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Documents from the Kshahrewar darshan that are in need of signing off give Alhaitham pause for thought. In part about his grandmother and another in the form of his roommate, Kaveh. The hurt from the past still hangs over them and their relationship, especially when living in the building that was formerly the hub for their joint research all those years ago. No amount of renovation will do anything to change this, he supposes.
His thumb brushes over the Kshahrewari seal stamped onto the paper, pen held idle in hand as he thinks. Ordering one’s thoughts through rumination is often the best thing Alhaitham can do when… distracted. He presses the pads of his fingers to his temple, closing his eyes, immersing himself in the silence that his earpieces thankfully provide him.
The image of Kaveh in the morning conjures up in his mind. All soft lines and gently flushed skin from sleep, the fact that Kaveh chooses to wear only underwear and an ill-fitting shirt to bed does nothing to quell Alhaitham’s baser instincts most days. He thinks of golden hair and ruby eyes that once looked at him with complete disdain, if not hatred at one point, now with amicable kindness. He thinks of Kaveh in moments the latter thinks goes unseen, how the architect hums songs to himself as he potters around the house. Of how there’s a lock of hair that always manages to escape the pins in Kaveh’s hair, the same lock that he twirls around his finger when deep in thought.
Alhaitham thinks about the times Kaveh is ranting and raving about a particularly stubborn client, how he would feign disinterest in what he was saying. In truth, he would be practically hanging off of every word that passes through Kaveh’s lips… even the more uncouth ones. Deep in his chest, his heart would be hammering like it wanted to leap out and land square on the table between them. Alhaitham thinks about how he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Kaveh were to make good on his promise to one day move out.
He thinks he would rather die than let Kaveh leave him without ever letting him know how he feels. He thinks he loves Kaveh, that he always has since their Akademiya days together.
Alhaitham sighs, opening his eyes and continuing with his work as he signs off on the Kshahrewari request. As he places the form in the pile to be filed away, the door to his office opens with a creak and causes Alhaitham to look up at the sound. That should have been oiled long ago, perhaps he will have to do it himself at a later point. His brow furrows at the look of both confusion and concern that paints Cyno’s features.
“What’s eating at you?” The Mahamatra asks, placing what Alhaitham assumes is the annual expenses list from the Matra department onto his desk. When Alhaitham says nothing in response, Cyno continues, “well, I’m meeting Tighnari at Puspa’s for lunch and he suggested inviting both you and Kaveh but you know Kaveh… always off busying himself with work, so.”
The scribe gives a noncommittal hum in response, eyes fixed solely on the Kshahrewar seal. He doesn’t even notice when Cyno leans against his desk, something that often bothers him to no end, regardless of their standing within the Akademiya. Cyno must take some kind of offence to Alhaitham’s reluctance to give him an oral answer as he waves a hand mere inches from Alhaitham’s face as he says, “seriously, what’s the matter? You look more serious than normal…”
“I think I’m in love with Kaveh, no, I know that I am,” is all that Alhaitham states as he stands from his desk and makes his way to exit his office. He needs to find that damnable architect, needs to explain himself and finally come clean.
“Wait? What?!” Cyno darts after Alhaitham, hoping to stop him from doing anything stupid as he grabs hold of his friend by his arm. “Where are you going?”
“To find him and let him know how I feel, where else?” Wasn’t he clear enough with what he said? Alhaitham pauses as Cyno comes to face him properly, curious as to why his friend looks at him with such a worried expression.
“First, are you mad?” Cyno starts, placing his hands on his hips once it’s apparent that Alhaitham isn’t planning on leaving. “Being around both you and Kaveh has only recently become tolerable again, I can’t possibly let you ruin that with this foolish confession. Second, this just cost me giving Tighnari 500 Mora and never being able to live down losing to him…”
“It’s not exactly appropriate for the General Mahamatra to be making bets on the love lives of his colleagues, if my recollection serves me well enough.”
“That’s not the point and you know it!” Alhaitham lets himself be shoved back into his office by Cyno, away from prying eyes and ears, he supposes. The general remains silent until the door shuts behind the pair, to which he whirls around once it does. “Did you actually lose your mind when under the influence of the Forbidden Knowledge when you faced Azar with the Traveler?”
“I’m perfectly sane in my mental faculties, thank you.”
Cyno actually laughs at this, “it sure doesn’t seem like it from here, with the insane decisions you’re making, Alhaitham!” He bristles at the accusatory tone that Cyno takes with what he says. What is the problem with him revealing his feelings for Kaveh, they’ve both been skirting over their feelings nearing on a decade thus far, surely that much was obvious?
“Look, I get it,” the general sighs, relaxing in his stance somewhat. “I mean, I was the same with Tighnari… after he got struck with lightning, I told him that I loved him since I thought I was going to lose him. After everything that’s happened between you and Kaveh, can you be certain that telling him how you feel won’t mean you lose him anyway?”
Alhaitham looks to one side, contemplating. Cyno is correct in his rational observation but nor is he the one experiencing these all-consuming feelings that are eating at him until he feels so hollow internally. The room around him suddenly feels too small, almost like it’s trying to choke him, causing his fingers to twitch where they rest by his sides. Nothing more than the urge to run, to get out, encompasses both his body and soul.
“No,” the scribe replies, urging his voice to remain steady in its tone, so as not to let slip just how terrified he is at the possibility of losing Kaveh for good. “I can’t possibly be certain that I won’t lose him, but… I won’t know unless I try, if I don’t tell him how I feel soon then we’ll only be in this position again another time.”
“This might be the stupidest thing you ever do but I’ll be damned if I let you look like a fool alone…”