sempiternals | Hang up all my fragile thoughts

[ At first, Kaveh doesn't even notice Alhaitham is there. Time has stretched and molded and morphed, and he doesn't know how long it's been— he hasn't finished reading the text he received, or the two others his mom sent when he "read" the first and didn't reply. Every last sense has been on fire for this entire time, agony and fear burning into him. When Alhaitham crouches in front of him, he'll see a glassy, far-away look in the blonde's eyes, something that without the quick, panicky breaths on his lips, might have him appearing to be frozen in time.

It's not the first call of his name he hears, but the second. His unfocused eyes shift, lips parting around a silent syllable as he looks through Alhaitham, then past him, then at him. ]

You're home, [ he says, a plain statement and yet somehow disbelieving, as if he's lost his grip on reality. He doesn't let go of his phone or move to unwind himself from the way he's curled in on himself. Nor do the fingers of his other hand unlatch from where they're digging into his wrist.

He blinks, and his lips tremble.

If Alhaitham is home, it means he isn't alone. And yet he still feels alone— After all, with how poorly he's acted in the past, it wouldn't be a surprise if the other just up and left him one day, would it? He would deserve it. And when even his own mother can't stand to be around him anymore...

The glass over his eyes shatters into twin tears that rush down his cheeks, fresh saltwater quick to fill the space left behind. ]

I don't wanna be alone anymore.

[The stark, raw emotion in Kaveh's voice pulls at Alhaitham in a way few things have. There's a clarity in this moment that all the formal boundaries and academic niceties can't obscure—the human need for connection, for reassurance, for simply not being alone. It shifts something fundamental in Alhaitham's approach, nudging aside his habitual reserve.

It's not the other way they relate, all need and want and flirtatious compliments, everything coated in molasses.

And yet, this is the most intimate he's been with Kaveh.

He reaches out slowly, giving Kaveh time to withdraw if he chooses, but his hand rests gently on Kaveh’s shoulder, offering a silent solidity. The gesture is simple yet laden with intent—to support, to anchor, to ground.]

You’re not. [His voice is soft but firm, trying to bridge the physical and emotional gap between them. Alhaitham is aware of the weight his words carry, especially in such a charged moment.

Seeing Kaveh so vulnerable, so utterly devoid of his usual bravado or even the basic shields people wear daily, Alhaitham feels a protective urge rise within him. It's an unfamiliar feeling in its intensity but one he recognizes as important. He’s seen his fair share of students in distress, yes, but this is different; this is personal, and it's happening in his living space, with someone who is rapidly becoming more than just a tenant. He's not just a viewer towards his streamer. Not a coworker.]

Look at me. Here. I’m here. [He offers, his tone encouraging but gentle. It’s an offer without pressure, an invitation for Kaveh to return to the moment here with him.]

[ Look at me, Alhaitham says, and Kaveh blinks once more, his eyes refocusing. He saw him before, yes, he noticed he was there. But for the first time when he looks at him now he really sees him. He's here, and the firmness in his voice, kind though it may be, makes him a rock for the older man to cling to. There's no hiding the way that Kaveh's eyes continue to overflow, or the way he starts to— almost imperceptibly— unwind just that little at the sensation of that hand on his shoulder.

And part of him wants to close his eyes, to shut everything out, but the desperation wins over, the need for something tangible, and perhaps it's visible in his gaze as his fingers unwind from his own wrist, leaving blooded crescents behind, to wrap around the hand on his shoulder, grasping tight as if afraid to let go. ]

You're here. [ It's a whisper, an acknowledgement as he nods, even as his breath trembles on his lips, as his heart hammers in his chest. If Alhaitham is here, now, it means that at least for this moment, Kaveh isn't alone.

He's only halfway through a steadying breath when his mind fights back, whispers horrible promises in his ears. The breath becomes a shaken gasp, and his eyes slide away again, fingers fluttering over Alhaitham's hand as he releases his grip in almost the moment he's formed it.

Because it's only for a moment, isn't it? How long will it take for Alhaitham to tire of him the way everyone else does?

How long will it take for Euler to tire of him the way everyone else does?

How long— ]

[Alhaitham notices the tremble in Kaveh’s grip, the hesitance as he releases his hand as quickly as he has sought it. The physical manifestation of Kaveh's inner turmoil is palpable, and Alhaitham feels compelled to offer something more, something to anchor him back to the present, away from the edge where fear and anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.

He reaches out again, this time placing his other hand firmly, yet gently, on Kaveh's other shoulder, securing a steadier, more encompassing hold. His voice lowers, a calm, steady presence in the quiet room.]

Kaveh, look at me again, please. I'm here. [He waits until Kaveh’s eyes meet his.] What color are my eyes?

[It’s a grounding technique he’s read about, used to bring someone back from the precipice of their anxiety, to focus on the here and now rather than the what-ifs of tomorrow or the regrets of yesterday. The question is simple, but it requires Kaveh to focus, to observe, and to really see him.]

[ It takes Kaveh longer this time, but once again, his eyes track back to Alhaitham's, his gaze settling on the other man's as he blinks and blinks again, as if struggling to see through the haze. What color are my eyes? the other man asks, and for the first time Kaveh truly looks at them,

and his heart does something strange in his chest because he knows that gaze, and if he weren't overwhelmed with his panic right now he might actually comprehend why.

He takes a deep breath and swallows hard against the panicked breaths still trying to escape his lungs. ]

Emerald. [ Another shaky inhale. ] Your eyes are like emeralds.

[ This time, when his bloodied fingers find Alhaitham's hand, they stay, curling around it in a loose hold. ]

You're not gonna leave, right?

[Emeralds.

He would feel complimented, if this weren't a difficult moment.

The intensity of it crystallizes as Kaveh's fingers close around his hand, holding on to a fragility that is as poignant as it is revealing. Alhaitham's response is instinctual, his fingers tightening reassuringly around Kaveh's, his other hand guiding the hand holding the phone so he can rest the back of it against the center of his chest.]

No, Kaveh, I'm not going to leave. [Still firm, but sincere. Hoping that it will convey stability, that no matter what, Kaveh will be okay.] I’m right here, and I’m staying. You’re not alone.

[He maintains eye contact, knowing the importance of being seen and believed in such moments, providing a safe harbor in the storm that Kaveh is weathering.] Breathe with me. Easy.

Okay.

[ His voice comes out as a shaky whisper, and while he doesn't release his grip on the phone even slightly, having his hand guided to rest against Alhaitham's chest offers a kind of comfort that he didn't know he needed. He can feel the other's heartbeat, sure and steady, and it helps just as much as the soft, firm cadence of his voice, as the sincere promises, grounding him little by little back into reality. ]

Okay, [ he says again. And he does, eyes dropping to the rise and fall of Alhaitham's chest so that he can mimic the motions, timing his breath along with the other man's. Breathing in, and then out, and then in once more. He's okay. He's not alone. He—

His eyes, still on Alhaitham's chest, catch sight of the phone in his hand, and his gaze wavers. His lip trembles. The hand on the other's tighten, and his eyes fly up to his face again as they fill with fresh tears. ]

Alhaitham—

[Kaveh utters his name like it's a lifeline. Vulnerable and pleading, anger and sadness and that unmistakable void of knowing not what to do, because there's nothing to do, that anyone can do. It all wraps around Alhaitham's heart, tugs at it until it chafes, tightens around it until it makes a mark. There's no alcohol this time, but there are tears to replace it. He seems to be always at the right (or wrong) time at the wrong (or right) place, to witness the depths of despair Kaveh can reach. And here they are again, with Alhaitham positioned as the anchor. The responsibility weighs heavily, yet it's a weight he's starting to accept. How could he not, when he's the one launching it into that abyss for Kaveh to cling to?]

Just keep breathing. [Alhaitham's voice is a soft command, firm yet filled with warmth. He gently removes the phone from Kaveh’s hand, setting it aside on the coffee table. The device seems to be a potential trigger for Kaveh's distress, and he wants it momentarily forgotten as Alhaitham seeks to refocus his attention. He shuffles to crouch just a bit closer and shifting his weight, for Kaveh not to stretch his arms so much, especially when Alhaitham guides that hand back up to the center of his chest, right below the green jewel he wears.]

Focus on me, right here. [He guides Kaveh's gaze back to his own with a slight inclination of his own head, encouraging eye contact to reinforce their connection.] There’s time to talk about everything else, but first, breathe. [He assures.] I’m not going anywhere, Kaveh. You know where to find me, how to find me. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t.

Alright. Should architecture reflect aesthetics or functionality, can you tell me? What's your stance on that debate? [The question might seem out of place, but Alhaitham’s intention is clear—to divert Kaveh’s thoughts from his immediate worries and engage his mind in a familiar territory. As he speaks, he deliberately takes a deep breath, inflating his chest visibly, then slowly exhaling, modeling the breathing he wants Kaveh to mimic.]

[ Keep breathing, Alhaitham tells him, and Kaveh nods, trying to do just that. There's a moment where the younger man takes the phone from him and a fresh bout of panic settles in Kaveh's chest, a scrabble— but then the other moves closer, guides his hand back to his chest, their gazes to meet, and the blonde huffs out a soft sigh, trying to focus as he's been asked.

And Alhaitham's words are so sure, the inherent promise so strong. He's not going anywhere. It won't change.

(How can he be so sure?)

His breath wells again, a fresh bout of panic, but then a question follows, soft and sure, and Kaveh looks up at him quietly, absorbing the words... and then breathing out another soft sigh as his brain tries to piece together the best answer, the one most true for him. ]

It... [ He swallows. He doesn't need to think— he knows this, doesn't he? His fingers close a little harder around Alhaitham's wrist, and he nods, even as his eyes well with his tears. ]

Architecture.. ideally, it should reflect both. From an aesthete's perspective, apartments for example are a bane on the profession. At their core, they're mass-produced copies made from the same mold, and there's little to no room for creativity. But from the standpoint of functionality, they're important. Trying to design an individual home for every person that lives in Sumeru, let alone all of Teyvat, would be disastrous.

[ His voice sounds dull and listless at first, but starts to pick up strength as he keeps talking, as his eyes stay fixed on Alhaitham's. ]

Even in an individual building, there has to be a balance. It's one thing to want water features and wall-to-wall glass viewing windows, but you have to remember to consider where the bathroom will fit, or how cold it will get in winter with one wall made entirely of glass. Consider the falling water house. The idea in essence is beautiful, but do you know how much mora has been spent on it over the years on structural upkeep? Building a house over a constantly-rushing body of water isn't exactly the most functional idea, as beautiful as the concept is—

[ He takes a breath, and a hint of color lifts in his cheeks as he realizes how he's been ranting. ]

I. Sorry. I..

[The fervor with which Kaveh speaks about architecture, the blend of aesthetics and functionality, strikes a chord in Alhaitham. There’s an undeniable passion there, a depth that goes beyond mere academic interest to something more personal, more vital. He listens, genuinely captivated by the blend of technical knowledge and personal insight, seeing this part of Kaveh that thrives on intellectual stimulation and creative expression.]

You're doing good. Don’t apologize. [Alhaitham interrupts gently, his voice encouraging as he sees the flush of embarrassment rise in Kaveh’s cheeks. He's seen the flush on those cheeks several times now, but now, he doesn't want it.] Your passion for your work—it’s enlightening. Breathe with me, again. Once, twice. Good.

[He guides Kaveh through another cycle of deep breaths, slow and steady, each inhale and exhale designed to center and calm. As he does so, Alhaitham shifts from a crouch to a kneel, settling more comfortably on the floor in front of Kaveh. This slight adjustment in posture also serves to level their gazes, reinforcing the connection between them as equals in this shared space.] Do I have any earrings on?

[A silly question, but another one to ground them both to the moment.]

Now, tell me, [Alhaitham continues, gently steering the conversation as he finds common ground in their academic interests,] what’s your stance on brutalism? Is it merely lazy, or is it misunderstood?

[ Another breath, and another. Once. Twice. Three times, more. Each one comes a little steadier than the last, until the shakiness of the panic is all but gone, at least for now.

The question that follows is silly, and Kaveh shoots him a quizzical look, the barest hint of a giggle forming on the edges of his lips. ] Of course you don't, [ he replies. ] You don't have your ears pierced.

[ How he knew that he doesn't know... but he also doesn't have the time to dwell on the fact that he knew it, because Alhaitham is continuing on to ask him about brutalism. Kaveh's lips purse, and his head tilts. ]

I don't think "lazy" is the right term. Given the message it was trying to convey, minimalism in the design was important. The idea after all was the peel away all the pretty little things that we might use to hide the ugly parts of a building or its flaws, and show it for what it truly is. It's like when a model makes a statement by going without makeup or Photoshop. That said... [ His lips purse again. How to explain it... ] I think it had its time and place. If someone were trying to design a brutalist building in today's day and age, I'd want to know what the purpose of their message was. The world's kind of... been there and done that. You know?

[The trace of a giggle, the slight quirk of the lips—these small signs of Kaveh easing back from the precipice are a quiet victory for Alhaitham, who finds a surprising satisfaction in having facilitated this shift. Kaveh's response about his lack of earrings, noted with such casual certainty, is oddly comforting, grounding in its own way.

Nodding through Kaveh's explanation, Alhaitham inclines his head.] That is a very compelling argument. [He says, his curiosity then getting the best of him.] Do you think architecture should reflect its social context?

[ It's a complicated question when his mind is so frazzled. Kaveh bites his lip, trying to think of how he's meant to answer. ]

Sometimes...

[ Falling quiet again, he shakes his head. ]

I'm sorry, I can't.. This question deserves a better answer than I can really give right now.

[ The admission has fresh tears welling in his eyes, and his gaze drops from Alhaitham's. He should be able to answer it. He should. Any other day he'd be able to, but right now he can't find the words he needs to explain himself. The victory was in Alhaitham's grasp, but— ]

I'm just.. my brain isn't.. I...

I'm sorry.

[He says, and it feels monumental. He's not sure if he's ever said this. He didn't even apologize for what they did that night, either.

Alhaitham shakes his head. It's not a big deal but it is a big deal. Alhaitham should have braced himself for such an answer and it all but speaks to his own lack of experience here. He didn't have much time to put these methodologies into practice.] It's alright. I promise we can discuss it later. I'm looking forward to what you have to say.

[Alhaitham holds onto Kaveh's hands.] I'm going to reach for something. I'm not going anywhere. [He warns, careful, quiet, before he moves them so he can lean back, reach to the coffee table behind him.

And then places the little lion on Kaveh's hands.] Here. For your keys.

[ The moment that Alhaitham apologizes, Kaveh's eyes widen. Not because he's not expecting it— it's true that apologies don't exactly seem normal for him, but they also haven't known each other for that long— but because he feels guilty at the idea the other should even feel he needs to apologize. He shakes his head, a quick movement as words find his lips, stuttering and unsure. ]

No, you don't have to— it's not your fault, you're just trying to help—

[ But then the other is talking again, and he falls quiet, nodding, a strange sense of unease settling over him at the thought of the other leaving even though he's just said that he won't. But true to his word, he reaches away and then comes right back to him, a keychain placed in Kaveh's hands that the blonde blinks down at, bites his lip as a teardrop lands on its perfectly cute nose. ]

For... you bought this for me?

[He's sorry for everything. For whatever caused Kaveh's distress. For whatever had him spiral so hard and so fast, that he couldn't even be in his own room. Alhaitham is sorry that he can barely handle him, that Kaveh can only deal with the little best he can do so far.

(So far. So far. He wants to be better at this.)

He hums an affirmative, tries to make Kaveh giggle again.] It certainly doesn't fit my aesthetic. [He says softly, his voice almost a whisper.] Do you want to name it?

[ Once again, Alhaitham succeeds— Kaveh answers with a soft laugh at the joke, eyes crinkling (even if it does make another tear spill onto his palm) as he nods. And when they open again, he considers the lion for a moment or two, biting his lip thoughtfully.

Leo, he thinks privately, and then that raises a question, and his bloodshot eyes flick back up to Alhaitham's face. ]

...When is your birthday?

[He wishes he could reach to swipe those tears from his face. And yet, his hands don't move, settling on his thighs, curling before he finds himself stopping.

His eyebrows slant in a slight frown, a breathy little curious sound.] Hm? February 11th. Why?

[ He'll be pleased, perhaps, to see that Kaveh's lips curl slightly, a visible twinkle of amusement in his eyes despite the ever-welling tears. ]

Mm, that makes a lot of sense— I probably should have guessed.

In that case... I'll call him "Sadachbia". [ A glance in Alhaitham's direction to see if he knows what that is, but the man's face is as impassive as always, and so he continues: ] It's the name of the brightest star in the Aquarius constellation. I'm sure you know or can guess, with your background, but the name comes from the Sumerian phrase sa'd al-axbiyah.

[ Sa'd al-axbiyah, luck of the homes. Even if he doesn't realize it himself, what Kaveh is saying is very clear. ]

Should you? [Well, that's a new type of discussion they can get into. Was Kaveh into astrology?] How so?

[Although. Luck of the homes. Gamma Aquarii. A binary star that pivots around itself, otherwise it wouldn't be so bright.

He knows what Kaveh is saying. But he's also unsure of the magnitude of what he's saying. There's something hefty in his throat. He tries to swallow it down.]

I like it. [His lip twitches.] 'Sasa' for short.

'Sasa' for short.

[ Kaveh's agreement comes readily as he cradles the keychain in both hands. There's admittedly a part of him that wants to get up now and affix it to his keys. But the thought of moving away from Alhaitham right now leaves him feeling surprisingly unsafe, and so he doesn't— instead, he stays right where he is, and looks up at the other with another small smile. ]

I'll tell you about the rest later. [ "The rest" being astrology. He has no idea how interested in it Alhaitham would be, and he's already used up a lot of the man's patience today, in his mind. ] I'm a little tired.

[ And then, quietly: ]

My mom is pregnant. Six months. She only told me today.

[ It doesn't encompass the full weight of what Kaveh has experienced and his feelings, but it's perhaps enough of an insight as to the trigger for his upset. ]

[He nods, humming once again. Sometimes, talking only makes it worse, and Alhaitham still wishes to be present and acknowledge what Kaveh is saying. If he doesn't want to banter, that's fine.

And then—

The revelation hits with unexpected force. Alhaitham's expression softens, the pieces clicking into place—the intensity of Kaveh's distress, the depth of his loneliness. It's a significant moment in his life, one marked by isolation rather than celebration. He doesn't know the context but... he's willing to listen.]

I see. That's... a lot to process, especially hearing about it so suddenly.

[He pauses, weighing his words carefully.] Do you want to talk about it?

[ Once again, Kaveh is quiet for a moment, considering the offer that Alhaitham makes. On one hand, he wants to talk about it. For someone who is usually so careful to hide his anxieties and his feelings, there's a strange urge to tell the other everything, to admit to all the pains and frustrations he's felt his whole life, the guilt and trauma that followed his father's death and the way it holds onto him even now.

But right now he's barely holding on to his sanity. Right now he feels as if one wrong word will bring the world crashing down around him all over again.

So he shakes his head, a thumb stroking his stray tears off Sasa's face. ]

Not right now. If I talk now, I.. I think I'll break down again. But... maybe another time?

[Noticing Kaveh's reluctance to delve deeper into his emotions at this moment, Alhaitham nods in understanding, accepting his decision quietly. He shifts closer, his movements deliberate and gentle, to provide comfort without further overwhelming Kaveh. Slowly, he eases onto the couch beside him, the cushions dipping slightly under his weight.

He then turns to Kaveh, offering a silent invitation through his open demeanor and soft eyes. Reaching out, he gently guides Kaveh, encouraging him to adjust his position. With careful movements, he helps Kaveh to recline, guiding his head to rest comfortably in his lap. His hands are steady and warm as they smooth back stray locks of hair from Kaveh’s forehead, his touch light but reassuring.]

You don’t have to talk about anything. [Alhaitham's voice is low, meant to soothe. There's a tenderness there, one that he usually keeps well guarded, now given freely to Kaveh in his moment of need.] If you need to rest, we can just stay like this for a while.

[ Kaveh offers Alhaitham a small smile when he sits on the couch, and then— oh.

Of course it would be like this. So many times before someone has offered him comfort, helped him find calm from a moment of stress, only to expect something else of him by way of thanks. Why would this be any different?

(And why does his heart hurt so much when this is exactly what he should have expected?)

His eyes flicker, and his lips part, but the syllables die on his lips— from where he is, he can see that Alhaitham isn't even partially hard— and he wonders for a moment if he's done something wrong, if somehow despite everything the other doesn't want him—

But then the linguist is talking and soothing him, a gentle tenderness in his soothing tone that Kaveh understands is genuine, and his eyes widen even as yet more tears swarm to fill them. He nods, and bites his lip, shifting to get more comfortable on the other's lap. ]

Okay.

[ His voice is a whisper. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject