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Kaveh stood near the entrance, one hand absently tugging at the high collar of his cloak despite the warm humidity.
He had arrived just after dusk, knocking insistently until Tighnari let him in. Now, under the glow of a bioluminescent lamp, the forest watcher examined him throughly.
"Roll up your sleeve again," Tighnari said calmly, ears twitching slightly as he leaned closer with a magnifying lens. His gloved fingers traced the fading red welts on Kaveh's forearm. Those were angry, raised patches that looked like they'd been painted on with irritation. "These appeared within minutes of sun exposure, you said?"
Kaveh nodded. "Yes. I was on site near the desert outskirts yesterday, supervising some measurements for a new commission. The client wanted natural light integration or whatever nonsense they dreamed up. I stepped out for barely ten minutes without my usual shade parasol, and... well." He gestured vaguely at his arms and neck. "It felt like fire ants were having a festival on my skin. Hives everywhere. Itching like madness. I had to wrap myself in my coat and run back to the carriage like some sort of deranged fugitive."
Tighnari hummed thoughtfully, setting the lens down. He flipped through a well-worn notebook filled with neat handwriting and pressed flower specimens. "The symptoms match solar urticaria. It's a rare photodermatosis where your skin reacts to ultraviolet rays, triggering histamine release. Hives, burning, sometimes swelling. In your case, it seems quite acute. Sudden onset like this is unusual; it could be triggered by a new medication, environmental change, or even stress compounding an underlying sensitivity."
Kaveh's expression tightened. He paced a few steps, his boots scuffing softly against the floorboards. "Solar what? Great. Just what I needed. Another flaw in this already crumbling existence."
He let out a dramatic sigh, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. "I can't afford to have this getting out, Tighnari. You know how people talk in Sumeru. Architects are supposed to be out on sites, inspecting materials in daylight, meeting clients under the open sky. If word spreads that Kaveh breaks out in hives like a delicate hothouse flower the moment the sun touches him... my reputation would be ruined. Commissions would dry up faster than a desert spring."
Tighnari crossed his arms, concern written all over his face. "I understand your worry about gossip—Sumeru's academic circles can be merciless. But this isn't something to hide, Kaveh. Solar urticaria can worsen without proper management. You'll need antihistamines, protective clothing, ultraviolet blocking creams I can compound for you, and possibly light therapy desensitization if it persists. Avoiding sunlight entirely isn't sustainable, especially with your line of work. What if you have a severe episode? Anaphylaxis isn't impossible in extreme cases."
Kaveh stopped pacing and turned to face him. They both could see he was desperate. "Please. Just between us. At least for now. I need time to... adjust. Figure out how to work around it without everyone treating me like I'm fragile. Alhaitham would never let me hear the end of it—he'd probably call it 'poetic justice for my ostentatious lifestyle' or some other infuriating nonsense."
He stepped closer, voice lowering. "You're a professional. A doctor in all but title out here. Can't you bend the rules just this once? For a friend?"
Tighnari exhaled slowly, ears flattening slightly. He clearly didn't like it. "I'm against this. Secrets like this tend to come out at the worst possible moment, especially when health is involved. As your physician today, my recommendation is transparency with those close to you and proactive treatment. But..." He paused, glancing at the welts again. "I won't volunteer the information. Doctor-patient confidentiality holds, even if I disagree with your choice."
Kaveh's shoulders sagged in visible relief. A small, grateful smile broke through his anxiety. "Thank you, Tighnari. Truly. I'll follow your instructions on the creams and medicines. Just help me keep the sun at bay a little longer."
By the time they were done, the last traces of daylight had vanished, leaving the forest alive with nocturnal sounds. Tighnari began preparing a small pouch of remedies, but his expression remained troubled. He knew all too well how secrets had a way of burning brighter than any sun.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
And that was the reason why Kaveh had become a creature of the night.
What began as cautious evening outings to gather materials or meet late clients soon turned into a full routine. He left their shared home in Sumeru City just after sunset, cloak drawn high around his neck, and a specially compounded UV-blocking salve from Tighnari hidden in his satchel. The streets, once bustling with scholars and merchants under the golden sun, now felt like his private domain.
He told himself it was liberating. At night, he could sketch by lamplight at open-air cafes, inspect half-finished construction sites under moonlight, and even visit the Grand Bazaar when it stayed open late for night markets. His commissions continued, albeit slower. He adapted.
But the house in the quiet district felt different now.
Alhaitham noticed almost immediately, though he said nothing at first. The Scribe was not one to pry into others’ habits without reason. If Kaveh wanted to waste his sleep schedule and stumble home at odd hours reeking of ink, cheap wine, and night-blooming flowers, that was his business. Their arguments had always been about finances, noise, and Kaveh’s “chaotic creativity” versus Alhaitham’s preference for peace. This new nocturnal pattern, at least initially, fell under tolerable eccentricity.
Until it didn’t.
It was the third week when Alhaitham stopped noticing and started suspecting. Kaveh had left again after sunset, muttering something about “urgent site inspection” and “the stars give better perspective anyway.” He returned near dawn, exhausted, collapsing onto the couch without even removing his boots. This happened almost every night now.
On a particularly still evening, Alhaitham sat in the living room with a book on ancient runes. The front door creaked open. Kaveh entered quietly, trying not to disturb, his hair slightly disheveled and a faint sheen of sweat on his brow despite the cool night air.
Alhaitham didn’t look up at first. He turned a page slowly.
“You’re going out again tonight?” he asked, as if continuing a conversation they’d never started.
Kaveh froze, one hand still on the door handle. “Ah, yes. Important meeting with a potential patron. They prefer evenings. You know how it is with these eccentric types.”
Alhaitham finally lifted his gaze. “This would be the seventeenth ‘important meeting’ in the last twenty-three days. All after sunset. You’ve reorganized your entire schedule around avoiding daylight. Even your desk work has shifted to midnight oil.”
Kaveh forced a laugh, dramatic as ever, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous, Alhaitham. I’m an architect. Inspiration doesn’t follow the sun’s timetable. Sometimes the muse strikes at midnight. Sometimes clients are nocturnal scholars or visiting merchants from Inazuma who—”
“Spare me the theatrics.” Alhaitham closed his book with a soft thud and set it aside. He leaned back in his chair. “You’re avoiding something. Or someone. If you’re in trouble—debts, shady dealings, or another one of your ill-advised investments—you’d be better off saying it now before I have to deduce it myself. I dislike mysteries in my own house.”
Kaveh’s expression faltered. Secrets like this tend to come out at the worst possible moment, Tighnari had said. His skin prickled at the memory of the last time he’d accidentally stepped into direct sunlight, how the hives had erupted within minutes, forcing him to hide in a shaded alley for hours.
He swallowed hard and turned away, pretending to adjust his cloak. “There’s nothing to deduce. I’m simply expanding my hours. More productive this way. Less noise from the daytime crowds. You should appreciate that, Mr. Silence-is-golden.”
Alhaitham’s eyes narrowed slightly. He could read the tension in Kaveh’s shoulders and how his fingers fidgeted with the edge of his glove. Something was wrong. Physically wrong, perhaps. Kaveh had been paler lately. More careful about covering every inch of skin. And those new jars of cream in the bathroom cabinet had Tighnari’s distinctive handwriting on the labels.
He didn’t push further that night.
“Very well,” Alhaitham said coolly, reopening his book. “But if you’re going to keep treating this house like a nocturnal waystation, at least try not to wake me when you return before sunrise. Some of us maintain reasonable sleep cycles.”
Kaveh muttered something under his breath about “insufferable lightweights” and slipped into his room. He leaned against the closed door, exhaling shakily.
How much longer could he keep this up?
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
Dawn was already breaking when Kaveh finally trudged back toward the house. He had miscalculated the time and had lingered too long at a quiet riverside pavilion reviewing blueprints by lantern light. Daybreak had crept up on him faster than expected. The first rays of morning sun had brushed across his cheek and neck for no more than a minute or two before he realized and fled into the shade.
Now, as he fumbled with the door handle, the familiar itch was already crawling across his skin like thousands of tiny needles. His neck burned. He could feel the hives forming under his collar.
He pushed the door open, hoping to slip inside unnoticed and retreat to his room before the reaction worsened.
But Alhaitham was already there.
The Scribe stood in the entryway, unusually early even for him, holding a cup of coffee and reviewing a document. His teal eyes lifted at the sound of the door, scanning Kaveh with that trademark piercing calm. At first, it was mere observation. Then his gaze sharpened.
Kaveh froze halfway through the doorway, one hand instinctively tugging his cloak higher around his neck.
Too late.
Alhaitham’s eyes locked onto the suspicious red marks along Kaveh’s exposed collarbone and throat. They looked nothing like a rash to someone unfamiliar with the condition. To a suspicious mind, they looked like something else entirely.
“You’re later than usual,” Alhaitham said. He set his cup down slowly. “And you look disheveled.”
Kaveh laughed nervously, trying to brush past him. “It’s nothing. Just a long night. The client was particularly chatty, and—”
“Client, huh?” Alhaitham cut in, stepping forward to block his path.
His brows slightly furrowed and his usually indifferent gaze was gone. “You’ve been sneaking out every night for weeks. Coming back at dawn smelling of flowers and night air. And now this?”
His eyes looked pointedly at the red marks on Kaveh’s neck. “What, or who, exactly are you seeing that requires you to cover your tracks so desperately?”
The air felt thick. Kaveh’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and panic. The itch on his neck intensified under the weight of Alhaitham’s stare, making him want to scratch desperately, but that would only make it worse.
Alhaitham seemed to hear his own words a moment later. The jealous edge in his tone registered and he exhaled sharply, forcing his features back into something closer to neutrality, though a faint tension remained around his eyes.
“Just to be clear, I’m not against you meeting a lover,” he added. “Your personal affairs are your own. But if you’re going to start conducting them in a way that disrupts the household’s peace and leaves you coming home looking like you’ve been mauled, I expect basic honesty. At least have the decency not to treat me like a fool.”
Kaveh stared at him, mouth slightly open. Of all the misunderstandings... This was worse than he’d feared. The hives throbbed hotter now, spreading down his shoulder, but the mortification burning in his chest overshadowed even that.
“A lover?” Kaveh’s voice cracked with disbelief. “You think I’ve been slipping out every night for some secret tryst? That these—” He gestured wildly at his neck, wincing as his fingers brushed the sensitive welts. “—are hickeys? Archons, Alhaitham, your imagination is more dramatic than mine!”
He wanted to explain. Tighnari’s diagnosis, the sun and how lethal it was to him. But fear clamped down hard. If even Alhaitham, who lived with him, reacted like this... what would the rest of Sumeru say?
Instead, Kaveh turned away. “It’s not what you think. Not even close.”
Alhaitham watched him closely. Something lingered in his expression that made him look as though heʼd been defeated, and yet he was glad about it.
“Then enlighten me,” he said quietly. “Because whatever it is, you’re clearly not handling it well.”
Kaveh turned around sharply as Alhaitham took a step closer. He reached out slowly, his finger hovering just above the raised red welts on Kaveh’s neck close enough that Kaveh could feel the faint warmth of his skin.
“How did you get these?” Alhaitham asked, the earlier jealous edge had been replaced by something more rational. “And don’t insult me with another vague excuse.”
Kaveh’s breath hitched. The itching had intensified into a maddening burn, and having Alhaitham this close and staring at the evidence of his weakness, made his chest tighten with humiliation. He batted Alhaitham’s hand away gently, not harshly, but enough to create space.
“Fine,” Kaveh muttered. “You want the truth? Come here.”
Before Alhaitham could respond, Kaveh grabbed his wrist with surprising firmness and dragged him down the short hallway toward the bathroom. Alhaitham allowed himself to be pulled along, though his eyebrows rose slightly at the uncharacteristic boldness.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind them. Kaveh released Alhaitham’s wrist and immediately began rummaging through the small cabinet above the sink. He pulled out two small jars and a slim tube of cream, all neatly labeled in Tighnari’s handwriting.
“Here,” Kaveh said, thrusting one of the jars toward Alhaitham. “This is a high-potency antihistamine cream compounded with UV filters and calming agents. I apply it every evening before going out and again if I feel any exposure. It helps suppress the reaction and prevents the hives from breaking out as badly when sunlight hits my skin.”
Alhaitham took the jar, turning it over in his hands as he examined the label. His gaze moved back up to Kaveh’s neck, then to the other containers.
Kaveh leaned against the sink, rubbing carefully at his collarbone. “I have solar urticaria. Tighnari diagnosed it. My skin... it reacts violently to UV light. Hives, burning, swelling sometimes within minutes. That’s why I’ve been going out only at night. That’s why I came back like this today. I stayed out too late. The sunrise caught me.”
Alhaitham’s eyes followed every movement, processing the new information. The jealousy from earlier had completely dissolved, replaced by concern beneath his stoic mask.
“Solar urticaria,” he repeated, as if committing the term to memory. “That explains the sudden nocturnal habits. The excessive covering. Why you’ve been avoiding even casual daytime errands.”
Kaveh nodded, not meeting his eyes as he continued rubbing the cream in. “I asked Tighnari to keep it quiet. I didn’t want anyone knowing.” His voice grew quieter, almost vulnerable. “I’m an architect. I need to be on sites during the day. How am I supposed to maintain my career if everyone thinks I’m some fragile, sun-shy invalid?”
The silence stretched for a moment. Alhaitham stepped closer again, this time picking up the second jar to examine the label. “Hiding it hasn’t made it better. You’re clearly suffering for it.”
Kaveh let out a bitter laugh, capping the jar. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
From that day on, subtle changes settled over their shared home.
Alhaitham never said it outright. He never offered grand words of sympathy or concern. But his actions spoke the only language he could manage.
The heavy curtains in the living room were replaced with thicker ones that blocked out even the harshest glare. Kaveh noticed them one afternoon while he was still asleep on the couch when he woke to near-total darkness.
A new wide-brimmed hat appeared on the coat rack one evening, perfectly sized...
On the bathroom counter, fresh jars of Tighnari’s cream were restocked without Kaveh ever asking.
The kitchen schedule changed too. Dinner was now prepared for later hours, and Alhaitham stopped leaving bright reading lamps on in shared spaces after sunset.
Kaveh noticed every gesture. He said nothing at first, unsure how to respond to this version of Alhaitham who showed care through logistics rather than affection. But it warmed something deep in his chest, easing the constant anxiety that had gripped him since the diagnosis.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
One night, Kaveh returned home just before dawn after overseeing a construction review. His body ached from hours of standing and sketching. Without even bothering to change, he collapsed face-first onto the living room couch with a dramatic groan, burying his face in the cushion.
“Finally... sleep...” he mumbled, eyes already closing.
A few moments later, a shadow suddenly fell over him, completely blocking the faint morning light pouring inside. Kaveh flinched hard, his body tensing as instincts kicked in. The fear of sunlight on his skin made him curl inward protectively.
He cracked one eye open, only to see Alhaitham standing directly beside the couch, looming over him. He held a large, adjustable standing screen in one hand and had positioned it to cast a perfect shade over Kaveh’s upper body and face.
Alhaitham’s expression was as neutral as ever, but there was the faintest trace of softness around his eyes.
“You’re in direct line with the eastern window,” he stated matter-of-factly. “The sun will hit this spot in approximately twelve minutes. This should block it.”
Kaveh blinked up at him, still half-buried in the cushion. Oh. Alhaitham had anticipated the sunrise and moved to protect him without being asked.
For once, the dramatic architect found himself at a loss for theatrical words. He simply stared, a smile tugging at his lips despite the exhaustion.
“I— Iʼll get up now...” Kaveh murmured. “... Thanks.”
“Should you?” Alhaitham replied, adjusting the screen slightly to make sure no stray rays could sneak through. “Youʼre already comfortable. No need to disrupt your rest.”
He lingered for a moment longer, as if making sure the setup was sufficient, then turned to leave Kaveh in peace. Before he stepped away completely, he added quietly, almost as an afterthought.
“Sleep. I’ll wake you before the afternoon light becomes an issue.”
Kaveh watched Alhaitham’s retreating back, the itch of his earlier near-exposure fading under the cool shade. The weight of his secret never felt this light not because it was gone, but because he no longer carried it entirely alone.
He closed his eyes, letting himself relax fully under the protective shadow Alhaitham had cast for him.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
The hour grew later than usual. Later than safe.
Alhaitham sat in the living room, a book open on his lap that he hadn’t turned a page of in nearly twenty minutes. The sky outside had already begun to lighten, shifting from deep indigo to soft rose. Kaveh was normally home by now, slipping through the door with tired complaints about clients or inspiration. But tonight, silence stretched on.
He told himself not to worry. Kaveh was an adult. He had his creams, his hat, his carefully planned nocturnal routes. Yet the longer the minutes dragged, the tighter the knot in Alhaitham’s chest became. He stood up and paced, then moved to the window. The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to crest the distant dunes visible from the city’s edge.
“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath.
Without another moment’s hesitation, Alhaitham grabbed a large, dark travel cloak from the rack, one he’d reinforced with an extra layer for sun protection after researching solar urticaria in the Akademiya archives. He folded it over his arm and stepped out into the pale dawn.
He remembered Kaveh mentioning a late-night meeting with a client near the desert outskirts. Something about a new pavilion project that required observing the natural light angles at dawn. Alhaitham had listened with half an ear at the time, but the detail stuck. He moved quickly through the streets, then broke into a run once he cleared the city gates, cloak clutched tightly in his hand.
The desert air was already warming as the sun climbed. Sand shifted under his boots as he pushed toward the cluster of rocky outcrops and sparse trees where such meetings often took place.
Then he saw him.
Kaveh was huddled beneath a lone, scraggly tree, its thin canopy offering meager shade. He had his knees drawn up to his chest, cloak pulled over his head like a desperate shield, arms wrapped around himself.
Even from a distance, Alhaitham could see the way he trembled. His skin already flushed red where stray beams of sunlight had found him. The architect looked small, vulnerable in a way that sent a sharp pang through Alhaitham’s usually calm composure.
Without thinking, Alhaitham broke into a full sprint.
Sand flew behind him as he ran, heart pounding harder than it had any right to. In his mind flashed images of Kaveh’s hives worsening, swelling, and any more severe reaction far from help.
He moved as if Kaveh would combust at any second if he didn’t reach him in time.
“Kaveh!” he shouted, voice cutting through the still desert air.
Kaveh lifted his head weakly at the sound, eyes widening in surprise when he saw Alhaitham charging toward him like a man possessed.
That man reached him in seconds, skidding to a halt and immediately unfurling the large cloak with a sharp snap. He draped it over Kaveh entirely, pulling the fabric around his shoulders and head to create a complete barrier against the rising sun. Then he knelt, one arm supporting Kaveh’s back.
“You absolute fool,” Alhaitham exhaled. His hand lingered on Kaveh’s shoulder, gripping tighter than necessary. “You’re supposed to be home before dawn. What were you thinking?”
Kaveh let out a shaky, pained laugh from beneath the cloak, leaning into the sudden shade and Alhaitham’s presence. His skin was already beginning to itch fiercely, fresh welts forming on his exposed wrists.
“The client... wanted to see the sunrise effect on the proposed site,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. “I thought I could manage a few minutes more... but the light came faster than I expected. I barely made it to this tree.”
Alhaitham didn’t scold him further. Instead, he adjusted the cloak again, making sure every inch of skin was covered, then helped Kaveh to his feet.
“Can you walk?” he asked quietly.
Kaveh nodded, though he swayed slightly. Alhaitham slipped an arm around his waist without asking, supporting most of his weight as they began the trek back toward the shaded path leading to the city.
He really didnʼt have to—
“Hush.” Alhaitham cut in, though his tone was soft. “I know what youʼre thinking. Just lean on me.”
As they moved together through the warming desert, the sun climbing higher behind them, Kaveh felt the familiar burn of hives warring with a different kind of warmth. Alhaitham’s actions said everything his words never would.
They reached the house just as the sun began to blaze in earnest. Alhaitham kept his arm firmly around Kaveh the entire way, guiding him inside. The moment the door shut behind them, blocking out the dangerous daylight, Kaveh let out a long, exhausted breath.
He shrugged off the heavy protective cloak, letting it pool at his feet. Red welts had already spread across his neck, collarbones, and forearms that made him hiss through his teeth as he moved.
“I’ll handle it,” Kaveh muttered, heading straight for the bathroom. He rummaged for the cream, unscrewing the lid with shaking fingers. Standing in front of the mirror, he began dabbing the cool ointment onto the worst spots on his neck and arms, wincing at every touch.
He was so focused on the task that he startled when Alhaitham appeared behind him in the reflection. Without a word, the man took the jar from Kaveh’s hand.
“Let me,” Alhaitham said simply.
Kaveh blinked in surprise, mouth slightly open. “I—Iʼm doing it already—”
But Alhaitham was already gently turning him around to face him. He dipped his fingers into the cream and began applying it to the welts along Kaveh’s neck and shoulder. His touch was cool and strangely tender, far gentler than Kaveh ever expected from him.
The architect stood frozen, cheeks warming under the attention. “Alhaitham...”
“Hold still,” was the only reply.
After a few moments, Kaveh shifted uncomfortably. A new wave of itching flared up under his shirt, across his chest where the morning light had sneaked through gaps in his clothing. More than that, there was this kind of sensation even itchier than these hives.
He scratched lightly at the fabric, then stopped with a grimace.
Alhaitham noticed immediately. “Is it spreading to your chest?”
Kaveh hesitated, then nodded. “Yes... but I can manage—”
“Do you need cream there as well?”
Kaveh looked away, suddenly flustered. He murmured, barely audible, “You... you wouldn’t be able to reach it properly. It’s not just the skin.”
Alhaitham paused, fingers still lightly resting on Kaveh’s shoulder. After a moment of silence, he spoke again.
“If itʼs not just the skin, then what is it that I cannot reach?”
The words hung in the air between them. Kaveh’s breath caught, his eyes widening as he stared at Alhaitham. The Scribe’s expression remained mostly neutral, but there was vulnerability in the way he held Kaveh’s gaze, like the question wasn’t entirely about the hives.
Kaveh’s face burned hotter than any sun-induced reaction. “Alhaitham... that’s...”
He couldn’t finish. The implication left him speechless. His chest itched worse than ever, but the sensation was now tangled with something far more uncomfortable than hives.
Alhaitham waited, cream still on his fingertips, watching him with that piercing patience.
Kaveh opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“If itʼs not just the skin, then what is it that I cannot reach?” — and Kaveh felt his brain malfunction spectacularly.
“I— That is— You can’t just say something like that and expect me to—” he stammered, hands gesturing wildly in that signature dramatic fashion. “Alhaitham, are you trying to kill me faster than the sun ever could? My heart is already—”
The front door creaked open.
Both of them froze.
In walked Cyno, followed closely by Tighnari, the latter carrying a small basket of fresh herbs. Clearly, they had let themselves in using the spare key Tighnari kept for “medical emergencies.” The two visitors stopped dead in the bathroom doorway, taking in the scene:
Kaveh shirt half-unbuttoned, red welts visible across his neck and chest. Alhaitham standing intimately close, fingertips coated in cream, hovering near Kaveh’s collarbone.
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the four of them.
No one spoke, yet an entire conversation passed in glances.
Tighnari: I told you this would happen.
He shot Alhaitham a look with a half reluctant approval. You’re helping him. Good. But this is exactly why secrets are stupid.
Alhaitham met Tighnari’s gaze evenly, before shifting to Cyno with a faint, almost challenging arch of his brow. Draw your own conclusions. I don’t care.
Cyno, completely unaware of Kaveh’s condition, stared hard at the angry red marks across the architect’s skin. His eyes then snapped to Alhaitham’s hand, still positioned so close to Kaveh’s chest. His expression darkened into full General Mahamatra suspicion that was usually reserved for suspected criminals. What exactly were you doing to him?
Kaveh wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
He could practically hear the misunderstanding forming in Cyno’s head. The welts looked far too much like passion marks in this context, especially with how close Alhaitham had been standing. Kaveh’s dramatic fumbling from moments earlier only made it worse.
This is why I should have listened to Tighnari.
The silence stretched another painful moment before Cyno finally broke it.
“…Do I need to arrest someone?”
Kaveh groaned loudly, covering his face with both hands. “Yes, please. I volunteer.”
Tighnari sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Cyno, it’s not what it looks like. Kaveh has solar urticaria. Those are hives, not… whatever you’re imagining.”
Alhaitham, ever calm, simply wiped the cream off his fingers with a towel. “Though I can see how the misunderstanding arose,” he added dryly, glancing sideways at Kaveh, who was now bright red from both hives and embarrassment.
Kaveh peeked through his fingers, heart still racing from Alhaitham’s earlier words and now from pure regret.
Keeping the secret had felt smart at the time. But now, with all of them here, seeing him at his most vulnerable, he realized how foolish it had been.
He lowered his hands slowly, shoulders slumping in defeat.
“I… should have told everyone sooner,” he admitted. “This secret has caused more trouble than it was worth.”