Chapter Text
Ever since he was a child, Kaveh had always felt emotions deeply. His mother would always call him a ‘wonderful, sensitive boy’, but could never understand when Kaveh’s sadness was no less than despair, when his happiness bubbled into euphoria, when his anger would explode into unwarranted fury. He felt everything so intensely, so profoundly; he would cry at the drop of a hat, throw tantrums over the smallest things, and yet it took so little to lift his spirits once more and make him utterly elated.
So, naturally, it follows that his current roommate didn’t just piss him off; he made him positively livid. With the broken shambles of an ex-friendship festering behind them, Kaveh knew to expect the familiar surge of irritation every time Alhaitham opened his mouth, or the familiar twitch of his left eye whenever Alhaitham said his name in that horrendous, mocking way. Archons, it made Kaveh utterly apoplectic to hear the way he would say his name, stretching out the ‘ah’ sound as if it were some stupid joke shared between him and those awful books he always left lying around the house without ever bothering to just tidy them up. Not to mention his vile taste in decoration, those disgusting wooden sculptures he would drag home that honestly made Kaveh wish he could rip his eyes out so that he’d never have to cast his poor gaze on them again. He was pretty sure Alhaitham didn’t even really like the ghastly things; he was bringing them home just to piss him off and remind him of their financial disparity.
Financial dis… oh Archons. Kaveh owed him money. He’d promised Alhaitham he’d pay him back for the drinks he’d bought him, before he left for his project in the desert, and yet here he was, sitting in a tent with a tiny bowl of dried fruit and nuts as his only meal of the day; one night’s drinking richer, but not all that better off for it. To his credit, Alhaitham hadn’t nagged Kaveh about it prior to his departure, although perhaps he simply wanted Kaveh to forget, so he could give him hell for it later. With a groan of annoyance, he ground the heel of his palm into his eye, smudging the kohl that lined it.
Where the hell had Alhaitham been, anyway? Kaveh had grown to expect- no, tolerate, he reminded himself- his roommate’s familiar presence in the mornings, waking up and stumbling into the kitchen where Kaveh would always be trying to clean around stacks of books that he refused to move aside (as a matter of principle). And yet, Alhaitham had been missing more often than not in the weeks leading up to Kaveh’s project in the desert. When he was home, he would look exhausted, barely even bothering to bite back at Kaveh’s snide little remarks as he emptied sand out of his ugly shoes. And to think, Kaveh had just about managed to adapt to living with the insufferable way Alhaitham would blink blearily and shuffle over to the stove, clattering around in the cupboards for the cezve, measuring out his coffee with scientific precision, or the way he would wait for the coffee to boil while sitting slumped at the table, almost purring like a cat when the sun from the window would warm his back, or the-
No. Kaveh would not entertain this very irritating and insufferable train of thought any longer. He had a project to be getting on with, and unlike some lazy Haravatat scholars, he had to actually work himself to the bone for his scrap of coin. He had only two days of field work left, then he could complete the rest of his project from the comfort of Alhaitham’s house, and perhaps eat something more filling while he was at it. He stood up, tipping the last few scraps of his measly dinner into his mouth, and suddenly felt all the energy rush out of him as if it were draining from the soles of his feet. Had he not slept well the previous night? As far as he was aware, he’d slept like a log. He’d always been pretty good at running on fumes, so this sudden drowsiness was more than slightly alarming to him. Nonetheless, he brushed it off as tiredness and hunger, turning towards his tent curtain and sweeping it aside to leave and attend his meeting.
The strange fatigue returned again approximately ten minutes later. His client, a middle aged Akademiya scholar from Spantamad, was raving on about how he wanted the exact proportions of the building to fit a certain criteria, and while Kaveh’s attention would usually be rapt at this point, he felt his eyelids growing heavy. With a growing sense of alarm, Kaveh adjusted his position and surreptitiously pinched the underside of his arm to stay awake, yet nothing seemed to cut through the thick blanket of drowsiness. Every time he blinked, his eyelids felt as if they were bound together by tacky glue, and he struggled to separate them. He tried everything, from sitting upright as a rod (his head would constantly slump forward as he drifted off), to not blinking for as long as he could (his eyes started welling up), but none of his desperate attempts managed to stave off the constant, inevitable moments where he would slip into sleep and jerk himself back awake. Eventually, his client had enough of shooting him sideways glances, turning towards him with a frown.
“Herbad Kaveh, are you quite alright?” He planted his hands on his hips.
Kaveh jolted back into consciousness with a frustrated flush high on his cheeks.
“I-I’m sorry.” Was all he managed to mumble out.
“Are you not sleeping well?” His client demanded.
“I, umm. I don’t know, I don’t think so. I’m sorry, I’m never usually this tired- “
“Why don’t you go and get some rest? This has been a taxing project for everyone.”
Kaveh was torn between the urge to burst into grateful tears and the urge to yell in frustration. Instead, he nodded and apologised once more as he stumbled out of the tent. Reaching his own tent was a herculean task in and of itself; his limbs felt like lead and his feet dragged through the sand as he struggled to pick them up even an inch off the ground. He collapsed into his makeshift bed, letting out a long, heavy sigh. Along with the exhale he felt each individual muscle in his body melt into sticky goo, sinking into the sheets and sticking there, and he blankly stared up into his tent canopy.
For all his dozing off in the meeting, now that he was in bed sleep eluded him. His eyelids felt heavy, sure, but closing them brought him no closer to the edge of sleep, though it was some small relief on his sore, aching eyes. He sighed, exasperated, and settled on his side, deciding that he could just rest his eyes for a little moment, even if he didn’t manage to nap. He allowed his thoughts to wander pleasantly, for lack of any other suitable activity.
Honestly, he failed to understand how Alhaitham could just take random naps in the middle of the day. The man was fully capable of falling asleep anywhere, anytime, in any environment, and still have his regular sleep schedule remain blissfully uninterrupted. In fact, Kaveh was sure Alhaitham saw napping as a hobby, occupying his free time with either those dense books he always carried, or curled up on the sofa with his soundproof headphones on, completely out cold. Of course, Kaveh had much better things to think about than his lazy, good-for-nothing housemate. He could mull over the new problems that had cropped up in his design process; where to compromise in order to fit his client’s ridiculous demands, or perhaps contemplate his food budgeting plans for when he returned to Sumeru city. Not that he could ever really keep to any. He could even continue to think on that fascinating puzzle he had come across in Puspa Café’s weekly newsletter. He simply had to solve that puzzle before Alhaitham did, and he just knew that insufferable know-it-all had already seen it; they had an unspoken competition running over who the first to solve each weekly puzzle would be. A competition which Kaveh led by two whole points, mind you, though he supposed the tables could just as easily turn; this week’s puzzle was a particularly wordy one, an area in which his rival unfortunately excelled.
Dusk came and went, painting the desert sky in regal hues of magenta and purple, but Kaveh still could not catch a wink of sleep. His eyes burned something awful, and he had heaps of work to be getting on with, yet he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up and do it even if he tried. Even something as insignificant as lifting his arm to rub at his drooping eyelids had him wiped out, arm collapsing over his face. He found himself constantly stuck in a loop of almost drifting off and swimming back into consciousness, as if the world mercifully blurred for a moment before coming back into focus with barely a reprieve. Occasionally, the samsara of almost-sleep and wakefulness would be interrupted by thoughts of Alhaitham, and Kaveh reluctantly leaned into the train of thought, knowing that it was the only thing that could calm him down.
He wondered what Alhaitham was doing at the time. Probably lounging cross-legged on the sofa with a book, or maybe sitting in Puspa café with his soundproof earpieces and a mug of steaming coffee, surrounded by frantic Akademiya students trying to get in their nightly cramming. Perhaps he was having a drink at Lambad’s? Although, in all fairness, Kaveh was usually the one doing that, and Alhaitham was the one carrying him home after one too many glasses of wine. Kaveh’s face heated up as he remembered some of the advances his past drunken self had made towards his roommate; ranging from either begging him to cuddle until they fell asleep knotted together like the tumbleweed that whirled past his tent, or kneeling down to undo Alhaitham’s stupid belt with his teeth and smiling devilishly at the flush that decorated the not-so-sober scribe’s cheeks. For all their fighting, there were some pleasant moments between them; like Kaveh’s fuzzy memory of Alhaitham carrying him to bed and gently covering him with a warm blanket when he was sick, or Alhaitham draping his coat over Kaveh’s shoulders and waking him with a tiny kiss on the forehead where he had fallen asleep over one of his projects. He supposed he could also count the times where their own frustrations with work or life had led them to tumble into each other’s beds to ‘let off some steam’, when in reality they were just looking for another excuse to go at it like rabbits in spring. He let out a soft laugh at the thought. Really though, most of the time, they would bicker, mind their own business, or nag each other about petty grievances that, to them, seemed the most heinous crimes on earth.
By the time he finally fell asleep, the moon was at its highest peak in the sky, bathing the desert in a silver glow. And, that night, for the first time since he was a child, Kaveh dreamed.
“You have your mother’s hair, you know.”
Kaveh’s father, sitting beside him at the table, was staring across the room to where his mother sat by the window. The sun was setting, and its warm glow reflected off her long, blonde locks as they spilled freely down over her shoulders.
“I do?” Kaveh lifted a strand of his own hair to inspect it, tugging it gently free from the clips that usually held it back.
Before him on the table lay an unfinished puzzle; one of the puzzles he used to complete as a child while his parents worked, before holding up the finished product to a litany of praise and encouragement. He was in his childhood home, he realised, the very same home he had sold to complete the Palace of Alcazarzaray. His heart ached with grief for what had been lost, burning with guilt for the part he played in his father’s death.
“What are you apologising for? You have nothing to be sorry about.” His father’s words surprised him, for Kaveh was sure he had not spoken aloud.
“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” His father continued, turning his gaze towards Kaveh’s mother once more.
Kaveh was accustomed to this kind of thing- his parents had always been so deeply, intensely in love. He had grown up seeing the way his father looked at his mother like she had hung the sun and stars in the sky, the way his mother would place a hand on his father’s shoulder whenever he was tired or stressed and watch him melt under the ghost of her touch. Kaveh’s father used to tell him that he had no dream for Kaveh but one; that he should one day find a love like that which he and his mother shared. Many years had passed, and Kaveh was no closer to realising that dream. He felt his eyes burn with tears.
“Won’t you finish your puzzle, Kaveh?” His mother inquired, looking up from her work and turning her head to regard them curiously.
Before her were laid out reams of paper filled with sketches and designs, strikingly similar to some of Kaveh’s own work. Some of her drawings were painstakingly beautiful, clearly drawn for artistic purposes, while others were scaled, detailed, and annotated with a scientific precision. She had always taken great pride in her work, and Kaveh could safely say that he had taken after her in that respect.
“I…” He found himself struggling to answer her question, unsure of how to describe the feeling that plagued him. “I don’t want this all to disappear.”
Somehow, he could sense that completing the puzzle before him would cause everything around him to dissolve, and he would be brought back to reality. A dead father, an absent mother, a tent full of sand, and an empty stomach. He wanted to enjoy whatever precious memory was choosing to appear before him for just a moment longer, before it was unfairly ripped away by the hot spears of daylight poking through the holes in his tent.
“I miss you both.” He whispered, his voice choking up with the threat of tears.
“Why do you miss us? We’re right here.” His father frowned, but Kaveh shook his head.
The sun had set outside the window, plunging the sky into pale twilight. His mother’s hair looked dull, brassy, and her work was smudged with ink, messy chicken scratch replacing her usually neat writing.
Kaveh picked up the puzzle and wordlessly solved it. As the final piece clicked into place, everything around him dissolved into nothingness.
His return from the desert was unremarkable, marred by his exhaustion and newfound mysterious sleep curse, or so he had elected to call it. The walk was arduous, with him stopping every few hours to take a nap, days and nights passing identically. At this point, Kaveh was sure he couldn’t sleep through a full night even if he tried, instead electing to take regular short naps, too short to dream, but too long to not substantially hinder his progress.
In fact, the last time he had managed to get a full night’s sleep was the night in which he had dreamed, and the thought hadn’t left his mind since. The Akasha, while invisible and unusable outside the walls of Sumeru city, would surely still have prevented him from dreaming. Even the desert was not outside its range of functionality, and yet he could remember his dream down to the last second, vivid as ever. Perhaps it had malfunctioned? Whatever the case, Kaveh was not eager to dream again, the memories of his lost family almost too painful to bear. Even seeing his parents in a dream had been too much for him, causing him to wake up in floods of tears.
He had returned to find the house empty, with Alhaitham presumably away at work, although the streets seemed abuzz with a flurry of activity. Upon noticing the stark absence of his Akasha system once he entered the city, as well as every other civilian’s, Kaveh elected to investigate the reasons behind its bizarre shutdown only after a quick meal. He shamelessly ransacked his housemate’s food supplies, tearing into whatever he could find after eating only once the entire time he’d been on the road. As he ate, he momentarily slowed down to remove his Akasha terminal, turning it over between two fingers and inspecting it for any damage.
Eventually, his appetite sated, he stood up, pocketing the terminal and striding out of the house, completely forgetting his keys on the kitchen table.