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”Alhaitham.”
Alhaitham opened his eyes but could barely see past the blurry haze of his own vision. He felt a cool, wrinkled hand against his forehead and could vaguely make out a head of grey-white hair not dissimilar to his own.
“Alhaitham, go back to sleep.”
He knew that voice but couldn’t quite place it. It was familiar, comforting, and left him with a sense of longing. He tried to move, tried to reach a hand towards the person beside him but to no avail. Darkness overtook his clouded vision and he fell back against the cushions of his bed.
.
.
.
“Alhaitham, wake up!”
The Scribe groaned against his pillow, pushing away whoever would dare interrupt his freetime.
“Alhaitham! Oh, for Archons’ sake.”
Alhaitham felt a hand, rough but smooth, grab his arm and pull him to the side. He blinked up to see the exasperated face of his roommate.
“Kaveh? Wha-”
The Architect guided a spoon of some maroon-colored liquid into his mouth. Too weak to protest, he swallowed it down with some difficulty. Harra fruit weren’t exactly known for their impeccable taste but they were useful in curing ailments of the body quite well, particularly symptoms of flu and the common cold. Ah, so that’s what he had.
“Honestly Alhaitham, you should know better.” The Scribe couldn’t bring himself to speak, his head throbbed and soon enough, he was diving back under the covers of his bed, sleep taking him once again.
Kaveh stroked back the sweaty strands of grey hair away from his roommate’s flushed face. He sighed as he removed the spoon and medicine bottle from Alhaitham’s nightstand before pulling the blanket further up on the other’s shoulders. All he got in return was a pained groan as Alhaitham battled with the flu he had caught.
Kaveh sighed, making himself scarce so his roommate could rest. It was rare for Alhaitham to get sick. In fact, the last time it had occurred was when they were still children, still friends.
Kaveh reminisced the days when Alhaitham wasn’t so stubborn and would follow him around everywhere with that same look of nonchalance hidden behind whatever book he was reading at the time. The only difference between now and then was perhaps the Scribe’s failure to hide the glimmer of wonder and intrigue in his eyes whenever something caught his attention as a child. Being his elder, Kaveh had always been fond of that unique gaze.
He returned the medicine to the cabinet before busying himself with the pile of dishes in the sink. Alhaitham had fallen ill some time last night and Kaveh had no choice but to keep up with the household chores while caring for his sickly roommate.
Kaveh himself typically recovered from the common cold within a day but Alhaitham was a different case. With a frail constitution since birth, he’d spend weeks at a time in bed whenever the seasons changed.
The Architect scrubbed away the remaining curry from a pot, soaping up the sponge to wash away the oil and grease. Kaveh should’ve kept a better eye out for his roommate. He had always known how badly Alhaitham’s flus were and was always by his side as a result.
He smiled at the memory of the first time it had occurred. He’d been watching Alhaitham all day at the Akademiya, falling forward with hacking coughs and violent sneezes. Of course, being the stubborn person he was, he’d refused to acknowledge anything was wrong until it was too late. A couple of their classmates ended up having to carry Alhaitham’s barely conscious body to the nurse who prescribed bed rest and an early release.
Bouts of coughing filled the house before the sound of groaning filled Kaveh’s ears and then silence. Kaveh frowned at his roommate's door, left ajar. Alhaitham’s door that had the same patterns engraved into it for as long as Kaveh could remember. Besides a few nicks here and there, it was still the same. The entire house was still the same.
Kaveh remembered he was the one to lead Alhaitham home that day when they were still friends at the Akademiya. His Grandmother welcomed the two of them inside. It was the first time Kaveh had seen the inside of his current living space. Back then, it was tidier, had fewer books, and was filled with more plants. Alhaitham’s Grandmother, a Kshahrewar scholar, always loved to incorporate plant life into her work. It was something that fascinated Kaveh as a child. It wouldn’t be completely wrong to say that the Palace of Alacarazarzay was inspired due to her influence.
That day, he had helped Alhaitham into bed while his grandmother had prepared Sabz Meat Stew. Kaveh watched worriedly as she poured the ingredients into a pot, mixing it here and there between tending to her ill grandson.
Alhaitham’s grandmother, the sweet and kind woman she had been, allowed Kaveh to stay over without complaint. Alhaitham was Kaveh’s first real friend and he didn’t exactly have the best home to return to at the time either so he was grateful for her invitation.
Kaveh spent the day and night tending to his friend who would groan and shy away from his presence at first. The day following, the grey-haired student succumbed to an even worse fever and his stubby little hands would cling onto Kaveh’s clothes, moaning in pain from a pounding headache. Kaveh felt his heart shatter at the sight.
“What do we do?” young Kaveh had asked the old woman as she placed a washcloth on his forehead.
“It’ll be okay, Dear. He’s a strong one,” she reassured.
At the time, Alhaitham had been several inches shorter than him so the blonde didn’t quite understand what she’d meant by that but now? After years of witnessing the Scribe’s tenacity and stubbornness, he could confirm that Alhaitham was indeed a strong individual. Hard-headed, arrogant, and self-centered but also reliable, considerate (somewhat), and formidable.
In the years that followed, whenever Alhaitham was sick in bed, Kaveh would come for a visit and overtime, the two boys grew closer. It eventually came to a point where Alhaitham would call for Kaveh rather than his grandmother and every time, Kaveh would sit beside him as the other slept.
“Wouldn’t you like to go home, Dear?” the old Woman asked on occasion.
“No,” a young Kaveh would answer. “I want to stay right here with him.” The old woman smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“Okay, suit yourself.” And Kaveh would return to sweeping Alhaitham’s hair away from his eyes, stroking his back gently as the other boy snored away.
He’d learned a great many things from the sweet old woman related to his roommate. Despite her age, she was lively and had a deep appreciation for art and aesthetics, something his colleague lacked greatly. Not to mention her cooking was always wonderfully rich with flavour. Kaveh had learned how to cook his own dishes under this same roof with her guiding his hand.
She always welcomed Kaveh with a bright smile, even when he showed up with a teary face and bruises or cuts on his skin. The old woman would simply pull him into a hug and caress his hair. In a way, she was his grandmother as well.
Kaveh cleared the countertop and began preparing dinner, piling a stream of vegetables into a large pot before mixing the contents and adding the bare minimum of spices, not wanting to overload the Scribe’s senses. After some time, he poured the contents into a bowl.
“Ugh K-Kaveh, what?” The blonde whipped around to see Alhaitham leaning against the doorway.
“You idiot, get back to bed!” Kaveh rushed over to Alhaitham’s side, supporting him as they approached the Scribe’s sweat-soaked sheets. He helped him lay down, smoothing back the grey strands of hair before getting up and returning with the Sabz Meat Stew. Alhaitham watched him, intrigued by the familiar smell.
“How did you know?” he asked the blonde as Kaveh set down the bowl on his nightstand.
“How could I not?” he smiled at the wide-eyed stare the other gave him. Being sick like this, Alhaitham suddenly became an open book. Kaveh felt a little guilty for adoring the reactions of the other at a time he was so vulnerable but the other’s abnormally trusting nature wasn’t good for his heart.
Alhaitham leaned back against the pillows, crossing his arms. Kaveh chuckled as he picked up a spoonful of the stew. Alhaitham accepted it easily. He was always more reasonable when he was sick like this.
Eventually, the steaming bowl emptied and Kaveh was getting up to place the dish in the sink. As he stood from his chair, he felt a tug on his shirt.
“Are you coming back?” Alhaitham asked. When Kaveh turned towards his roommate, his heart melted at the sight of an almost nervous and fearful look in the other’s eyes.
“Of course I am.” With that reassurance, he exited the room, his roommate’s gaze lingering on his retreating figure.
Kaveh washed the dish quickly, the running tap filling the silence of their house. This house was always remarkably quiet these days but Kaveh remembered a time it used to be full of chatter between two friends and the ramblings of an old woman. He wiped his eyes before returning to Alhaitham’s side.
Upon entering the book-filled walls of Alhaitham’s room, Kaveh could see the Scribe had made some room on the bed. He chuckled at the silent invitation before taking a seat next to the other man.
Without any notice, Alhaitham laid down, his head on Kaveh’s lap, arm tucked over the other’s legs. Kaveh brought a hand up to gently run his fingers through the other’s hair, providing a calming effect. Within minutes, the Scribe was asleep.
***
“Kaveh, I need help!” Alhaitham called out from the bathroom. The blonde entered to the sight of his barely-dressed roommate struggling in the tub. Kaveh rolled his eyes before grabbing a stool and sponge.
“You become so needy when you’re sick, I almost wish you were always like this.”
“Hmm.”
Kaveh scrubbed at Alhaitham’s back, chuckling to himself as he watched the Scribe’s eyes fall shut. He gently shook the man awake.
“Don’t fall asleep here. C’mon, I changed your sheets.” Alhaitham nodded as Kaveh helped him out of the bathtub. The blonde led him down the hallway wrapped in a towel before sitting him on the bed.
“Need help getting dressed,” the Scribe mumbled. Kaveh grabbed one of Alhaitham’s shirt, pulling it over his head. He couldn’t deny that the other’s neediness and even his clinginess towards Kaveh was rather cute but what did it mean?
Once Alhaitham was dressed, he was tugging Kaveh to lay beside him in bed. Kaveh sighed as he held the other to his chest, stroking grey strands of hair back. Alhaitham’s fever had broken the previous night and besides the exhaustion, he was doing quite well.
Already, Alhaitham’s eyes were shutting closed and all Kaveh could do was look back on all the times they had laid together like this in their childhood.
***
“I’m not sick,” Kaveh stated. He glared up at the Scribe who was examining a thermometer.
“This thing says otherwise.”
“That thing is hardly reliable. I’m perfectly fine.” Kaveh tried to get up from his seat on the couch but was instantly falling backwards onto his roommate as a wave of nausea overtook him.
“You’re sick.” Unable to deny it any longer, the blonde just sighed.
“I’m sick.”
“Let’s get you to bed.” Kaveh tried to protest that he wasn’t feeling tired but the Scribe managed to force him under the covers anyway. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyes were falling shut and the last thing he felt was Alhaitham’s cool hand against his forehead.
When Kaveh woke up, it was to Alhaitham paging through one of his sketchbooks. If it was anyone else, Kaveh would’ve thrown a fit but Alhaitham had always shown a curious, almost child-like wonder when it came to his work, even when they were kids.
Upon noticing the blonde awake, Alhaitham set aside the sketches before addressing him. He stroked back Kaveh’s blonde hair as he sat closer beside him.
“Feeling any better?” the Scribe asked. Kaveh nodded. He was always quick to recover from a cold. “Want something to eat?” He shook his head but then a slight blush creeped up his cheeks.
“J-just want you to stay with me.”
“Okay.”
The two of them lay beside each other on the bed, neither one saying a word. Alhaitham rubbed Kaveh’s arm gently whether he was aware of it or not was a mystery but the Architect certainly didn’t mind. Alhaitham was hardly ever attentive to others so this special? treatment was a nice treat.
“Thank you, Kaveh.” The Architect looked at the other in shock.
“I haven’t-”
“You have and I couldn’t be more grateful to have you in my life.” Kaveh couldn’t stop the smile that spread on his face. He shied away from the other’s gaze.
“S-stop it. That almost sounds like a proposal,” he joked.
Alhaitham’s hand suddenly came to rest on his cheek, caressing it slightly and for a moment, time seemed to stop, but then, the Scribe was getting up and leaving the room.
“Get some rest,” he stated before walking out the door. Kaveh sighed, cursing his incredible immune system. He’d wished Alhaitham would take care of him for a little while longer.
The day following, Kaveh returned to his usual chipper self but Alhaitham, on the other hand, seemed to have fallen into some sort of weird illness he couldn’t name. When Kaveh checked, the Scribe didn’t have a fever. Upon observing his roommate as he read books in their shared living room, he didn’t appear to have a cough or stuffy nose either. His voice sounded perfectly fine but he still acted extremely needy, clinging to Kaveh at every moment.
Normally, they’d take turns shopping but recently, the Scribe had been tagging along. When Kaveh cooked, he ate his food without complaint, even offering compliments which caught the Architect completely off-guard. Those weren’t the only things Kaveh noticed though.
The Scribe had been more clingy in the physical sense as well. He would often sweep back Kaveh’s hair so it wasn’t falling into his eyes as he sketched. He’d cover the blonde in a blanket whenever it got chilly at night and on one occasion when the blanket was nowhere to be found, he’d dropped his own cloak onto Kaveh’s shoulders.
The odd behaviour wasn’t entirely unwelcome but it certainly was strange for the typically self-centered and uncaring man. Kaveh figured that if Alhaitham was actually suffering from some fatal disease then now would be the time to confront him before it was too late.
At the moment, they were dining on Kaveh’s homemade Sabz Meat Stew in the kitchen under the glow of warm candlelight.
“I had no idea she taught you how to make this,” Alhaitham remarked as he took another spoonful of the dish.
“She warned me not to put any lemon in it. A certain Scribe wasn’t a fan of sour food in his younger days it seemed.”
“And I’m still not. Your hair reminds me of a lemon you know. Perhaps you should dye it darker, maybe then you’ll be less sour.” Kaveh rolled his eyes.
“Oh shut up, you know you love me.”
“I know.” Kaveh almost choked on his rice.
“W-what?” he questioned. Alhaitham, nonchalant as always, picked up his empty dish and placed it in the sink before walking over to Kaveh.
“I said, I know I love you.” Before Kaveh could even question what he meant by that, the Scribe was swooping down to kiss his cheek before leaving the kitchen altogether.
Kaveh had to take a minute to even process what had just occurred. His stoic and uncaring roommate had just confessed?
“Oh, Archons no.” Kaveh abruptly stood up from his seat before running into Alhaitham’s room to confront the other.
Alhaitham was sat on his bed, thumbing through the pages of a book. He looked up to see Kaveh, blonde hair in a disheveled state, standing in the doorway.
“Is there something-”
Kaveh marched over to Alhaitham, he grabbed the collar of his shirt and leaned down to kiss him on the lips. It took a moment for Alhaitham to register what was happening before he reciprocated the kiss, smiling into it.
“That is how you kiss someone, Haitham.” Alhaitham cocked his head to the side in mock confusion.
“I apologize, I think I’ll need another lesson, Senior Kaveh.” Kaveh shook his head at the other but sealed their lips together anyway.
***
Moonlight slipped through the curtains of Alhaitham’s room, falling upon the Scribe and his roommate as they lay beside each other in bed. Kaveh’s legs were tangled in his and their arms were placed over the other. They were merely enjoying each other’s presence but to both, it was an incredibly exhilarating feeling of having the other reciprocate their affections. Kaveh broke the silence, his hand coming up to card through Alhaitham’s hair.
“I found it odd how nice you were being and so naturally, I assumed you’d contracted some sort of fatal illness.” Alhaitham burst out laughing to Kaveh’s astonishment.
“I decide to outwardly show my affection towards you and the first thing you assume is that I’m on my deathbed?” The Architect nodded.
“Honestly, Haitham. It’s entirely your fault. You hardly ever give me any real attention.” Kaveh felt the Scribe’s hand slink around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Then I’ll be sure to treasure you more in the future.” He pressed a kiss to the blonde’s forehead. “I love you.” Kaveh nuzzled his face into Alhaitham’s chest.
“I love you too, Haitham, but for Archons’ sake, please stop getting sick! You become such a baby!!” Alhaitham tilted Kaveh’s head up to kiss him again, shutting the other up.
“I know you’ll always be there to take care of me,” he stated. Kaveh huffed as he took Alhaitham’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together in lieu of arguing back.
.
.
.
”Grandma, when will Kaveh get better? I miss him,” the young boy asked. His hair had been rendered a mess from worry, the edges of his uniform tattered from pulling the thread out.
”Patience, Alhaitham,” the old woman stated. She ran her hand through her grandson’s hair. “Kaveh was always patient when you were sick, you need to wait for him to get better now as well. Can you do that for him, Alhaitham?” The boy nodded eagerly.
”It doesn’t matter how long it takes, I’ll always wait for him.”
The End