Archive of Our Own

It had been a long day of work, lasting a grueling four hours, and Alhaitham was ready to finally clock out.

He doesn’t have many belongings to gather, to the confusion of his few coworkers. Alhaitham doesn’t see what’s so confusing. God forbid the day he has to lug a suitcase to work. He intentionally chose the job of the Scribe because it was simple. There is no requirement to scurry about the Akademiya, transporting documents left and right. And as per Alhaitham’s own set of requirements, there is absolutely no need to bring any of his work home.

He checks his pouch: music player, book…ah, his key was absent. During today’s busiest hour, Alhaitham had been disturbed on three separate occasions, all by people whom he had no interest in seeing. While sorting out their issues (that could have easily been solved with the smallest ounce of foresight), Alhaitham had been fiddling with his key at his desk. He would rub the pad of his thumb over the grooves of the smooth metal as if it were a lucky charm that held the power to hasten his journey home.

It was right where he left it, at the edge of his desk. A beam of afternoon sunlight hits the silver key at an angle, reflecting an arc of light across the wooden table. Alhaitham grabs it and deposits it safely into his pouch. Admittedly, he did miss the familiar weight of the small lion-shaped bauble that was notably not caught on his own key today. Sometimes, when he reaches his office, he peers into his pouch hoping to see that a certain golden key got snagged onto his own. On those days, he always had an extra visitor barging into his office; a visitor with a face that he was much more inclined to see than the usual crowd that came swarming to his door.

Alhaitham’s almost halfway out of his office, and halfway to freedom, when he is stopped by the shadow that has been following him for the past two weeks.

“Sir? Are you on your way out already?”

It was his overzealous intern, Bhuvan — the lanky-teenage boy-shaped reason why Alhaitham had to stay at his office longer than he’d like to this month. Turns out, in order to host an intern, he must be present at his office at predictable hours of the day, more than once a month. Of course, this situation wasn’t Alhaitham’s own doing; having an undergraduate around meant more work for him. But a few meetings ago, one of his higher-ups had advised that it would be good for him to have someone help around the office. Alhaitham had staunchly refused until he realized what the Mahamata was nervously trying to imply: it would be good to have someone around the office. Apparently, Alhaitham’s unpredictable schedule had been stirring up a bit of anxiety among the Akademiya students lately, especially since it was around the time that looming deadlines chased them into his office.

Alhaitham quietly sighs to himself, mourning the loss of what could’ve been a quick end to his work day. He morphs his expression into something more neutral and less overtly exasperated. Contrary to belief, it is not Alhaitham’s intention to scare off his intern before even a month has passed. Give it two months, though, and it may not be an unreasonable tactic…

“What seems to be the issue?”

Bhuvan shoots him a nervous grin, “Well, you see, I found this at the back of the records room.”

He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his satchel. The paper has turned a pale yellow with age. There is a noticeable tear in the middle, held together by neatly organized pieces of tape. Alhaitham recognizes it instantly, but he keeps quiet as Bhuvan fumbles to carefully unfold it.

“It seems to be a stray page of a scholar’s project.” Bhuvan scrunches his eyebrows for a moment, then corrects himself. “No — two scholars. The contrary views in the first paragraph alone are a sure enough indication…anyways, it’s about the ruins of King Deshret’s civilization! I know you’re knowledgeable about this kind of stuff, so I had a few questions…”

It’s amusing to him that his intern was happily unaware that the co-author of the paper was standing right before him. He doesn’t care to share this information with Bhuvan just yet. This conversation is bound to last at least ten minutes, and Alhaitham doesn’t want to extend it any further by retelling the rise and fall of his and Kaveh’s unsuccessful group project. He briefly wonders how the paper found its way into the records room. Given Kaveh’s penchant for recklessly leaving important things lying around (as evidenced by his keys), it isn’t farfetched to assume that he inadvertently left it in the records room the last time he visited.

Alhaitham humors Bhuvan for a bit, taking the time to listen to his junior’s thoughts and questions.

Bhuvan is a bright kid with a good head on his shoulders, capable of poking and prodding at his and Kaveh’s work in thoughtful ways that most scholars at the Akademiya would neglect to. It’s nice to discuss the contents of this particular project again. Before its fiery crash and burn, ‘Decoding the Runes and Architectural Philosophy of the Ruins of King Deshret's Civilization’ was a love letter of sorts. The thesis was a result of dozens of sleepless nights when he and Kaveh would spend countless hours writing, debating, writing, and then debating again. That period in his life was invigorating; deciphering the inner workings of Kaveh's mind, so new to him back then, thrilled him. He had finally found his match.

While Alhaitham reminisced, Bhuvan was still talking, caught up in a whirlwind of his own thoughts on the topic.

In the past, Alhaitham had not been inclined to entertain students, although he had given a few lectures at the Akademiya. It was Kaveh who usually attracted a swarm of undergraduates, like flies to honey. However, the intern's enthusiasm was palpable from the beginning. Alhaitham appreciated the opportunity to engage in discussion with a bright young person who brought a new perspective to the table. Also, there was a threatening undercurrent in the Mahamata’s words implying that if he didn’t hire an intern soon, Alhaitham would be the one sticking around the office for longer. And that simply would be unacceptable. So intern it is.

Perhaps he would bring up some of the points Bhuvan had mentioned to Kaveh later today. It would be sure to get a rise out of him. The thought of his roommate suddenly jolted Alhaitham back into reality. It has been fifteen minutes now since the time he was supposed to leave his office, which is quite unacceptable. He is about to sternly let this be known to his intern when Bhuvan stops mid-sentence.

“Ah! Sorry to keep you waiting…” Bhuvan rubs the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. Bhuvan’s head tilts towards Alhaitham’s hands. Alhaitham had been unknowingly fidgeting with his key again. “I know you’re in a hurry to get home, my apologies! Here, I’ll open the door for you.”

“Sure, but there’s really no need to do so.”

“No, no, I insist!” It is to be noted that however intelligent this intern of his is, he is quite the chatterbox. Bhuvan takes the opportunity to keep talking as he walks with Alhaitham to the exit.

“You see, my dad gets the same exact way, he’s always in a hurry to head home to see my mom. They’re a cute couple like that. Kind of embarrassing at times, though…” Bhuvan makes a face. “Anyways, I’m sure it must be like that with you and your wife too. Alright, see you tomorrow Scribe Alhaitham! Or…the day after? Next week?”

Bhuvan’s questions fall on deaf ears because Alhaitham is still reeling from his intern’s previous remark.

“...my wife?”

His junior seems a little shaken by Alhaitham’s deathly grave expression but plunges forward headfirst without hesitation. “Yes? I mean, I’ve never been acquainted, or even seen her in person really. But I always catch a glimpse of her long blonde hair as she disappears into the records room to go see you. I’m always busy cataloging at that time, so I’ve never seen her in full though…”

Alhaitham’s initial shock at Bhuvan’s statement passes, giving into contemplation. Kaveh never tries to hide his presence when he barges into Alhaitham’s office, despite the lengths he goes to (while sober) to hide any indication that he lives with Alhaitham. Considering that his too-bright-for-his-own-good intern has already started to connect the dots, it seems unwise to reveal his “wife’s” identity. Alhaitham allows himself to feel the slightest bit smug. He wonders how Kaveh would react if he heard his intern’s assumptions. Alhaitham smirks, he could see it now: the furrowing of Kaveh’s eyebrows, his eyelashes angrily fluttering, and the stuttered choking in his voice as he realizes the implications of the statement.

“Um, Scribe Alhaitham? You’re smiling to yourself…” Bhuvan peers up at him. “Wow. You must really love your wife a lot.”

Alhaitham bristles, his ears turning red. He’s thankful he has his headphones on.

“Piles 8-10.”

“Huh?”

“Piles 8-10 in the records room, at the far right. Have all of the documents alphabetically organized by the next time I am in the office. And perhaps during your task, you can contemplate not overstepping your mentor’s boundaries by prying into his personal information."

“Ah! Yessir!” Bhuvan lets out a yelp and clasps his hands in apology. “Sorry for prying!”

Alhaitham lets out a long overdue sigh and finally begins to depart for home.

“...ah…um…but could I maybe meet her sometime?” The start of a small blush forms on his junior’s face. Alhaitham suddenly feels quite irritated.

“Piles 8-12.”

“Eep!”

Alhaitham swiftly arrives at his house, which is a short 10-minute walk away from his office. Usually, the walk would take around 20 minutes, as he prefers to leisurely browse the stalls on Treasures Street before heading home. He would pick up a few snacks for later, browse for any particularly vexing wood sculptures, and then conclude his walk by visiting the light novel stall.

Today, though, he was not in the mood. Something about his intern’s assumptions left a peculiar feeling in his stomach, a feeling that the sights and smells of the marketplace could not alleviate.

Kaveh isn’t home.

Alhaitham slips his silver key onto the empty hook near the door. Alhaitham feels a pang of disappointment.

The situation isn’t unexpected. Alhaitham and Kaveh both run on unpredictable schedules, though Alhaitham’s unpredictability has been calculated to a science. It’s on purpose. On the other hand, Kaveh’s erratic schedule is often a result of him following the whims of his heart and mind. Most people would not be able to deduce whether the Light of Kshahrewar is halfway across the country meeting a client, at his office, or frequenting Lambad’s for a mournful afternoon drink.

Alhaitham wasn’t most people, of course. Just as Kaveh has an uncanny ability to locate Alhaitham when most wouldn’t even know where to start, Alhaitham could easily deduce Kaveh’s whereabouts just as accurately. Judging by the scattered blueprints left near the front door, Kaveh had probably rushed out to meet the prospective wealthy client he had mentioned over dinner just a few days ago.

His meeting should have ended by now though, it was nearing 5:40pm. Alhaitham’s disappointment grows. It’s not unlike Kaveh to be late, but they had made dinner plans. Well, ‘making plans’ was a bit of an overstatement. Like many things with them, it had started with an argument.

(“Do you ever check any of your mail? It’s piling up! There’s even a coupon for Puspa Café in here!”

“And pray tell, why is it any of your business to concern yourself with my mail?”

“Because it’s starting to invade my side of the living room! If I have to tidy up your belongings that you so carelessly discard, it’s within my right to take what I see fit. You’re taking me to dinner tomorrow.” Kaveh had waved the Puspa Café coupon in Alhaitham’s face.

“Setting aside the numerous fallacies in the statement you just made,” Alhaitham had rolled his eyes, “I’m assuming you expect me to pay as well?”

“Of course!”)

Perhaps they should find a more straightforward and time-efficient way to express their desire to spend time together, despite how entertaining their preceding arguments are.

Alhaitham busies himself with light housework. He was definitely not sulking because Kaveh is late for their unofficial dinner plans, or because they were supposed to be enjoying a warm plate of pulao and aloo tarkari right now.

At 6:00pm, Alhaitham’s despondency hadn't let up. He had enough of trying to be useful, though. He had finished all but one task on the short list of chores Kaveh had left for him on the back of an old receipt. Clean up your mail, for god’s sake. There were three exclamation points after the last word. Alhaitham huffed.

After absentmindedly shuffling his mail around for a bit, he shoves the pile into a nearby drawer. He settles on the sofa, picking up a pen to annotate a book that already had dozens of notes crammed into the margins of its pages. He thumbed to the section he had left off on. There was already a reply to his previous annotation, most of it consisting of ad hominem insults. Alhaitham scoffs, already scribbling down a response. It was good that Kaveh had accidentally left a page of their thesis at his office, not this book. His poor intern would have a heart attack if he had stumbled upon this book, the amount of hastily written back-and-forth annotations in it rivaling the length of the passage itself.

At some point, he dozes off. He wakes to the sound of the door slamming open.

Even in his grogginess, Alhaitham can tell Kaveh is preoccupied. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, his eyes erratically moving around the room until they settle on Alhaitham’s resting form on the couch.

Kaveh shoots him a quick glance and remarks, "Ah, you're here." Hmph. As if he doesn’t know Alhaitham's schedule down to the minute. Of course, Alhaitham is home.

Kaveh moves through the house with practiced ease. Usually, Kaveh would spread the various items that he had stored within Mehrak onto their coffee table. In a matter of a few minutes, the table would be covered in blueprints, his extensive architect’s toolkit, and a various assortment of knickknacks. It’s quite impressive how many useless items Kaveh manages to acquire within a day. Alhaitham often says this to Kaveh’s face, which launches them into another rapid back-and-forth.

Today, the coffee table is unnervingly clean.

After grabbing himself a glass of water from the kitchen, Kaveh heads straight to his room, gesturing for his suitcase to follow him. “Come, Mehrak.”

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow at Mehrak as the suitcase floats past him, dutifully following her master. She flashes him a look on her screen, which Alhaitham interprets to be some form of apologetic (and slightly distressed).

Kaveh exits his room after a while, with not a word to spare about his lateness or their dinner plans. Suddenly, very unreasonably, Alhaitham’s mood sours. He positions his book in a way that hides Kaveh from his eyeline.

“Say, did you get those chores done?”

Alhaitham doesn’t grace Kaveh with a response, feeling childishly immature. Why was Alhaitham acting this way? Thoughts of his intern’s assumptions float up to him. Kaveh is not his ‘wife’ nor his husband, nor a partner in any sense of the word. Even the word ‘friend’ left an odd taste in his mouth; the shape of it felt foreign on his lips, like he was trying to reclaim a long-forgotten mother tongue. The vowels and intonations did not come to him like they used to, tainted by years of unuse and bitterness (“I regret ever befriending you.”)

On nights when it takes longer than usual for sleep to take hold of him, Alhaitham’s subconsciousness drifts to the past, before torn pages and message boards and palaces. His mind drags him back to the day that Kaveh had first referred to Alhaitham as his ‘best friend’. Alhaitham’s heart had wildly pounded in his chest; every single one of his nerves had been set alight, buzzing with an indescribable type of joy.

To ascribe their current relationship to this word, ‘friend’, seemed inappropriate. They were less than what they used to be, but much more at the same time. For now, they had settled on ‘roommates’. It was the most factual representation of them at this time, anyways. Alhaitham couldn’t argue with this logic. However, this loose term implies that Kaveh has no obligation to spend his time with Alhaitham. They are merely cohabitating out of convenience, as Kaveh reminds him so often. Alhaitham feels the unsettling pit in his stomach grows.

Kaveh, noticing the lack of response on Alhaitham’s end, makes his way toward the couch.

“What, no sharp remark? Pretending that that list of chores doesn’t exist won’t make them disappear, you know.” Kaveh settles on the edge of the couch. Though his words were nagging, his tone was soft, bordering on a brand of veiled worry specific to Kaveh. It was not often that Alhaitham did not rise to an argument.

Alhaitham’s wrists ache from holding his book up. He sets down his makeshift shield, meeting Kaveh’s expectant gaze.

“If you were to think the slightest bit more before you speak, you would realize that every task on that list of yours has been completed.” Alhaitham gestures to the tabletop now devoid of mail. (The clutter that now exists inside the nearby drawer, though? That stays between Alhaitham and the Archons.) “Or, have you worked yourself to the point of exhaustion that you can’t even recall the fuss you made over my mail yesterday? If that’s the case, I might as well take back that coupon.”

Kaveh’s expression quickly morphs into annoyance, a familiar sight. Almost by reflex, he begins to splutter back an indignant response. But then he comes to an abrupt stop.

“Hold on,” Kaveh shakes his head, eyeing Alhaitham in disbelief. “Wait, is this - Is this because you thought I forgot about our dinner plans?”

Alhaitham quickly lifts his book to his face again, trying not to let his expression betray his emotions. Kaveh leans over Alhaitham, pushing the book down with his finger.

“Oh my god, you’re sulking!” Kaveh lets out a loud laugh, tinged with disbelief. He’s so close that Alhaitham feels the sound reverberate through his chest. Through his cloud of embarrassment, Alhaitham feels a twinge of disappointment as Kaveh’s laughter fades. A lingering smile remains on Kaveh’s lips.

“Stop that,” Kaveh flicks a finger to Alhaitham’s frown. “Or I might actually get the idea that you enjoy my presence.”

Of course, I do, Alhaitham says in his mind, grumbling. Is that so hard to believe?

Alhaitham doesn’t dare to say it out loud. He’s confined within the limits of the word that they had set for themselves: ‘roommates.’ Instead, Alhaitham settles by replying with a small grunt as he loudly flipped a page from the book he had been holding.

The spot where Kaveh had brushed his cheek feels like it’s on fire. The ghost of a smile still on his lips, Kaveh gets up from the couch. Alhaitham is able to breathe a bit easier.

“Besides, how could I forget a meal that was so graciously promised to me? I was half expecting you to forge some sort of lazy excuse to not go. Now come on, our reservation is for 7:30. We’re already running late, so get ready.”

“Says the man that made us late. You say that as if you’re not heading to hog the washroom to spend another half an hour getting ready.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes, “Excuse me for wanting to look presentable — not all of us can roll out of bed like you, Alhaitham.” And with that bombshell, he departs to the restroom, rendering Alhaitham temporarily speechless. Alhaitham runs a hand over his face. Does Kaveh ever think before he speaks? Alhaitham’s cheeks are uncomfortably warm. He needs a cup of water.

The food at Puspa Café is delicious, as expected.

The ambiance is a nice respite from the hustle and bustle of Sumeru City. The cafe is dimly lit, with soft music chiming in the background. The chatter and laughter is hushed in comparison to the boisterous atmosphere at Lambad’s Tavern. There is a moderately sized fountain placed in the middle of the space, one of Puspa Café’s main attractions. It’s been a while since they’ve frequented this joint. Alhaitham’s surprised Kaveh hasn’t started waxing poetic about the cafe’s ambient staging, conscientiously chosen focal points, or spatial configurations yet.

In fact, Alhaitham doesn’t think Kaveh has looked up once since they had gotten to the cafe. His eyes are cast downwards towards the table, though it would be an overstatement to say that Kaveh’s focus is trained on his meal. As soon as the waiter sets down his thali on the table, Kaveh absentmindedly grabs the roti. Judging from the steam coming off in wisps from the rest of the plate, the roti must be equally hot. Kaveh lets out a yelp, confirming Alhaitham’s suspicions. Alhaitham raises an eyebrow at Kaveh, who is now hastily blowing at his scorched fingers.

“Very classy.”

“Oh, shut up. I know you’re planning to eat that roti with a fork, you uncultured oaf.”

Even as they make their way through their respective meals, Kaveh still seems to be on edge about something. Alhaitham doesn’t comment on it. Kaveh gets stuck in his head often, but he always manages to find his way out. His resilience is one of his greatest strengths. However, the time it takes for Kaveh to navigate out of whatever has trapped him inside of his head varies. It ranges from a few minutes to a few days. Even after their main course has finished, Kaveh is still lost in thought. Alhaitham decides to expedite the process.

“That intern of mine found a page of our thesis lying around in the records room. It seems that someone had rather carelessly discarded it.”

“Ah, my bad,” Kaveh’s eyes widen momentarily, “I must have left it there the last time I visited…”

It isn’t the response that Alhaitham wants. He pushes a bit further.

“My intern had quite a few comments on it. He advised that the authors incorporate a more critical background analysis of Deshretian civilization, saying that the paper should focus less on romanticization and more on practical considerations.”

Kaveh scoffs, “Of course, he would say that! He’s your intern.” He crosses his arms. “Whoever is willing to be mentored by you is sure to share your same close-minded views. Send him a copy of the full version — he’ll eat his words when he gets to the section about load-bearing!”

Alhaitham’s about to set the final portion of his plan to improve Kaveh’s mood into motion. Despite Bhuvan’s few critiques, he did gush over a number of Kaveh’s ideas. Alhaitham’s about to offhandedly let this fact be known to Kaveh when suddenly, Kaveh exasperatedly groans into his hands.

“Ugh…this wasn’t supposed to be how this goes.” Kaveh wildly gestures toward their table.

Alhaitham glances at the platter of gulab jamun set in front of them.

“Are you that offended by my choice of sweets?” Alhaitham takes a fork and carefully slices the gulab jamun in half. Sugary syrup oozes out of the fried sweet. “Though I could see how it could be troublesome to eat while reading.”

Kaveh blinks at him.

“What? No! I’m talking about — I tried to — ugh.” Kaveh shakes his head in frustration, “Let me just show you.”

Show him? Alhaitham pops the piece of gulab jamun he had cut into his mouth, then turns his attention towards Kaveh. He was rummaging through his suitcase’s contents. Earlier, Kaveh had leaned Mehrak against the leg of the table. Kaveh is very rarely seen without Mehrak when he’s working. But in his leisure time, Kaveh simply leaves her at her charging station. So when Kaveh had grabbed her on their way out to dinner, Alhaitham briefly questioned the decision. In the end, though, he simply chalked the action up to Kaveh being preoccupied with some facet of his work. Up until now, Alhaitham had been sure that his hypothesis held some ounce of truth.

But instead of pulling out crumpled blueprints, Kaveh pulls out a small box. The sides of the box are decorated with an intricate gold lining.

Kaveh slowly opens the box, looking uncharacteristically bashful.

Inside, there lies a ring.

It’s a simple, yet elegant, band of silver. A small blue-green gemstone is embossed at its center.

“It’s for you.”

Alhaitham chokes on his gulab jamun.

Kaveh quickly rushes over to Alhaitham’s side, letting out a string of curses.

Kaveh slides a hand underneath Alhaitham’s chest, muttering to himself. “Shit…I should’ve paid more attention to Tighnari’s first aid lecture…what was it? Five quick back blows between the shoulder blades…or was it below?”

In the midst of Kaveh’s panic, Alhaitham violently coughs, swiftly dislodging the small piece of sweet from his trachea. He quickly pulls Kaveh’s hand away from his chest. Alhaitham downs a nearby glass of water.

“I’m fine.” Alhaitham exhales. His heart rapidly pounds against his chest.

Kaveh crouches down on one knee beside Alhaitham’s chair. He’s still clutching that ring box in his right hand. Kaveh places his other hand against Alhaitham’s forehead. “You’re burning up — are you absolutely sure you’re not dying?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” The feeling of Kaveh’s cold hand on Alhaitham’s forehead sends a shiver down Alhaitham’s spine. Alhaitham begins to suspect that this full-body burning sensation he’s been experiencing lately is more multifaceted than he’d initially believed.

All of a sudden, someone at a nearby table lets out a high-pitched yelp. Alhaitham and Kaveh both turn their heads to the source of the commotion.

A lady dressed in Fontainian attire jumps out of her booth. She quickly snaps a photo of the two of them with her Kamera. The flash temporarily blinds them.

“Congratulations on your engagement!”

There’s a beat of silence.

Alhaitham slowly, very slowly, looks down at Kaveh who is kneeling on one knee with a ring out. The image is eerily reminiscent of the front cover of a Fontainian light novel he had passed by the other day. Ah.

Kaveh, seeming to realize at the same time that Alhaitham does, scrambles to get off the hardwood floor.

“No, no, no — nothing of the sort is happening!” Kaveh exclaims, red in the face. “No one is getting engaged!”

“Ah, um, sorry!” The Fontainian lady squeaks, quickly returning to her own booth.

“Lord Kusanali please give me the strength to make it through this day…” Kaveh settles back into his seat, using a hand to shield his face from the rest of the restaurantgoers. It’s quite ineffective, seeing that they are sitting at a table situated in the center of the room. “She looked like a reporter…God, you don’t think she’s going to put that picture in the papers…right?”

Judging by how the lady was widely grinning at her Kamera in her booth, Alhaitham didn’t think that it would be an unlikely situation. He refrains from telling Kaveh this.

At the very least, Alhaitham was glad that the rest of the restaurant hadn’t made a fuss about their little predicament. Perhaps the crowd wasn’t familiar with Fontainian engagement customs, or they simply couldn’t be bothered to pay attention.

“Pay it no mind.” Alhaitham plucks the ring box out of Kaveh’s grip. A small smirk settles on his face. “I wasn’t aware of your intentions to betroth me. Especially right after my near death — a bold move, Senior Kaveh.”

“Shut up!” Kaveh snags the ring box back, face reddening. “It’s not like that and, oh please, you were in no way about to die.”

Kaveh runs a finger across the gold lining. His features are overtaken by a contemplative expression. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I came across my mother’s old notebook the other day.”

Alhaitham’s eyes widen at the sudden mention of Kaveh’s mother. It takes him back to a moment, nearly ten years ago — the cool summer night when Kaveh had first confided in Alhaitham about Faranak leaving for Fontaine. He recounted the letter she had left for him with a pained smile on his lips.

(“It’s for the better.” Kaveh’s voice wobbled. It had sounded like Kaveh was trying to convince himself of this sentiment, burning the words into his mind, as if that would cement their truth. He broke down a few minutes later, sobbing into Alhaitham’s chest. It was the first time they had embraced.)

Alhaitham did not have enough knowledge of Faranak to impose judgment on her actions, nor did he care to. But he did deeply care for her son’s well-being.

Alhaitham studies Kaveh’s demeanor. Kaveh’s current expression didn’t conceal the same pain it had on that summer night. Instead, it was wistful.

“I had spent forever trying to figure out the code to open that notebook when I was younger. And no,” Kaveh shoots Alhaitham a look. “It was not a simple password, so don’t get all worked up, Haravatat.”

Kaveh lets out a small exhale before continuing. “The password was ‘companionship.’ She told me that companionship was the most important thing of all.”

Kaveh looks at Alhaitham, his gaze fond. There is so much warmth and light radiating from it that Alhaitham feels blinded. There is a buzzing feeling filling Alhaitham’s chest. He feels lightheaded.

“Kaveh, I — ”

“Hold on!” Kaveh cuts him off mid-sentence, his face flushed. He very slowly continues. “Before you ruin it, I need to explain the ring. The wealthy client I mentioned a few days back is the owner of a prestigious overseas jewelry business. As a token of good business, he offered me a piece of jewelry from his latest collection. Admittedly, I did feel guilty at first…who knows how much those pieces cost? But then I saw this turquoise ring — funnily enough, when I saw it, all I could think of was you.”

Kaveh takes a deep breath. “I…it had been weighing on my mind that I hadn’t properly thanked you…for well, everything. It’s taken me some time, and though our relationship is not free from its faults, I am thankful to have you as a companion. I have a lot of regrets, but meeting you has never been one. Sure, sometimes I wonder, where would I be if we had never met that day in the House of Daena? After our fight, I tried to envision a universe where we had never met. I tried so hard. But despite everything, I couldn’t. I now realize it’s because I didn’t want to.”

“There’s no universe I would want to exist in that doesn’t include you, Alhaitham, the Retired Acting Grand Annoyance of the Akademiya. Alhaitham, the reclusive Haravatat genius,” Kaveh pauses. “Alhaitham — my closest companion.”

Kaveh carefully opens the ring box, taking a few cursory glances around to ensure that no eavesdropping Fontainian journalists were near. He carefully takes the bejeweled ring out, then slips it into Alhaitham’s palm. As soon as the ring is out of Kaveh’s hand, Kaveh lets out a deep exhale. He leans back into his chair, winded after his impromptu speech.

It was a rarity for the Scribe of the Akademiya to be at a loss for words, but Kaveh’s words had left him reeling. Alhaitham says nothing at first, simply looking at the ring in his grasp. There’s a lingering warmth radiating from it.

Even without looking up, he can feel Kaveh stirring uncomfortably. It wasn’t a wise idea for Alhaitham to leave Kaveh hanging for so long, but it was only fair after Kaveh had left Alhaitham defenseless.

“If you don’t like it, I can return it, of course.” Kaveh rubs his neck, uncertainty seeping into his speech. “I wasn’t sure if you would even accept it. I know you’re not fond of elaborate jewelry, but when you were younger, you did seem especially fond of turquoise…or — ”

“Kaveh.”

“Or wait, maybe it was emerald. Lord Kusanali, it’s only my luck that I can’t distinguish basic types of gemstones…”

“Kaveh.”

Alhaitham takes Kaveh’s hands in his.

“I like it. I like it a lot.” Alhaitham smiles fondly. It feels like every single one of his nerves has been set alight. “Of course, I think the Rtawahist scholars would have a field day with your universe analogy. They would tear it apart.”

Kaveh bristles, mouth opening to fire back.

“But for the record, I wouldn’t want to live in a universe without you either.”

Kaveh settles, a wide smile dancing on his lips. “Good.”

Kaveh tears off a piece of roti, using it to tug off a chunk of the remaining piece of gulab jamun. He licks the sweet syrup off his fingers, smirking. “Besides, think of the poor soul that would have to be subjected to your miserable personality if you weren’t stuck with me.”

“Should I remind you that it's that miserable personality’s house you’re currently living in?”

While the two ease back into their usual bickering, Alhaitham slips the silver ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly. A content feeling settles over him. Companions. The word melts on his tongue. It’s nice.

“Scribe Alhaitham?”

Hearing his official title outside of his office was never a pleasant experience. Most scholars steer clear of approaching Alhaitham outside of his working hours after hearing (mostly exaggerated) cautionary tales.

Alhaitham very slowly turns to the source of the voice.

“Ah, Scribe Alhaitham! I am so sorry to interrupt.” Bhuvan hovers by Alhaitham and Kaveh’s table with an air of uncertainty. He’s dressed in a waitstaff’s attire.

Alhaitham pinches his forehead, trying to recollect himself. This is his intern, he reminds himself of the facts. If Alhaitham snaps back, he will be left internless and swamped with at least one more hour of work per week — this was the first reason. Now, the second reason. Kaveh had made a fuss about Alhaitham not knowing any of his coworkers' names a month ago. It wasn’t an untrue fact. Alhaitham barely interacts with his coworkers as is, and he does not care in the slightest about what most people thought of his standoffish demeanor at work. As always, though, most people did not include Kaveh.

This was the ideal opportunity to show him that Alhaitham could, in fact, be somewhat sociable, thank you very much.

“Hello, Bhuvan. What seems to be the matter?”

Kaveh perks up. “Ah! Bhuvan — Alhaitham’s new intern, right? You can call me Kaveh.”

Bhuvan suddenly looks quite flustered, like he just realized who was sitting across Alhaitham. “Um…ah…intern! Me, yes I am his intern! Nice to meet you!”

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow at Bhuvan as he very obviously ogles Kaveh. Poor kid, Alhaitham thinks, he senses Kaveh must have unpacked some internal crisis within his intern. It’s quite understandable. Though he’d prefer that his teenage intern develop a puppy crush on someone who had no association with Alhaitham.

Alhaitham clears his throat, redirecting Bhuvan’s attention back to him.

“Judging by your attire, I assume you work part-time here?”

Bhuvan slowly looks back at Alhaitham. Before he meets his gaze, though, Bhuvan’s eyes drift to the ring on Alhaitham’s finger. A look of realization passes across his intern’s face. That couldn’t be good.

“Yeah — I take up some shifts here in the evenings. I just happened to spot you during my rotation.” Bhuvan responds distractedly. “But I wanted to apologize for my misunderstanding earlier today. You’re right, I do jump to conclusions often. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m so sorry for assuming that you had a wife when it was your husband all along…by the way, that’s a very nice ring, I’ve never even noticed it before. Anyways, sorry again, and goodbye!”

Bhuvan quickly turns on his heel to exit, but then stops mid-turn to add one last remark.

“It was really nice meeting you, Sir, um, Kaveh.” Bhuvan stutters, face flushed. He leaves the table to attend to the Fontainian lady, who for some odd reason, is still here.

Alhaitham turns back to Kaveh. Kaveh gapes at him. A confused crease forms between his eyebrows and his eyelashes start to flutter angrily as he realizes the implication of his intern’s words. Alhaitham hides a small smile behind his napkin. It’s quite remarkable how predictable Kaveh can be sometimes. And quite endearing.

“Wife?!”

Bonus 1.

Kaveh storms into their living room.

“Don’t ask!” He exclaims, with a tone that indicates that he very much would like to be asked. Kaveh collapses onto the couch adjacent to Alhaitham.

Alhaitham flips a page of his book. “What happened?”

“Ugh!” Kaveh buries his face into a pillow, his next words coming out muffled. “I’ll tell you, but don’t you dare say ‘I told you so’.”

Alhaitham noncommittally hums in response, already getting an inkling of where this situation was going.

“The wealthy client I had been working with suddenly disappeared. Up out of nowhere!” Kaveh groans. “A few minutes ago, Cyno contacted me, saying apparently my client had been the head honcho of a popular turquoise scam. They take cheap stones and color them in with children’s markers! To think that I was about to help that kind of twisted person…it makes me sick.”

Kaveh quickly realizes. “Say, does that mean that…”

They both stare at Alhaitham’s ring. Alhaitham uses the stray piece of paper that had been serving as his bookmark and rubs it against the ‘turquoise’ ring. It leaves a colored stain on the paper.

“...”

Kaveh lets out a strangled noise, then proceeds to bury his face into the sofa again.

Bonus 2.

It’s a somber day. The drawer that Alhaitham relegated for stashing his unopened mail in is full.

He’s in the middle of trying to force it to close when Kaveh walks into the room. Alhaitham leans against the cracked open drawer, adopting a very unsuspicious and casual pose.

To his good fortune, Kaveh is preoccupied anyways. Kaveh is filing through his own mail. Suddenly, he lets out a shriek.

“Huh? Oh god, no…” Kaveh holds a fresh newspaper in his hands. Alhaitham drifts over to Kaveh’s side of the room to see what the commotion is about.

Kaveh holds up the newspaper to Alhaitham’s face. Alhaitham squints at it. It’s a Fontainian newspaper. The headline reads, “Court of Fontaine Strikes Down Environmentalist Efforts.”

“Well, that is distressing, but not unexpected.”

“What?” Kaveh splutters, turning the newspaper back around. “No, not that! This.”

He points at a smaller headline at the bottom left of the newspaper, in the celebrity gossip section. It’s slightly crumpled. Alhaitham plucks the newspaper from Kaveh’s death grip. There is a blurry picture of Kaveh kneeling on one knee with a ring out, apparently proposing to Alhaitham. Sorry, Ladies! The Handsome Ex-Acting Grand Scribe of Sumeru’s Akademiya is Officially Taken. There is a subheading too, as if the headline wasn’t enough. Read more to find juicy insider gossip about his secret relationship…

Ah. Alhaitham supposes the misunderstanding couldn’t be too bad. People would stop coming up to him in the middle of the street trying to unsuccessfully romance him. Besides, the paper wasn’t incorrect in deducing where his actual affections lie.

“It’s even worse than I thought…” Kaveh groans. He waves a pile of letters in Alhaitham’s face. “Tighnari, Cyno, and Collei have sent their congratulations. Huh? ‘It’s been a long time coming’ — what does Tighnari mean by that? You don’t think he was out testing mushrooms in the wild when he wrote this.”

His roommate quickly tears another letter open, eyes widening as he skims through the contents. “A letter from my mother?! ‘I wrote this letter as fast as I could when I saw the announcement in the papers…Congratulations, darling. It’s very sweet, but isn’t your outfit a little drab for such a grand occasion…’.”

“That’s it!” Kaveh slams the pile of letters onto the counter. “I’m done for. Even the ring is fake, for god’s sake!”

“Well, I suppose you could propose to me with a real ring this time. Preferably not after a near-death experience.”

“Y-You!”