what i see when i close my eyes (you, only you)

by raine_write

Summary:

Blond hair looked gold in the setting sun. His hand flitted like a bird, pecking here and scraping there. His head gently bobbed up and down, grasping something in his mind before using charcoal to burn it to the paper in front of him. When he paused in his work, his graceful fingers moved like water, twirling a thin pencil around the fine floss of his thoughts.

Kaveh knew he needed to stop when he started being able to draw Alhaitham from angles he hadn’t studied.

Kaveh knew he couldn’t stop when he was able to draw Alhaitham entirely from memory.

---
OR: two lonely boys co-exist, express their feelings, fight about nonsense, and fall in love; not necessarily in that order.

Haitham first noticed Kaveh at the beginning of senior year when, one day, both of them stayed long after everyone else left.

He knew who Kaveh was, of course. Even though they'd never been in the same class until this year, Kaveh was sociable and popular; he easily blended in with their peers.

They didn't have much in common.

That's why, when Haitham realized he wasn't alone in the classroom for once, he was surprised to see it was Kaveh still sitting at his desk.

They sat in the same row, a few seats away, with Kaveh closer to the doors. He would always stride in right before the teacher did, flashing a brilliant smile at whoever greeted him before taking his things out for class. Haitham always thought he was late because of a conversation that got interrupted by the final bell, or someone that had held him up a moment too long in the hall.

The Kaveh that Haitham saw in the sunset was incongruous with the Kaveh he knew in the daytime. This Kaveh was quiet and alone, tucked up with his knees against his desk as he sketched in a book Haitham had never seen before.

Didn't he have friends to walk home with? Parents that were waiting?

Hmm. Whatever.

Haitham chose to ignore him, treating him no differently than he would anyone else. This was a one-off event. A single instance. There was no reason to think anything more of Kaveh’s presence than necessary; the only thing Haitham was remotely grateful for was that Kaveh didn’t make noise like their other squawking classmates.

Except, it wasn’t just a one-time thing.

Every day of that week… and every day of the next…

It was no longer one boy staying behind, but two.

 

In the company of their own books; Kaveh sketching and the silver-haired boy reading; the two would stay after school for hours together in silence. Kaveh would always leave first; the orphanage had a curfew; and after a few weeks of silently keeping each other company, Kaveh thought of starting to say goodbye.

They weren’t friends, though. Just classmates. So Kaveh would leave without saying anything to the other boy, a stranger he’d never met before this year, and wonder about him on his way home.

Why did he stay after school? Was he so distracted with his reading that he didn't realize class was over? Hah, what an impossible thought– but his nose was always so far down his books that it made Kaveh chuckle to think about it.

Whatever his reasons, Kaveh was kind of glad he wasn’t the only one deciding to stay behind. It was nice to have quiet company.

 

After about a month of this, in which both boys would remain at their desks until sunset before leaving without a word, it felt as if an unspoken agreement had been established. You do your thing, I’ll do mine. They didn’t interact during the day, nor did they interact in the evening, but something about their extended presence in each other’s vicinity became something of a comfort, even to Haitham.

Most people could hardly tolerate him. They got upset that he chose not to contribute to conversations he found pointless, or that his remarks were "rude". After enough people had misunderstood his practicality for standoffishness, people gave up on interacting with him entirely.

That was fine. He preferred it that way, actually.

Haitham lived a simple existence, minding his own business, completing the schoolwork necessary to maintain an objectively good standing at the school. He studied when he had to, which was rare, and otherwise spent his time reading, a distinctly single-person activity.

Yet, somehow, Kaveh had managed to neatly fit himself into the space surrounding Haitham's boundaries without infringing on them.

Kaveh became a curiosity to the boy. A variable he had never encountered or quantified. A mystery insofar as he was a sociable person that also managed to be "social" with Haitham, who was branded by their peers as an antisocial introvert.

If people could socialize by eating together, or being entertained together, why couldn't they socialize by simply existing alongside one another? Like parallel lines, never touching but always in view.

Coexistence. He found he quite liked the idea.

In a moment of reflection on this revelation, his thoughts so far from his novel that he actually looked up from it, Haitham took in his unwitting after-school companion with detail.

Blond hair looked gold in the setting sun. His hand flitted like a bird, pecking here and scraping there. His head gently bobbed up and down, grasping something in his mind before using charcoal to burn it to the paper in front of him. When he paused in his work, his graceful fingers moved like water, twirling a thin pencil around the fine floss of his thoughts.

Haitham was openly, unabashedly staring.

Earrings glinted brilliantly as Kaveh noticed this, and lifted his head.

Haitham had always wondered about the boy’s jewelry. It looked far more expensive than something someone should wear to school. The earrings were big and ostentatious, not unlike Kaveh’s personality; he didn’t even remove them for P.E. They suited him in other ways, too; the gold metal and colorful gems brought out his glowing scarlet eyes, which Haitham could see clearly for the first time. They were on fire, illuminated by the sunset at Haitham’s back.

"Um."

Haitham blinked, realizing he was being addressed.

"Why are you looking at me like that...?"

Kaveh wore a wary expression, caught somewhere between surprise and unease.

It was an easy enough question to answer, so Haitham replied sincerely:

"You look beautiful."

Kaveh's face lit up red.

"Wha--!" He dropped his sketchbook onto the desk. The page was filled with things from their classroom: empty chairs and desks and the lecture podium.

"You can't just say that to someone out of the blue!" Kaveh exclaimed, dropping his legs from the desk to grasp his chair between his thighs, hunched over and puffed up like a defensive cat.

Haitham observed this and tilted his head. "Why not?"

"Because that's–”

Kaveh’s expression contorted, and while Haitham didn’t make a habit of reading people, he found himself fascinated by how Kaveh’s thoughts were telegraphed as clearly as a well-written novel.

He was flattered, that much was obvious, but he was also conflicted. He seemed hesitant– uncertain– like he suspected Haitham of an ulterior motive.

“Complimenting someone like that, it’s–” Kaveh finally said, only for Haitham to interject.

"It’s not a compliment.”

Kaveh’s brow pulled with confusion before Haitham clarified:

“It's the truth."

The boy was so flustered by Haitham’s statement that he couldn't say anything in response. For three long beats, Kaveh simply stared at Haitham like he'd been starstruck. His eyes were wide and glimmering gems framed by his golden hair, his mouth parted around a noise he couldn't make.

At least, until he stuttered under his breath and ducked his head, breaking eye contact, grasping his flushing face with both hands as his carmine gaze darted over the floor.

Here, Haitham checked the time and saw he needed to head home. He felt his point had been sufficiently made. So, without another word, he dropped his novel in his bag and stood up from his desk.

Kaveh silently watched him leave.

 

Of all the things he could’ve said to Kaveh, those words were the first. The very, very first. They spun so furiously in Kaveh’s head that he missed his bus, then missed his stop, and got lectured to hell and back by the matron for being so late.

Even after helping clean the dinner dishes that night as a punishment, even after helping out the smaller ones to bed, even after staring at the back of his eyelids for an hour while trying and failing to sleep–

Kaveh couldn’t get that moment out of his head. He couldn't get the looping words to stop.

And to top it off, he didn’t even know the guy’s name.

"Oh, him?" One boy rolled his eyes dramatically. "That's Alhaitham. Don't bother with him. He's an asshole."

Kaveh was shocked someone would say something like that, especially when the person in question was within earshot. Despite himself, carmine eyes nervously darted to the boy only a few desks away.

"Don’t worry, he can't hear us," another girl reassured him, patting Kaveh’s arm in a too-familiar way. "You see that thing on his ear? He wears headphones whenever we’re not in class so he can drown us out, and he never talks to anybody.”

“He says we're too stupid to have conversations with." A third person chimed in.

“He said that to you too? Ugh, what a jerk!”

“Seriously! He’s so annoying.”

Kaveh did not smile nor participate in the bashing that his classmate received, merely allowing the topic to naturally change to something else. The conversation switched to weekend plans, something Alhaitham obviously wouldn’t have, and people started discussing movies. As it went on, Kaveh once more glanced toward the boy at the window.

He was the same as he was every day after school, preoccupied with a novel, ignoring the world. Yet the one time Kaveh had ever seen the silver-haired boy look away from the pages, the one and only conversation he’d ever had with this “Alhaitham”...

You look beautiful. It’s not a compliment. It’s the truth.

He had never wanted something to be true so badly.

But at the same time, did that mean…

…Did that mean Alhaitham liked him?

The day following this (possible) revelation, Kaveh couldn’t even look at Alhaitham. He couldn’t so much as glance towards the windows without seeing his profile, and a glimpse was all Kaveh’s eyes needed to retain shapes and colors and suddenly, he realized he was doodling the boy in his math notebook.

Kaveh’s palm barely missed slamming his desk, gripping his thigh instead, with only his nearest classmates looking at him like he was crazy.

It was fine. He was fine. A single scribbly doodle wasn’t enough to reveal what– or who was on his mind, so he allowed it to stay.

The problem was that the scribbly doodle looked wrong, and Kaveh was too much of a perfectionist to let something go until he had sketched it just right. But in order for him to get that moment just right– the moment that Alhaitham said words that made Kaveh feel so powerfully that he lost the ability to speak– he needed the sun at Alhaitham’s back.

 

From that day onward, Kaveh’s attention turned from their empty classroom to him.

He wasn’t exactly subtle about it. Maybe it was because he was so focused on what he was drawing, Kaveh didn’t realize what he was doing. His gaze was so intense that it felt like he was trying to commit Haitham’s every eyelash to memory. It was almost a little uncomfortable to be stared at with such intensity… but in between Kaveh’s obvious examinations, Haitham could stare back, so he allowed it without comment.

 

They did this song and dance for months but much to Kaveh’s dismay, the sun changed position through the year. The angle of the sunset shifted a little bit with each evening that passed. Although it was gradual enough to escape notice by most, when Kaveh’s sketchbook was full of Alhaitham’s profile, shaded at approximately the time when he usually left (for the bus? The train? He wasn’t sure how Alhaitham got home, actually–) it was easy to see.

None of them were right. None of them were perfect. It was driving him up the wall. The memory was so vivid in his head, but he couldn’t manifest it on paper for some reason, and it was making it impossible to draw anything else.

He had to redo the drawing to re-grasp Alhaitham's nose. Or his hand. Or his lips.

He had to stare longer to make sure he wasn’t making up details, like the hood of his eyes or the high of his cheekbones or the way his lips twitched when he read something interesting.

He had to study Alhaitham from a different desk– somewhere in the row ahead of him– to grasp how his face came together. Because, to understand a profile, one needed a grasp of the whole 3D object, of course.

Kaveh knew he needed to stop when he started being able to draw Alhaitham from angles he hadn’t studied.

Kaveh knew he couldn’t stop when he was able to draw Alhaitham entirely from memory.

No matter how he tried to draw anything else, nothing came out quite right. If he drew the portrait of any other classmate, all Kaveh could do was grimace in distaste. Their faces were too round, or their hair was too heavy, or their eyes were shaped wrong, because Kaveh’s mind was continually drawn to that moment.

The moment when the sun made grey hair an angelic white. When the corners of those sharp eyes were somehow soft. When Alhaitham, a boy he'd never spoken to, said words that made Kaveh's lonely heart soar.

Until he captured that moment correctly, it would be burned into his brain, waiting to be transferred to paper through charcoal and purged.

Kaveh was, as all artists are, a slave to his muse.

 

It was some time, at least two changes of the season, before Haitham acknowledged that he would call Kaveh an acquaintance.

They weren't friends. They had only spoken once, and never again. The room was silent as they each went about their own business. To some, that would mean they were still strangers, but Haitham did not feel that way. For him, this tranquil sort of co-existence had never been achieved with anyone else– and that made Kaveh special, but not quite what Haitham would envision as a "friend" by classical definition.

For example: Kaveh had a habit of staring at Haitham so fiercely that he thought his hair might catch on fire. That was not typical "friend" behavior, as far as Haitham was aware.

That was okay, though. Haitham was very good at ignoring things in favor of his books.

It was when he realized Kaveh was drawing him– discerned by his use of the same three-seconds-up-and-several-seconds-down sketching method he'd drawn the classroom with– that Haitham made the semi-conscious effort not to move as much.

Sometimes that meant stifling a yawn. Other times it meant ignoring an itch on his nose. It wasn't something he had to do, or something Kaveh ever asked for, but rather something Haitham gave freely in return for the comfortable atmosphere they had developed together.

Or, Haitham thought it was comfortable.

Apparently he was wrong.

The illusion of peace between them broke the day that Kaveh dropped his pencil. The clatter was sharp enough that Haitham could hear it through his muffling headphones, making him blink away from his novel and look up.

Kaveh was furiously erasing something in his sketchbook. He must have shaken the desk hard enough that his pencil fell off. The little thing had rolled beneath the desks separating the boys and wound up close to where Haitham was sitting, so Haitham bent over to pick it up off the floor. He sat up and waited for Kaveh to notice, to fetch it from him.

Several seconds passed.

Kaveh was so absorbed in fuming at whatever was in front of him that Haitham ran out of patience. It was almost time for him to leave, so he packed up his bag and stood to deliver the utensil on his way out. He crossed the short distance between them to stand beside his desk.

Still, he was not acknowledged. Haitham noted idly that he was, indeed, the subject of Kaveh's drawings. Then he said:

"Kaveh."

The blond slammed his sketchbook down so fast that Haitham had to stifle a grimace at the sudden noise.

"Y-You–!" The artist gaped.

Yes, me, who else is here this late? Haitham couldn't help lifting an eyebrow, silently questioning what the big deal was, but resisted as Kaveh growled out a hostility Haitham hadn't expected.

"W-What do you want?!"

Haitham blinked. "Nothing." It was the honest truth. "You dropped this." He offered the pencil in his open palm.

Kaveh stared at his hand like he had six fingers.

"It rolled off your desk," Haitham supplied, as if Kaveh’s confusion came from how the hell his pencil had gotten into Haitham's hand.

But Kaveh continued to stare.

For a strange moment, in the silence that followed his explanation, Haitham almost felt… bashful.

"...do you want it back or not?"

It was something Kaveh only used when he was drawing. It looked expensive, and he only started using it after Christmas. Just from those limited facts, Haitham could surmise that the pencil was important to Kaveh. He thought the answer would be an easy yes– that Kaveh would pluck it up quickly, sharpen it, and then get back to drawing him while Haitham headed home.

Yet the words that flew out of the other's mouth went directly in the face of all Haitham had observed and hypothesized and, perhaps, hoped for.

"Ugh, no! Finder's keepers for all I care."

It was an unexpected response. Very emotionally charged for some reason. Haitham was not the best with these kinds of reactions, so figuring that Kaveh was having a bad day and simply needed space, he nodded. Maybe Kaveh had another pencil with him?

Whatever the case, Haitham tucked the pencil away with his things and left shortly after. He had a train to catch, and if Kaveh didn’t want his pencil back, he would just hold onto it for the day.

 

The interaction had a completely different tone from Kaveh's point of view.

While Alhaitham looked up and saw Kaveh furiously erasing something in his sketchbook, Kaveh was so deep in his own head that he didn’t even notice his model had moved, consumed with somewhat violent thoughts about how much he hated his fixation on the boy in front of him.

One would think that, over the course of two months, Alhaitham would have looked up once to acknowledge Kaveh’s stare. Yet his obvious attention had been ignored day after day, week after week, and honestly? If he had any less self-restraint, he might have thrown his sketchbook at the guy’s head just so he would look up from his damned novels for once and see what he’s done to him.

Page after page after page after page of nothing but Alhaitham and his perfect jawline, Alhaitham and his perfect musculature! Who gave a guy so dense the right to be so handsome?!

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. He was popular. People flocked to him all the time. He got confessions at lunch every other week. Yet Kaveh was paying so much attention to this one person, and all the while, Alhaitham was just sitting there and ignoring him!

The audacity of it! The sheer fucking nerve–!

"Kaveh."

He hadn't even noticed Alhaitham stood up. Or walked over. His immediate reaction was to slam his notebook closed, to hide his obsessive sketches of the only other person in the room.

"Y-You–!" Kaveh exclaimed, frantically gathering his thoughts. He was absolutely terrified that Alhaitham had seen what he was working on. Yet at the same time, he was elated. Alhaitham was talking to him! Finally!

The terror of being discovered beat out the excitement of being spoken to, however; Kaveh's voice came out as a growl when he followed up with a bristling, "W-What do you want?!"

When Alhaitham seemed to flinch at his words, Kaveh immediately felt bad. He didn't want to be defensive, it was just a reflex, a self-preservation instinct. He tried his best to calm down, but his heart was still rabbiting in his chest from the surprise of Alhaitham sneaking up on him.

“Nothing,” was the boy’s meager reply. “You dropped this.”

Kaveh was so focused on staring up at Alhaitham’s face that he didn’t realize he was reaching out, displaying something for Kaveh’s comprehension. Blinking in confusion, he dropped his eyes, and was surprised to see his pencil in Alhaitham’s hand.

“It rolled off your desk.” Alhaitham explained. It must have been while he was nearly tearing up his sketchbook in frustration and Kaveh didn’t notice.

But what he notices now is his hand. Outstretched. Close enough to touch, and examine, and sketch in greater detail. It was a position he’d never seen before. Curled upward and not clawed; his palm visible instead of pressed against the spine of a novel or resting against his desk.

Kaveh was openly, unabashedly staring.

“...do you want it back or not?”

As if realizing, in that moment, with Alhaitham’s tone, that he had been caught twice back-to-back, Kaveh overreacted even by his own standards, the words out of his sneering mouth before the rest of his flustered face could shut it up.

"Ugh, no! Finder's keepers, for all I care."

It was an expensive fine-tip artist's sketching pencil that he bought himself after Christmas. It took both his birthday money from the summer and the Christmas gift allowance to make the purchase; he definitely couldn't buy another and he really, truly did want it back.

But Alhaitham simply nodded at his outburst, apparently taking his words at face value. He closed his hand around the pencil and exited the classroom before Kaveh could scramble to call him back. And then it hit him.

Wait, when did he pack his bag?

Wait, wait, he was leaving already?

Kaveh slumped into his seat, staring after Alhaitham's afterimage with a dumbfounded look. Had he been so focused on his sketch that he forgot the time? Had he ignored Alhaitham completely? Wait, without his pencil, what was he going to sketch with now?!

"Argh!" He gripped his head. Stupid Alhaitham! Of course he wanted his pencil back! Why didn't he just put it down instead of insisting Kaveh take it from him?!

The artist was completely out of sorts and no longer in the mood to draw, so he threw his bag together and stormed out of the classroom several minutes later. He had half a mind to catch up to Alhaitham and demand his pencil back, but his pride stopped him. No– instead of lowering himself, he was just going to wait. Alhaitham would probably offer it back to him tomorrow, right? Right. So he just had to last until he did that, and then they could forget Kaveh's little outburst ever happened.

Except, he didn't. Or well, he did. Alhaitham indeed acted as if Kaveh had never snapped at him, but he also acted as if he had never picked up Kaveh's pencil. He didn't offer it back at the end of class, before the silence descended upon them, and Kaveh was too anxious to approach him. The need to apologize for his behavior warred with his stubborn ego.

In the end, he was forced to draw with a normal pencil again.

Holy shit, do normal pencils suck.

They're too thick in the wrong places. They break easily and smear everywhere. Several drawings of Alhaitham were ruined as a result of the tip breaking under too much pressure and after it happened for the third time in seven minutes, Kaveh seriously thought he was going to lose his mind.

He wanted to rip the page apart, tear up the entire book, set it on fire, throw it in a fountain, anything that would let him focus on something other than Alhaitham and his perfect jawline, Alhaitham and his perfect musculature, Alhaitham and his stupid book. He wanted to rip into the ruined drawings with his teeth, or stab his pencil through the paper, his frustration radiating from him like the aftermath of a nuclear event.

But it was fine. Everything was fine. He was not going to ask for his pencil back. He would patiently wait for Alhaitham to realize that he was in the wrong for keeping his possession, and everything would be fine.

 

In the days following their second and strange interaction, Haitham found it odd that Kaveh did not ask for his pencil back. He noticed that Kaveh had actually switched back to regular pencils. (So he didn't have spares. He noted this.) Just from passive observation, Haitham could see they seemed to require more erasing, and he heard the fluttering of pages more often as Kaveh flipped through them faster. He didn't put together why; he didn't have much interest in whatever Kaveh was drawing, whether Haitham was the reference or not. He was instead preoccupied with Kaveh's overall deterioration in mood.

In order for them to coexist while they worked in the same space after school, Kaveh's ability to project his negative emotions into a silent room needed to be contained. Either that, or he needed to be feeling a happy neutral that wouldn't interfere with Haitham's concentration.

That was why, about a week after the encounter with the pencil, Haitham packed up slightly early, slung his bag over his shoulder, and chanced approaching the blond to ask what he thought would be an easy question to answer.

"Are you okay?" Haitham inquired.

Immediately, Kaveh lashed out, his fiery eyes delivering the message before his mouth did.

"Stop mocking me!" He snarled up at Haitham. "You’re the one who took my pencil, and now you pretend to care how I’m feeling?” His irises flashed garnet as they darted down to Haitham’s packed bag, and Kaveh’s frown got tighter as he looked back up at his peer. “If you’re already going, then just leave!"

Kaveh had never blown up so immediately, or with such direct force. Haitham was taken aback. He couldn't think of a single time Kaveh had raised his voice at any of their classmates unless he was being dramatic for laughs.

Was he seriously angry? At him? Why? What did he do?

Haitham thought to correct him; to say that he had only taken the pencil because Kaveh told him to do so, and that he would be happy to give it back if asked; but the blond ducked his head with such a deep frown that Haitham could tell the conversation was over.

Okay then. Fine.

Haitham left without another word. No use wasting breath on someone that wasn't going to listen.

From the moment they first started interacting, Kaveh confused Haitham, that much he would admit freely. The blond was temperamental, illogical, and unpredictable. His behavior didn’t have any visible pattern. He was just as likely to react with a puff and a pout as he was with something far more dramatic.

The most confusing thing of all, however, was that– as far as Haitham had been able to observe– Kaveh only acted so erratically around him.

 

It was infuriating to Kaveh, how Alhaitham always did that. How he would drop a bomb on Kaveh in the form of a clipped conversation before walking away as if nothing happened.

It pissed him off every time. Kaveh hated him for it. Especially the pencil thing.

But what he hated more was that when Alhaitham left, Kaveh was forced to deal with the aftermath of his outbursts alone.

He didn't actually want Alhaitham to leave. He didn't actually want to yell at him. He was just confused, and upset– mostly at himself– and in the heat of the moment, it was hard for him to think rather than just react. He always felt the coldest after coming off a particularly hot-headed episode, but it was ten times worse whenever he was alone.

It was a hundred times worse when, the day after Kaveh told him to get lost, instead of staying after school the way he’d done for more than half a year at this point, Alhaitham packed up his bags and left with everyone else.

Kaveh wasn’t sure why it felt like a betrayal. Why it felt like, in such a simple action, Alhaitham was punishing him for what he’d done during a peak in his emotions. Frustration surged inside of Kaveh as he didn’t bother taking out his sketchbook, following Alhatiham’s example by joining their classmates on their way out of the building to head home on time for once.

“Oh, hey, Kaveh!”
“Wow, Kaveh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on this train, is this one yours too?”
“Kaveh, want to come to a cafe with us? It’ll be fun!”

There were so many people saying his name at once, hankering for his attention, trying to pull him in a hundred different ways. Kaveh smiled and fended them off with laughter and good cheer, hiding how he really felt. He didn't accept any of their social offers, simply arriving at the orphanage early, to the matron's surprise. She put him to work preparing dinner with a few of his "siblings", and Kaveh did his best to be cheerful. But when they all fell quiet, chopping or stirring or setting the table in silence, doing their own thing, just for a second…

Just for a second, he thought, I wish I was alone with Alhaitham instead.

He hated how true it was.

And in truth…

Kaveh had always been very, very alone.

Although he appeared beloved by their classmates, he didn’t have any real friends. It was easy to talk to people, to laugh with them, to discuss this or that media and form shallow relationships over common interests and forced proximity. But when it came to actually opening up? Not a soul knew anything more serious about Kaveh than his hot takes on fashion trends.

It was by design. He used a warm surface persona to socialize, to make people happy, to get Kaveh the external validation he needed as an artist, all while keeping the real him buried deep.

As an orphan, he learned how to do this as a survival mechanism. He learned that people didn't like knowing he was an orphan, and that it was better not to tell anyone so things could stay pleasant. He grew up living in a way where parts of himself were good or bad based on other people's reactions, and over time, that behavior bisected Kaveh's heart with a thick wall of thorns between them.

There was Kaveh, the fun-loving attention-seeking life of the party, and then there was Kaveh, the lonely boy who had been called beautiful for the first time in his life.

“Beautiful”, he thought, was a much nicer compliment than “genius”.

As someone that managed to pass the Akademiya's rigorous entry exam, he was "the Light" of his orphanage. There were expectations placed upon him as a result. He had to get good grades, and not cause trouble, all for the sake of the Kshahrewar's reputation. He was propped up as a role model for the younger kids; a benchmark; a disciplinary tool for the matron’s indiscriminate use. Misbehaving children were compared to him, told "if you want to be like Kaveh, you have to stop doing this and that!" He was pretty sure some of his juniors hated him as a result.

Kaveh didn't care about any of that though. To him, the opulent daycare building was nothing more than a place to socialize with people his age– but unfortunately, even being surrounded by other "geniuses" all day, Kaveh didn't see anything special about being smart.

Being smart was just… lonely. Especially when he had a kind of genius that no one else did.

Kaveh tried clubs in his first year but nothing fit him; many of his rigid peers found him too eccentric to work with and no teachers would sponsor an art club. The Akademiya, he found, was much more focused on concrete subjects like math and science, and no teacher wanted to attach their name to a club that wouldn't "sufficiently further the development of their pupils." They cited research papers published by their students that had gained national attention or the team of kids that went overseas to compete in some kind of large-scale team-based math test. “Those are the kinds of things we want to promote.”

Kaveh tried to protest. Tried to show them that there were art competitions, too– things that could get national or even international recognition for the school and its faculty. He tried to persuade them by researching partnerships with museums, or workshops with local artists. Yet for all his effort, the teachers wouldn't budge.

It was infuriating, and isolating; such was the reality of "genius".

No one could see what he saw at the smallest glance. No one could feel what he felt while looking at beautiful things. No one could understand why, of all things he could apply himself to, he chose the sketchbook. They didn't see the "practical merit", even though the building they stood in had once been a simple sketch on paper.

So Kaveh, in his stubbornness, called himself an art club of one and stayed after class every day to sketch alone.

Until Alhaitham.

 

For Haitham, staying after class was merely a way to let his grandmother relax.

He knew that she cared about him and that she wanted the best for him. But if ever he was home, she felt obligated to do things for him. Even when he repeatedly asked her to stop, she would needlessly brew tea he wasn't thirsty for, or bake cookies he didn't ask to eat. It was a waste of time and effort that he eventually realized was triggered by his mere presence.

Staying away, therefore, was Haitham's way of showing his love for her. To let her rest. Because for whatever reason, she put needless stress on herself when he was around, and he didn't want that; he refused to be made a burden. Out of sight, out of mind, as they’d say.

Being an only child raised by an elderly woman, then, Haitham did not find it lonely to be alone. He preferred to be solitary; he could entertain himself just fine. He didn't have to deal with people making assumptions about him or deliberately trying to rile him up. He could simply read in peace and know that when he took the afternoon bus back to his grandmother's house, he could set the table and plate the dinner she'd prepared before retiring for some late-night reading, and then go to bed.

He still sometimes came home to cookies he didn't want, but it was less frequent after he started employing his stay-late routine.

There was an additional benefit to the time spent in an empty classroom, as well: he had the necessary quiet to focus on his studies. No interruptions, no irritating classmates– for years, his pattern of solitude was unchanged. Peaceful.

Until Kaveh.

For some reason, Kaveh’s anger had dug into his skin and settled there. It was a hot brand that he was reminded of any time he shifted because he was so used to staying still for Kaveh’s observation. He replayed their history over and over to try and figure out where Kaveh’s hostility was coming from, but he only frustrated himself in the process.

Between the two of them, it felt like he was the one being mocked.

On the day he was burned for reaching out, for trying to solve the strange tension between them, Haitham found himself laying in bed and silently stewing. He found himself waking up the next morning with a headache as a result. He found himself distracted during class as the headache did not subside, but got worse– until he was having trouble doing more than sitting up straight by the final bell.

He wasn’t thinking about Kaveh as he quickly packed up his things, a layer of cold sweat coating his skin. A fever, he realized distantly; what a time to get sick. His foggy head turned over their schoolwork in relation to his developing illness, predicting the units that he’d miss and what he’d need to do to make them up.

Had he known Kaveh would take his leaving as a personal betrayal, maybe he’d have said something– but the blond had made it quite clear the day before that he had no interest in Haitham’s company.

 

And then he was gone.

Just… gone.

The first day, Kaveh thought he might be upset.

The second day, he wondered if he was sick.

The third day, Kaveh considered asking the teacher if he was okay.

The fourth day, he was told Alhaitham was bedridden.

Through the final day before the weekend, Kaveh found himself staring at Alhaitham's empty seat more often than he’d care to admit. The desk just didn’t look right without Alhaitham sitting in it. Desks were meant to be sat at, studied at, read at, written at– without a person to use it, a desk had no purpose but to help Kaveh practice straight lines.

Kaveh didn’t feel like drawing soulless objects, though. Each day that week, when Alhaitham wasn't there with him, he didn’t stay behind. The classroom was lonely, and he had no reason to commit a boring, standard piece of furniture to paper…

The only thing he wanted to draw was Alhaitham.

He really, really wanted to see Alhaitham.

 

“How kind of you to bring your notes to your classmate,” the teacher drolled, shuffling through paperwork. “Let me see… ah, yes, here: his home address.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kaveh intoned gratefully, glancing down at the paper in his hand. He blinked, recognizing the area as a pretty wealthy one, then looked back up at their teacher.

“Even for a genius like Alhaitham, it won’t be easy to make up an entire week of classwork,” the man hemmed, scratching his forehead.

That word again, genius. Kaveh allowed himself a single sour smile as he replied, “I’m sure he’ll manage somehow.”

“Hmm, yes, well… be sure to let him know that I’ve extended his grace period for his assignments. As long as he turns everything in by the end of next week, he’ll have time to prepare for the final.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kaveh repeated curtly, pocketing Alhaitham's address. “I’ll be going now.”

As he turned on his heel and left without another word, Kaveh understood why Alhaitham didn’t bother with pleasantries around their more annoying peers.

 

Haitham stirred at the sound of the front door. Bleary eyes opened only enough to take in the ceiling. Golden motes stirred slowly in the dead air of his room. Was this the evening of the third day, or had he slept through another one?

He coughed quietly, letting out a groan as he felt his body ache from laying still for so long. Everything was clinging to him in an irritating way: his bedding, his thoughts, his consciousness. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, to let himself sink back into the deep.

”...a bother, will it?”

”No, not at all, dear, please come sit and eat. Oho, is that a sketchbook?”

"O-oh, um, yes, I have a few…"

Haitham’s brow furrowed as he heard a conversation through the walls. His eyes roamed the back of his lids, head fuzzy as he tried to comprehend what he’d heard. Was his grandmother entertaining a guest? He almost thought to listen harder, but focus escaped him as his mind floated in a warm, sleepy haze. Two voices spoke in melodies rather than words, pitches and tones creating something between shape and color.

He recognized his grandmother as easily as breathing; wispy and grey-silver, like his hair.

He thought he recognized the other, too– burnished and glinting gold, like Kaveh– but he drifted off before he could identify it with certainty.

 

“Oh, I… I didn’t know.” Kaveh blinked, halfway through his soup.

Alhaitham’s grandmother smiled sadly at him. “No, I didn’t think you would.”

“Then– why tell me?” He asked, a distressed note to his question as he lowered his bowl, hands tight. It felt like he was intruding on space he hadn’t been allowed, like he was traipsing through the very distance he and Alhaitham had grown comfortable keeping.

“Because in all the years I’ve raised my grandson, you are the only person who has ever come to see him, and asked.”

Kaveh felt his stomach drop, heavy with homemade porridge and grilled fish he hadn’t cooked, tongue curling around now-sour soup as he groped for something to say. Their classmates had painted Alhaitham as a loner to the bitter end, but to think that he’d spent his entire life like that…

Maybe they had more in common than he thought.

“I… I’m so sorry for your loss.” The words felt lame to say, and he knew better than anyone how lame they were to hear. As someone who didn’t remember his parents, to receive condolences for their passing was a hollow platitude. He hoped it would be different for her, describing the passing of her beloved children, but her expression was distant. Instead of saying anything, she took a long and quiet sip of her own tea. Kaveh mirrored her, taking another drink of his soup.

This silence, he found, was much more uncomfortable than the one in the classroom.

“My greatest hope for that child,” Alhaitham’s grandmother intoned at last, “Is for him to live a peaceful life.” She spoke fondly into her teacup, bony fingers tracing the divots in the handmade ceramic. “He is so very talented, and can accomplish a great many things should he wish for them– but he has always walked that path alone.”

Her sigh was full of worry, of sadness, and it made Kaveh’s heart ache. He had only known this woman for a short time, but he was already jealous of Alhaitham. To have someone who cared about him so much– Kaveh couldn’t understand why the other boy stayed at school instead of coming straight back to her love and warmth.

It was a bold and impudent thing to suddenly blurt, yet in that moment, it felt right for Kaveh to say: “Don’t worry, Granny. He won’t be alone.” He smiled at her as she looked up with her thin eyebrows raised, but her expression settled into something fond.

“Thank you, Kaveh. You’ve made this old woman very happy,” she replied gently. “Now, let me clean up here while you drop off those things for Alhaitham.”

“Ah, are you sure?” Kaveh interjected, an attempt to be helpful as he said, “I’m very used to cleaning up, it would be no problem–”

“Leave a woman to her work, child,” she shooed. “And don’t leave just yet either– I have cookies that you’ll need to take home. Alhaitham doesn’t eat them anymore, so someone has to take my stress baking away from me.”

Kaveh blinked, then chuckled, nodding. “Alright. I’m sure the other kids will love them,” he smiled, getting to his feet and grabbing his bag. “Where is his room?”

“Down that hall,” she gestured, and Kaveh was off.

 

As he walked, she gazed at his back, pondering his words. The other kids… Ah?

 

Haitham next woke to the sound of a knock on his door. He opened his eyes– it was already beyond dusk. Another period of lost time, hours or days he couldn’t tell. It took him a moment to find his voice, a hoarse “come in,” barely loud enough to be heard through the wood. The door creaked open and there was a flood of light interrupted by an unfamiliar silhouette.

“Who are–?” Haitham muttered, knowing very well it wasn’t his grandmother that had just stepped into his private sanctuary.

As the person drew closer, Haitham’s breath stopped short along with his thoughts.

“It’s me,” said burnished and glinting gold.

Haitham stared up at him, so far beyond comprehension that he nearly looped back to unconsciousness.

Kaveh? Here? What was Kaveh doing here? He opened his mouth as if to ask, but all that came out with a confused, dizzy puff.

For his part, Kaveh didn’t seem to know what to do with himself either, simply standing there and taking in Alhaitham’s bedridden form. After a long moment, he tentatively approached Alhaitham’s desk, setting a stack of papers and a thin notebook on the immaculately organized surface.

“It’s Friday, so you know,” Kaveh said as he made sure the stack was totally straight. “You’ve been gone for an entire week. The teacher told me you were bedridden and, since I was the only person to ask about your health, he tasked me with coming to deliver your makeup work.” He tsked, blowing some of his hair out of his face. “Unbelievable, seriously.

“It’s not like I wanted to come see you, you know. I just, when I noticed you were missing– because you were gone for so long– I thought you were dead or something, so I asked the teacher where you were before school started, and he said your grandmother had called you in sick again today, so–”

“Kaveh.”

 

The blond’s mouth snapped shut, all of his nervous energy redirected from his running mouth to his fidgeting fingers.

“You’re too loud.”

 

Alhaitham might have been sick, but Kaveh still wanted to punch him. Loud? Loud? He fumed silently, crossing his arms as he turned to march straight out of the room before he felt something grab him.

“Guh–!” Kaveh almost stumbled over, looking behind himself with surprise.

Alhaitham’s hand had moved out from under the covers and tightly grasped onto the hem of his coat.

Flustered and embarrassed, Kaveh demanded– in a softer, but still irritated voice– “What is it? I thought you wanted me to leave!”

Alhaitham’s gaze was lidded as he breathed slowly, gathering his focus and energy before his eyes rolled shut.

“Never said ‘leave’,” he muttered. “Just… loud.”

Kaveh felt his heart skip a beat as his mind jumped to the same conclusion. Wait… then, he wants me to stay?

Alhaitham’s hand slipped away from Kaveh’s coat, falling mostly limp, except three of his fingers were curled and one pointed toward his desk.

“My bag,” he uttered faintly. “Black pouch, inside. Take it.”

Kaveh hesitated before he silently obliged, unzipping Alhaitham’s bag to withdraw a pencil pouch, opening it to look inside. He didn’t really know what he was looking for–

Until he saw it.

“Oh,” Kaveh paused, blinking a few times before glancing at Alhaitham. He’d dragged his hand back under the blankets and was lightly shivering, still working through his fever. Even so, he’d taken the time and effort to instruct Kaveh on how to find his sketching pencil.

A small, warm feeling settled in his hand alongside his returned possession, something he gently clutched to his chest. Alhaitham didn’t tell him to leave… and gave back his pencil.

With something of a giddy smile, then, Kaveh helped himself to Alhaitham’s desk and took out his sketchbook, turning to a fresh page to take down the form in front of him. He made some embellishments, of course, removing the strained crease of Alhaitham’s brow to give him the usual calm neutrality he always wore. When his rough sketch was done, the man looked like Sleeping Beauty, tranquil and waiting for his curse to be lifted.

Kaveh stared at his page with something bordering on reverence, then noticed his watch. Shit, he was late for curfew.

Packing up his things as quietly as he could manage, Kaveh paused at the door. There was a moment of deliberation and a furtive glance over his shoulder before Kaveh offered a mumbled, “Bye.”

He wasn’t sure that Alhaitham heard him until, as he closed the door slowly to avoid slamming it, he heard a quiet, “Bye.”

Kaveh’s cheeks kept him warm all the way home.

 

“You forgot this.”

Kaveh looked up as Haitham dropped something on his desk with a thunk, surprised to find a cellophane-wrapped bag of “Sugar cookies?” He squinted.

“My grandmother was very upset that you snuck out without taking them,” he deadpanned.

“That I wh–? Oh!” Kaveh slapped his forehead. “I totally forgot! Gah– please, tell her I’m sorry?”

“Tell her yourself,” Haitham replied curtly, settling back at his desk.

“Ugh. Why are you always like that?” Kaveh complained, melting over his knees to pout at him. “I’m asking you for a favor!”

“You’re asking me to play messenger. I refuse.” He cracked open the spine of his novel, retracing the words to find his place.

Kaveh grumbled angrily, muttering “stupid Alhaitham!” loud enough for him to hear. Haitham pointedly ignored this petulant behavior, and so the two fell into their regular silence, sketching and reading together until the classroom was amber-gold and Kaveh started packing up.

It was a pleasant return to their norm, with a new element, as Kaveh turned his head at the door and said, “Bye.”

“Bye,” Haitham replied, not looking up.

 

The next time Alhaitham broke their routine was sometime later when, as Kaveh was packing up, Alhaitham closed his book and did the same. Kaveh stood, and Alhaitham followed him to the door.

Hearing his footsteps, Kaveh looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m going home,” Alhaitham replied.

Oh, Kaveh nodded. That was reasonable enough.

So they walked together to the shoe lockers, flipping out their day shoes, and met back up at the doors. They walked down to the nearest train station and stood among the work commuters and high schoolers going home after hanging out with friends.

As Kaveh observed the other people their age and then glanced at Alhaitham, a strange thought crossed his mind.

Are we friends? Does being silent in that classroom for hours doing our own thing qualify as hanging out?

He shook his head, purging the thought as he noticed Alhaitham suddenly drift away.

They both paused, looking at each other, their usual route home, and then at each other again.

“I’m this way,” Kaveh pointed, offering Alhaitham a half-smile and a wave. “See you tomorrow.”

Alhaitham nodded his dismissal and turned to descend the stairs for his platform.

 

“Did you see that Kaveh again today, Alhaitham?”

“Yes, grandmother.”

“And he looked healthy? Had enough to eat?”

“Yes, grandmother.”

“And you walked him home like a gentleman, didn’t you?”

“To where our paths diverged to different platforms, yes, grandmother.”

“Good. I have another batch of cookies for him, so be a dear and bring them with you tomorrow, would you? I want to make sure he gets to share them with everyone that wants one.”

“Yes, grandmother.”

“Oh, I only wish I could give them to him fresh… Ah, but I won’t keep you up any longer. Let me pick up our dinner and you go run off to bed. Good night, dear boy.”

“Thank you. Good night, grandmother.”

 

“Another batch?” Kaveh rolls his eyes, hefting the bag of cookies in his hand. “And there are more in this one, too. Man, she never lets up. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was trying to get me fat.”

“They’re not just for you,” Alhaitham replied.

Something about his answer set Kaveh’s teeth on edge.

“What do you mean by that?” The blond asked carefully, looking over at the nonchalant boy who had seated himself back at his desk. Alhaitham stayed quiet, ignoring the question until Kaveh more insistently demanded: “What- did you mean- by that?”

Alhaitham’s eyes flicked up to Kaveh, evaluating him silently. It forced Kaveh to acknowledge that he had stood up and advanced one desk on the boy, and that he was acting wildly out of character. He took a nervous breath and straightened up, marching back to his seat to plop himself down. He crossed his arms, and then one leg for good measure, to face the front of the room while keeping Alhaitham in the corner of his eye.

“You’re upset. Why?”

“I asked my question first,” Kaveh sniffed, nose upturned.

Alhaitham huffed, closing his book with a clap of the pages. Kaveh saw Alhaitham turn in his seat, and out of surprise, turned his own head to look.

In all of his time sketching him, and more recently talking to him, Alhaitham had never put down his novel to address Kaveh. So, seeing him put down his book for any reason aside from packing up– especially to stare at Kaveh– was understandably unnerving.

“W-What?” He flustered.

“I want to understand why you’re upset,” Alhaitham repeated.

The blond could see the lines of frustration in Alhaitham’s face, which had predicated a number of blunt telling-offs to their classmates. Yet instead of saying that Kaveh was being stupid or that getting upset was pointless, he was visibly holding back, trying to understand him.

Kaveh’s fingers unconsciously flitted up to his ear. One could mistake it for him playing with his hair, but really, he was caressing his earring, thumbing the texture of the gems to self-soothe.

“You’re freaking me out,” Kaveh muttered. “Why’re you being so nice all of a sudden?”

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“You’re the one avoiding mine!” Kaveh snapped, pointing at Alhaitham accusatively. “What did you mean, ‘they’re not just for me?’ What do you know about it?!”

Alhaitham’s silent stare morphed into an expression of perplexion.

“That’s what you’re upset about?”

“For the last time–”

“I only meant that you had the option of sharing,” Alhaitham stated, “With our classmates.”

Kaveh nearly bit off his tongue.

 

For the life of him, Haitham did not understand what was going through Kaveh’s head. Was he really that against the idea of sharing? Or perhaps he’d taken the comment as an offense about his figure? Kaveh was quite vain…

Haitham’s thoughts were interrupted as Kaveh stood up so suddenly that he nearly threw his chair to the floor. The screech was loud; Haitham winced, then looked up as Kaveh stomped over to slam his hands on Haitham’s desk.

In the light of the setting sun, he was radiant.

"You," his voice tremored as if he didn't know how to continue. "You-- you're just making fun of me!"

Haitham looked at him quizzically. "I'm not."

"You are! You--" Kaveh's voice broke. As if realizing his true emotions could be perceived, he spun away, but Haitham had already seen through him.

He was crying.

Haitham could not fathom what he'd said that would cause that kind of reaction.

"Kaveh?" He stood from his desk, but the moment he did, Kaveh shouted:

"Don't look at me! Don't..."

He held his face in his hands and sobbed, his back to the blazing sunset.

At that moment, Haitham could only think how beautiful and lonely he looked.

 

Kaveh froze in place as he felt arms wrap around him. Physical contact was something he had never allowed himself, not when he realized how desperately he wanted it; his body all but recoiled from Alhaitham’s embrace, trying to pull away.

“What’re you–?”

“Just let me,” Alhaitham snapped quietly. His sharp tone cut through Kaveh’s meager resistance, and the blond sank into his arms.

They stood there for a long moment. Kaveh’s sniffles were the only noise in the room. The sun had been warm on his back, but Alhaitham was so much warmer, and his arms wrapped Kaveh in a way that made him feel small. Precious, almost.

He closed his eyes, breathing as deeply as he could, though he trembled again on the exhale.

“You’re being weird, Alhaitham,” he said, trying to redirect attention from the tears dripping onto his arms. “First you put your book down, and now you’re hugging me.”

“You’re the one who shouted about sharing cookies,” Alhaitham replied, “And then started crying.”

Kaveh huffed angrily, both at the boy’s words and the fact that it was objectively pleasant to hear his voice so close to his ear.

“Shut up. I’m not crying.”

“Yes, you are. I can feel it.”

“I said shut up.”

Alhaitham sighed, his grip loosening slightly. “Does that mean you’re feeling better and I can let go, or are you going to yell at me for no reason again?”

Kaveh stubbornly bit his lip, head sinking to his shoulders. “I never asked you to hug me.”

“No,” Alhaitham agreed. “But you were crying because of something I said.” Kaveh felt him inhale before sighing again, warm against his ear.

Alhaitham’s voice, typically flat and unforgiving, was uncharacteristically gentle as he said:

“I’m sorry. I want to understand what I did to make you upset.”

Kaveh couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

The words hung in the air for a long moment as Kaveh fidgeted, trying to figure out an adequate response to something so sincere coming from a boy he thought incapable of more than insults and sarcasm.

Alhaitham’s thumb stroked his arm. “Kaveh?”

The blond shifted slightly, drawing in on himself as he thought, fuck it. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, muscles tightening as he blurted:

“I’m an orphan.”

The words were dead on his lips, dropped as carelessly as a vase that shattered in the silence that followed. With Alhaitham stiff at his back, he could tell that the revelation had shocked him.

So he really did have no clue. It really was an innocent remark. He totally, 100% overreacted to Alhaitham just being normal about sharing cookies with people and he–

“Fuck,” Kaveh uttered, throat tight as he covered his face with one hand.

“I didn’t know,” Alhaitham murmured. “If it’s any consolation–”

“I know,” Kaveh snipped bitterly, hugging himself tightly. “Your grandmother told me.”

Alhaitham’s arms flinched, then loosened entirely.

Kaveh blinked. Uh oh.

“She told you what?”

The blond stepped out of Alhaitham’s embrace so he could turn to look at the other. Kaveh’s face was still stained with tears, lip trembling as he repeated, “Your grandmother told me. About your parents.”

Based on Alhaitham’s expression, that was not what he’d been about to comfort Kaveh with.

Shit.

“I asked her,” he suddenly said, as if speaking to fill the silence. “When I went to drop off the assignments you missed. She made me stay for dinner, and when I asked where your parents were, she told me about–”

“That’s enough.”

Kaveh shut his mouth in a hurry, looking down at the floor with burning cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wringing his hands in front of his chest. “I didn’t mean to pry. I thought– you know– everyone has their parents except for me, since I’m the weirdo, but I guess I was wrong!” He laughed as more tears suddenly fell. “I-I’m not trying to make you feel bad by crying, either, it’s just a stress response I have, haha, please don’t–”

Kaveh hiccupped as one of Alhaitham’s hands grabbed his wrist.

“I’m not angry at you,” the silver-haired boy clarified. This made Kaveh hiccup again, tears of relief renewing the tracks on his face. “I was just surprised. Grandmother doesn’t talk about their passing very easily. I wasn’t expecting her to have spoken to you about something like that the first time she met you.” The blond nodded his understanding, dabbing his wrists under his eyes to soak up his tears.

“She seemed calm enough about it,” Kaveh sniffed, “But I could tell it was still sore.”

“It is.”

The two stood in awkward silence for a few beats before Alhaitham spoke again.

“Your orphanage. What’s it called?”

“H-Huh?!” Kaveh exclaimed, taken aback before he frowned deeply. “Hey, just because I told you my secret doesn’t mean you can demand anything more. And for the record, if you tell anybody what I told you, I’ll know it came from you.”

“And if anything gets out about my parents, I’ll know it came from you,” Alhaitham replied evenly.

Kaveh went quiet, evaluating the terms of their mutually assured destruction, and begrudgingly huffed.

“Kshahrewar.”

“What?”

“The name of the orphanage where I live. Kshahrewar,” Kaveh muttered, rubbing his elbow with his opposite arm. “Don’t do anything weird like show up when I’m not expecting you, okay?” He didn’t want the images of him to overlap: Kaveh the poor and lonely orphan desperate for love versus Kaveh the charismatic classmate that had a mysterious distance to him– or distance to their peers, at least.

“I won’t be the one visiting you,” Alhaitham replied, a poor attempt at consoling Kaveh’s nerves.

“What do you mean by that?”

In another uncharacteristic move, Alhaitham just smiled.

“You’ll see.”

The remark was extra infuriating because Alhaitham’s smile was actually cute.

 

“Granny!”

“Granny’s here!”

“Ah, Granny, welcome back!”

Haitham stood back a few feet as his grandmother was mobbed by small children that clamored for her attention, only one of them managing to clear the height of her waist. Despite their grabbing hands, she managed to stay upright somehow, laughing fondly. She gently chastised the kids to be more careful with such an old woman, but he could tell that she was glowing.

“Did you bring ‘em?”

“Yeah, can we have cookies again, Granny?”

“I had to share last time, I want a full one!”

“Nu-uh, I want a full one first!”

“Well I’m older.”

“Well you’re fatter!”

“Children, children,” Granny soothed, laying her hands on the heads of the two that had been ready to swing fists over her shortbread and sugar icing cookies. They growled at each other until she began stroking their hair. Truly, she knew how to calm the unruliest of children.

“Alhaitham, be a dear and bring the treats in, won’t you?”

The boy’s gaze silently dropped from the building before them to nod at his grandmother. One of the older kids offered to take him inside to the kitchen, which he obliged. Excitement followed whenever the orphanage had guests, with the matron particularly grateful to have someone in the community help entertain the kids (so she could get a much-needed break), and though it was a weekend, the clamor was enough to get even the older older kids to poke their heads downstairs.

It was only a matter of time, then, until–

“Alhaitham?!”

From where he stood, monitoring the distribution of cookies, Haitham turned his head to acknowledge the flustered-looking artist standing at the bottom of the steps to the second floor. Teal-gold eyes darted up and down briefly, taking in everything from Kaveh’s blushing cheeks to his casual clothes. A color-blocked hoodie and straight jeans looked good on him.

Haitham said as much. “You look good, Kaveh.”

“Eh? Kaveh, you know Granny’s grandson?” One of the kids asked, gaping around a cookie.

“We go to school together,” Haitham supplied, much to Kaveh’s visible chagrin.

“Whoa–! You go to the fancy school? The school for smarties?” Another child bounced over, clinging to Haitham’s shirt. He used one finger against the child’s forehead to push them away as they whined, “Doesn’t that mean you’re super duper smart too?”

“Yes. Incredibly,” Haitham responded dryly. Somehow, his aloof demeanor made the kids even more interested in him.

“What’s it like at school?”
“Do you get a lot of homework?”
“How much class do you skip?”
“Are you dating anybody?”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Kaveh interjected with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He marched into the kitchen to grab up one of the cookies and shove it in the mouth of the kid that asked about dating. He offered Granny a polite “Thank you for coming, I hope they’re not causing you too much trouble,” and then spun around to grab Alhaitham by the elbow and haul him towards the stairs.

The children looked at each other, then giggled amongst themselves.

“They’re dating, aren’t they?”
“Totally, Kaveh was red!”
“Let’s sneak up later in case they’re kissing–!”

“Children,” Granny cut in with a stern sort of gentleness. “If you want me to keep bringing treats for you all, I’d recommend you not upset my grandson. I can’t carry them all myself, you see…”

They get the message. Leave the lovebirds alone.

…

Well, most of them got it.

 

“Stupid Alhaitham,” Kaveh snapped, dragging him into his shared bedroom, “I thought I told you not to show up here without telling me!”

“I wasn’t planning on coming,” Alhaitham replied, shaking his arm out of Kaveh’s grasp once they came to a stop. “Didn’t you see how many cookie platters were there?”

“Still, you’re–” Kaveh abruptly cut himself off, stomping over to the door to firmly shut it, giving the brats around the corner the chance not to have their noses smashed. He heard giggling on the other side and pounded the wood, shouting “Go back downstairs, you little brats!”

He brushed his hair out of his face with a frustrated huff. “I don’t know which is worse, dealing with you or dealing with them.” He groused, clearly moody.

Alhaitham, for his part, did not respond to the obvious dig, and was instead inspecting the room.

“This is where you live?”

“Yes, Alhaitham, what an astute observation. This is indeed where I live, and this room is where I sleep, and that bed is mine. Any other prying questions you can think to ask while I’m winding up to punch you?”

“How old are you?”

Kaveh stared at him blankly.

Alhaitham sat down on the bed Kaveh had pointed out as his, settling his forearms on his knees as he looked up at the speechless blond.

“I– what? What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s a prying question,” Alhaitham replied dryly, but having experienced Alhaitham’s sense of humor for long enough now, Kaveh could see the twitch of a smile on that stupid smug face and it pissed him off enough to actually answer.

“I’m 17.”

“And your birthday?”

“Late July. What’s it to you, creep?”

Alhaitham rolled his eyes. “Last question. What are you doing over the summer?”

Kaveh’s eyes narrowed before he looked away, lifting a hand to brush his hair and fidget with his earring. “None of your business.”

Alhaitham looked at him seriously, with that slight frown that said, answer the question.

Kaveh squirmed under the pressure before finally admitting, “Nothing. Okay? I’m not doing anything. I don’t have anything planned.” His eyes dropped to the floor as he considered his options. “I might work at the tofu shop again while I wait for a reply from the universities I applied to, but–”

“Where did you apply?”

“Sumeru, Liyue, Mondstadt…” Kaveh listed off his answers without thinking, before lifting his head to bark in realization, “Hey, I thought you said ‘last question!’”

Alhaitham shrugged. “These are follow-ups.”

“Bastard Alhaitham.”

“Ah, so I’ve been promoted from ‘stupid.’”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. The titles stack, stupid bastard Alhaitham.”

To Kaveh’s surprise, Alhaitham gave a puff that almost sounded like laughter.

“How about an internship for the summer?”

Kaveh blinked at Alhaitham, who had reclined on Kaveh’s bed, hands on the mattress behind him. Something about the stupid bastard looking so comfortable made him bite his cheek in frustration, huffing as he turned his head.

“I’m not interested in becoming a bookworm like you.”

“Really? You seem plenty interested in your sketchbook.”

Kaveh was about to say something nasty when Alhaitham cut back in.

“My grandmother used to be an artist. One of the rooms in our house has everything from her old studio. She doesn’t make a big deal of it, but she made several famous pieces I’m sure you’d recognize.”

Kaveh’s eyes widened as Alhaitham calmly said, “Come live with us. You can study under her over the summer as an internship, and stay out of here until you turn 18.”

The lump in Kaveh’s throat was so thick that he could barely swallow, rather less stutter out the disbelieving “W-What?” that betrayed his shock at the turn of events. First Alhaitham randomly showed up, then he helped himself to Kaveh’s bed, and now he was offering to be roommates?

“You’re not serious–”

“I’m serious,” Alhaitham bluntly cut the other off. It was his typical behavior when he was unwilling to entertain a pointless sidebar; Kaveh understood it implicitly and frowned, fidgeting as the boy continued.

“My grandmother likes you. She told me that you showed her one of your sketchbooks– not the one of me, I suppose– and hasn’t stopped talking about you since.” Kaveh’s ears practically lit themselves on fire with his enraged blush, but Alhaitham wasn’t done.

“We have a spare bedroom made for guests that never sees use. You’d have your own space instead of the bottom bunk in a room for four.”

“But–!” Kaveh’s mouth flapped around a variety of unspoken protests before he finally blurted, “Wh-What about the matron? She can’t just let me leave! I’m in the custody of the state, there’s no way I can just go off and live under somebody else’s roof!” He argued, and it was true: every absence from school was a headache for the woman, he couldn’t imagine what it would take to let him actually live outside of the orphanage without getting formally adopted.

Alhaitham’s brow cocked, as if evaluating Kaveh’s intelligence before determining his response. “If you’re concerned about the matron, don’t be. Grandmother’s been discussing the idea since the first time she visited. They’re on good terms, anyway.” He waved a hand to dismiss the protest. “Next.”

Kaveh balled his fists, feeling very disgruntled about Alhaitham’s casual attitude towards this whole thing. “You’re talking about me moving in with you, Alhaitham.”

“Yes. Were you not following?”

“Of course I’m not following, what the–” He almost shouts fuck before recalling that the walls are thin, tempering himself back, but only barely.

“Then let me explain it clearly.” Alhaitham offered.

“I think you were already plenty fucking clear,” Kaveh hissed, cursing under his breath this time so he could get away with it. He marched over to where Alhaitham was oh-so-calmly reclined and jabbed a finger at his chest.

“You think this is all a joke, don’t you? That you can just waltz in here and play with my feelings, not realizing what something like a house would mean to me, what my own room would mean after–!” His throat seized the words that followed, trapping them before he could say any more. He swallowed quickly and tried something else while he could still get a statement edgewise.

“You must be living in one of your fantasy novels if you think it would be so easy to just take me away from here,” Kaveh said, his voice no longer filled with hot fury but something more resigned, like coals that were slowly dying out. “I’ve been given hope so many times and I’m tired of it. So many people that thought I was pretty, but wanted a son that would be more–” He gestured in frustration at himself, as if that would communicate the deficiencies previously seen.

“They’d say I was too old, or too skinny, or they didn’t like my eyes–” Kaveh hiccupped, hiding his face in his sleeves again. Dammit, of all people to cry in front of twice– “Or my hair, or my voice, or anything! There was always a reason– always something out of my control, and now you’re–!”

He heard the bed creak and recoiled, somehow knowing Alhaitham was reaching for him. Why did it hurt so much, then, to lower his hands and see he was right? To see that Alhaitham’s arm had fallen to his lap as Kaveh pulled himself out of reach, and that the boy’s usually stoic face was colored with an emotion Kaveh had never seen before?

“Kaveh…”

“Don’t,” the blond whispered. “Don’t say anything.”

The emotion in Alhaitham’s face– disappointment?– intensified. “Kaveh, let me speak.”

“There’s nothing to say,” Kaveh insisted, turning away from him. “Just– leave. Tell your grandmother that I’m glad she liked my artwork, but I’m not–”

A firm hand grabbed onto Kaveh’s wrist and yanked him hard. Not expecting this, the blond stumbled and nearly hit his head on the edge of the top bunk, if not for Alhaitham’s hand protecting his skull. Dazed from the impact nonetheless, Kaveh was swiftly pulled down once he was close enough, landing with an oomph! on his bed, the mattress squealing beneath too much weight.

And then he was pinned there, Alhaitham’s harsh gaze burning down at him as Kaveh regained his bearings.

He had his back on the bed, his legs haphazardly sprawled over the edge and feet touching the floor while Alhaitham kept him caged against the covers, leaning over him.

“Alhaitham, what are you–”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Kaveh.”

It was a matter of fact, something Haitham would stand by as truth amidst chaos. “Not with your eyes, or your hair, or that you’re an orphan.”

The boy’s breath caught in his throat, and carmine eyes were overflowing with tears all over again.

Haitham reached up to stroke through the same motion that Kaveh used to self-soothe, smoothing his hair over his ear before thumbing the gold earring that laid against the comforter. It was an intimate gesture that made the boy beneath him tense and shiver, quieting as he retreated from his emotional outburst.

Figuring now was as good a time as any, Haitham reminded him: “I meant what I said the first time we spoke.”

Kaveh blinked at the wall, then carefully peered up at Haitham from the corner of his eye. Understanding that he was holding a precious moment in his hands, Haitham did not waste the opportunity to make his thoughts known.

“You’re beautiful, Kaveh. I’ve always thought so, and the truth doesn’t change.”

Kaveh made a noise in between a strangled whine and a muted sob. “Stop it.”

“I’ll stop if you agree to the internship.” Haitham replied, cupping Kaveh’s cheek to force his face upward.

“Why?” Kaveh replied, voice a hollow whisper, still not looking at Haitham’s face like he was too afraid of the answer head-on.

“Because it will be good for you.” Haitham answered earnestly. “You’re not happy at school, are you? And you’re not happy here either.”

“What,” Kaveh’s voice cracked, making a pathetic expression, as if he could tell Haitham could see through him (and he could.) “So you think I’ll magically be happy with you?”

“You seem that way to me.”

Kaveh’s gaze flickered over the wall, his brows furrowing with frustration. “When?”

“When we sit together after school, and you sketch in that book of yours,” Haitham replied. “When we head home together, and you show me things on your phone while we walk.”

Kaveh swallows the lump in his throat, closing his eyes. “Is this your attempt at confessing to me?” It’s a diversion and they both know it. “Because you’re doing a pretty bad job convincing me to like you, rather less live with you.”

“Then tell me how to improve.”

Those gorgeous ruby gems fluttered open, staring up at Haitham as if he’d spoken a foreign language. So he said it again, slower this time:

“Tell me what will make you say yes.”

Kaveh’s face flushed that pretty red again. “T-To what?”

“To my confession, and the internship."

The blond covered his hands with his face, letting out a squeak that bordered on mortified. “J-Just let me gather my thoughts first, okay?! You’re too close, anyway, get off of me–!” He said, suddenly pushing up against Haitham’s chest to force him away. He obliged, of course, sitting up so Kaveh could catch his breath and do the same, fixing his hair anxiously.

“Um… I…” He filled the air with meaningless sound, as if to make things less awkward. Haitham simply shook his head with a sigh.

“You don’t have to give your answer today, to either question. Grandmother said the arrangement wouldn’t be able to start until we graduated anyway, and I can wait.”

“O-Oh–”

“So you can take the next couple of weeks to think it through, and give me your answer on our last day of classes.” Haitham said, standing from Kaveh’s bed. “Personally, I think the correct answer is quite obvious. You can gain a lot from working with grandmother, but a summer spent at a tofu shop isn’t going to help you at university. It’s your choice."

With that said, Haitham turned to leave, only to feel the blond’s hand dart out and grab his hand. “Wait!” Haitham stopped, looking over his shoulder to see Kaveh standing off the bed, looking at him with a deep frown.

“Stop doing that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Stop walking away from me when we’re having a conversation.”

“The conversation was already over,” Haitham replied, though his brow was quirked, inviting Kaveh to challenge him. “You were at a loss for words, so I provided you some additional information to make your decisions on your own time.”

“But you never gave me a chance to reply.”

…fair enough. Perhaps Haitham was so used to stunning their peers into silence that he had never considered that Kaveh would have a retort so quickly.

“Alright then. What’s your reply?”

Kaveh’s grip tightened on Haitham’s wrist, then let go.

“I’ll tell you,” he resolved, “On the last day of school, stupid bastard Alhaitham.”

Haitham’s lips quirked up as Kaveh regained his regular fire.

“Hmm. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

 

The final bell of the final day marked freedom for so many. They still had graduation to attend, but the seniors of the school would never see one another in these halls again. Very few would shed tears over leaving these stomping grounds, most rather celebrating by going out to cafes or karaoke.

For two boys, a different discussion was weighing overhead.

Kaveh had been invited to a number of the social gatherings but smoothly maneuvered himself out of the obligations; he was too anxious thinking about a boy who was taking out a book to settle in for an afternoon read. Like every other normal day, they both stayed late, the setting sun slinking toward the horizon as it watched the pair in their natural habitat: Kaveh sketching in his book, Alhaitham reading at his desk.

This was his last chance, Kaveh had realized during the day: this is my last day to get his profile right. He still hadn’t been able to get that moment out of his head, of when Alhaitham had rocked Kaveh’s world into a completely different light, but as he sketched the face he could see in dreams, half-asleep, or a feverish delirium…

He realized that it was okay.

It was okay if he never got the sketch quite right. It was okay if it stayed a memory. Kaveh closed his eyes, taking a soft breath, throwing himself back to that day. The warmth of the sun, and the ache of his wrist from drawing for so long, and a lingering curiosity for the boy that silently shared the room with him.

Back then, he couldn’t have imagined becoming friends with Alhaitham, rather less predicted the words he’d say when they first made eye-contact. Kaveh couldn’t have fathomed where their strange companionship would lead them, from the tears in this classroom to the tears at the orphanage. And now, today…

Kaveh quietly closed his sketchbook and looked up to see that Alhaitham was already waiting for him.

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, not saying anything. Secretly, Kaveh enjoyed knowing that the ever-stoic Alhaitham was waiting on him, hanging onto whatever he had to say. So he relished the fact that, when he took a deep breath, the silver-haired boy sat up a little straighter.

“I’ve given it some thought,” Kaveh stated, buying himself some time. Alhaitham seemed to know this was the case, but instead of saying anything, he just narrowed his eyes and nodded. He didn’t even prompt with a well, what is it? like Kaveh expected– and while he’s a little sad to have been robbed of frustrating the ever-frustrating Alhaitham, he couldn’t help the way his face split into a wide smile.

“I’ll do the internship.”

In four words, Kaveh saw Alhaitham’s face flicker. His anticipation was rewarded with the answer he desired. He made an expression somewhere between exasperated and pleased, but only for a moment as Kaveh added:

“On one condition.”

Alhaitham warily raised an eyebrow, then nodded again.

“When I tell you how to improve,” Kaveh paused, making sure Alhaitham was on the same page. It took a second for the boy to catch on, but as his eyes lit up, Kaveh’s smile turned bashful. “I want you to listen. When I tell you something makes me mad, and I tell you to stop doing it, I want you to respect my boundaries, and me.”

“Of course,” Alhaitham responded easily. “Is that your only condition?”

“I’m reserving the right to add more as they come along,” Kaveh rolled his eyes, “Just because this is you we’re talking about.”

“Us,” Alhaitham corrected him.

Kaveh’s eyes met Alhaitham’s from across the room, and just for a second, he saw it again. The sun was different– hitting the planes of his face from a different angle, but it was there. The thing he was trying to capture all along.

The blond melted slightly, passively nodding as he quietly agreed, “Us.”

Another moment he would remember forever.

 

– several months later –

 

“Haitham, hurry up or my arms are going to fall off!”

“Calm down.” The keys rattled against the door as Haitham tried again, this time managing to fit the pins correctly. The lock turned, and almost as soon as it did, Kaveh barged in with both arms carrying what looked like twice his body weight.

“Ugh, finally!” He said, half-dropping everything to the foyer floor before he straightened up, looking around at the place in awe.

"Wow… This was Granny's old home?”

“Yes, the house before the one I grew up in,” Haitham intoned, shutting the door behind them. “She left after she retired as a professor at Sumeru University, shortly after my parents died.”

Kaveh glanced back at Haitham as he casually set his things down. The man looked up, offering his partner a light shrug. The thought didn’t bother him very much. Rather, he was curious if they’d find any old memorabilia from his parents while they lived in this house together. Maybe his grandmother had left something painful behind, or his parents had stashed something away while they were still alive…

He was pulled from his thoughts as he felt Kaveh’s hand slip into his.

“You’re really okay?” The blond asked, his brattiness from earlier having fallen away like a feather cloak. Haitham’s eyes softened as he nodded, leaning down to offer reassurance in the form of a soft kiss. Kaveh’s lips buzzed as he slid his other hand up to wrap around Haitham’s neck–

But Haitham gently pulled back, enough to break their kiss and deny Kaveh another. When he opened his eyes, Kaveh’s pout was already in full force.

“Haitham,” he whined, tugging on his neck. “Come back here.”

“We still have several things to bring inside, remember?” He smirked, patting Kaveh’s cheek before letting go of his hand. The blond made it obvious he wasn’t happy to have been denied, crossing his arms and puffing his cheeks to sulk in the entryway, lazily kicking at the things he had dropped on the floor.

Haitham rolled his eyes. “What a giant, spoiled child you are,” he tutted, inciting an indignant squawk from Kaveh.

“I’m not a child!”

“So you’re admitting to being spoiled?”

“I’m not spoiled either,” Kaveh huffed, “Otherwise you would’ve kissed me just now.”

“Get a move on. The faster we get this done, the sooner you’ll get your kisses.” Haitham paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder. “And.”

Kaveh perked up, twisting around before straightening up to peer at Haitham curiously. “And?”

“And I’ll give you your housewarming gifts.”

Carmine eyes went wide before sparkling with delight. “Alright!” Kaveh declared, clapping his hands. “Open the door, Haitham, we’re moving in!”

The quieter man obliged with an amused smile on his face, holding the door open for the strutting blond.

Between the two of them, Haitham barely had any possessions. He was done moving his things by the second trip. It was Kaveh that required at least four full trips to the car and back, and most of it was Granny’s art supplies. Their personal boxes were placed in their room– singular, as they had decided on sharing it– so that the two other bedrooms could be used as their individual studies.

 

(“It makes sense, right? Since we’ll spend more time awake than asleep.” Despite being the one to suggest the plan, Kaveh was red in the face.

“Yes, it does.” Haitham replied, unbothered.

“And we can get separate beds, there’s no reason we have to sleep in the same one!”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“But you still have to go to sleep on time, Haitham, or you’ll keep me up and I’ll miss my morning classes.”

“I should be the one saying that to you, Kaveh; you’re the one who doesn’t have a consistent sleeping schedule.”)

 

Once all of the boxes were finally in place, Kaveh flopped onto the couch with a dramatic exhale, groaning into the air: “No more! No more boxes! No more moving, no more organizing, no! You can’t make me move one more thing,” he declared, curling up to make himself comfortable. "I've reached my limit for the day. No, the week!"

Alhaitham lightly scoffed from behind him. “You’re lucky my grandmother had this place cleaned before we moved in, or you would be swimming in dust right now.”

“I don’t care. I would’ve flopped here anyway. This couch was made for me, you see? Practically has my name on it already.” Kaveh sniffled. Then, moments later, he gave a very loud “Ah-CHOO!”

“Mm. Enjoy your time with the dust bunnies, then,” Alhaitham said casually, heading off towards their bedroom, intent on unpacking at least a few things to make their stay a little more comfortable.

Kaveh, stubborn as always, remained curled up on the couch, and took the chance to quietly detox from the stress of their move.

He’d moved a number of times in his life due to adoptions that fell through. He had been through the song and dance of getting acquainted with a new home only to have it ripped away from him over and over. Kaveh would be lying if he said his stubborn behavior today wasn’t rooted in his fear of abandonment, but it wasn’t irrational, was it?

The acceptance to Sumeru had come as a welcome surprise. More surprising was when it turned out Alhaitham had also been accepted to the same university. It only made sense for them to room together, since they knew they could at least tolerate one another, but when Granny offered to let them stay for free at her old house– it just felt like everything was too good to be true. After a summer spent learning to sketch buildings and paint landscapes, soaking up knowledge from his artistic elder like a greedy sponge, stealing kisses in-between long nights talking in Alhaitham’s bed– it was like all of the bad things he had suffered before were paying him back with good things twice over, and Kaveh could only wonder when the gravy train was going to run out.

A boyfriend that actually listened when he needed something, and was willing to work to improve. A grandmother-figure that was kind enough to make his heart ache, if his stomach didn't first. A roof over his head, a warm bed every night, good food at every meal time– he now had so many precious memories twining him to the lives of two people he had met almost entirely by chance.

As Kaveh reflected on this, however, he felt a steely resolve settle in his chest.

Perhaps it was chance that brought these things and these people into his life, yes–

But I’m going to fight to keep them there.

As he stood up from the couch, Kaveh’s eyes once more roamed his surroundings, taking in the living room more carefully now. It was a nice house, if a bit empty-feeling due to how long it’s been since anyone’s lived in it. As his eyes roamed unfamiliar shelves, Kaveh wondered how long it would take before they were replaced by things of his and Alhaitham's instead.

He hoped, with an ache in his chest, that it would take forever– and that they would have forever together to make it happen.

Kaveh itched to see his boyfriend now, padding in the direction that he could hear rustling. He called out, “Alhaitham?”

“In here, Kaveh.” And so he followed the sound of his voice.

Kaveh came to stand outside the door of their new bedroom and its one bed. Kaveh stared at it for a moment, then shook his head. They’d agreed on this possibility, so it wasn’t anything to freak out about! Still, he felt a little embarrassed as he crossed the threshold of the room, creeping around the perimeter like a nervous cat.

“Something wrong?” Alhaitham asked, glancing up from the box he was unpacking.

“No,” Kaveh replied distantly, “Just getting my bearings of this place, that’s all.”

Alhaitham accepted the answer without remark and let Kaveh silently inspect the room as he pleased. It was only once it looked like Kaveh was going to slip back into the hallway that Alhaitham stopped him with a simple question.

“Aren’t you curious about your presents?”

Based on the way Kaveh whipped around, he had completely forgotten about them while hauling and organizing all of their (his) other stuff.

“Do you have them with you?” Kaveh asked, immediately crowding the other man. Alhaitham nodded. “And I can have them now?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“That is in fact what I want,” Kaveh confirmed, bouncing on his toes. “Show me already!”

Alhaitham obliged, and nearly stopped Kaveh’s heart in the process.

Present number one, sitting in the palm of Alhaitham’s hand, was the keyring that he had used to get into the house. There were two keys on it, one silver and one gold, which were otherwise identical.

After he was sure Kaveh understood the significance of these keys, Alhaitham delicately removed the silver key, pocketed it, then took Kaveh’s hand to impress both the gold key and the ring into his grip. Kaveh’s fingers curled on reflex, but he was too overwhelmed to say anything at first.

Finally, quietly, Kaveh confirmed: “This is for me?”

Alhaitham nodded. "You told me once that I wouldn't understand what it meant to you, to have your own home." He gently folded Kaveh's hand all the way around the ornate metal. "Grandmother was very clear when she sent us off, though."

Kaveh's lip trembled as the words came back to him.

A house is only a home when the people you love live there, too.

"I feel the same," Alhaitham admitted. "After the summer of you living in my house, it wouldn't have felt right to go anywhere else without you. Grandmother…" He trailed off, speculative, then confirmed: "I can live without her, but without you…"

He squeezed Kaveh's fist gently, the key's teeth digging into his flesh in a way that felt too real for this surreal moment.

"I think I finally understood a bit of what you meant." But only a bit, was the implication, to which Kaveh choked on laughter. Alhaitham's smile was unusually genuine before falling away, becoming pensive again.

“And there’s something else.”

Dazed, Kaveh allowed himself to be taken by the elbows, still holding onto the gold house key as Alhaitham sat him down on the edge of the bed. He watched, a fraction slow on the up-take, as his former classmate, summer roommate, and boyfriend of several months added one more claim to his titles of infamy.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham began, getting to one knee. The blond stared as a red velvet box was produced and opened, presented to Kaveh alongside the biggest question of their relationship thus far.

“Will you marry me?”

Alhaitham knew what he was doing, making sure Kaveh was seated for this one.

The blond's eyes widened comically, nearly escaping his head as he leaned back and grasped the house key against his chest like a lifeline. His heart jumped to his throat and started fluttering as fast as it could, making Kaveh's blush all the more quick to rise. His neck, cheeks, and ears were so deeply rosy that for a moment it seemed like he was simply going to explode from the pressure of the emotions in his chest.

 

"...I wanted to propose to you sooner, actually." Haitham said quietly, filling the silence so Kaveh wouldn't have to. "When I realized that this could help me give you the security you've been looking for, I wanted to propose as soon as possible." He sighed. "But because we're so young, Grandmother wouldn't give her blessing until she was sure you were ready.

"I actually bought this for your birthday." A gold ring that looked like a rose with two peridot pedals. They were the same green as Kaveh's earrings, and a circle-shaped garnet in the center also matched his earrings. More importantly, though, the centerpiece matched his eyes, and it glinted beautifully in the light.

"It's not traditional," a hint of mirth entered his voice, "So I thought you'd like it."

 

"But when I saw how happy you were that day–" The first day Kaveh had ever had a birthday celebration to himself. Where the cake was handmade for him and only him. Where the presents were individual gifts and not collective items to be shared or passed down; things that were actually valuable to him– "I couldn't take that moment away from you. I didn't want to be selfish."

"Selfish…?" The first word Kaveh managed in all this, spoken as a brow-pulled question. Why? Why would he ever think of this as selfish?

Alhaitham shifted slightly, lowering his arms as he gazed up at Kaveh again. His voice was gravely serious, every word spoken with determination and sincerity. He could see the blond nearly shrink from the intensity in teal-gold eyes that pierced straight through him as he stated:

"Because if I had proposed at your party, it would have been about us on a day meant for you."

Kaveh covered his mouth, trying not to sob and give Alhaitham the wrong idea. Already, the man looked uncomfortable, unable to determine how to react to Kaveh's silence nor the tumult of emotion crossing the blond's face.

Not trusting himself to speak, Kaveh gestured for Alhaitham to come closer. The man blinked, then rocked forward on his knees. The artist put both of his hands on Alhaitham's face and tilted it up to look at him, tears rolling down his cheeks as the blond realized he was uncontrollably smiling.

"You big idiot," Kaveh whispered. "You big stupid idiot bastard Alhaitham."

The man huffed slightly, his own version of sulking now as he attempted to pull back, but Kaveh wouldn't let him.

He leaned down and kissed Alhaitham softly, silently begging him to stay. The stoic man was loathe to put distance between them after such an intimate exchange, but still, he made a disgruntled expression as Kaveh's kisses trailed up his nose, cheek, eyes, brow, and forehead before he wrapped his arms around Alhaitham's shoulders and brought him in for a tight hug.

"Big," kiss. "Stupid," kiss. "Idiot," kiss. "Bastard," kiss.

"Handsome," he added then, kissing again.

"Thoughtful," he added, softer:

"My Alhaitham."

The man stiffened in his arms as Kaveh finished with his name. Kaveh reinforced his claim by pressing it as a long, stamp-like kiss against his forehead.

Alhaitham pulled back enough to gaze up at Kaveh wonderingly, and seeing the unspoken question, the blond nodded, still slightly crying from the incredible joy of it all.

 

Haitham took care of business first, picking up Kaveh's left hand and gently slipping the engagement ring onto it. Then he reached to wipe Kaveh's tears with his thumbs, holding the face of the person most precious to him.

"Kaveh," he said the name tenderly, a gift in and of itself, referring to a man that he held in higher esteem than anyone else. Kaveh glowed for his attention, soaking it up like rays of sun as Haitham stated: "From now on, this is your home. You don't have to worry anymore."

Kaveh laughed, nasally and strained, before he hugged Haitham's head again and pressed him against his heart, nodding eagerly.

 

His own home. His own art room. And someone that was willing to give it all to him freely, the key in-hand and ring on his finger acting as promises that this place would never be taken away.

"I'm home," Kaveh breathed at last, resting his face in Alhaitham's hair.

Alhaitham's smile could be heard in his gentle hum.

 

"Welcome home."

Notes:

Endless thank-yous to my lovely beta readers Bloom, Agus, and Yasu. This fic was made possible by inspiration from this incredible artwork and regular cheering from the 18+ Haikaveh server.

What was your favorite line from either Kaveh or Alhaitham's narration (or both)? I'd love to read your thoughts on the fic; please do leave a comment and retweet if you're so inclined!