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Each phase of living has forms of arrival and departure. If we are lucky enough for those to remain in the realm of the symbolic, then we can remain with those we cherish and build a secure life that feels safe and dependable. For some, however, as fate would have it, these things are literal. There are times we literally have to leave and move on, alone. Alhaitham had been doing that since childhood. It would be nice for it to stop. It would be nice to feel a sense of belonging somewhere, with someone, that he could stay in a way that is ongoing. It would be something different from the reality he had witnessed right in front of him.
To forget the crimson hues that tore into him as raised voices filled the halls of the Akademiya, what was a well behaved fire nestled in a bed of iron became an ignited spark as the wind called upon its flames, transforming with each blow, like hot ribbons of light. Then it sparked, wanting more than the little blaze of a dance, as if it needed to leap, to fly, willing to land where it may in an inferno of emotions and anger.
And boy did it land as those final words slipped from the blonde in front of him’s lips, parchment vigorously ripped down the centre. Delivering the letter that brings the real truth to their once situation, that which brought forth the actuality of the scene before their very eyes. The act touching skin, absorbed into the blood, when the vision clears he hoped the other will see as he did. For the Haravatat Scholar there was no mist; neither was there clouded judgement, for in his eyes this had been the blunt unspoken truth that needed to be aired.
However his senior had not seen in the same way he did, fighting with his idealistic mind, hoping that every selfless act he displayed would bring him some closure from the darkness. The shameful truth was that his lost soul was deliberately sacrificed by those who could have saved him with ease, by those who sat upon sturdy structures and refused to lower down a hand to stop him from falling deeper into despair. Why couldn't he see as Alhaitham saw? Why didn’t he realise that those he was trying to help had only been watching in amusement as he continued to drown himself with their own worries?
Kaveh had always been smart, someone who could even challenge himself. Yet in this moment he failed to see that Alhaitham’s words were a way to try and rescue him, a lifeline in the dark. He called him an egoist, had said that he would be welcomed more if he just cared about others. Yet wasn't that what the young scholar was trying to do? Showing care for someone who he had allowed to captivate even his melancholy heart?
Back then he could be a bit clingy for Alhaitham’s liking, but the Kshahrewar student was also trustworthy, loyal, cheerful and sparky. A polar opposite to himself in more ways than one. When he entered a room it filled with the most brilliant light despite the grief and torment that plagued him.
Yet just like in this moment, when trouble comes, he had a tendency to withdraw. In those times came the actions of flight, steadfastly declaring that he regretted making friends with someone like him before storming out of his life in one swift turn on his heels. It was a form of self protection, there was no other way to accomplish it for his Senior, but it didn't stop the pain that tore him apart, finding himself not being able to act as sunlit waves of blonde faded from his view.
That scene was replaying in hazy cinematics within his mind that night as teal met the strong black ink littering the parchment underneath his palm, gripping onto his quill he scratched across the page deep enough for the tip to slice through the paper with ease, removing his own name from the thesis in a blur of blackness that usually brings life to his creative flow and now symbolised a downfall in his life that he wished to never relive.
They all called him stoic, unfeeling, unloving yet when that deepening anger began to consume him, long condensed tears fell down olive skin dripping onto the already destroyed text that lay before him. The same paper that contained a moment in his life that brought about a happiness he had not witnessed since his grandmother’s passing. A time when they somehow integrated and found comfort in each other's friendships.
But for Alhaitham life had to move on, It was never the same, it never could be but it went on. For Kaveh’s absence taught him how to live without him, that time away taught him to find peace in being alone. That was until that fateful day in a small Tavern situated in Sumeru city where the Scribe would meet those Ruby orbs that haunted his memories, a ghost from his past resurfacing to bring back a part of himself that he had pushed away into the deepest corners of his being.
That once glass figure, perfect to the eyes yet fragile underneath had been reduced to the finest of dust- still there yet vulnerable to any gust. He showed pain, so much raw pain, he couldn't be broken anymore for the world had raised the dealing hand and did its worst, snuffing out the final kindling of those once illuminating flames.
In the half-light of the bustling Tavern Kaveh looked like the shadow he’d become, hunched over the bar in defeat. Back then Alhaitham had taken their bond for granted, believing it to be unbreakable. But as time continued to pass by it wasn't only broken, but shattered into fragments more numerous than the stars. He was not one to beg, plead, to get down on his knees and demand for forgiveness while telling the other that his life holds meaning. No this was Alhaitham after all.
Hours crept by broken words slipping drunkenly from delicate lips, he knew that face, that is the one that he wears when his ears are closed and his mind has put up barriers to all new information. So no matter what the younger said he knew it would only push him further away. So listen he did, until the time came when he could interject. He sat closer with a mask of contentment never letting the information allow his face to fall, not even when tears clouded the others eyes as words kept spilling in a wave of uncontrollable emotion.
There is something so very wrong when they call crying ‘hysterical.’ There is something cold and judgemental where true warmth and empathy are required. To cry so much, to be processing so much pain, and thus showing when the person in distress needs the love they have been cut away from the most.
As soles moved upon such solid ground upon the walkway, they descended from the tavern in vulnerable silence. The sky was black tranquillity married to a poetry of stars. It was softness that called the body and brain to rest and let the heart go its steady rhythm. It came as a reward of sorts, a restlessness above to calm the soul. A mix of teal and caramel always watching the others delicate movements until he came to a stop outside a property.
Warm golden glow highlighting the serenity of the souls inside, the sense of comfort and familiarity and yet a change that presented a challenge upon the Architect who watched from outside with heart in his hands as silence was sliced open with words of regret and anguish. Alhaitham continued to listen intently to Kaveh’s words before he felt it was his time to finally speak up. A voice that comes out so naturally, it sounds like him but also isn't as flat as his usual tone. “How has realising your ideals gone for you?”
Kaveh sighed like a quiet spring breeze, the switch from reaction to reflection, to process. He waited for some guidance or direction from the other, there came a time to show trust and an ability to pause. It’s ok though, kind, calm really, a chance to breathe after such an intense storm yet when the blonde drew back into the comfort of the walls he built around himself he knew more needed to be aired. But not tonight, instead he reached into the pocket of his belt taking out a single silver key and tugged at the blonde’s arm gingerly. “Come with me, we can talk more once it is daylight.”
He could see the gears starting to turn in Kaveh’s head, trying to process what was happening yet falling quickly into step with his Junior. People see truth from different perspectives, their narratives of the same events are often completely different. Confusion is that time when your conscious brain can't process what is happening in the moment but your subconscious can. “W-Where are we going?...”
There was a depth in his eyes, yet a gentleness in his expression and the tone of his voice, forgetting the mask he wore in front of everyone else in the presence of his old friend. No need for any long winded explanation, just one simple word that he hoped would bring the other some form of comfort.
“Home.”