Work Text:
Kaveh was sure Al-Haitham had finally gone insane.
Either he had annoyed Al-Haitham so much that it had broken his mind or his job somehow did it first. That was the only explanation Kaveh could think of when he saw his roommate sitting next to his potted succulents on the windowsill, reading out his book to one of the plants like it was a child. It was truly disturbing to see him treat something with care. Even more so that it was to an inanimate object, which made Kaveh wonder what that said about Al-Haitham’s sense of affection. Kaveh wondered if Al-Haitham was even capable of affection or if it had just been hardwired out of his brain the day he was born. It was a little more disturbing that he was conversing with a plant. Just a little.
It wasn’t a passing moment, either. Kaveh managed to ready himself for the day, pack his materials, reschedule an appointment with a client, and make himself and Al-Haitham some coffee. (He seriously couldn’t stand how bitter his roommate took his coffee, it always left him grimacing in disgust.) Kaveh was more than ready to walk out the door right then and there, and yet there was Al-Haitham, muttering something about a Haratavat scholar’s sense of philosophy to a plant. For the past hour. He didn’t even look up at Kaveh when he handed him his cup of coffee. If he weren’t so concerned for Al-Haitham’s health, he would say something snappy about his lack of gratitude. That is, if Al-Haitham would’ve listened to him at all. Any attempts at conversation were met with a halfhearted “mhm” or a barely audible grumble. Al-Haitham knew that these kinds of responses drove Kaveh up the wall, and Kaveh was sure he was doing it on purpose.
Honestly, everything Al-Haitham did often felt like a jab for Kaveh’s character in some shape or form. Kaveh insists on buying a beggar’s wares with his last bit of rent? There’s Al-Haitham, chastising him for being too giving. Kaveh spends a little more time after work to ensure a client is satisfied with what they’ve planned? There’s Al-Haitham, trying to make a point on how it could’ve been discussed another day instead of “wasting precious time”. Kaveh stays up a little longer than usual to complete his final sketches of a project? There’s Al-Haitham, handing him his morning coffee with a rather judgemental look saying “I know what you did.” Because of course he did. (He did get his milk and sugar preferences right though, at least there was that…) If Kaveh does anything ? There’s. Fucking. Al. Haitham.
Well, not this time. Al-Haitham was doing something Kaveh could actually catch him on, and he wasn’t going to pass up on that… For his health, of course, as any good roommate would. Obviously. Kaveh checked the time on the clock mounted on the wall, reading 10:42 AM. The appointment he had in Vimara Village was at 2:00 PM, and he still had to color his sketches properly.
…Yeah, he has time.
Kaveh pulled one of their dinner table chairs next to Al-Haitham’s, which was nearly flush against the windowsill where the plants were. He’d scooted himself closer as he read, clearly enraptured in the contents of the book enough to have pretty much discarded his coffee mug with nearly half of its contents still left untouched. He barely noticed the screech of the chair, glancing up for a mere moment before returning to whatever this was . Kaveh sat down, watching his roommate continue his..weirdness. It was..sweet? Almost? Al-Haitham was talking so softly, it really seemed like he was reading a bedtime story to a child. His expression was something intelligible to Kaveh, too serene and genuine to truly be Al-Haitham. Kaveh would be lying if he said the morning light shining through the glass didn’t cast the most gorgeous golden glow on Al-Haitham’s skin. He actually seemed youthful for once in his life. Or something more than that. Handsome, even? Is that enough to convey it? Convey him?
Actually, no. No. No. What is Kaveh thinking? This is not what we are here for. We are here out of concern. Stop doing that. Let’s get back to the task at hand, that being a grown man is reading to a very tiny potted plant.
“Al-Haitham?”
No response.
“Al-Haitham??” Kaveh said, leaning closer this time so he could hear him.
Again, no response.
“Al-Haitham, can I talk to you?”
Nothing. Of course.
By Lesser Lord Kusanali, he must be ignoring him on purpose. He cannot be serious. Kaveh reached forward, pulling the book down from Al-Haitham’s focus and leaning further in. He certainly caught him by surprise, as the book nearly fell to the floor before both men tightened their grips on it.
“Al-Haitham, can you please just put the book down for a second??”
He finally looks at Kaveh, very clearly annoyed.
“What do you want?”
Al-Haitham slid further into his chair, slinging one arm over the backrest and leaning closer to Kaveh. The lack of space between their faces made something in Kaveh’s abdomen twist slightly, but he ignored the sensation and remained steadfast. (Although its persistence after made it harder to ignore.)
“I don’t want anything. Truthfully, I’m more concerned than anything.”
“For what? Nothing’s wrong.”
“Yes, there is. You are reading to a plant , Haitham. Are you alright?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Al-Haitham said, bringing his arm up and over to brush Kaveh’s hand off the book in between them.
“I’m rather busy, though, so if you don’t mind I’ll return to what I was doing.”
Kaveh’s other hand grabbed at Al-Haitham’s wrist as his fingers neared closer, stopping him before he would get the chance to push him away. “No, Al-Haitham, I do mind. Something must be wrong for you to be acting so erratically. Usually, I’d leave you to your devices, but.. you’re worrying me. Are you really alright?”
For a split second Al-Haitham’s glare softened into something Kaveh couldn’t really place before snapping back, the other man sighing before turning his face away from Kaveh to look out the window. His grip on the book dissipated as he let go, letting it fall completely into Kaveh’s hand. His other hand loosened itself from Kaveh’s, coming to cross his arms as if he were sulking. Kaveh was.. confused. Is he trying to give him the cold shoulder? Or worse, is he embarrassed? Is that even possible for Al-Haitham?
Still facing away, Al-Haitham spoke in an almost exasperated tone, as if his words were whittling away his energy at every syllable. “If you really must know, I’m reading to it.”
“It? What’s it?? The succulent? Are you being vague on purpose?”
“You won’t believe me if I tell you.”
“I would!”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Of course, I would! Just tell me!”
Al-Haitham didn’t say anything back, but he did look back to Kaveh. Or more so at Kaveh, as his eyes seemed to scan his face to see if he was actually willing to listen. Kaveh was still earnestly waiting, eyes staring right back at Al-Haitham. The silence hung in the air like stagnant water, the only thing audible being the gentle ticks of the clock that riddled Kaveh with some sort of feeling he couldn’t describe. Seriously, it felt like he couldn’t describe anything today. For some reason, it felt like his heart was going to jump out of his throat and land in Al-Haitham’s lap. Why is he so nervous? He isn’t the one confessing some weird secret about reading books to plants! Is it the eye contact? It can’t be the eye contact, that’s a normal part of human interaction. It isn’t like this with others, why is it different with him ??
Al-Haitham turned away again, seemingly having enough of the strange stare-ridden silence the two had just endured.
“..Fine. Don’t have a stupid look on your face once I tell you.” Finally, Kaveh eased up, though the gentle twisting sensation in his abdomen and leaping heart still held him like a vice.
“It’s..Archons, alright, it’s an Aranara.”
…Excuse me.
“..You’re joking right?” Kaveh half smiled, hoping Al-Haitham was playing a little joke before really telling him what was going on.
“No, I’m not.” Al-Haitham seemed to tense slightly, and Kaveh swore his ears were ever so slightly flushed red. Oh.. oh my gods. Is he embarrassed ??
“You can’t be serious-“
“-And this conversation is over.”
Al-Haitham snatched the book and began walking away to the couch, leaving Kaveh dumbfounded. He did, indeed, have a stupid look on his face.
Quickly rising and following after him, Kaveh began pestering Al-Haitham. “No, hey, come back! You can’t just say that and leave, much less expect me to take it as is! Al-Haitham, stop walking away! Al-Haitham!” Kaveh’s pleas were ignored as Al-Haitham sat on the couch, grabbing his headphones and readying his Akasha to enable their noise-cancellation feature.
“Please, I promise I’ll let you speak this time!”
“Don’t you have an appointment in three hours?”
“Never mind that, talk to me Al-Haitham!”
Al-Haitham, in fact, did not talk to him. He instead slid on his headphones, picked up the morning newspaper resting on the coffee table in front of them, and began to read, which infuriated Kaveh. He doesn’t even read the paper! He’s completely ignoring him, leaving their conversation dead in the water. Kaveh was just surprised earlier, but is this actually some joke he’s playing on him?! Is this just meant to mess with Kaveh to prove some silly point he isn’t getting? The more Kaveh thought about the possibility, the angrier he got. He is not letting this conversation stop, especially with so much unanswered.
Kaveh grabbed onto Al-Haitham’s arm, feeling his biceps tense under his fingertips. Infuriated, the words began spilling out of his mouth.
“Al-Haitham, you can’t just give me silent treatment! I mean, seriously, are you just trying to mess with me!? Is this some kind of joke to you, worrying me like this? I’ve been wondering if you’d gone crazy all morning just for it to be some joke you’re playing!? I can only see it as a joke, with the way you said something so silly and refused to elaborate after! Is this because I said something the other night? What did I even say? Have I insulted you in some way to have you just up and-“
“Go to work, Kaveh.” Al-Haitham’s tone was cold, almost frustrated. He pulled one headphone off of his ear to be able to hear Kaveh, still choosing to listen despite how annoyed he seemed. That’s something, Kaveh supposes. Sweet, maybe, but he’s too angry right now to give him any grace.
“No, I’m not! I’ll call off everything I have today if it means I get an explanation from you! You can’t just avoid me, or this, forever. Talk. To. Me.”
“I’m not talking to someone who fails to express any actual intention of listening.”
“I want to listen! I’m telling you right now that I want to!”
Al-Haitham once again doesn’t respond. Kaveh could strangle him if he didn’t care about him this much. No, wait, no, he doesn’t care about him. Well, he does, but not truly, but–
Gods, what the hell is it about this man that always confuses Kaveh so much?
Fine, if he doesn’t want to talk, Kaveh won’t make him. But he still deserves an explanation. Suddenly, Kaveh is hit with an idea. A silly one, but he’s not going to question the methods by which he has to get his roommate talking.
Or drawing, more so.
After swiftly grabbing a spare sketchbook and pencil from his room, Kaveh returns to his seat on the couch next to Al-Haitham.
“Okay, you know what? That's alright. Don’t talk if you don’t want to. But if you’re going to be like that, we’re doing this my way.” He pushes the supplies to Al-Haitham’s hands with a huff, looking at him expectantly.
“..What do you want me to do with this?
“Draw it for me.”
“Draw..what?”
“Gods, you’re incorrigible- the Aranara!! Draw it, please! I’m not asking again.”
“…you’re joking.”
“Just do it!”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Al-Haitham, please.
“I’m not doing this.”
“Please.”
Al-Haitham looks down for a second and notices Kaveh’s hand has set the supplies down in front of them and has somehow snaked his hand into his. Frankly, Kaveh didn’t notice either. He quickly pulls back, his strange heart sensation booming in full force. He can feel his face burning up and quickly tries to turn away from Al-Haitham. What is wrong with him today?? Kaveh’s tempted to just excuse himself and walk away under the premise of “giving him space to draw” or something. He half-expected Al-Haitham to walk away on his own, dropping the matter entirely. But Kaveh was quickly surprised to, instead, see him reach for the sketchbook and pencil. Is .. he seriously doing this?
“Because you asked thrice. Not because I’m humoring you.”
Al-Haitham flipped open to a random page and crossed his legs, propping the book against his thigh. Suddenly forgetting the air of tension surrounding them, Kaveh regains his focus on the lines Al-Haitham begins laying down on the paper. Kaveh knew Al-Haitham was not exactly an artist nor a fan of such endeavors, but he certainly knew his way around a pencil. He began laying out the Aranara’s head and body, a chubby little creature with a large, rotund head. And- is that a leaf on its head? Really??
Kaveh noticed that as Al-Haitham drew, he would mutter what he was drawing. For every line, he would say something like “a little more here”, or “no that’s not right”, or mention how similar it looked to something else. Eventually, Kaveh’s attention began shifting more and more to what he was saying instead of the task he’d presented him. For some reason, his mind found that more interesting. According to Al-Haitham’s absent-minded muttering, the forest fairy had arms “like a leaf” and markings like “the swirls in trees.” It was interesting, almost. He truly did seem to have the conviction that these things were real. If he’s so steadfast in this, maybe they are real? Kaveh didn’t know what to think anymore.
“And up here, it’s a little jagged..”
“Is that a leaf stem up there?”
“Yeah, they..fly with it.”
“...Oh.”
“Don’t make me stop right now.”
“Sorry. I’m listening, I promise.”
“..and here, it looks a little like Tighnari’s flower specimens.”
“Really?”
“And..the face is a little silly looking.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah..the smile is..wide and kind of bright. Warm, sort of. Kind of like yours.”
As soon as those words left Al-Haitham’s mouth, Kaveh nearly had a heart attack. He swore he felt all of his organs do a somersault. He looked up at Al-Haitham, questioning if he even knew what he said, but he simply continued drawing.
It was like he hadn’t even noticed what his mouth had done, almost as if it betrayed him unwittingly. Does he really think he looks..like that? Bright? Warm? Kaveh felt the searing heat on his cheeks coming back in full, painting his face all sorts of red. Did Al-Haitham seriously compliment him? And so sincerely, at that? He felt his hand, still resting on Al-Haitham’s arm, tense against his will. Is he sick? He must be sick. This is a heart attack. He is dying. And Al-Haitham must be insane. This is how he will die. Sitting on his couch, next to his insane roommate with a stupid drawing in his sketchbook.
“Haitham, did you-”
“Done.”
Al-Haitham turned the book over to Kaveh, showing off his work. The drawing itself wasn’t bad at all, as Kaveh expected of the illustrious Grand Scribe. The Aranara was different from other depictions, looking rather cute and almost like a toy belonging to a child. Even the plant on its head was well made, with gentle jagged edges giving the illusion of a leaf. And the face — gods, the face — it was adorable. Tiny dots for eyes, exaggerated cheeks, and the “warm, bright” smile Al-Haitham had mentioned. At the end of an arrow stemming from the Aranara, a small replica of the succulent plant in its pot was drawn. A small note next to it wrote, “Only people who dream can see them. They hide in plants, sometimes.”
“This is.. really well done, Haitham... It’s actually rather cute.” Kaveh could hear the awkwardness in his voice. He thanked Lesser Lord Kusanali for his typically steady hands as they trembled against the paper. He’s seriously this nervous over a simple compliment. How lucky.
“If that’s it, I’d like to—”
Kaveh quickly cut him off. “Not to prod, but.. What did you say about the face? I couldn’t hear what you said.”
Al-Haitham, for once, spluttered through his words.
“Well, I don’t think… It’s-It’s not important. I don’t remember what I said.” Al-Haitham stared ahead, refusing to look at Kaveh. His face was stone, but his body was growing tense.
“I think it’s important..?” Kaveh said, debating whether he should move his hand further down Al-Haitham’s arm. “If.. you want to tell me, of course.”
Kaveh slid his hand down to Al-Haitham’s wrist. His heart thrummed in his ears. He couldn’t believe what he was doing. And worse? He didn’t know why he was compelled to do it. He just. Did it. Al-Haitham looked back at Kaveh once he felt his movement, watching his hand tentatively glide along his arm. He switched his gaze to Kaveh’s face, with Kaveh noticing just how close they’d gotten throughout the drawing process. They’d come to lean against each other, with their faces as close as they were when they were sat at the windowsill. Kaveh could very slightly feel Al-Haitham’s breath fanning against his face, even-paced yet slowly growing shakier. His face was still blank.
“Please tell me? I want to listen to you.” Kaveh pleaded, looking into Al-Haitham’s eyes and trying to search for something, anything, that would hint as to what he was feeling.
“Allow me to listen to you.” Kaveh insisted, trying to seem braver than he actually was. Is this something he should be doing? Thinking of doing? Kaveh felt like this feeling, this sudden yearning to be so close to someone, was something he’d been chasing his whole life. To find heaven in someone else? Kaveh didn’t know. But for some reason, this stupid little drawing had made Kaveh see it in Al-Haitham. Or perhaps see something he’s always seen, just never cared to notice about Al-Haitham. And about himself.
“I don’t know what I said.” Al-Haitham caught Kaveh’s hand in his own, interlocking their fingers together. His expression, and his gaze on Kaveh, never faltered. Kaveh felt like he was drowning in a sea of emerald and scarlet. It was suffocating, uncomfortable even. But Kaveh would be lying if he claimed he didn’t wish to be lost in that sea until his dying day.
“Can I take a guess?” The space between them was closing, although Kaveh couldn’t tell which of the two was moving closer to the other.
“Kaveh.” Al-Haitham’s voice was low, thick with the shakiness of his nerves. Even Kaveh could tell he was nervous. Gods, Kaveh was nervous. But he didn’t want to pull away. He’d do himself a disservice to pull away from him. He never knew how much it’d matter to him to hold Al-Haitham’s hand. To be this close to him. The tension was so thick, he was sure the blades of the Aranara’s head leaf would cut through it like water.
“Yeah?” Kaveh murmured.
“..It’s 12:30.”
…FUCK.
Had Al-Haitham been so slow at drawing that it took him an hour to complete such a simple sketch?! Kaveh quickly broke out of Al-Haitham’s hold on his hand and began scrambling to pick up his sketchbook, stuffing it in his bag. After a few “Why didn’t you tell me?!”’s and “What was I thinking?!’”s, Kaveh ran out the door like he’d never run before.
—
Al-Haitham didn’t have much of an eventful day after that. If you can describe intense contemplation about your relationship with your roommate as uneventful, that is. He felt like a ghost, his heart and soul stolen by Kaveh and running out with him out the door. Al-Haitham wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it back from him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it back, either. And nothing scared Al-Haitham more than not being sure.
As the night drew closer, Kaveh still hadn’t returned from Vimara Village. Al-Haitham had returned to his seat on the couch earlier that night, having eaten dinner and saving some leftovers for Kaveh. From what Al-Haitham had deduced thanks to the large work bag Kaveh carried away, this client was asking for a rather big project. That must be why he’s taking so long. No other reason. It’s not like Al-Haitham called his smile words he could barely remember, spent about five minutes holding his hand and staring into his eyes in silence. Certainly not. That’s what Al-Haitham told himself, trying to return to the rationality he was used to instead of the anxiety-ridden thoughts about what had transpired. Al-Haitham slouched further into the couch, cursing his awful day. The Aranara in the succulent didn’t help either, popping out of the plant to pester Al-Haitham itself. The forest spirit clearly had a few opinions about what'd happened, crawling up onto the couch to sit next to Al-Haitham to hold his hand with its little nub arms. It was trying to mimic Kaveh, looking up at Al-Haitham and laughing; although Al-Haitham wasn’t sure if forest spirits could actually laugh.
“You caused this.”
…
“Don’t look up at me like that. You know exactly what you did.”
..!
The tiny green nubs tapped on Al-Haitham’s hand, seeming so excited to have spawned the whole debacle. Kaveh was right, it was cute. But Al-Haitham knew that this sweet face was a facade for a conniving little creature. Especially for betraying him like this.
“You are so lucky I take pity on you, Arakanta.”
!!!
“Did you plan this? Is that why you insisted on me reading to you despite him being here?”
…
* poof*
And with that, Al-Haitham was officially by himself, the Aranara deciding to conveniently disappear right then and there. How sweet.
Al-Haitham laid down against the couch cushions. Honestly, he was scared. He is meant to know everything. Nothing escapes his mind. He is meant to know. But he doesn’t know this. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling so out of character. He doesn’t know why this is happening to him. He doesn’t know why Kaveh makes him feel like this. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he wants his hand in Kaveh’s again. He wants to be able to wake up next to him and feel whole because of it. He desperately, madly, and irrevocably wishes he could listen to him talk as he
falls asleep, carding his fingers through Al-Haitham’s hair. Al-Haitham wants, no, needs Kaveh. And he would say all of this to him ten times over. But he doesn’t want to ruin the moments they’ve already had as they are. Because how they are is better than being nothing at all due to Al-Haitham’s own selfishness.
Al-Haitham raised his hand above him, stretching it out toward the ceiling as he lay on his back. He took an extreme risk by suddenly holding Kaveh’s hand; risks were something that, while he was accustomed to, was a diversion from the typical routine. And that bothered Al-Haitham.
And it bothered him even more that he wanted to do it again.
Al-Haitham hesitantly pressed a kiss to where he’d felt Kaveh’s hand against his, wishing the fantasy in his head was real.
He hopes Arakanta will come back again soon. Hopefully not when Kaveh’s around.