now he's been whim to Kaveh's mess of feelings and desires, waiting patiently as the blonde has spiraled from one situation to another and to yet another still, always there with open arms and soft touches to pick up the pieces of him left behind. In the face of his anchored, grounded stability, Kaveh's uncertain heart must feel changeable and unsure, messy as it sorts through emotion after emotion.
This time, though, there's no uncertainty left in him. Nerves, fear, anxiety, yes. But the knowledge is stable. Real.
His head tilts, leans into that touch, and his eyes hold the other's gaze, steady despite the thrumming anxiety in his heart. ]
I told you once before that I wanted to save my first time for someone I loved. So... so we could do anything apart from that, because I wanted it to be Euler. Because of my feelings for him. But I..
[ It's here that his gaze wavers a little, a soft pink lifting to his cheek as crimson drops to look at the color of Alhaitham's shirt instead, tongue and teeth worrying briefly over his lower lip as he tries to put his thoughts in order. A sigh, a straightening of his shoulders, has him looking back up again, unsteady by determined. ]
I've learned a lot since then. I understand a lot. I've changed, and I.. I think in some ways he has too. Maybe we all have, but all I know is that... I. I want it to be you.
[ And then, quietly, to be absolutely certain that Alhaitham understands: ]
[Alhaitham hears the certainty in Kaveh’s words—the quiet strength, the conviction, flooding through him like warmth, chasing away the fog of doubt that had clouded his mind. Relief, affection, something deeper than either wells up inside him, and without another thought, he pulls Kaveh into a tight embrace.
He presses a kiss to Kaveh’s temple, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, as though grounding himself in the closeness. Then he places another kiss, this time a small but meaningful one, on Kaveh’s lips—quick, barely a breath between them, because he doesn’t want to get carried away just yet. There’s something he needs to say first.]
I do love you, too. [His arms tighten around Kaveh for a brief second, as if holding onto this moment before everything changes.
He pulls back just enough to look at Kaveh, his expression conflicted. His heart is racing, and he knows that this moment, this beautiful, vulnerable confession, deserves the same honesty in return.
Now? Alhaitham wonders. Is this really the right time to complicate things further? Kaveh has just opened his heart to him, and now, after the days of emotional turmoil, after watching him navigate the intensity of his relationship with his mother, does he really want to add this? And yet... it feels wrong not to say it. If Kaveh truly loves him, then he deserves to know everything.
Kaveh’s confession, as sincere as it sounds, leaves a tangled knot of feelings inside him. Kaveh doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that Euler and Alhaitham are the same person, that the one he’d once placed on a pedestal for his mystery and distance is also the one standing before him now, open and vulnerable.
This truth—this hidden duality—has gnawed at Alhaitham for some time. He’s been living two lives in Kaveh’s eyes: the enigmatic figure of Euler, someone Kaveh admired and pined for, and himself, Alhaitham, the man who has quietly supported and cared for Kaveh, even as he watched him long for someone else.
Alhaitham swallows, his mind racing as he rests their foreheads together, his eyes closed. Kaveh deserves to know, but the consequences of revealing the truth—of saying the words—could unravel everything. He had kept Euler's identity to protect both himself and Kaveh, but now, standing here, it feels like the mask has trapped them both.]
Come here. [Alhaitham’s voice is soft as he gently guides Kaveh towards the bed. He sits them both down, his hands steadying Kaveh as he takes a seat beside him.]
You need to know the truth.
[Alhaitham takes a deep breath, his hand running through his hair, slicking it back, it starts looking as though a movement to try to clear his thoughts, and yet, it lingers there, keeping the hair half steady pulled back. His other hand lifts to his face, covering the upper part, his eyes peeking through his fingers as though it's a mask—a barrier between himself and the truth.]
[ He sighs in relief and gratitude alike, pulled into Alhaitham's arms in a way that has him sink into the other, soft and pliable and content, enjoying more than anything the soft, brief kisses that herald the younger man's answer before it actually comes to his lips. This is it, he thinks, this is what he's needed, what he's been waiting for—but when Alhaitham pulls back to look at him, there's something deep and dark and conflicted in his gaze, and Kaveh feels his stomach tighten with a fresh wave of uncertainty.
Alhaitham has never looked conflicted before. He's always been the anchor, the stoic pillar of answers—
Why now?
So when the other reaches for him, guides him to the bed so they can sit, it's all Kaveh can do to nod, to follow him with no pause. Whatever it is that Alhaitham needs to say, Kaveh will listen. After everything, it's the least he can do. Perhaps it's his turn to offer support, his turn to—
His thoughts, determined in their affection, trail off when the younger man says something about Kaveh needing to know the truth. The truth, when as far as he knows, Alhaitham has always been honest with him, right from the start—hell, it's one of the things he complained about at first, one of the things that drove him to frustration as the other teacher simply spoke his mind without pause or tact...
And then Alhaitham slicks his hair back with a hand, covers his face as if with a mask, and Kaveh's mind grinds to a halt.
Until it restarts. And there are flashes, then, moments that resurface in his memory like pieces of a puzzle, unsolved and forgotten until someone was brave enough to remind him he was trying to solve it.
Euler, so smart, using words even Kaveh didn't know, telling him he'd just started a new job—
Alhaitham, caving to his drunken, physical advances within moments of being told that Kaveh had fallen for someone who only knew him as pixels on a screen—
Euler's apparent nonchalant attitude over the fact that Kaveh was interested not only in him, but someone else too—Alhaitham's lack of concern over the very same—Euler's refusal to share more, to be more past the strict bounds of his own privacy—
Alhaitham barging in on his date that time to hug him, ostensibly selfish, but right after Kaveh had confessed a dark, painful secret to Euler—Alhaitham, rushing back home after Kaveh and Euler fought, apparently tired of his work trip—
The nights where he had what looked like black dye under his nails—
The cigarettes—
Gods, he's been an idiot. Kaveh looks up at Alhaitham, eyes round with a gentle horror, wet with realization, and he thinks he feels his heart crack. ]
[The moment stretches into something heavy, laden with realization and dread as Kaveh’s wide eyes meet his own, filled with a kind of horror that makes Alhaitham’s chest tighten. He can see the pieces falling into place in Kaveh’s mind—the quiet puzzle that had been forming for months, now finally coming together, creating a picture that Alhaitham had kept hidden for too long.
When Kaveh whispers “No,” Alhaitham feels the weight of the word hit him. He had expected this reaction, had prepared himself for it, but now, standing on the precipice of this revelation, it hurts more than he thought it would. He inhales deeply, lowering his hand from his face, letting it fall to rest on his lap as he meets Kaveh’s gaze.]
Kaveh… [His voice is soft, careful, as though each word could shatter the fragile moment between them.] I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel like I was manipulating you.
[He takes a deep breath, glancing away for a moment before meeting Kaveh’s gaze again.]
Euler… I had no idea you'd get so close to him. Or that you were Pharos in the first place. And he ended up holding a lot of delicate information. About you. About Pharos. About things you shared with me when you were vulnerable. And every time I thought about revealing the truth… it felt wrong. Like it would change everything between us, but not in a good way. I didn’t want to cross that line, because it—it was about control.
[Alhaitham’s hand slides from his hair, resting on his lap as he speaks, his voice steady, but heavy.]
At first, Euler was a way to keep certain things... private. A way to step outside of everything and still help people—help you. But as time passed, and you opened up to me more and more, the distance between Euler and myself became harder to manage.
There were so many times I wanted to tell you the truth. [He swallows, the words flowing now, like a dam finally breaking.] But every time I thought about it, I realized how much information you had shared with Euler—things about Pharos, things about your life, your feelings.
I didn’t want you to feel trapped by the information I had as Euler. I didn’t want you to think that my relationship with you—as Alhaitham—was built on some kind of deception. I didn’t want you to feel like I was manipulating you into anything.
[His words slow, and he makes to shift slightly closer to Kaveh, stopping at the last moment. His eyes fill with sincerity, with the weight of the truth he had kept hidden for so long, but he knows that this—this probably isn't well-accepted.] I realize now that I should have told you. Especially now. After everything we’ve gone through together, after everything we’ve shared. It doesn’t make sense for me to keep this secret anymore.
[A final, deep breath.] I don’t expect you to forgive me. But what I feel for you—it’s real. It’s not Euler, it’s not a façade. It’s me.
[ Alhaitham starts speaking, something which is meant to make it better as he explains, as he introduces Kaveh to reasons that make sense, that soothe, that fix. It's meant to heal him—meant to heal them, meant to fix the mess into which they've fallen, a mess that for once, does not feature Kaveh named as author but Alhaitham. His words should make it better—
but they don't. Kaveh's stomach only twists itself into heftier knots, his heart only cracks more under the strain, his eyes water and his throat feels as if it will close over with the panic. He leans—away—an anxiety-driven jerk when it looks as if Alhaitham will reach for him, and his eyes burn with something aching, unspoken, hurting, broken.
It was for him, Alhaitham claims. For his sake. And yet— ]
Don't. [ His voice is a hoarse, trembling whisper. ] Don't try to act like all of this was for my sake. You.. you let me tell you that I was in love with someone, knowing that that person was you. You've had so many chances to tell me the truth even since then. So many opportunities to make it right, to.. to bridge that gap and explain. And instead, you just... you...
[ His words hitch, tone rising little by little on the words as the thoughts cloud his mind. Why? What's the difference between this moment and that one? Was it an ego thing? Did Alhaitham need Kaveh to love him, and not Euler? Or was it that strange sense of justice he claims to have felt, the need not to manipulate him or deceive him, striving to make him fall for the right one even as he, in every choice he made, manipulated and deceived him after all? ]
You broke my heart. [ The words hit, heavy and honest, accusatory, a pained fury lit in his ruby eyes as he looks up at him. ] You—you let me think someone else was breaking my heart, and you pieced me back together, and that whole time, you—How can you say that was for me? It—it wasn't—you—
[ He's on the verge of bursting into tears, and right now that's the last thing he wants. He doesn't want to fall apart into hurt when he should be angry. Abrupt, he stands up, hands balling into fists, pacing in front of the bed where Alhaitham still sits. He doesn't know what to do with himself. Part of him wants to run and hide in the bathroom and cry, but he can't do that while the other is here. Part of him wants to find somewhere private in this foreign country and just scream. He just... he can't be here, not in this room with both of them where everything suddenly feels too small and— ]
I need you to leave. [ The words are abrupt, tumbling over his lips. ] I.. I can't be here with you right now.
[The words hit him harder than anything Kaveh has ever said before: You broke my heart. The anger, the pain in Kaveh’s voice is raw, and Alhaitham feels it deep in his chest, twisting and burning as it sinks in. He watches Kaveh stand abruptly, pacing back and forth, fists clenched, and everything in him wants to argue, to explain further, to fix this—but he knows Kaveh is right.
Every choice he made, every decision to withhold the truth, no matter the intention, led to this. And now, standing here, watching Kaveh unravel, he can’t justify any of it. He wants to tell Kaveh he understands. He wants to say that he knows how selfish he’s been, that every time he thought about revealing the truth, he saw how it would shatter everything between them and held back, hoping that somehow, it would never come to this.
But it has. And now, all of his intentions, all of his justifications, feel hollow.
Kaveh’s demand cuts through the air: he needs him to leave.
Alhaitham feels his chest tighten again, but he doesn’t fight it. He could argue, he could push back, but it’s not what Kaveh needs right now. Alhaitham has already done enough damage. The best thing he can do now is give Kaveh the space he’s asking for. He nods, the movement slow, deliberate.]
I’ll get my things. [His voice is quiet, resigned, the weight of the situation like a heavy cloak.
Fortunately, most of his belongings are packed; Alhaitham never liked unpacking fully in hotel rooms, preferring to keep his things in order; a hotel room wasn't home, he was not going to put clothes in the closets or treat it as such. His bag is almost entirely packed except for a few toiletries, his books, the charger of his phone and laptop, which he grabs quickly. He moves quietly, trying not to disturb Kaveh further, though his presence feels like a weight pressing down on the room. It's awkward, and grates at his skin. His own throat feels tight.]
I’ll be home. [He rolls the suitcase with him, his movements efficient, though his heart feels anything but. As he reaches the door, he pauses, glancing back at Kaveh one last time. He refuses to look pitiful, but he does understand the scale of what he just created.] Take the time you need to process this. I’ll understand whatever decision you make.
[His voice is steady, but underneath it, there’s an undeniable sadness. He wants to say more, to fix this somehow, but the time for explanations is over. Kaveh needs space, and Alhaitham needs to respect that.]
Regardless, I’ll be at home, waiting. [The words come out softer, as if the weight of them is too much for his voice to bear.
He stands there for a moment longer, his heart heavy with everything unsaid. Then, before he closes the door behind him, he speaks one last time.]
I’m sorry, Kaveh.
[And with that, he steps out of the room, the door closing with a soft click, leaving Kaveh alone.]
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sempiternals2023-10-04 01:27 am
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He craves more, greed tracing at the lowest, most base part of him that he tends to so promptly discard. He wishes for more only because he knows that he probably could have had it if this were any other way.
So Alhaitham is determined to cherish what he gets, even if his heart is surging with some sort of strange and thoughtless hint at happiness that he's never experienced before.]
Good morning, [he says after a while, his mouth in a smile, tracing Kaveh's shoulder with a fingertip.]
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(His own face is a jumble, mixed emotions and feelings, the clench of his heart tells him he knows his answer when he believes completely he does not, the staccato of his breath is short and sweet against sweated skin as he sighs and sighs and sighs.) ]
Good morning, [ he whispers back, and his heart trembles with both fullness and fear. ]
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laughs, a bright and genuine noise even as his hands come up to Alhaitham's chest, push at him slightly. ]
Oh, my God. You're incorrigible. Get the guy and the coffee, huh...
[ He's acting offended, but there's a smile on his face and in his voice that gives the game away before he can really pretend otherwise, and he laughs as he leans up, presses a sweet kiss to Alhaitham's mouth before using his leverage on the other's chest to push himself just slightly away, turning for his phone.
The chime sounds at the same time as he picks it up, and there's another laugh, a half-started statement on his lips about perfect timing, but as crimson eyes fall on the short, urgent message on the screen, they widen and he fumbles the phone in his grip, dropping it momentarily onto the mess of sheets between them.
It bounces from the bed onto the floor. Kaveh's eyes, wide, settle on Alhaitham's face. ]
We have to go.
[ His mother is in labor. ]
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Only for Kaveh's back to tense under his lips; at first, Alhaitham thinks he has found a ticklish part. But quickly he sees the phone fumbling and falling, and he looks up to find Kaveh's eyes panicking, fear and excitement and anxiousness all at once.
He crawls up and kisses him quickly, rolling the both of them up and off the bed and patting Kaveh's behind to the bathroom.] Go, I'll clean the room first.
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But then Nadia is born and he realizes he never should have worried at all, because Kaveh's not sure he's ever loved anyone as much as he loves her.
He spends the rest of the day at the hospital, and most of the day after too, seeing Alhaitham when he can and checking in when he can't. His mother is still too tired for guests outside Nadia's father and brother, and Kaveh's small greetings and messages are apologetic, the blonde feeling no small measure of guilt over having dragged the other man all the way to another country just to abandon him in the hotel.
On the third day, though, Faranak asks Kaveh to bring Alhaitham to the hospital with him. Something about Alhaitham being an "important friend" of her son's, something Kaveh doesn't pass on because despite their distance, his mother knows him far too well and it's embarrassing. But he does bring the other with him as requested, and before long they're stepping together into Faranak's room, Kaveh holding a fresh bouquet of flowers.
The woman in question is sitting up in bed, bright and smiling as she greets them, and no sooner does she see Alhaitham than an offer is made:
"Would you like to hold her?" ]
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Now, stepping into Faranak’s hospital room with Kaveh beside him, he’s greeted with the bright smile of Kaveh’s mother, her face a mix of exhaustion and joy. The room is softly lit, the air hushed as though the space itself is aware of the preciousness it holds. Alhaitham feels a certain reverence in his movements, keeping his voice quiet and his gestures gentle, making sure not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. He is courteous towards Faranak, offering a polite nod as he steps in beside Kaveh, who carries a fresh bouquet.]
Congratulations. [He speaks softly, his eyes taking in the quiet scene before him—Nadia, a small bundle of life swaddled in a pale blanket beside her mother, fast asleep.
When Faranak asks if Alhaitham wants to hold Nadia, his eyes dart immediately to Kaveh. He searches his face, silently asking for permission. Despite their closeness, this is still a delicate moment—a family moment—and Alhaitham wants to ensure Kaveh is okay with him stepping into such an intimate role.
Kaveh gives a small nod, and Alhaitham returns his attention to Faranak, his expression soft but composed as he accepts the offer. He approaches the bed, moving carefully as he crouches slightly to gently lift the tiny bundle of blankets. With all the knowledge he has accumulated from reading various books on child-rearing, he instinctively cradles the newborn in the crook of his arm, supporting her head with practiced ease. His movements are slow, deliberate—he is determined to hold her as carefully as possible.
As Nadia stirs slightly in his arms, her tiny face scrunches before her scarlet eyes, the same shade as Kaveh’s and Faranak’s, blink open. They’re foggy, as newborns’ eyes tend to be, but they fixate upwards, right at him, her curiosity as palpable as her smallness. For a moment, Alhaitham freezes. Nadia’s eyes, though foggy with newborn innocence, are unmistakably the same shade of red as Kaveh’s and Faranak’s. It strikes him, how powerful and vibrant that color is, even in its softness. Alhaitham feels something stir deep within him, an unexpected warmth blossoming in his chest. He’s instantly smitten, mesmerized by how fragile and yet how alive she is.
Alhaitham’s breath catches as her gaze—unfocused, yet curious—settles on him. Her tiny body feels impossibly delicate in his arms, her small chest rising and falling in quiet, rhythmic breaths. And yet, she is already so alive, so intent on the shapes and lights around her, though her little eyes can’t fully comprehend them yet.
Her soft, downy hair barely dusts her head, and Alhaitham can’t help but lean in just slightly to inhale the faint scent of her. She smells like a newborn—clean, sweet, and somehow innocent in a way that is hard to describe.
With the utmost care, Alhaitham walks towards the window, cradling Nadia in his arms. The soft glow of the city beyond catches her attention, her tiny head turning slightly as if she’s drawn to the colors and lights, even though her eyes can’t quite make sense of them yet. Alhaitham watches as her gaze, though unfocused, follows the movements outside with a kind of rapt attention.
He adjusts the little collar of her bib with a gentle finger, and as he does, Nadia’s tiny hand reaches up, her fingers curling around his finger. The grip is soft but surprisingly strong for someone so small, and Alhaitham’s heart melts instantly. He’s not one to be easily swayed by sentimentality, but there’s something undeniably powerful about this tiny life wrapped in his arms, so curious and full of potential.
Alhaitham feels something in his chest tighten and melt all at once.]
How strong you are already, [he whispers softly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that rarely colors his words. His eyes never leave her, completely absorbed by the tiny life in his arms.]
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At first, it's with a strange sense of older brother's protectiveness: he trusts Alhaitham, of course, but has he ever held a baby before? But within moments of the younger man gathering his sister into his arms, that protectiveness fades, replaced by a feeling in his stomach Kaveh can't quite understand.
It's the look on Alhaitham's face, surprised and yet so deeply fond, as Nadia's eyes open to meet his. It's the way he leans in ever-so-slightly to breathe in the faint scent that is so undeniably her. It's the care with which he walks to the window, showing her scenes she can't yet comprehend. It's the soft, whispered awe in his voice when Kaveh's sister takes his finger in her small hand, answering his readjustment of her clothing.
And Kaveh—
Kaveh feels his mother's hand on his, gentle even as it squeezes, pulling his attention away from the man at the window. Crimson eyes meet crimson, and the smile on her face is one of knowing affection, one of knowing the answer before he has even fully accepted it himself.
But she's right, and it's true, and he's in love, he realizes. He's in love, and he has been for a while now.
Faranak smiles, and Kaveh smiles back, something tremulous even as he nods. Tears threaten to well in his eyes, but he fights them back, instead sets about quietly putting the flowers he brought in a vase, propping up his mother's pillows even as she tuts at him and tells him to stop fussing.
But the whole time, his attention remains on Alhaitham, and the love in those emerald eyes. ]
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He had never been a part of something like this before, and now, standing here, a part of Kaveh's world, he realizes just how wonderful it feels. How fulfilling it is to be here, holding Kaveh’s sister, sharing in this monumental moment of his life. There’s a quiet joy that bubbles up in his chest, a deep satisfaction that feels like it’s settling into his bones.]
You’re incredible already, [he whispers again, his voice full of wonder as he gently adjusts Nadia’s swaddle once more. The small life in his arms stirs slightly, her head tilting just enough to rest against his chest, and for a fleeting second, Alhaitham feels like he's protecting something far more precious than anything he's ever held.
And then he feels it—the subtle shift in the room. He glances up, his eyes meeting Kaveh’s from across the space, and for a brief moment, the world seems to stop. The hospital room, the city outside, the past few days—all of it fades away as those familiar crimson eyes, so full of warmth and something deeper, lock onto his. Alhaitham can see it. In that moment, everything feels right. He feels a part of this, a part of something bigger than himself, and the warmth that fills him is overwhelming in its simplicity.
Alhaitham smiles—soft, genuine, a rare expression that is usually reserved for only the most precious of moments.
He turns, carefully making his way back to the bedside where Faranak is waiting. With the same gentleness he had when he first took Nadia, Alhaitham returns the baby to her mother, cradling her small body as though handling the most delicate treasure.]
She’s wonderful, [he says softly, his voice filled with quiet reverence. He straightens slightly, watching as Faranak takes her daughter back, and there’s a sense of completeness in the air, a quiet acknowledgment that something beautiful has just been shared between them all.]
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Coppered eyes glance up, and a moment stretches into eternity as viridian meets carmine. In that moment, they both know. Everything is as it's meant to be. Outside of it, later, the words must still be spoken. But right now—
Kaveh can only watch as Alhaitham moves back to the bed, returns daughter to mother, and perhaps he should hold his own baby sister for a while, but Faranak sees moments that even now he fails to parse, yawns as she hugs her daughter close before placing her in the crib at her side. She's tired, she tells them, she's sorry for having them come so far for so short a visit, but perhaps they can return a little later in the day, if they're so inclined?
The words see them out of the hospital once more, a meaningful look offered to her son, who even now fiddles with his phone, a frown on his expression as his brain tries to catch up to the head-start his heart has so suddenly taken. ]
Should we... go back to the hotel to eat? And I guess we can figure out if we wanna do anything after that...?
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Kaveh’s suggestion of going back to the hotel feels like a welcome reprieve from the emotional intensity of the hospital. Alhaitham smiles softly, slipping his hand onto Kaveh’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance.]
That sounds good. [There's an undercurrent of affection that slips through as he speaks.] Let’s head back, eat something, and take it slow.
[He’s grateful for the space to breathe, the quiet between them not awkward but simply reflective, as they make their way back to the hotel. The streets of Fontaine bustle around them, but for once, Alhaitham isn’t paying attention to the architecture or the intricacies of the city. His thoughts remain fixed on the way Kaveh had watched him with Nadia, the look they shared, the quiet between them that seemed to settle deeper than words ever could.
They reach the hotel, and as they step inside the familiar warmth of their room, Alhaitham finally lets out a soft sigh. He glances over at Kaveh, and for a moment, it’s just the two of them again, away from the hospital, the family, the expectations. He moves toward the small sitting area, the gentle glow of the city still casting shadows across the room as he sets his things down.]
What do you feel like eating? Something light? Or should we indulge a little more after the day we’ve had?
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What does he feel like eating—How can Alhaitham even think of food at a time like this? Everything is so different now—
He shakes as he crosses the room, putting his own things down, trembling fingers still clutching tight to his phone as if it's some sort of lifeline.
The answer has been in front of him all along, and yet even now he can't just reach out and take it, not yet. First, he—
No. First: food. He takes a breath. ]
I—
[ He can't decide. How can he decide when his heart and mind are in a shambles like this? Indulgence seems to be the letter of the day, but what if he speaks up and everything comes crumbling down around him like it was made from the beginning of glass? What if, after all of this, nothing plays out the way he imagines it would? He feels ill with unease, so maybe something light is smarter after all, just in case...
His fingers grip tighter around his phone, and he looks up at Alhaitham, expression troubled. ]
I—I think I need to talk to Euler.
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Trembling fingers grip his phone tightly—too tightly. The tension in Kaveh's body laps at Alhaitham's skin, and for a moment, his heart sinks. The quiet certainty he had felt in the hospital, that shared look—it all feels it’s slipping through his fingers like sand.
Perhaps he had misread everything.
Perhaps he had misread all of it. Granted, he needed to reciprocation—he made that very clear, Kaveh does not have to reciprocate the feelings and the affection he wants to place upon him.
And yet, the warmth and connection he’d felt, the peace in holding Nadia, the shared look with Kaveh, the moment of quiet what he thought was love—it all feels wrong, misplaced. Had Kaveh been imagining someone else? Had he been thinking of Euler, of someone who wasn’t standing there with him, holding his baby sister, sharing that intimate moment with his family? Maybe that look between them hadn’t been an affirmation at all, but rather Kaveh’s longing for Euler to be there in Alhaitham’s place.
The thought twists something deep inside him, something that feels suspiciously like hurt. Alhaitham thought he had been enough—he thought he had been the person Kaveh wanted to be there with him. But now, the doubt creeps in, and it’s insidious. The very idea that Kaveh had been wanting someone else all along, that all of this—the affection, the closeness—wasn’t meant for him but for the version of himself he had created as Euler...
He swallows hard, his hand pausing where it had been reaching out to brush Kaveh’s shoulder. The movement stalls, hovers, and then falls onto the shoulder nonetheless, concerned.]
I see. [He doesn’t want to make this about himself, doesn’t want to burden Kaveh with his own emotions when Kaveh is struggling. But still, it lingers, a quiet ache that twists in his chest.
Maybe Kaveh’s heart was with Euler all along.
Alhaitham clears his throat softly, his eyes flicking toward the window, the city lights casting long shadows across the room.]
Do you want me to give you some space?
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But Alhaitham's hand flutters, he speaks with hurt in his voice, and as Kaveh looks up at him, confusion writ into his features, he realizes—they weren't singing quite the same melody after all.
Somehow, that only makes things all the more terrifying. Naturally, the whole thing makes him want to start running all over again, to never look back—
But he also knows, deep down, that there's no running from this. Not anymore.
He takes a breath, shakes his head—slow. Thoughtful. ]
That's not what I mean.
[ His voice is shaky with nerves, and yet strong with certainty, and he steps forward, turns, places himself between Alhaitham and the window, taking up as much as he can of the other's view. ]
I just... I need to talk to him, because—because things have changed for me, and I think he deserves to know.
[ It's a change that's been happening, little by little, for a while—even longer than he realized. But he sees it now, clear as the bright look in Nadia's eyes when she took Alhaitham's finger in her little hand. And now that he sees it, he has to honor it. Because— ]
I want it to be you, Alhaitham.
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Kaveh’s words cut through the doubt that had been settling like a fog around him, but Alhaitham hesitates. He’s heard the words, but a part of him still isn’t sure. After all, they’ve both been dancing around so many unspoken things, misreading moments, emotions tied up in complicated knots. And Alhaitham, more than anything, doesn’t want to make assumptions. He needs to hear it clearly.]
You… want it to be me? [Cautious as he watches Kaveh, his eyes searching for something deeper, for confirmation that this isn’t just a fleeting thought or an emotional reaction to the intensity of the day.
Alhaitham steps closer, his hand finding Kaveh’s shoulder, but there’s a gentleness to the gesture—a carefulness that wasn’t there before. His other hand lifts, cupping Kaveh’s cheek, brushing his thumb gently across the skin. But he pauses, his eyes locking onto Kaveh’s, searching.]
Tell me what you mean? [His breath catches slightly as he speaks, but he holds Kaveh’s gaze, waiting. Alhaitham has always been careful with his heart, guarding it behind logic and reason, but now, standing in front of Kaveh, he’s open in a way he rarely allows himself to be.]
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This time, though, there's no uncertainty left in him. Nerves, fear, anxiety, yes. But the knowledge is stable. Real.
His head tilts, leans into that touch, and his eyes hold the other's gaze, steady despite the thrumming anxiety in his heart. ]
I told you once before that I wanted to save my first time for someone I loved. So... so we could do anything apart from that, because I wanted it to be Euler. Because of my feelings for him. But I..
[ It's here that his gaze wavers a little, a soft pink lifting to his cheek as crimson drops to look at the color of Alhaitham's shirt instead, tongue and teeth worrying briefly over his lower lip as he tries to put his thoughts in order. A sigh, a straightening of his shoulders, has him looking back up again, unsteady by determined. ]
I've learned a lot since then. I understand a lot. I've changed, and I.. I think in some ways he has too. Maybe we all have, but all I know is that... I. I want it to be you.
[ And then, quietly, to be absolutely certain that Alhaitham understands: ]
I'm in love with you.
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He presses a kiss to Kaveh’s temple, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, as though grounding himself in the closeness. Then he places another kiss, this time a small but meaningful one, on Kaveh’s lips—quick, barely a breath between them, because he doesn’t want to get carried away just yet. There’s something he needs to say first.]
I do love you, too. [His arms tighten around Kaveh for a brief second, as if holding onto this moment before everything changes.
He pulls back just enough to look at Kaveh, his expression conflicted. His heart is racing, and he knows that this moment, this beautiful, vulnerable confession, deserves the same honesty in return.
Now? Alhaitham wonders. Is this really the right time to complicate things further? Kaveh has just opened his heart to him, and now, after the days of emotional turmoil, after watching him navigate the intensity of his relationship with his mother, does he really want to add this? And yet... it feels wrong not to say it. If Kaveh truly loves him, then he deserves to know everything.
Kaveh’s confession, as sincere as it sounds, leaves a tangled knot of feelings inside him. Kaveh doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that Euler and Alhaitham are the same person, that the one he’d once placed on a pedestal for his mystery and distance is also the one standing before him now, open and vulnerable.
This truth—this hidden duality—has gnawed at Alhaitham for some time. He’s been living two lives in Kaveh’s eyes: the enigmatic figure of Euler, someone Kaveh admired and pined for, and himself, Alhaitham, the man who has quietly supported and cared for Kaveh, even as he watched him long for someone else.
Alhaitham swallows, his mind racing as he rests their foreheads together, his eyes closed. Kaveh deserves to know, but the consequences of revealing the truth—of saying the words—could unravel everything. He had kept Euler's identity to protect both himself and Kaveh, but now, standing here, it feels like the mask has trapped them both.]
Come here. [Alhaitham’s voice is soft as he gently guides Kaveh towards the bed. He sits them both down, his hands steadying Kaveh as he takes a seat beside him.]
You need to know the truth.
[Alhaitham takes a deep breath, his hand running through his hair, slicking it back, it starts looking as though a movement to try to clear his thoughts, and yet, it lingers there, keeping the hair half steady pulled back. His other hand lifts to his face, covering the upper part, his eyes peeking through his fingers as though it's a mask—a barrier between himself and the truth.]
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Alhaitham has never looked conflicted before. He's always been the anchor, the stoic pillar of answers—
Why now?
So when the other reaches for him, guides him to the bed so they can sit, it's all Kaveh can do to nod, to follow him with no pause. Whatever it is that Alhaitham needs to say, Kaveh will listen. After everything, it's the least he can do. Perhaps it's his turn to offer support, his turn to—
His thoughts, determined in their affection, trail off when the younger man says something about Kaveh needing to know the truth. The truth, when as far as he knows, Alhaitham has always been honest with him, right from the start—hell, it's one of the things he complained about at first, one of the things that drove him to frustration as the other teacher simply spoke his mind without pause or tact...
And then Alhaitham slicks his hair back with a hand, covers his face as if with a mask, and Kaveh's mind grinds to a halt.
Until it restarts. And there are flashes, then, moments that resurface in his memory like pieces of a puzzle, unsolved and forgotten until someone was brave enough to remind him he was trying to solve it.
Euler, so smart, using words even Kaveh didn't know, telling him he'd just started a new job—
Alhaitham, caving to his drunken, physical advances within moments of being told that Kaveh had fallen for someone who only knew him as pixels on a screen—
Euler's apparent nonchalant attitude over the fact that Kaveh was interested not only in him, but someone else too—Alhaitham's lack of concern over the very same—Euler's refusal to share more, to be more past the strict bounds of his own privacy—
Alhaitham barging in on his date that time to hug him, ostensibly selfish, but right after Kaveh had confessed a dark, painful secret to Euler—Alhaitham, rushing back home after Kaveh and Euler fought, apparently tired of his work trip—
The nights where he had what looked like black dye under his nails—
The cigarettes—
Gods, he's been an idiot. Kaveh looks up at Alhaitham, eyes round with a gentle horror, wet with realization, and he thinks he feels his heart crack. ]
No...
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When Kaveh whispers “No,” Alhaitham feels the weight of the word hit him. He had expected this reaction, had prepared himself for it, but now, standing on the precipice of this revelation, it hurts more than he thought it would. He inhales deeply, lowering his hand from his face, letting it fall to rest on his lap as he meets Kaveh’s gaze.]
Kaveh… [His voice is soft, careful, as though each word could shatter the fragile moment between them.] I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel like I was manipulating you.
[He takes a deep breath, glancing away for a moment before meeting Kaveh’s gaze again.]
Euler… I had no idea you'd get so close to him. Or that you were Pharos in the first place. And he ended up holding a lot of delicate information. About you. About Pharos. About things you shared with me when you were vulnerable. And every time I thought about revealing the truth… it felt wrong. Like it would change everything between us, but not in a good way. I didn’t want to cross that line, because it—it was about control.
[Alhaitham’s hand slides from his hair, resting on his lap as he speaks, his voice steady, but heavy.]
At first, Euler was a way to keep certain things... private. A way to step outside of everything and still help people—help you. But as time passed, and you opened up to me more and more, the distance between Euler and myself became harder to manage.
There were so many times I wanted to tell you the truth. [He swallows, the words flowing now, like a dam finally breaking.] But every time I thought about it, I realized how much information you had shared with Euler—things about Pharos, things about your life, your feelings.
I didn’t want you to feel trapped by the information I had as Euler. I didn’t want you to think that my relationship with you—as Alhaitham—was built on some kind of deception. I didn’t want you to feel like I was manipulating you into anything.
[His words slow, and he makes to shift slightly closer to Kaveh, stopping at the last moment. His eyes fill with sincerity, with the weight of the truth he had kept hidden for so long, but he knows that this—this probably isn't well-accepted.] I realize now that I should have told you. Especially now. After everything we’ve gone through together, after everything we’ve shared. It doesn’t make sense for me to keep this secret anymore.
[A final, deep breath.] I don’t expect you to forgive me. But what I feel for you—it’s real. It’s not Euler, it’s not a façade. It’s me.
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but they don't. Kaveh's stomach only twists itself into heftier knots, his heart only cracks more under the strain, his eyes water and his throat feels as if it will close over with the panic. He leans—away—an anxiety-driven jerk when it looks as if Alhaitham will reach for him, and his eyes burn with something aching, unspoken, hurting, broken.
It was for him, Alhaitham claims. For his sake. And yet— ]
Don't. [ His voice is a hoarse, trembling whisper. ] Don't try to act like all of this was for my sake. You.. you let me tell you that I was in love with someone, knowing that that person was you. You've had so many chances to tell me the truth even since then. So many opportunities to make it right, to.. to bridge that gap and explain. And instead, you just... you...
[ His words hitch, tone rising little by little on the words as the thoughts cloud his mind. Why? What's the difference between this moment and that one? Was it an ego thing? Did Alhaitham need Kaveh to love him, and not Euler? Or was it that strange sense of justice he claims to have felt, the need not to manipulate him or deceive him, striving to make him fall for the right one even as he, in every choice he made, manipulated and deceived him after all? ]
You broke my heart. [ The words hit, heavy and honest, accusatory, a pained fury lit in his ruby eyes as he looks up at him. ] You—you let me think someone else was breaking my heart, and you pieced me back together, and that whole time, you—How can you say that was for me? It—it wasn't—you—
[ He's on the verge of bursting into tears, and right now that's the last thing he wants. He doesn't want to fall apart into hurt when he should be angry. Abrupt, he stands up, hands balling into fists, pacing in front of the bed where Alhaitham still sits. He doesn't know what to do with himself. Part of him wants to run and hide in the bathroom and cry, but he can't do that while the other is here. Part of him wants to find somewhere private in this foreign country and just scream. He just... he can't be here, not in this room with both of them where everything suddenly feels too small and— ]
I need you to leave. [ The words are abrupt, tumbling over his lips. ] I.. I can't be here with you right now.
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Every choice he made, every decision to withhold the truth, no matter the intention, led to this. And now, standing here, watching Kaveh unravel, he can’t justify any of it. He wants to tell Kaveh he understands. He wants to say that he knows how selfish he’s been, that every time he thought about revealing the truth, he saw how it would shatter everything between them and held back, hoping that somehow, it would never come to this.
But it has. And now, all of his intentions, all of his justifications, feel hollow.
Kaveh’s demand cuts through the air: he needs him to leave.
Alhaitham feels his chest tighten again, but he doesn’t fight it. He could argue, he could push back, but it’s not what Kaveh needs right now. Alhaitham has already done enough damage. The best thing he can do now is give Kaveh the space he’s asking for. He nods, the movement slow, deliberate.]
I’ll get my things. [His voice is quiet, resigned, the weight of the situation like a heavy cloak.
Fortunately, most of his belongings are packed; Alhaitham never liked unpacking fully in hotel rooms, preferring to keep his things in order; a hotel room wasn't home, he was not going to put clothes in the closets or treat it as such. His bag is almost entirely packed except for a few toiletries, his books, the charger of his phone and laptop, which he grabs quickly. He moves quietly, trying not to disturb Kaveh further, though his presence feels like a weight pressing down on the room. It's awkward, and grates at his skin. His own throat feels tight.]
I’ll be home. [He rolls the suitcase with him, his movements efficient, though his heart feels anything but. As he reaches the door, he pauses, glancing back at Kaveh one last time. He refuses to look pitiful, but he does understand the scale of what he just created.] Take the time you need to process this. I’ll understand whatever decision you make.
[His voice is steady, but underneath it, there’s an undeniable sadness. He wants to say more, to fix this somehow, but the time for explanations is over. Kaveh needs space, and Alhaitham needs to respect that.]
Regardless, I’ll be at home, waiting. [The words come out softer, as if the weight of them is too much for his voice to bear.
He stands there for a moment longer, his heart heavy with everything unsaid. Then, before he closes the door behind him, he speaks one last time.]
I’m sorry, Kaveh.
[And with that, he steps out of the room, the door closing with a soft click, leaving Kaveh alone.]