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The first day after Kaveh moves out is the worst.
His debt is cleared, and therefore he has no need for Alhaitham's assistance anymore. This is simply the natural progression of things.
Alhaitham didn't try to stop him. He promised himself he wouldn't, even all those years ago when he first took Kaveh home from the tavern.
Instead, he bites his tongue, and helps the man he loves most in the world pack his things to move into a studio overlooking Port Ormos.
It's a nice place. Alhaitham had looked around the area perhaps a little too obsessively once Kaveh mentioned wanting to move there, just to ensure that the property owner had no intentions of scamming or harming Kaveh in any way.
The boxes are heavy. So is Alhaitham's chest- but he just can't seem to figure out why.
This is what they both wanted, after all.
He dismisses the heaviness as move-out jitters. If he waits long enough, surely the feeling will pass.
-
Kaveh thanks him quietly as he carries the last box out the door. Not just for his assistance with the move- but for everything.
Alhaitham really wishes he hadn't.
-
The second day after Kaveh leaves feels surreal.
And the third.
And the fourth.
And the fifth.
And then, they all meld into nothing.
-
Alhaitham goes to work and comes home.
That's about it. He does not talk to anyone, and they do not talk to him.
This is the way his life was before Kaveh returned to it, and this is the way it will be for the rest of time.
It's quiet and unchallenging. There is no one to shout at him for leaving books out, or leave shoes for him to trip over, or to forget their own lunch on the counter. Nobody to argue with, nobody to spend his money at the tavern, nobody to write sticky notes for.
But Alhaitham is used to solitude and silence.
As it was once, so it is again.
Sometimes he accidentally makes dinner or coffee for two people.
When he goes grocery shopping, he has to make a conscious effort to walk past the fruit stand without buying Kaveh's favorite peaches.
And on the third week, when he catches a glimpse of blonde somewhere amidst the shelves in the House of Daena-
He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a thousand things unsaid.
He can practically feel Kaveh's crimson gaze burning into the back of his skull- but Alhaitham does not look back.
It's for Kaveh's own good.
-
It really starts getting to him.
Alhaitham doesn't regret his decision. Kaveh is free to spread his wings, to live a life without being caged by debt and trapped in Alhaitham's home.
He occasionally sees the architect laughing with friends in the tavern, or chatting to the aunties at the bazaar, or sketching masterpieces late at night within the House of Daena.
He's radiant. No wonder they call him the Light of Kshahrewar.
Alhaitham, on the other hand, feels like a stranger in his own body.
Every movement is heavy. Tiring. Even activities he used to enjoy are exhausting, and he finds himself sleeping more often than he reads.
A thick fog seems to have settled over his life, one which he cannot seem to shake.
He skips the gym once. Then twice. Then, it becomes a habit he cannot break.
He doesn't skip work. He is the Grand Sage- and even with his tiredness, he knows the nation would fall into chaos without him.
Sometimes, he even has trouble using his Vision. His chisel light mirrors flicker into existence, but fade within mere seconds, as if light can no longer sustain them for long enough to take solid shape.
He tells Nahida his symptoms.
The God of Wisdom has one answer: Depression.
It doesn't make sense.
Kaveh is happy. Alhaitham is… comfortable.
That's all he ever needed. The mysterious fog cannot be depression, because he has no reason to be depressed.
He has a good home, a good job, and disposable income. Things most people would kill for, and things he cannot afford to be ungrateful for.
It's irrational, to want that which you cannot have.
-
The thirtieth day since Kaveh moved out is just like any other.
Alhaitham goes home. He eats his dinner, curls up on the sofa, and tries to read a little- but that same heaviness from before compels him to give up after just a few pages.
Alhaitham lets his head drop onto a pillow, giving in to the soft embrace of sleep.
-
Alhaitham wakes up to the ceiling caving in and Matra kicking down his door.
All he can see is smoke and fire, a wall of ash consuming the familiar room he'd fallen asleep in mere hours ago.
He hadn't heard the sound of the molotov being thrown through his open bedroom window and shattering against the edge of his desk. Nor the crackling of flames as they spread throughout the house.
He had his noise cancelling headphones on, and the cloyingly thick smoke had dulled his other senses.
If some students coming home from night classes hadn't noticed and decided to call for help, Alhaitham would have suffocated where he slept on the divan.
And if he had been in his bed like his attempted assassins clearly presumed he would be, dawn would have risen on nothing but a charred skeleton laying in the ashen remains of his grandmother's quilt.
Alhaitham is alive only by sheer, dumb luck.
And yet, he can't help but feel nothing as he watches the flames climb higher.
He pretends that it is merely a side effect of smoke inhalation, but he knows the truth. Now that the adrenaline is fading, the incessant exhaustion has returned.
Alhaitham sits on a bench next to Cyno, watching from a distance as the Sumeru City fire department unsuccessfully tries to prevent his house from burning to the ground.
The emerald-green roof over Kaveh's bedroom collapses with a resounding crash, sending a column of sparks into the air.
Cyno whistles in awe.
“Good thing you decided to sleep on the divan. Was that your bedroom, or Kaveh's old one?”
Alhaitham sighs quietly, closing his eyes.
“Does it matter? It's gone regardless.”
The look Cyno gives him is very strange.
“...I think all the inns are closed at this hour, but I know somewhere you can stay for the night.”
“Okay.”
Smoke and ash blot out the nighttime stars as Alhaitham turns away from his home and walks into the rainforest.
-
Cyno brings him to Port Ormos, down a familiar path that Alhaitham has already walked several months ago.
The houses and apartments are well-manicured and quaint, with charming gardens and statues all around.
No wonder he chose this place, when the discussion of leaving first came up.
Alhaitham is too tired to protest when Cyno approaches one of the doors and knocks.
“On my way!” The occupant yells, muffled by the wall. “Just give me a second, there's graphite all over my hands!”
“Do as you must, but come quickly. It's an emergency.” Cyno replies, crossing his arms.
The door swings open so fast that it bounces off the frame, and a familiar blonde head peers out into the dark.
“Cyno? It's two in the morning, what are you doing all the way in…?
Kaveh's voice trails off into nothingness as his gaze lands on the man standing at a safe distance behind the General.
Even in the dim light, Alhaitham knows he must look pathetic. Covered in ash and dust, with little cuts and splinters from falling debris. His cape and boots missing, shoulders bare and wearing only house slippers. Clad in an old pair of house clothes, littered with tiny holes from the sparks that flew up from the ground as firefighters escorted him out of the flames.
Kaveh's eyes go wide with shock.
“Oh, Oh my god- Haitham, what happened to you?! Are you hurt?!”
“Fire.” Alhaitham replies despondently. “And no.”
Cyno frowns. “It's a little more complicated than that. Someone- or multiple someones- tried to kill him.”
Kaveh's hands fly up to cover his mouth. Cyno sighs, tapping his feet against the stone tiles.
“I don't know if he's safe in the city for now, and I can't afford to give an arsonist a reason to go near Ghandarva Ville. This is the best safehouse I can think of- you're the only one I can trust right now before I get a full profile on the suspects and their motives.”
“Of course.” Kaveh's face is still pale with shock, but he beckons Alhaitham closer all the same. “Come in, come in. I need to take a look at those cuts.”
-
It's hard to burden Kaveh with the reality of Alhaitham's situation, but it's clear enough that it is dire.
For one, he has no possessions other than the (very crispy) clothes on his back, his sword, and the small green book that he carries on his person at all times. Most of his own work is backed up to the Akasha Terminal or stored within a fireproof safe- but his parents’ and grandmother's research, along with his copy of their shared thesis, are all ashes.
“I'm sorry.” Kaveh tells him, hands wandering over Alhaitham's bare shoulders as he checks for injuries.
(Somehow, the other man's touch is far more painful than any wound.)
“Don't be. You did not burn down my house.”
Kaveh does not reply, and simply continues dabbing burn cream onto the angry red welts at the back of Alhaitham's neck.
“You should take a bath. You're covered in ash, and it's not healthy to let it stay in contact with your skin.”
“Okay.”
-
The bathroom is spotlessly clean, and smells like Kaveh's rose petal soap. There's a little table with a candle and cut fruits waiting for him, alongside a hot scented bath.
Kaveh sets up a few sticks of incense on the window ledge before leaving Alhaitham to it.
He falls asleep in the tub.
He didn't mean to. He's just tired, and Kaveh is so much nicer than he expected him to be.
-
He wakes up to the sound of someone frantically banging on the door.
Kaveh's voice is high and thin with fear.
“HAITHAM!!!”
Alhaitham scrambles out of the bath, wincing at the way his stiff back cracks at the movement.
By the time he has wrapped a towel around his hips and unlocked the door, Kaveh is practically shaking.
“What the fuck?! I called you at least twenty times!”
Alhaitham yawns before he can stop himself. “I didn't hear you. There's no need to worry.”
“No need to worry?! You've been in there for two hours, and you weren't answering!” Kaveh cries, waving his hands in exasperation. “I- I thought you'd drowned or something!”
“That's fair.” Alhaitham acquiesces, bowing his head. “Apologies. I fell asleep.”
Something in Kaveh's face breaks.
“Alhaitham, you…”
“...?”
“Oh, nevermind- just let me in. And don't give me that look, we've both seen each other naked before!”
And that is how Alhaitham ends up back in the tub, with someone he thought he might never see again carefully rinsing soap out of his hair.
Kaveh is exceedingly gentle as he rubs a coconut conditioner treatment into Alhaitham's scalp.
“So dry… but I guess that makes sense. Fire isn't exactly the best for healthy hair. But this should fix most of the damage. Just give me a few minutes, and we'll have you looking all nice and handsome again.”
Handsome. All these years, and Kaveh still thinks he's handsome.
Alhaitham closes his eyes and tries not to fall to pieces.
-
Alhaitham changes into a pair of Kaveh's old pajamas. They're surprisingly comfortable, and fit him well now that he's lost some of his muscles.
Kaveh hovers nervously at his side.
“I only have one bed.”
“Okay.”
And that is how Alhaitham ends up tucked into his old friend's bed, wrapped in the very same sheets he'd given Kaveh when they first moved in together.
The man in question sighs deeply, rolling over to face Alhaitham's back.
“I got a message on the Akasha. Cyno says they caught the perpetrators, but the house is unsalvageable.”
“Alright.”
“Where will you go?”
“...I'll figure something out tomorrow. Rest well, Kaveh.”
A moment of silence.
“...What is wrong with you?!”
“There's nothing wrong with me.” Alhaitham murmurs, letting his eyelids slide shut. “I'm just tired.”
“You-!” Kaveh begins, his voice breaking in his throat. “I- I'm not even talking about just tonight. I'm worried.”
That's enough to jolt Alhaitham out of the heavy fog and back to reality. He rolls over to face Kaveh, whose eyes are shining bright with tears.
“You haven't been yourself lately. Ever since I told you that I was leaving, it's like you've become a shell of the man I know.”
“A shell.” Alhaitham echoes, something unpleasant rising in his throat. “I can see that.”
Kaveh's expression crumples. “Why? I thought that maybe after I left, you would be happier…”
Alhaitham sighs. “I'm perfectly content. You're free to pursue your dreams again.”
“No. No, you're not.”
Alhaitham's mouth curls into a frown. “I don't follow.”
“You-! Are you seriously asking me that?! You haven't been talking to anyone, or visiting the café, or going on walks in the usual places. You skipped our monthly tavern meetup with Cyno and Tighnari, and there's not even any books checked out under your name at the House of Daena!”
A short pause. “I would know- I asked Mehrak to scan the logbook while the librarian wasn't looking, and you know I don't do things like that without good reason.”
“...Oh.”
“Dehya says she tried visiting you to go to the gym, because you haven't been there in weeks. But she ended up just going home- you were acting so disoriented that she didn't think it was safe for you to lift heavy weights!”
Oh, right. Alhaitham vaguely recalls this happening in the second week- but the memory is hazy. He can't even recall what he said to the Flame-Mane.
“Faruzan says you've become a shut-in, and even struck your name off of the attendance sheet for that research trip to Aaru’s Shut. The one you signed up for months in advance... You talked my ear off about it because you were so excited, you love Deshret's ruins. So why would you ever do that?! It's like you're punishing yourself for just existing!”
Alhaitham closes his eyes.
“...Fine. I'll admit that I'm more tired than usual. Perhaps it's becoming an issue. But I don't expect you to solve my problems for me.”
Kaveh suddenly goes quiet.
“...You were worried about me too, weren't you? When I was sick back then.”
Right. Of course he did.
In the days after the palace, when Kaveh was more shadow than man. When melancholy seemed to follow him, pulling away little pieces of the soul with every step he took.
And when sorrow had so nearly drowned out the light within, Alhaitham chose to bear the responsibility of pulling Kaveh back to reality and back into his life.
“I'm not like you were back then.”
“Are you sure?” Kaveh whispers. “Because I think we're going through something similar. I was just louder about it.”
If two people are drowning, the one who cries out in fear is usually the one rescued first.
The quiet one merely sinks in silence.
“...I suppose I'm unused to solitude. But that is entirely my own fault.”
He hates the painful way Kaveh's breath hitches in his throat.
“Your fault? How can you still blame yourself, when I'm the one who made the mistake of leaving you all alone?”
“It's not like that.” Alhaitham hears himself saying. “I'm perfectly content living by myself.”
“You didn't start acting like this until I left.”
Alhaitham can taste the bitterness of those words on his tongue. “That's not your responsibility. I am not your responsibility. I know my words are falling on deaf ears, but you shouldn't feel guilty over things you have no reason to change.”
Something yanks Alhaitham forward, and it takes him a moment to realize that Kaveh has pulled him into an absolutely bone-crushing hug.
This is it, Alhaitham thinks to himself, nose pressed against the window in the front of Kaveh's shirt. I died in that fire, and this is hell.
“I have one very good reason to change.” The architect whispers. “That being the fact that I’ve missed you terribly.”
They lay there in silence, listening to the sound of their own breathing and the wind whistling through the trees.
“...Will you go to the café with me tomorrow?” Kaveh asks him quietly. “They have really good coffee.”
“I have no mora.”
“I'll pay for your drinks and breakfast.”
“Then I have no reason to refuse you.”
-
As Alhaitham suspected, the café is lovely.
The building is in the same style as Puspa Café, and it reminds him of all those years ago, when he and Kaveh would sit underneath the shade of an umbrella and drink coffee back in the city.
But here is not the city. There is a sharp ocean breeze, the smell of salt carried by wind. Seabirds call out to each other, and the sound of children laughing overpowers the seriousness of scholars murmuring about their work.
Kaveh's hair shines gold beneath the sunlight, filtered by the leaves.
“You know, the bookstore around the corner is for sale.”
Alhaitham sets down his coffee cup.
The old woman who runs it is quite familiar with his presence, since he tends to check the shops whenever he visits Port Ormos.
Maybe in another life, he would offer to buy the place. Spend his days selling secondhand books to students, and curating a small collection of rare novels from around Teyvat, instead of wasting away behind a desk at the very top of the Akadeymia.
But Alhaitham has responsibilities. Dreams are just that- dreams.
Soon, he will leave Kaveh's home and return to the city. To his cushy government job, and a brand new apartment with no assassins. He will live the rest of his life predictably. By the guidelines, with no more surprises or variations.
Someone else will buy the bookstore. Someone else will meet Kaveh. Someone kinder, stronger, and less abrasive- and the hole in his heart left by Alhaitham’s absence will be full again.
And one day, Alhaitham will finally cave in to the pressure, and become the Grand Sage of the Sumeru Akadeymia indefinitely.
This is simply how things are meant to be.
Kaveh pushes something across the coffee-stained table.
A silver key glints under the sunlight. Alhaitham takes it, relishing in the familiar coolness of the metal against his fingers.
“Move in with me.”
Maybe it doesn't have to be this way.
“...If you insist, Senior. Though I have to tell you, this coffee tastes like shit. Let's try a different blend next time.”
Kaveh's laughter is the best sound he's ever heard.