Alhaitham had always been a fast learner—considered a gifted child by many. Whatever subject he tackled, he learned quickly. While many believed Alhaitham to be a genius, he himself begs to differ. To him, he's just average. It's just that the people that he had been surrounded with since he was young were mostly... not the most astute. That's why he ended up looking like a prodigy among them. This is a truth Alhaitham came to confirm the more people he met as he grew up. Because as he had started to mingle along with those who were also once gifted, he realized how much knowledge he still lacked. And while this is applicable to most of his course subjects in college, Alhaitham really is just talking about one specific course—visual arts.
Alhaitham was the type to not talk much. In groups of people, he wouldn't be actively in the conversation unless he's asked to speak. Otherwise, Alhaitham just remains silent, observing everybody in his own little corner with his quaint book, storing information about both the conversation and the speech mannerisms of each person—to be used later when needed. Alhaitham might not brand himself as a good speaker, but he'll definitely label himself not a bad listener. Sometimes, he's even so good that he has to make an effort to block his ears from hearing a conversation that he believes he shouldn't be hearing, because whether he likes it or not, Alhaitham's brain likes to continuously process information, no matter the relevance to him. At the very least, this skill has been helpful academically. As long as it involves words, Alhaitham is bound to remember them in his squishy, sloshy brain.
Maybe that is the problem with art.
Alhaitham's art homework had always been done by his late grandmother, who was an awesome artist, because of his embarrassing lack of artistic skills. He is that one rare species of human that has zero artistic sense. His grandmother taught him colors and its basic theories. She also tried getting him into clay sculpting, but all his creations ended up looking deformed. She even personally trained him to draw, but Alhaitham can never seem to get the symmetry or the perspective right. He gave up halfway on learning art halfway through his life, deciding that because art does not have any words, it is not something he could possibly learn or master. Basically, Alhaitham is friends with literature, not aesthetics.
If Alhaitham was desperate enough, he would really come running to his art professor's feet and beg him to just give him a 5000-word analysis paper assignment on some piece of art. That would be way better than actually producing something with the pencil in his hand and the paper under his skin. Alhaitham questions in his mind, the same way most people question theirs about mathematics—"who even started this?"
Frankly, Alhaitham has nothing against art in general. What he has something against is the archons, for not blessing him even a smidgen of artistic skill. He really couldn't care less if they converted some of his brain power to be used for something illustrative and formative. If only something like an automatic drawing paper exists, where he could simply write what he has in mind, and the paper will do all the work for him. But, ah, that must be unfair for every artist who took the time and effort to hone their art.
Alhaitham has the option to commission an artist to do his project for him, now that his grandmother is not around to help him anymore, but they also have to draw in class. He can't just make the most artistic homeworks while drawing the most hideous things in class. He has four months to do this. He could try learning from his class or by taking extra lessons or something.
The problem is, Alhaitham doesn't even really know where to start. When he got home that day, he decided to do some practice sketches and doodles in his sketchbook, or to at least conceptualize his final term project. So he took out his sketchbook and his pencil, and sat down in front of his study desk. He's been there for half an hour now, the sketchbook still empty.
The theme was to "draw something beautiful." An extremely easy theme, if you think about it, so even Alhaitham himself is awfully puzzled as to why he can't think of anything he'd like to put on paper. Maybe the fact that it's so simple is messing with his brain chemicals, but he has no choice. He's got to force himself to think of something.
Is this what they call an art block? Alhaitham thinks good-naturedly.
All art must start with an inspiration, just as how all books are written from motivations. He can't make himself learn art, or even love it, if he can't find inspiration for it. But what would it bring him to sit here in his room, in front of his desk, staring out the window at the sunset-hued sky, the curtain waving and dancing with the wind, flickering like fire in front of his eyes, every now and then. He'll achieve nothing like this, and he'll end up just depressed over being unproductive—aside from the hard truth that he does not have the ability to procure art at all.
Besides, he should be worried about other things at present first, like the empty room across his. The final term is not as close as the due date for rent payment is. He needs to find a new roommate soon.
Alhaitham closed his sketchbook with a sigh, tossing his pencil onto the wall and letting himself fall sluggish on his chair. He closes his eyes, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He really should put up a looking-for-roommate ad. Maybe insert in the requirements that they have to be single, so he's sure they won't leave him randomly in the middle of the semester to move in with their partners, and stress him about bills.
He looks back out towards the sky that has now completely darkened. He stares up at the stars that littered the night, twinkling somewhere light years away from him. His mind begins to get noisy, running at a few dangerous miles per hour—thinking about the roommate ad he has to put up, the approaching rent due, and his art project. He stands up and grabs his headphones to cover his ears and blast out something that could block out the noises of his mind. Alhaitham plops down on his bed, closing his eyes while he lets the music banging from his headphones consume him.
Something beautiful, something beautiful... Alhaitham sing-songs mentally, his consciousness falling into a state of slumber.
. . .
Alhaitham woke up with an angry stomach. He ended up sleeping through dinner from the piled up stress he has. When he awoke, the sun was already shining brightly through his widely open window. Several leaves and petals had already settled on his windowsill—some on the floor—carried there by the early morning spring wind.
Alhaitham sat up with a groan, clutching his grumbling stomach. He rubbed the sleep off of his face with a hand as he stood up to close his windows and shut his curtains. The weather today is great, and his class does not start until later in the afternoon. He should go out for a small run around the block and spend some time reading in the House of Daena, instead of stressing out on his many unfortunate predicaments.
After sweeping off the spring mess that littered his floor, finishing on his morning routine and getting dressed for his run, Alhaitham finally slipped out of his dorm room and jogged through the tranquil, tree-lined streets of the surrounding neighborhood. It’s still early spring, so a lot of trees have just started recovering their greens and bearing their flowers.
Alhaitham likes the spring season. It’s not this favorite, per se. He simply likes how innately beautiful it is. Not to mention how perfect the temperature is at springtime–not too cold and not too hot, just always breezy. It makes walks around campus bearable, since he would not need to sweat every step he took, like in the summer. So if he were to rank which seasons are the best, spring would come second, and the only reason it falls short on first place–autumn takes that spot–is because spring brings the energy of vibrancy to everyone, and it takes so much effort for Alhaitham to deal with lively classmates and enthusiastic professors.
Alhaitham turned the corner, making it back to his road. He slowed his pace as he approached his dorm room, taking a moment to catch his breath before heading inside. After a quick shower to wash off the sheen of sweat, he dressed in a black turtleneck and some slacks for his library excursion. While packing in some necessary stuff in his bag, Alhaitham’s phone screen lights up for a text message notification from one of his classmates, informing him that afternoon classes were canceled due to their professor being sick. Well, poor guy, but that means Alhaitham can now spend a longer time in the House of Daena. He turns off his phone and puts it in his pocket. After checking everything one last time, he finally gets back out and makes his way to the Akademiya’s library.
The House of Daena stood majestically, its towering shelves filled with books promising escape and knowledge. Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, he was greeted by the familiar scent of aged paper and the quiet murmur of students lost in their own books and studies. Alhaitham makes his way to the spot near the back, where most students don’t bother going because it’s right in front of a window that welcomes the sun’s warm hug, which many find too hot. Alhaitham likes the spot, however, since it’s the quietest corner in the entire library, and he finds the natural light coming from the sun outside to be perfect enough for his reading pleasure.
He arrives at the table and finds it empty, as expected, except there’s something in front of the topmost chair–some sort of open book lying unattended on the table. The sunlight shining down upon it makes it look like some sort of magical book that, when touched, would bring to a fantasy world full of faeries and dragons and elves. Alhaitham raises a brow as he looks around, checking if the owner is nearby. Seeing that no one seems to be present around the vicinity, Alhaitham approaches the book to further clarify what it is and to possibly find information about its owner (if it was indeed a haphazardly abandoned book).
Alhaitham puts his bag down on the table and picks up the book–that he now realizes is not a book, but a sketchpad–and skims through its contents in wondrous awe. The sketchpad is filled with intricate drawings, each page fully utilized. There are detailed drawings of architectural designs, showcasing grand buildings and intricate structures, complete with annotations and measurements. Some sketches capture the beauty of nature, with delicate renderings of blooming flowers and serene landscapes. Others are more abstract, filled with swirling patterns and bold lines that convey a sense of movement and emotion. Each piece is meticulously crafted, as if each line had been carefully calculated while still having the feeling of it freely flowing on the paper.
As Alhaitham turns the pages, he finds himself drawn into each piece, as if he had personally witnessed its creation–watching the artist’s focused eyes glow with passion as his hands smoothly move around the pad with complete control over the pencil in his hand. He was mesmerized by the combination of technical precision and artistic expression. The perfect balance of aesthetic and logic.
Alhaitham reaches the end of the used pages. He turns the sketchpad back to the very first page, eyes scanning the inside cover to check for a name. He finds one at the bottom left–Kaveh–with his class beside it–Architecture 3-E. It belongs to a senior, then.
He closes the sketchpad and wonders to himself. Normally, Alhaitham would solve a situation like this by handing it over to the authorized personnel–in this case, the librarian. This Kaveh might come back for their sketchpad later on, after all, but Alhaitham is in dire need, and his finding this in his spot in the library might just be a sign from above. If he returns it to Kaveh himself, the architecture student might feel grateful enough to lend him a favor, which would be for this person to teach Alhaitham some basic art. It would be a win-win situation, then, for the both of them. Now the problem lies on where to find Kaveh. There’s a chance the person would realize early on that their sketchpad is missing, and they could come back to the library soon to take it back.
As malicious as it sounds like, Alhaitham doesn’t really favor that happening. If Kaveh were to come and fetch his sketchbook by himself, Alhaitham wouldn't get acknowledged at all, and his only way of possibly guaranteeing this amazing artist to help him with his art will be gone.
With that in mind, Alhaitham opens his bag and puts the sketchpad in there. A part of him starts to feel guilty about what he's doing, but he reasons with himself that these are desperate measures. It's not like this will harm anyone, either. He's still returning the sketchpad, just with extra steps.
After placing the sketchpad inside his bag, Alhaitham quickly made a beeline out of the House of Daena. Once out, he searches for an unoccupied spot on campus. He settles for a bench just outside of the Akademiya's lounge area. Once he is seated and relaxed, Alhaitham takes out his phone and the sketchpad, and opens the Akasha Terminal. He goes to the tab where he left the Akademiya’s message board open.
The Akademiya’s message board is a web page that students of the Akademiya mostly use to find a roommate, find a classroom, or find their missing stuff. Alhaitham begins to make a post announcing the sketchpad he found “unattended at a table outside the lounge area.” He takes a quick photo of the sketchpad and attaches it to his post. After rereading everything and making sure it sounds great, he clicks the Post button and waits for responses.
There's a probability that a response won't come until later on at night. Luckily, he has no classes, and he's got a few ebooks saved up in his phone. It'll be enough to allow him to wait for a while just until a little bit past lunchtime—further than that would be too much. He's not in a big hurry to learn how to art anyway (if this Kaveh person would even agree to teach him), and he's sure it won't take as long as a few days for the owner to reach out to him. Unless they're a sad*st of some sort, Alhaitham doubts someone would voluntarily abandon a sketchbook full of passionate art such as this.
The sun reaches its peak seemingly too soon for someone so engrossed in his book. The quadrangle lights up brightly, occasionally darkening when a cloud passes by. Alhaitham had not received a single notification of response from Kaveh. He might still be busy with his classes. Alhaitham shuts off his phone and puts it in his pocket. He tidies up his things, standing up to now leave and return to his dorm.
The walk back is peaceful. He put on his headphones for music to keep him company on his walk home. The gentle spring breeze swayed the plants around, almost matching the beat of the song playing through his headphones.
Once he arrives back to his dorm room, Alhaitham decides to spend the rest of the afternoon in quiet productivity, organizing some of his notes and reviewing for his upcoming math quiz. He involuntarily glances at his phone every now and then, checking if a response from Kaveh had already arrived.
As evening descends, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Alhaitham settles into his usual routine. He prepares a simple dinner and spends some time reading his books, but his thoughts frequently drift back to Kaveh's sketchpad. The detailed drawings and intricate designs linger in his mind, a constant reminder of the unknown artist's talent. He wonders how long and how much hard work it must've taken for Kaveh to reach that level of artistic talent. He muses on the meticulous nature of Kaveh's work. Before Alhaitham knew it, his attention had long drifted away from the book in his hands and to his growing curiosity towards Kaveh.
Would this Kaveh person be as passionate about art as his sketches portray him to be? Would he be quiet and observing like Alhaitham? Does he live an artful lifestyle? Is he nice? Would they even get along?
A vibration from his phone shakes him out of his thoughts. Alhaitham checks it and reads the words on his notification screen.
Unknown Number (8: 40 PM)
Hey! This is Kaveh, the owner of the sketchpad you found. I saw your post on…
Alhaitham frantically clicks on the notification to expand the message and read the entire content.
Unknown Number (8: 40 PM)
Hey! This is Kaveh, the owner of the
sketchpad you found. I saw your post
on the message board.
Alhaitham (8: 40 PM)
Hello. I have the sketchpad
with me. When could you
get it?
Unknown Number (8: 47 PM)
When's your free time?
Alhaitham (8: 47 PM)
I don't have classes on
Monday.
Unknown Number (8: 48 PM)
You'll be fine going to campus on
a free day?
Alhaitham (8: 49 PM)
Well, I have nothing else
to do.
Unknown Number (8: 49 PM)
Okay, then. Is after lunch, Monday,
alright?
Alhaitham (8: 50 PM)
Okay.
Unknown Number (8: 50 PM)
We could meet up by the entrance
So you won't have to go in too far
Does that sound good to you?
Alhaitham (8: 51 PM)
Alright.
Unknown Number (8: 52 PM)
Okie dokie 👌
Thank you for keeping the sketchpad
safe! 🫶
I'll see you on Monday, Alhaitham
Alhaitham (8: 52 PM)
See you.
Alhaitham breathed out a sigh of relief at how smooth the conversation went. It sounds like Kaveh is nice and friendly enough, so he hopefully won't have any problems negotiating his deal with him.
Alhaitham closes his phone and puts it back on the table. He'll see how it plays out on Monday. For now, though, his future in art looks pretty bright.
***
one year ago
“As we delve into the intersection of technology and art, one of the most compelling questions we face is whether technology can truly replace traditional art forms. On one hand, we have remarkable advancements in digital tools, from sophisticated graphic design software to AI algorithms capable of generating impressive artworks. These innovations offer unprecedented precision, versatility, and efficiency.”
Alhaitham’s eyes wander around the lecture hall, the sound of the lecturer in front turning into white noise in his mind. He’s long stopped listening now, finding the topic quite repetitive and something he’s not entirely interested in. Digital or traditional, efficiency or naturality–he’s long been hearing this debate for years now. If you ask Alhaitham’s opinion about it, he’ll probably say he doesn’t have any solid statement about it, being someone who can’t do art nor is curious about the topic of art, but in his mind, he could see the rationality of the standpoint of digital art. It does make things easier and faster, such as how technology should work in human lives, and now that technology is advancing more, he doesn’t doubt that even art could go full digital in the future. Though, the topic of AI in art is still something Alhaitham can’t fully agree with in the present.
“This debate isn’t just about tools and techniques. It’s about what we value in art. Is it the innovation and efficiency brought by technology, or the intimate, personal engagement inherent in traditional methods?”
Alhaitham rubs his hands together, warming them up.
Lecture halls sure are cold. He thinks to himself as he glances up at the air conditioner, shoving his hands back into his jacket’s pockets.
He sinks into his seat, trying to get his focus back to the lecturer, but he can’t stop finding the ceilings of the hall far more riveting. Maybe because he’s never been in a lecture hall before. He’s a freshman, after all. He’s been cooped up in mundane cube rooms for years. Surely, he should have the chance to appreciate spacious, elevated, podium-having rooms like this.
His eyes now dart back in front, vision blurring a bit from staring at the round ceiling lights of the room too much. He leans back forward, brings his hands out and puts them under his chin. He thinks the lecturer is now looking at him, so he makes a nodding gesture, as if to say that yes, he is listening, and yes, this topic is very interesting to him. When the speaker turns to another side, he moves his attention below him, to the seat in front of his, where a lone other-program student is sitting, occupying the entire 3-person desk for themself. There’s papers strewn all over the desk–even their bag is on the desk. There’s a cup of coffee at the right side, by the notebook placed in front of the student. There’s some scribbles on the notebook, but Alhaitham can’t quite make out the words. It doesn’t concern Alhaitham, but he’s grown far too bored from the lecture that he finds figuring out what this stranger in front of him is writing on their notebook.
They could be just pretending to listen, too. Or maybe they’re actual notes, but for what? It’s only us that’s required to attend the seminar. This person’s attending of their own volition… Well, must be a senior, then. Probably getting more info to put in a thesis paper or something.
“...with the advancements in AI, we can create art that not only mimics traditional techniques but can also generate entirely new styles and forms. The possibilities are limitless, and in the end, I believe technology will eventually be able to fully replace traditional art forms, making the process more efficient and accessible.”
Alhaitham looks back up front to the lecturer who seems to be finished with his talk now. The emcees make their appearance back on the podium, too, and greets the attendees with their usual energetic smiles.
“Thank you, Dr. Romo, for that informative and very insightful discussion. I’m sure we all learned a lot today, am I right, partner?” Emcee A (Alhaitham names them that in his head, because he already forgot their names) turns to Emcee B with practiced movement.
“That’s correct, partner. Now, we know the topic of ‘technology versus art’ always sparks a debate between both sides. I’m curious to know what the perspective of some of our students here are. So, without further ado, let us open the floor for questions and comments. Please feel free to share your thoughts or ask questions, everyone,” Emcee B invites with a warm smile to the crowd.
Surprisingly–to Alhaitham, at least–the person sitting in front of him immediately raises their hand to speak.
“Oh, looks like we have someone from the Architecture Department up there. Can we hand them the mic, please?” Emcee A looks over at one of the marshals who had already started making his way to the student, handing them the microphone.
Alhaitham watches the student stand up with slight curiosity directed to them. The student starts to speak, voice coming out measured and strong, quite like how Alhaitham had expected him–he was contemplating, now he’s pretty sure–to sound like the moment he saw his stature when he started standing up.
“Good morning, everyone. My name is Kaveh, a second year from the Architecture Department.” He pauses to briefly look down on his notebook, then back up front and continues, “Dr. Romo, you noted earlier that you believe technology will eventually be able to fully replace traditional art forms. While I understand the advancements and innovations you're discussing, I believe they overlook the profound connection between the artist and their medium… Traditional art is not just about the final product; it’s about the process, the imperfections, and the emotional investment that goes into every brushstroke and line. Technology can replicate and simulate, but it lacks the personal touch and the unique experience of creating something by hand. Art is a deeply human endeavor, and I don’t believe that technology can ever fully capture the essence of that personal and emotional connection.”
“Thank you for your comment, Kaveh,” the lecturer says, pausing to think for a bit, before replying to him, “That is a valid point. However, as technology evolves, I’m convinced that it could develop its own form of ‘emotional connection,’ one that’s different but not necessarily inferior to human experience.”
“But how can a machine, no matter how advanced, truly understand or convey human emotion? Would programming it to feel enough to convey human nature?” Kaveh shakes his head, then he adds, “It’s not just about producing something that looks good; it's about the artist’s intent and personal connection to the work. In the first place, art is created through personal experiences and passionate emotions. A programmed machine could only go as far as to create what it has been coded to create. It wouldn’t be able to make anything new.”
Alhaitham quietly taps his fingers on the desk. He mentally nods to himself as he comes to an understanding that this Kaveh person was, in fact, listening intently, unlike him, because he is extremely passionate about art. However, it seems that his sentiments to it are clouding his logical judgment of the argument. Personally, Alhaitham thinks that Kaveh does have a point in that art created through human effort has more emotional depth than those that would be generated by algorithms. However, different people have different motives on why they make art–there are those who create to convey, and those who create for the sake of creating. In that regard, Alhaitham thinks AI art could not be completely dismissed from the picture. It simply caters to a different set of audiences.
Therefore, it is more practical and rational, and the notion that art is confined to emotional constraints is nothing but a romantic perspective to it.
Kaveh turns to Alhaitham, meeting his teal eyes with a look of indignance. Alhaitham pauses, eyes slowly widening at the realization that he may have just spoken out loud his thoughts.
“Pardon?” Kaveh slowly enunciates, pulling the microphone away from his mouth as he faces Alhaitham.
Alhaitham immediately begins to sink back into his chair.
“Did you just say that my perspective is merely romantic? My point is about the fundamental value of human touch in art, not just sentimentality!”
Alhaitham, for the first time in his entire life, completely understands the dramatic notion of wanting to dig a hole and bury oneself in it. He feels multiple eyes staring at the two of them from all directions–some worried, some amused. His classmates sitting beside him look down at their hands, not wanting to get involved in the wildfire Alhaitham started.
When he realizes that it’s been too silent, and that Kaveh had been doing nothing but stare at him, waiting for an explanation–a clarification–Alhaitham attempts to salvage his dignity.
“I didn’t mean to dismiss your perspective… I just believe that practical considerations in art creation might sometimes conflict with ideals. There is a benefit to technology being applied in art and vice versa. I believe you should consider both sides logically, especially in this age where you cannot really dismiss technology anymore, rather than clinging to your passionate devotion for the traditionals.”
Alhaitham, when feeling backed into a corner, has a tendency to act apathetically and speak out bluntly. It’s not a trait he’s particularly proud of, but perhaps it is what led to him answering Kaveh in that monotonous, disinterested tone, and to add fuel to the already engulfing fire, Alhaitham finishes, “It’s called accepting change, senior.”
A huff leaves Kaveh’s lips. He glares down at Alhaitham, and the latter is sure he is very mad, judging from the way his eyebrows are curved and the wrinkles forming in between them.
“L-Let’s remember that this is a discussion meant to explore different viewpoints. We can all learn from each other’s perspectives, whether they align or differ. Let’s keep the conversation respectful and open,” the lecturer stutters out from the podium, intervening on what could seemingly escalate into a very heated debate.
Kaveh turns away, handing the microphone back to the marshal without uttering another word anymore. He sits back down quietly, while Alhaitham shifts in his seat, trying to get comfortable again as the discussion continues with other students who wanted to ask some questions to the lecturer.
***
back to the present
Alhaitham finished his schoolworks early in the week. So, by Monday, there was nothing else left to do for him anymore but wait for lunchtime and anticipate his meetup with Kaveh.
Alhaitham (1: 49 PM)
I’m here.
Kaveh (1: 49 PM)
Omw!
Alhaitham looked up from his phone toward the Akademiya’s gates. His feet subtly tapped on the ground, matching the rhythm of the song blasting in his headphones. The sketchpad rests on his free hand. He didn’t bother to bring a bag since he expects his business with Kaveh won’t require that much of a time, regardless of the possible fated outcome of Kaveh’s answer to his request.
The song in his headphones finishes and changes into a new one, just as his eyes caught sight of a particularly bright bundle of hair coming out from the Akademiya’s gates. It was quite noticeable, especially under the clear blue skies of spring, where the sun was generous in its warmth and light. Even so, it normally shouldn’t be something that Alhaitham would think about a lot—except he did because this face was familiar. The person looked down at his phone and typed out something while still walking. When he finished, Alhaitham felt his phone vibrate with a notification. His eyes looked back down at his phone, heart pounding erratically in his chest.
Kaveh (1: 55 PM)
I’m here
Where exactly are you
at??
Alhaitham’s eyes trails back up to that known freckled face, adorned with that curious golden crown ending in darker tips. His face scrunches up in realization, his stomach churning in nostalgic antipathy. Now that Alhaitham knows this Kaveh is that Kaveh from a year ago who he had the unfortunate chance of crossing paths with, he has half a mind to turn around and just ghost him, leaving all past plans of asking for a favor behind, except a voice in his mind rings out. The same voice he’s trained to tell him the words he has to hear whenever he feels guilty for exploiting–just a bit–the leverage he has over having Kaveh’s sketchpad in his possession. It tells him, in almost the same mocking, apathetic tone he used on Kaveh a year ago, “Desperate measures.” So with a gulp to swallow his annoyance down, he starts to approach Kaveh, who’s looking back at his phone and has started typing something–possibly another message to ask where he is or why he isn’t responding.
“Senior Kaveh.” The words leave Alhaitham’s mouth in an almost noticeably practiced tone.
Kaveh looks up from his phone, slight confusion taking over his countenance for two seconds–Alhaitham counted it–before Alhaitham sees the moment realization and recognition hits Kaveh’s brain at once.
“You..!”
“Me.”
“You’re that… that disrespectful junior from the seminar a year ago!”
“I see you still remember my face.”
“How could I ever forget!” Kaveh notices his sketchpad in Alhaitham’s hold, and a gasp leaves his glossy lips. “You planned this, didn’t you?” He accuses.
“And why would I do that, exactly?”
“To rub something on my face again!”
“I wouldn’t go through so much effort just to annoy you, Senior Kaveh.”
“Oh, drop the title. I know you don’t mean it.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Kaveh huffs, taking a step back with his arms crossed. “Ever the arrogant one, you are.”
Alhaitham shakes his head in relent and offers the sketchpad to Kaveh, telling him with a resigned tone, “Just take it.”
Kaveh squinted at him before gently snatching the sketchpad back. He checked it—from the cover to the contents—as if Alhaitham could have possibly sabotaged something about it. When he found himself satisfied, he closed the sketchpad and looked back at Alhaitham with a slightly softer gaze.
“Well, it is as I had lost it, at least.”
“Of course it is.”
Kaveh frowned, lips forming a small pout that Alhaitham would normally find adorable, if not for his biased indignation against Kaveh.
“You have an ulterior motive.”
“That is a very big accusation to make, Kaveh.” Alhaitham pinned him with a look, crossing his arms. He looked like he was sizing Kaveh up, which intimidated the other and had him turning his chin up, a glare appearing in his red eyes.
“Why did you take it home?”
“What do you mean?”
“You could’ve brought it to Lost & Found. Why take it home personally?”
“And if I say I admired your art so much, I wanted to look at it more at home?”
“I…” Kaveh pulled back, then pushed forward again. “I might believe you, but you still had time to look it over when you found it. I don’t see the need to bring it home.” He paused and eyed Alhaitham with suspicion before continuing, “I am willing to bet that the story you found it outside the lounge area was just made up, so that if I had the chance to meet you the day you found it, it wouldn’t seem so weird that you didn’t bring it to Lost & Found instead!”
“Aren’t you a detective?”
“Hah! You and your evil schemes! Just what are you planning?”
“Alright, I’ll confess,” Alhaitham declares. “You are correct about everything, even the part where I do have an ulterior motive.”
Kaveh eyes him, waiting for him to continue.
“I want you to teach me art,” Alhaitham finally states.
“Art..? Oh. For your elective.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t see why I should help you.”
“Don’t you feel any gratitude, senior, for my keepsaking and returning of your sketchpad? I could’ve done things to it.”
“Are you threatening me?” Kaveh widens his eyes.
“No. I’m merely stating the possibilities–that of which I did not commit to. So I feel like, by human etiquette, you should be owing me something.”
“The only thing I owe you is a ‘thank you.’” Kaveh says with a finger pointed towards Alhaitham. “I am not going to do more than that. I’m a third year student. I’m busy. I don’t have the free time to tutor anyone about art… much more someone who does not get art,” Kaveh ends with a scalding tone.
Alhaitham opens his mouth to argue, but he knows it would only be a pointless endeavor, and would do nothing to salvage his negotiation with Kaveh. So instead, he just releases a sigh.
“Alright, then, if you really cannot be convinced.” Alhaitham brings his arms back to his side and steps back. “I’ll see you around, Kaveh. Good luck on your studies.”
Kaveh huffs quietly, stance still guarded and proud against Alhaitham’s own glory. “You, too.” A pause, then a shake of the head.
Alhaitham gives him one last curt nod before turning on his heel and walking away, back to his dorm.
Later that night, just after Alhaitham finished his warm shower, his phone lit up with a message from Cyno, a long-time friend from the Criminology Department. They've known each other since high school, and while they’re not the type to always hang around each other, they both knew that when the other needed help, they were always ready to lend a hand. Cyno texting him at random times without context was nothing new, so as Alhaitham opened the message, he expected it to be one of those silly ones where Cyno sent him a meme he stumbled upon on Instagram, Twitter, or Tumblr. Except his expectations were crumbled, and the message caught him a little bit off guard.
Cyno (9: 49 PM)
dude
u met Kaveh again?
Alhaitham raised his brow, curious as to how Cyno knew about that. As far as he knew, Cyno only learned of Kaveh’s existence through him, after he told him the story of their seminar-encounter.
Alhaitham (9: 51 PM)
How did you know about
that?
Cyno (9: 51 PM)
Nari told me about
it
Nari, more commonly known as Tighnari, is Cyno’s college friend he met at the freshmen’s orientation last year. To Alhaitham’s eyes, their first meeting highly resembled a meet-cute–what with Cyno’s covert flustered face and Tighnari’s composed exterior (Alhaitham caught how a tint of rose immediately spread onto Tighnari’s face as soon as he walked away from Cyno). He hadn’t had much of a chance to interact with Tighnari, personally, but with the few they had so far, he was sure Tighnari is a nice company.
Cyno (10: 06 PM)
he said Kaveh’s been
ranting for the past hout
Hour*
he’s complaining now
he’s sleep-deprived and
Kaveh’s yapping his ear
off about how ure so
“very disrespectful and
impolite”
ig you two got off to a PAINTfully
bad start
So Kaveh is friends with Tighnari, huh?
Alhaitham (10: 08 PM)
I tried.
He won’t cooperate.
Cyno (10: 09 PM)
Lmao would’ve been
funny to see
oh
u wanted him to teach
u art?
for visual arts class?
Alhaitham (10: 10 PM)
Yup. I’ve been struggling.
He didn’t agree, though, of
course.
Cyno (10: 11 PM)
Alhaitham.
Alhaitham (10: 11 PM)
What?
Cyno (10: 15 PM)
u might be able to make
him agree
I might have the key to
ur artful destiny
do u want it
Alhaitham (10: 20 PM)
Just say it.
Cyno (10: 20 PM)
Kaveh needs a room
u need a roommate
r ubthinking what im
thinking
Alhaitham (10: 21 PM)
We can’t agree to work
together, and you expect us
to live together?
Cyno (10: 21 PM)
no
but he’s pretty desperate
Nari doesn’t mind him
staying over at his plae
Place*
but Kaveh is highly conscious
about being a bother to
him or smth
this is ARTsolutely
the right timing
cmon
u gotta try
it might work, let’s CANVAS the
possibility
u’ll get to pass your visual arts class
and pay the rent for ur dorm
it’s a big win for u, i think
Alhaitham (10: 25 PM)
One more pun, and I’m
blocking you.
But alright, whatever. I’ll give
it a shot.
It’s not like I’ll lose
anything.
I’ll doubt he’ll agree, though.
Or even bother answering me.
Cyno (10: 26 PM)
the puns are there to
comfort u 😮💨
im right behind u if
u ever need the support,
bro
u can even make a group chat
or smth
add me as ur emotional support
if ever things go cray-cray (as in crayon)
< 3
Alhaitham bites in a chuckle as he shakes his head on Cyno’s last messages. He might pretend to dislike Cyno’s jokes, but he actually finds them quite endearing.He closes their chatbox and opens another one–Kaveh’s. Hopefully, Kaveh hasn’t blocked his number yet or anything. Alhaitham wipes his face with his towel and takes a seat on his bed, typing out his message to Kaveh.
Alhaitham (10: 29 PM)
Senior.
I have a new proposition
to make.
I heard you need a
room.
I have a vacancy.
Alhaitham nibbles on his finger while staring at the screen, waiting for something or anything. His mind races a thousand miles per hour, and just when he sees Kaveh’s typing bubble appear on the screen, he sends another message in a frenzy before he even gets to finalize the decision with all facets of his logic.
Alhaitham (10: 32 PM)
The months when you’ll be
teaching me art will save
you off-charge of rent.
The typing bubble lingers a little longer, and after a minute, the response finally comes in, in one single word punctuated by an uncharacteristic period.
Kaveh (10: 33 PM)
Deal.
Alhaitham sat at his desk, the silence in his room feeling heavier than usual. He tapped his pen against his notebook, trying to focus on the task at hand, but he kept getting distracted, turning around on his office chair, eyes landing on his door and what’s across it from outside–which is the formerly unoccupied room.
It had been a month since Kaveh moved in. They hadn’t really talked much, except on their mutual free days when they agreed to hold their art tutoring sessions. On other free days when either of them are too busy to do the art sessions, they barely saw each other, save for the occasional glance when Alhaitham passed by the living room on his way to the kitchen–since Kaveh declared the living room’s coffee table as his temporary study desk, while he’s yet to get one for his room. But even then, they rarely exchanged words—perhaps for the best, as any attempt at conversation outside of art lessons (where Alhaitham mostly keeps his opinions to himself and chooses to just obey whatever Kaveh tells him to do) would most likely end in arguments.
Aside from their differing principles, though, Kaveh had been a pretty nice roommate. They both respected each other's spaces and never became a bother to each other. Then again, it could be because of how much effort they're putting just to not cross paths with each other as much as possible, despite living together in such a small space.
Alhaitham finally gave up on pretending to be busy with his art-related essay and decided to take a break. He stood up and stretched as he made his way to the door. Leaving his room, he strode towards the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. Kaveh was in the living room, hunched over the coffee table with papers and multiple architect-y stuff scattered everywhere. He seemed intensely focused, using a ruler to trace a straight line. Soft classical music played from his phone, likely something he found under “relaxing music to study to.” A strand of hair fell from Kaveh’s messy bun, and Alhaitham’s gaze followed it, lingering longer than necessary.
Kaveh pulled back slightly, scrutinizing his work before he finally noticed Alhaitham standing motionless–mid-walk–staring at him. He raised an eyebrow, tucking the stray strand behind his ear. Alhaitham’s eyes followed again.
“What?”
Alhaitham seems to snap out of it, glancing away from him and to the messy coffee table. “What?”
Kaveh furrowed his brows. “What are you standing there for?”
Alhaitham shifted on his feet, eyes meeting back Kaveh’s. “I was just wondering how you could work in that environment.”
Kaveh clicked his tongue. “Did you come out here just to comment on my workspace?”
“No,” Alhaitham replied shortly before turning away to go to his original destination–the kitchen. He could feel Kaveh’s intense stare on his back but ignored it, focusing instead on making his coffee.
As Alhaitham finished, Kaveh spoke up again. “How’s your art essay?”
Alhaitham turned to him, puffing some of the steam from his mug. “It’s going okay.”
“You’re not really giving me enough information here.” Kaveh multitasked, talking while drawing lines on paper.
“I’m surprised you’re so concerned about what I’m doing,” Alhaitham said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Kaveh put down his pencil, his eyes locking onto Alhaitham. “Of course, I am. I’ll be damned if you write some apathetic– robotic art opinion in your essay.”
“You won’t know if I don’t let you read it.”
“So, you are writing something highly disagreeable.”
“‘Debatable’ would be a better term. And you’re jumping to conclusions again, Kaveh. You sure like doing that a lot.”
Kaveh shot him a look—one that Alhaitham had seen countless times since they began living together but still couldn’t quite decipher. The closest conclusion he could draw was that it was the look Kaveh gave him when he really wanted to strangle him just to shut him up.
Alhaitham walked over, taking another sip of his coffee. Kaveh twitched, his hand moving to push his papers away as if protecting them if Alhaitham ever irrationally decides to splash his coffee at him. Alhaitham stopped in front of him, gazing down like a predator observing its prey. For a moment, they stood in silence, tension crackling in the air.
“Aren’t you busy?” Kaveh finally broke the silence.
“Yes.”
“Then why are you still here, Alhaitham?”
A low hum resonates from Alhaitham as he licks the coffee off his lower lip. “I was curious about what you’re doing. I suppose if you have the liberty to question me about mine, I should also have the same freedom to observe yours.”
Kaveh scowls but visibly relaxed. “As if you really care.”
Alhaitham tapped his foot on the ground. “What if I really do? You don’t know me well enough to say otherwise, do you, senior? I’m actually even considering working out here with you. I’m worried you might start feeling lonely, or offended that I am not giving you enough respect by not offering my study table for you to use or by not facing the same difficult predicament of working on the coffee table.”
“Don’t start with me, Alhaitham. Perhaps you’re the one feeling lonely. That’s why you came out here to bother me to this extent. Aw, can’t go a day without spending your free time with me?” Kaveh teased, smirking.
“Should you really be on your high horse when I have the high ground here?” Alhaitham jokingly threatens.
“I can topple you off your feet,” Kaveh threatens back.
A small, almost inaudible chuckle leaves Alhaitham’s lips. He takes one last sip of the coffee from his cup and places it down on the floor beside the table.
“Take a break and have some coffee. You look like you need it,” Alhaitham quipped, pointing at the bags under Kaveh’s eyes.
Kaveh was caught off guard by the gesture, left speechless as Alhaitham walked back to his room. He regained his composure once the door shut. He looked at the half-filled cup of coffee beside the table, his heart starting to race.
“What the heck is wrong with him?” he grumbled, picking up the cup. The warmth was oddly comforting. He rearranged his work and took a sip, only to nearly spit it out.
“Alhaitham, what the f*ck?! Who drinks coffee without sugar, you psychopath!” Kaveh yelled, standing up to get himself a glass of water, and the coffee some sugar.
Inside his room, Alhaitham hummed in satisfaction, finally able to concentrate on his homework.
***
With his morning routines complete, Alhaitham found himself with a rare block of free time before his last class. So as soon as he was finished with them, he grabbed his sketchpad and other necessary stuff and set off for the House of Daena. His first class had been canceled, so filled in his schedule with spending the rest of the hours remaining before his last class drawing at the House of Daena. This time, the assignment was to draw anything they wanted, as long as it had a narrative behind it. Alhaitham had honestly yet to think about what he should draw. He thought of something simple, ones that involve what Kaveh had taught him so far–which was just color theory and drawing some basic shapes, like a circle or an apple, to focus more on applying shadows. The problem lies in the narrative. How would he create a story behind a simple shape? Perhaps he should just go with it, and be honest with his professor about the fact that he just can’t draw anything else besides simple polygons. Kaveh had always talked about how art is about “letting it flow freely, and that it’s never forced,” so that means he has the choice to let his lack of talent flow freely, right? His professor should understand. Not everyone is born an artist.
He soon arrives at the House of Daena, going to his usual spot per routine. Surprisingly, he finds Kaveh there–on the same spot where he found his sketchpad before–Pride and Prejudice on his hand. Kaveh seems to immediately notice his presence, as his eyes dart up to meet Alhaitham’s the moment he arrives.
“I’m surprised to see you have other hobbies other than drawing,” Alhaitham starts.
“Why are you even here? Don’t you have a class to attend to?” Kaveh asks pointedly, setting the book down on the table.
“First class’s canceled,” Alhaitham answers as he sits down on the chair across Kaveh’s. “And I need to see other things besides the dorm, to maybe get inspiration for my homework.”
“What’s it this time?”
Alhaitham looks at him through his lashes while taking out the sketchpad from his bag. “To draw whatever we want and put a narrative behind it. I guess it’s for the assessment process.”
“What are you planning to draw?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe an apple or a ball. I’ve practiced drawing those two enough already.”
Kaveh shakes his head in disapproval. He stands up, taking his stuff with him and walks around the table to sit beside Alhaitham. Alhaitham follows him with a gaze. He tenses up as Kaveh settles beside him, their shoulders nearly brushing. Despite the casual gesture, it felt like a test of patience.
“No, no. You have to draw something new.”
“And why is that?”
“The assignment is to make art with a narrative, Alhaitham. What narrative are you putting behind a drawing of an apple?”
“I don’t know. Something like, ‘I like apples a lot,’ I suppose?” Alhaitham answers, tilting his head a bit.
“Come on, tug a little bit more on your creative string.”
“Kaveh, I’m a computer science major, not an art major.”
“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to venture deeper into your artistic journey. Aren’t you an all-logic guy? Shouldn’t you like discovering new things? Art is not just what I teach you. It should also be what you learn,” Kaveh trails off, crossing his arms. “So, what exactly do you want to draw?”
Alhaitham ruminates on the question. He stares at Kaveh who’s anticipating his answer. His eyes kept drifting to the way the sunlight danced in Kaveh’s hair, catching the golden strands just right. He looks at the sparkling colors of Kaveh’s eyes–the core of his light. The bags under his eyes are still there, and under them are those adorable dots of freckles haphazardly strewn all around his cheeks and nose. The urge to capture that moment surprised him, stirring something unfamiliar and unsettling within.
“I…” Alhaitham gulps, his throat feeling dry. “I want to draw… what’s in front of me… I suppose.”
“What?” Kaveh’s eyes widened a bit in surprise.
Alhaitham blinks away, gesturing at the shelves and the spot where Kaveh once sat. “This. The shelves and everything. Look, even the light–” he points to the colored sunlight shining down on the table– “is beautiful. I want to replicate it, somehow, to the best of my lackluster abilities.”
“Oh.”
Alhaitham throws him a glance. Kaveh shifts on his seat, turning his body just a bit away from Alhaitham.
“Well, you can try.” Kaveh clears his throat. “Go ahead and sketch a rough outline. Start with their basic geometric shapes before putting in the details. I’ll help you finalize it later, if you want.”
“Okay.”
Kaveh goes back to his book, and Alhaitham begins his sketching. The air around them is noticeably tense, but either is way too fearful to take note of that. The soft murmur around the House of Daena soon fills the tension around their table, and Alhaitham had been too hyperfocused on his art to think of anything else at the moment.
He stops later on, half an hour through his drawing. He sits back and stares down his sketchpad. The paper is now messy with multiple erased pencil markings. He sees Kaveh from the corner of his eye subtly putting down his book to look at his sketch. The table is unsatisfactory for Alhaitham (the perspective is off), and he’d taken long enough now for the shape of the light from the window to shift from how it looked earlier. Something about his work starts to set him off the longer he looks. Perhaps it had been wrong from the beginning, but he got too immersed into it that he’d completely forgotten to scrutinize the details before proceeding. He silently clicks his tongue as he takes the paper by the corner, moving to tear the page off.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Kaveh reaches to stop him, holding his hand firmly. Ruby eyes met his with multiplied intensity, a mix of surprise and irritation painted on his face.
“What are you doing?” Kaveh questions.
“Tearing the page off.”
“And why?”
“Because it’s wrong.”
“Why?”
Alhaitham’s nose scrunches up. “Because it’s messy??”
“That’s part of the process.” Kaveh slaps his hand away. “Keep it.”
“No, it’s not good.” Alhaitham attempts to reach back to the paper, only for Kaveh to slap his hand away again.
“It does not have to be good! It’s all about the expression and the effort you put into it. This, with all its messy markings and shaky lines, is part of your narrative,” Kaveh passionately elaborates.
“My narrative is to capture something beautiful and perfect.”
“Alhaitham,” Kaveh starts, expression turning serious. “You cannot fully replicate a live environment. It will always change. Even in portraits, it’s the same thing. Art is not about replication. It’s about having the idea of what you want to create and putting it on paper. This is your beauty and perfection. It is already art. Nothing is wrong with it.”
Alhaitham glances down at the work on his sketchpad. The lines are not precise nor is everything artistically correct, but there’s still an undeniable sense of creativity radiating from it. And a sense of fulfillment within his heart, for being able to try and finish something he envisioned in his head. When he’s content enough at the scrutiny he gave his drawing, he turns back to Kaveh. He hesitates, then speaks again, his voice quieter.
“I suppose it does not look that bad.”
Kaveh smiles at Alhaitham, bright enough to almost make the other wince. He takes Alhaitham’s hands in his–pulling the pencil away from his hold and placing it on the table–and begins to give them light massages.
“You need to loosen up and give yourself more credit. You’ve done well.”
Alhaitham watches his rub gentle circles on his tired hands. Normally, he wouldn’t be so open to someone getting all touchy with him like this, but he’s making an exception for this moment. While Kaveh is feeling nice enough to tolerate their differences in opinions.
“Are you going to do some revisions to it?”
“Hm. I don’t know. I think it looks good enough. I don’t want to alter your work. Adding my touch would make it not all about you anymore. I don’t want that,” Kaveh retorts, grinning at him.
Alhaitham stares at the paper, then back down on his and Kaveh’s hands. He notes how Kaveh’s hands are slightly callused from years of hard work poured into his art. Yet it feels like if Alhaitham had the chance, he would always hold Kaveh’s hands in his forever.
Unbeknownst to Kaveh, a small smile tugs at the corner of Alhaitham’s lips at the kind gesture of his senior to him. Alhaitham stays unmoving in his hold, not wanting to disturb Kaveh in any way. If Kaveh’s in a good mood, he should milk as much as he could. The warmth of Kaveh’s hands grounded him, and for once, Alhaitham didn’t feel the need to rush. The soft rustling of pages and distant whispers of the House of Daena faded, leaving just the two of them in their small bubble of calm.
***
The final day of the midterms examination week just ended. The sky was already colored in pretty hues of orange when Alhaitham got out of the computer laboratory. He’s completely spent. All he wants right now is to get home and rest up with a book in his hand. He deserves such a good break after the past two stressful weeks. However, it seems that the universe has something else planned for him, because just as he was stepping out of the Akademiya’s gates, his phone vibrated with a message from Cyno displayed on his lock screen.
Cyno (5: 35 PM)
We’re coming over.
This guy. Alhaitham thinks spitefully. He thinks he should respond–resist and say that he’s locking the dorm room’s door and never letting him in, but there’s another point of interest that Alhaitham chooses to prioritize his focus on. Cyno says “we’re.” Who on Teyvat is “we?” Alhaitham rushes back to the dorms. He has a great suspicion that Kaveh is involved in this.
When he arrives back, Kaveh is dressed up in his casual clothes, seemingly getting ready to head out. The two of them froze when they met each other’s eyes. Alhaitham briefly glances down at the low cut of Kaveh’s shirt before meeting Kaveh’s eyes again.
“You’re heading out?” Alhaitham asks in his best casual tone, despite the dry feeling in his throat.
“Uh, yeah, uhm… did your friend tell you about the… thing?” Kaveh asks, tone wary.
“Not the full context. What’s going on?”
“Well,” Kaveh trails off, wringing his fingers. “I said I wanted to celebrate. You know, for surviving midterms week. I invited my friend, Tighnari, who’s friends with your friend, Cyno, who Tighnari invited.” Kaveh pauses, lips pursing, then he continues, “Tighnari mentioned that we should invite you, too, but Cyno said you’ll most likely reject the invitation, so instead, we’ll “bring the party to you.” So, uh, yes, they’re coming over.”
Kaveh studies Alhaitham’s expression, hoping to avoid any extreme negative emotions. He was once already kicked out of his former dorm room for inviting people in without his roommate’s permission. He won’t let it happen again, especially not now, when his roommate is one of the best he had. Alhaitham remains unreadable, though, and it makes Kaveh more nervous.
“Okay,” Alhaitham finally answers, relenting to the obvious nervousness in Kaveh’s countenance. “If they’re coming over, why are you heading out?”
“Oh…” Kaveh now relaxes, bringing his hands back to his sides. “I’m going to buy some groceries for our dinner and some beer… Is that alright?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you,” Alhaitham says, passing by Kaveh to get to his room and change his clothes.
“Okay– wait, what?”
“Wait for me there. I’ll just change clothes.”
Kaveh watches wordlessly as Alhaitham disappears into his room. When he gets inside his room, Alhaitham throws his bag to his bed and plops down on it, putting an arm over his eyes. At the back of his mind, he sees Kaveh, his smooth, silky skin, the necklace resting on his neck, and the low cut of his shirt teasing Alhaitham with a peek on Kaveh’s torso. He’s getting bothered, and he doesn’t exactly understand why. Alhaitham sits back up and tousles his hair in frustration. He moves to change his clothes so as to not make Kaveh wait for too long. He comes back out right after he finishes, and he does his best to not stare down at Kaveh’s distracting shirt. Kaveh looked up at him from his phone when he came out, standing up from where he sat on the couch.
“That was fast,” Kaveh comments.
“I stick to my word.” Alhaitham shrugs.
The grocery store was a five-minute walk from their dorm. They bought the ingredients they wanted for dinner and a few bottles of beer there. It was a quick trip around the store and straight to the cashier, supposedly, except Kaveh got distracted when they passed the furniture section.
“Oh! Wait, look here!” Kaveh calls, walking off to go to a bunch of desks on display. “Let’s check out some.”
Alhaitham follows behind, watching as Kaveh scrutinizes each desk he finds visually appealing. “You don’t have enough money for that.”
“I know. I’m just canvassing. Hey, do you think I should get a wooden one, a metal one, or a plastic one?”
“The one with enough space and a few compartments.”
“Right.” Kaveh approaches one of the wooden desks with metal support and shakes it a bit with a hand. “Looks sturdy enough.”
“Why do you need to check if it’s sturdy? You’re not going to put a ton of weight on your study desk, are you?” Alhaitham inquires with a raised brow.
Kaveh glances at him. “Yeah? But it’s best to be proactive, you know? You’ll never expect when you’ll be thanking your past self for buying a sturdy desk,” Kaveh quips, walking away. “Anyway, let’s go now. I’ve taken note of what desk I’d buy in the future.”
Alhaitham tilts his head in wonder at the retreating Kaveh. He chooses to not further prod about what he might mean, though, because he doubts the other would give him a direct answer. So he just followed behind him again as they finally went to the cashier.
After making it back to their dorm room with bags of groceries, Kaveh began unpacking them at the dining table, taking out the ingredients he’d need for their dinner meal.
“Should I help you cook?” Alhaitham asks while helping Kaveh tidy up the groceries.
“Hmm. I suppose I can let you help out a bit, but for the most part, I’ll do all the work. I’m quite meticulous with the way I do things around the kitchen.”
“Alright.”
Once finished with all the groceries, Kaveh moves to begin his work in the kitchen. Alhaitham assisted mostly with the physical tasks, like slicing or stirring, while Kaveh handled the main cooking process. After almost an hour, the food was ready to be served. Kaveh also took care of that, applying his artistry even in the act of food presentation. Alhaitham watched him quietly while leaning against the counter. Something about the way Kaveh’s brows are furrowed or the pursing of his lips is such a mesmerizing view to observe for Alhaitham, like he’s getting a free premium show.
A few strands of hair suddenly come loose from Kaveh’s hairpins and fall in front of his face, obstructing his view. Kaveh freezes, side-eyeing Alhaitham.
“Can you fix my hair? I can’t quite move away from this position or I’ll mess this up,” Kaveh pleads.
Alhaitham finds himself amused at the dedication Kaveh has to perfecting his plate presentation, but he moves to obey Kaveh, nonetheless. He takes a step closer and gathers his hair in one hand, holding it all firmly behind him, making sure that not a single one would be blocking Kaveh’s eyes.
“Thanks,” Kaveh quips before returning back to his food work.
Alhaitham continues observing him, too, except this time, he’s much more distracted. Alhaitham stares at the wild blonde strands in his hand. He notes how they feel on his palm. He notices how Kaveh’s head just fits right under his hand. Alhaitham’s eyes widened. What the heck is wrong with him? He’s been acting weird ever since earlier. Is he sick? Is he dying? Alhaitham isn’t exactly sure what the problem with him is. All he knows is that he probably shouldn’t be so close to Kaveh for too long, because something about him is messing with Alhaitham’s brain circuits.
“There, I’m done,” Kaveh announces, moving away from the plate.
Alhaitham immediately lets go of his hair, subconsciously wiping his palm on his shorts. He looks down at the plate Kaveh worked on and hurriedly pushes out a comment.
“That looks great.”
“Of course, it does.” Kaveh grins.
The doorbell rang throughout the dorm room, signaling the arrival of Tighnari and Cyno. Alhaitham begins walking over to the door.
“I’ll get it,” he proclaims.
Being physically away from Kaveh felt healthy for Alhaitham’s brain, as he notices how he feels his entire existence calm down once he left the kitchen. When he opened the door for Tighnari and Cyno, the latter was the first one to greet him with a laxed grin and a pat on the shoulder.
“You did well, buddy.”
“What the f*ck is that even supposed to mean?”
Cyno ignores him and pushes through, announcing his arrival to Kaveh, too, and declaring that he brought the cards for their party. Unlike him, Tighnari gives Alhaitham a polite greeting, throwing him a reserved smile.
“Thank you for having us. I brought some snacks.”
“Welcome,” answers Alhaitham awkwardly.
Tighnari follows Cyno in towards the living room. Alhaitham closes the door behind them and makes sure their shoes are tucked in neatly at the side before going back in. Kaveh was in the middle of setting the table up and Tighnari had approached him to help, and Cyno was busy preparing something in the living room. Alhaitham approaches Cyno, sitting down on the couch and allowing his friend to be busy with his own whimsicalities, just so he could vent to him in peace.
“Cyno, listen.”
“I’m listening.”
Alhaitham lays his head down on the couch’s backrest, staring up at the ceiling. “I need help.”
“About what?” Cyno pauses momentarily to glance at Alhaitham.
“About Kaveh. I’m feeling very different about him.”
“Huh.”
“I’m feeling like…” Alhaitham trails off, trying to find the correct term. For someone who’s loved literature since forever, he sure is struggling right now.
“I’m feeling like I shouldn’t be too close to him,” he finally declares.
“Oh?” Cyno raises a brow. “Your hate on him multiplied?”
“I don’t even think it’s ‘hate.’ It feels like something else.”
“Repulsed? Disgusted?”
Alhaitham grimaces. “I don’t think it’s that negative. I just… It’s difficult to describe.”
Cyno hums in acknowledgment, head nodding in understanding. “I see. Well, do you want him to move out?”
“No,” Alhaitham answers way too immediately.
“Then as long as you feel like you still want him around, there shouldn’t be any problem. You seem confused about what you feel with him, so it’s best you linger around and figure it out, no? Once you’ve confirmed it, you can then take action. For now, you don’t know the problem, so you’re yet to construct a solution.”
Cyno returns to his shenanigans while Alhaitham is left to ruminate on his mental conflict. He hears the murmur of Kaveh and Tighnari’s voices from the kitchen. There’s a laugh from Kaveh, and Alhaitham feels that something again–right there, on his chest. He changes his position so he can look toward the kitchen area. Tighnari and Kaveh seem to have just finished setting the table up and are just talking about something. Kaveh’s eyes end up meeting his from across the room, and the blonde childishly sticks out his tongue at him–subtle enough to pass Tighnari unnoticed. Alhaitham rolls his eyes and mouths the word “childish” at him. Kaveh chuckles and turns his attention back to Tighnari.
They are called to dinner a few minutes later. The group enjoys the meal Kaveh prepares with stories from their high school days and some more recent ones about their own exams. After eating, they piled the dishes in the sink as Cyno grabbed them all to play the game he brought already. Kaveh brought out the beers as Cyno taught everyone else how to play the game.
Their celebration ended when the clock struck midnight. Cyno and Tighnari packed up to leave, and Alhaitham sent them off from their door. After the two left, the dorm room was noticeably quiet. Either because Cyno and Tighnari’s presence made the place livelier, or because Kaveh is now too drunk to be on his best yapping behavior.
Alhaitham returns to the living room and eyes his dozed off senior on the couch. Out of the four of them, Kaveh's the one who drank the most, and Tighnari, the least. Alhaitham drank enough to be tipsy, but he was still on his right mind, enough to know that he now has to clean up all this mess, so that if he ever wakes up with a bad hangover tomorrow, he'll be able to do nothing all day but rest.
So he begins to quietly—at least as quietly as he could—tidy up the living room, throwing the cans into the trash can. Once he was finished with sweeping off the mess in the living room, he moved to the kitchen. He starts transferring the leftovers to a container first and then placing them in the fridge. He deals with the piled up dishes lastly, which was when Kaveh decided it was a great time to wake back up.
“Hey,” he greeted as he entered the kitchen area.
“Hey,” Alhaitham greeted back, looking at him. “Go back to sleep.”
“Let me help.” Kaveh wobbles over to him while he rubs the sleep off of his eyes.
“You'll cause a disaster. Just go to bed now.”
“Which bed?”
Alhaitham blinks down at him, and Kaveh looks at him innocently with his glazed red eyes.
“Your bed, Kaveh,” he answers after a while.
“My bed.”
“Yes, your bed.”
“Mmm.” Kaveh reaches up to him and pulls him down, placing a savory kiss on Alhaitham's lips. The latter freezes, eyes widened in shock as his brain tries to register what's currently happening. Kaveh pulls away after a short while, brows furrowed from his unresponsiveness.
“Don't you want to kiss me good night?” Kaveh whines, head tilting up at Alhaitham with sadness crossing his eyes.
Alhaitham's heart pounded so loudly that it drowned out every thought, every sound, except Kaveh. It must be the alcohol in his system—there's no other explanation, Alhaitham insists. But he swiftly moves, trapping Kaveh between him and the kitchen counter, leaning down to bring the blonde's lips back to his. He kisses with much fervor this time, giving Kaveh back tenfold of the warmth he just poured all over Alhaitham's body when he kissed him earlier. He feels Kaveh sigh against his lips as arms wrap around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. It feels good, almost too good. Alhaitham's own hands find their home on Kaveh's waist, holding him tightly, more so to ground himself than Kaveh. The way Kaveh's lips danced with his felt perfect, as if they were meant to be there—two matching pieces of a puzzle. It wasn't like how the romance novels described it—all sweet and synchronized. No, Alhaitham kissed like a starved man, and Kaveh kissed back languidly, taking his sweet time with him, which was surprising, because it was the complete opposite of their usual personalities.
Again, Alhaitham blames the alcohol. He blames it when he pushes deeper, his tongue slotting in greedily into Kaveh's mouth, as if trying to drink the beer from the taste that lingered on his tongue. He blames the alcohol when a muffled groan leaves his lips as Kaveh tugs on his hair and playfully bites on his lip. And he most certainly blames it when he feels himself hardened in his shorts, and so he brings Kaveh up the counter, hips on the edge, and grinds down on the other's similarly hard erection.
“H-Haitham…” It's because of the beer that Kaveh groans out his name raspily and tries to reciprocate the pleasure.
Alhaitham wildly pulls away, as if he's been electrified. Kaveh takes a moment to realize that Alhaitham's let go of him, and he's alone on the kitchen counter while Alhaitham stands a good distance away from him, eyes blown wide and hair messed up in all directions that somehow made Kaveh’s chest swell in pride.
“Haitham..? What's wrong?”
Alhaitham shakes his head, running a frustrated hand up on his face as he tries to regain his composure. He mutters a curse under his breath.
“Get to bed, Kaveh.”
“Oh… are you coming soon?”
“I'm not joining you.”
“Why?” Kaveh comes down from the counter and looks at Alhaitham with big confusion etched on his face.
“You're drunk,” Alhaitham pointedly declares, and it sounded more like he was telling that to himself than to Kaveh.
“I'm not drunk enough to not know what I'm doing,” Kaveh proclaims with a frown.
“You're calling me Haitham.”
“Is that bad? Do you not like it?”
“Kaveh, you don't like it. You don't like me.”
Kaveh flinches back, eyes widening in offense. “You don't know how I feel.”
“Oh, trust me, I do.”
“You don't!”
Alhaitham shakes his head. “Then treat me like this when you're sober.”
Kaveh huffs, crossing his arms and puffing his chest. “Okay! You'll see!”
Alhaitham purses his lips, watching as Kaveh stomps back to his room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Alhaitham in the quiet of their dorm room, with his heart ringing in his ears and a problem in his pants.
***
The first thing Alhaitham does when he wakes up is note the light pounding of his head, and the second thing is to grimace at the realization that he definitely feels something for Kaveh. From everything that happened yesterday, he could now confirm with himself that he’s at least interested in Kaveh. That would also be the logical explanation for the frustrating and bothersome feelings he had been feeling around Kaveh recently. However, despite coming to terms with himself, Alhaitham feels no better than he was last night. That kiss is imprinted into his mind, the ghost of Kaveh’s lips haunting him at every moment. His hand still remembers the warmth and the curve of Kaveh’s waist, and the sting from the tugging of his hair by Kaveh lingers on his scalp. Alhaitham thinks he’s f*cked.
That event last night could only result in three things: First, Kaveh remembers and feels uncomfortable about it, so he won’t bring it up (this is a favorable outcome for Alhaitham); Second, Kaveh remembers and reciprocates Alhaitham’s feelings (he doesn’t know what to feel about that); and lastly, Kaveh simply does not remember. Any of the outcomes that result in the occurrence never being mentioned again is a favorable outcome for Alhaitham. He finds it way better than anything else, even better than Kaveh remembering and telling him that he feels interested in Alhaitham, too. Archons forbid that happen, because Alhaitham does not deserve Kaveh at all.
Kaveh is the life of every party. Kaveh is warm, comforting, and welcoming. Kaveh is passionate. Kaveh is everything Alhaitham isn’t. While opposites attract in the science of magnets, relationships between people are more complex. In reality, personality clashes and differing ideals often make such pairings difficult. Kaveh and Alhaitham might not fit together, not only because of their contrasting traits but because it simply doesn't work on a deeper level. They're not on the same wavelength. The only ground Alhaitham could possibly measure himself up to Kaveh is their intelligence. There, at least, Alhaitham does not find himself short–as if the constant debates they have aren’t enough proof. The point is, the feelings Alhaitham might hold for Kaveh are detrimental to everything. He cannot and should not act on it which is quite hard, especially after what had just occurred last night. He really won’t be able to get that image out of his head for a very long time.
Alhaitham sighs as he finally decides to sit up and start his day. He groggily walks out of his room and makes his way to the kitchen. As if on cue, Kaveh comes out of his room, too, hair going in all directions. He sees Alhaitham and walks up to him, greeting him in a raspy, morning-induced voice.
“Good morning, Alhaitham.”
“Good morning,” Alhaitham greets back, turning away to walk to the cupboard to take out their bread. “Would you like some toast?”
“Sure,” Kaveh accepts, moving to sit on the dining table and wait for their breakfast. “What happened last night? I don’t remember anything beyond me getting angry at Cyno for beating me at Genius Invocation for the nth time,” he says with a chuckle.
“You passed out after that,” Alhaitham quips, putting the toasts in the toaster after wiping them down with margarine.
“Figured as much. Did you carry me back to my room?”
“No, you woke up some time later and returned on your own.”
“Okay, thank goodness it sounds like I wasn’t much of a pain in the ass.”
“No, you weren’t.” Alhaitham grabs two glasses of water and walks up to the dining table, taking a seat across Kaveh and handing him the other glass. “Drink up.”
“Thanks.” Kaveh takes the glass, gulping it down. Once he’s done, he asks Alhaitham, “Got any plans today?”
Alhaitham looks at him, answering after he gulps down his own glass. “None.”
“Then, shall we continue your art lessons today?”
“Are you sure you feel okay enough to proceed with that?”
“I’m a tough cookie.”
“If you say so, then I’m fine with it.”
The day went on normally for the most part. Alhaitham and Kaveh did their art tutoring session after they finished their own morning routines, then they ate lunch together, continued the art session, and then cooked their dinner together. Alhaitham fared well for the entire day. Kaveh doesn’t remember anything nor does he find Alhaitham acting any differently than normal which is great. However, it took all of Alhaitham’s effort to maintain his usual neutral demeanor. Kaveh kept leaning forward on his back, speaking near his ear with that silky voice that made Alhaitham teeter on the edge of his feelings. Kaveh asked him questions about his program and commented slowly on Alhaitham’s work, carefully choosing his words to avoid scaring him away from art. Despite all the things Kaveh did that disturbed Alhaitham’s usually calm heart, he managed to keep his composure. By the end of the day, the energy Alhaitham spent was equivalent to an entire day at the Akademiya. Yet, he knew he could never come to hate this.
The problem arises after dinnertime, when Kaveh invites Alhaitham to watch a movie with him to wind down before going to bed. Alhaitham accepted the invite, of course. After setting up the movie on the TV, Kaveh pauses and seems to remember something important. He excuses himself shortly from the living room to go back to his room. He comes back out a minute later and sits beside Alhaitham on the bed, hiding something behind his back.
“Give me your hand.”
“What?”
“Hand,” Kaveh repeats, gesturing for Alhaitham to show him his hand. The other complies, puzzled at the suddenness and randomness of the command. Kaveh takes out his other hand from behind him and puts it on Alhaitham’s hand. Alhaitham feels something a bit rough landing on his palm. Kaveh pulls his hand away and reveals the gift which was money. A hefty amount of it.
“What? What’s this?” Alhaitham gives Kaveh a discombobulated look.
“It’s money. Rent money, to be exact.”
“What?”
“I’m paying rent now, too.” Kaveh smiles.
“But we’re still not done with the art sessions… or are we?”
“Not yet! But you don’t have to ‘pay’ me for it anymore. I’ll do it for free from now on.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I’m happy that you’re taking art seriously. I think that’s enough payment for me already.”
Alhaitham stares at Kaveh, watching the honesty and contentment in his eyes. Just a year ago, they had been at each other’s throats despite being strangers, because of their clashing opinions, but now, that animosity had long thawed, and they’re at a point in their relationship where Kaveh is offering him his full kindness.
He’s in love with Kaveh, isn’t he?
The realization hits Alhaitham like a truck, leaving him breathless. He doesn’t just feel something for Kaveh—he’s deeply, hopelessly in love with him. He loves Kaveh’s strength, his determination to stick to his principles no matter what. He’s in love with Kaveh’s brilliance, the way his knowledge challenges Alhaitham’s own perspectives.
He’s in love with Kaveh’s eyes. Those sharp, intelligent eyes that soften when he’s focused on his art. He’s in love with his lips—soft, curved, and unbearably tempting. He’s in love with his pretty, messy hair, the way it falls into his face no matter how often he pushes it back. Every freckle on Kaveh’s face is a constellation Alhaitham could map out from memory. He’s in love with Kaveh’s callused hands, the hands of a creator.
Alhaitham is in love with everything about Kaveh.
And it’s the worst thing that could have happened to him.
The weight of that realization overwhelms him, tightening his chest. It feels as though his logical world is crumbling, emotions breaking through the walls he’s carefully constructed. His mind spirals, trying to reconcile this love with the belief that he and Kaveh can never work. It’s too much—too intense, too consuming. His feelings are a disaster waiting to happen, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. It becomes overwhelming, to the point that his brain does that thing where it shuts down and starts operating on auto-pilot.
“You think you’ll survive with ‘people’s happiness’ alone?” He blurts out.
“What?” Kaveh raises a brow at him.
“You’re being way too nice to me, Kaveh. Giving me leeway to take advantage of you already? Are you really that philanthropic, or are you just naive?”
“Excuse me?” Kaveh pulls back, offended. “I am offering kindness, and your response is to insult me? Aren’t you being such a douchebag right now, Alhaitham?”
“I’m only teaching you realism, Kaveh. It wouldn’t hurt to sprinkle some in your ideals every once in a while.”
“What the f*ck is wrong with you!” Kaveh stands up, face red in anger.
Alhaitham doesn’t respond. Instead, he only watches Kaveh wipe a hand down his face in frustration.
“Oh my gosh. Of course, how could I forget? You’re good at that, aren’t you, Alhaitham? Shoving into people’s faces about how you're smarter than them? About how your principles are far more superior because they’re logical? Is there nothing in that head of yours besides logic? Do you not feel?” Kaveh pauses, pointing a finger at him. “I thought we were finally getting along. I thought we were coming to an understanding already, despite our initial conflict. I thought wrong, didn't I?”
Kaveh stares down at Alhaitham, perhaps waiting for him to say anything that could deescalate the situation they’re in.
But Alhaitham simply puts down the money on the spot on the couch where Kaveh sat, and in a tone so monotonous and apathetic just like how it was a year ago, he declares, “I think you should move out.”
Kaveh’s eyes widened in surprise, as Alhaitham’s words echoed in the silence, heavy and final. Outside, the world remains undisturbed, the urban noise not quieting down despite the hour being late. Yet back inside their quaint dorm room, Kaveh hears nothing but Alhaitham’s words on repeat. He takes a slow, staggering step back, eyes meeting Alhaitham’s disinterested ones with a mix of hurt, confusion, and anger. Alhaitham was the one to break away, averting his eyes toward the TV. It was the only signal Kaveh needed. He runs back to his room and starts packing.
Petals and leaves had stopped visiting Alhaitham’s room when summer arrived with its scorching heat. The dorm room remained quiet, despite the lively world outside that’s energized by summer vacation and its promises of salt and sand. At the beginning of the break, Alhaitham started packing to stay at his aunt’s for the duration, since he had nothing much to do around the Akademiya area. He figured a change of scenery would be good for him. It would help him clear his mind, or figure out his final term project, or ignore the undisturbed silence of his dorm room.
Not much had changed in Alhaitham’s daily routine since Kaveh left. On weekdays, he woke up early, attended university, returned home, and completed some tasks or chores. Before bed, he’d read a few pages from a book he enjoyed until he’d get sleepy. On weekends, he slept in, did his chores, and found ways to be productive for the day. He lived his life as he always had, but Kaveh’s absence made him realize just how mundane his existence had always been—wake up, work, sleep. This self-imposed routine, once a source of comfort, now seemed unbearably dull, and it made him occasionally question whether he was truly living. Don’t get him wrong, Alhaitham had always been content with his life, but after Kaveh entered his world, he had a small epiphany: perhaps there was more to life than structured schedules and routines.
Alhaitham zipped his luggage closed after packing the last piece of clothing. He stood up and walked toward his bed, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. He opened the messaging app to inform his aunt that he was coming over. Just as he was about to open the chat with her, a message from Cyno appeared at the top of his inbox. He raised a brow and clicked it open.
Cyno (4: 38 PM)
bro
let’s go to the beach
Alhaitham (4: 39 PM)
That’s very sudden.
I’m coming over at auntie’s,
though.
Cyno (4: 40 PM)
can’t u spare a week
for ur friends? <3
there’s almost 2 months
of summer break and
all we’re asking for is
1 week
Alhaitham (4: 41 PM)
We
Who is ‘we,’ Cyno?
Cyno (4: 42 PM)
Nari, me, and his cousin 😀
Alhaitham (4: 43 PM)
That’s a family outing.
Cyno (4: 43 PM)
Haha, very funny
so, are u coming with?
it’ll be all free, yk?
we’ll be staying over
at Nari’s family beach
house
Alhaitham thinks about the invitation. It does sound like a great offer. He’ll be able to do something for a week of his summer vacation, all without spending too much money. The beach–the view and the atmosphere, specifically–is a good place to unwind and relax from all the recent stresses, too. Though, if Tighnari is the one who initiated the invite, Alhaitham suspects Kaveh has also been invited, and that Cyno is only deliberately omitting him out of the list of participants so that he would agree to go. The last thing Alhaitham wants is to make things awkward, not just for Kaveh, but also for everybody else. Personally, he could act normal around Kaveh for the sake of not ruining everybody’s fun, but he’s not entirely sure if Kaveh would be able to do the same. So, to play it safe, Alhaitham decides to reject the invite.
Alhaitham (5: 02 PM)
That sounds great, but I
still have to decline.
I just don’t feel like
going to the beach.
It’s way too hot out.
Cyno’s reply comes in fast, before Alhaitham could even click anything else on his phone, as if Cyno had long predicted his answer.
Cyno (5: 02 PM)
I heard they have a
personal library in
there
***
Cyno texted Alhaitham, letting him know they were already waiting outside the dorm at 7 AM the next day. In the end, Alhaitham had been seduced by the promise of a personal library, and the curiosity of the books present there. So there he was, early in the morning, locking his dorm room door and making his way outside his dorm with his luggage in tow. A car was waiting in front when he made it out, windows rolling down as he approached. Alhaitham momentarily froze when his eyes met Kaveh’s, who didn't seem surprised at his appearance. Cyno gets out of the car, running up to him with a grin.
“Good morning, pal,” Cyno casually greets.
Alhaitham forcefully tears his gaze away from Kaveh to glare at Cyno. Well, he can’t really be mad at him. He highly expected Kaveh’s attendance in the first place. He just forgot to mentally prepare for this moment.
Cyno rips him out of his stupor when he takes his luggage from his hold. “Here, I’ll put this in the trunk. You go take your spot and let the waves hit your feet on the passenger’s seat.”
“Right,” he finally speaks to Cyno. Cyno gives him a pat on the shoulder and goes to store his luggage in the trunk. Alhaitham, with heavy steps, walks up to the passenger’s seat. He waves at Tighnari to greet him, and also at the lady sitting beside Kaveh at the back, who, Alhaitham supposes, must be the cousin. He opens the door and gets inside, fastening the seatbelt on his person.
“Thank you for inviting me,” he said to Tighnari.
“Don’t mention it,” Tighnari answers with a smile. “Oh, the girl in the back is Collei, by the way. She’s my cousin.”
Alhaitham looks back at her, waving again. “Hello, I’m Alhaitham. I’m… Tighnari’s friend.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Alhaitham. I heard about you,” she greets back, cheerful but with a hint of justified shyness.
The car shakes a bit as Cyno closes the trunk and makes his way back inside the car.
“I’ve secured it,” he announced once he was seated, closing the car door properly.
“Alright, let’s go.” Tighnari starts the drive as Alhaitham turns back up front.
The drive was 7 hours long, counting their stop for lunch. It was a lively ride, with mostly the backseat passengers talking amongst themselves. After they ran out of stories, Cyno whipped out his cards and offered everyone except Tighnari to play. Alhaitham declined the offer, not wanting to get motion sick if he has to look back every now and then (and also because he’s avoiding having to meet Kaveh’s eyes accidentally again).
They arrived at the beach house by early afternoon. The place was massive, with only one storey but plenty of space inside. After parking the car in the garage, everyone unloaded their own luggages and followed Tighnari inside as he unlocked the door.
“No one’s home?” Cyno asks while he looks around after taking off his shoes.
“Oh, right. I forgot to say, didn’t I? This house isn’t used most of the time. It’s only occupied when we have family gatherings or whenever Collei and I come over for vacation, but don’t worry. Everything’s been cleaned. I called for a cleaner to take care of things two days ago.”
I surmised before that Tighnari is rich, but this just confirms it. Alhaitham thinks to himself as they walk into the living room.
“Alhaitham would be pleased to know the books he’s about to read aren’t sandy,” Cyno says, patting Alhaitham on the back. He rolls his eyes in response.
Tighnari smiles. “For bedroom assignments, since we have three bedrooms around–Collei will take the master suite, Alhaitham and Cyno will take the right-wing bedroom, and Kaveh and I will share the left-wing one. Let’s all unpack first, and then we’ll tour you around the beach.”
The area around them was a sight to see. The beach is sparkling under the sun. There are people swimming, hanging around, and surfing around it. Near the beach is a small campsite with a recreational park inside. There’s a lot of activities to do for the group through the entire duration of their stay, and even if they just wanted to sightsee, there’s also lots of scenery to spot. Alhaitham could see the allure of having a beach house there.
After their tour around, they decide to have a dip in the sea. Alhaitham opts out of it, however, choosing to stay in and start browsing the house’s library. The others left him, then, to his own devices.
It was just a minute in of Alhaitham browsing around the library when his stomach complained for food. He decides to grab a snack from the kitchen–they bought some from the store on their stop earlier. He walks out of the library just as Kaveh walks in the beach house. Alhaitham stops on his tracks, staring at him, eyes fleeting down quickly to his bare torso and the smooth skin of his legs. Kaveh also momentarily freezes, as if a deer caught in the headlights.
“I-I left my sunscreen,” Kaveh stutters out, as if there was any need for him to explain to Alhaitham as to why he was there.
Alhaitham slightly tilts his head at him, and then he breathes out an, “Okay.” Kaveh takes a moment, biting his lip in the awkwardness of the situation, before he decides to finally retreat back to his room for his sunscreen. Alhaitham stays rooted in place, for some reason, until Kaveh comes back out with sunscreen in his hand, glancing at Alhaitham as he leaves the beach house. Only when Kaveh left was Alhaitham able to move again, as if Kaveh’s bare, freckled skin put a paralyzing spell on him.
Tighnari, Cyno, and Collei return from the beach shortly after sunset. They took a shower and then started prepping dinner. Cyno helped Tighnari and Collei out, too, so there wasn’t much space left in the kitchen for Alhaitham to still bother doing anything. Tighnari notices him looking over, and his face brightens up in some sort of epiphany he suddenly had.
“Alhaitham, can you go fetch Kaveh? He went off earlier to have a look around the forest area again.”
Alhaitham had half a mind to decline–to say that, no, he doesn’t want to do that. That Cyno could do it, and he could take over his kitchen duties instead. But Alhaitham already swore to himself that he would never make this group outing awkward for everyone else that was not involved, so instead, he says, “Alright. I’ll get him.”
He finds Kaveh after a three-minute walk around the campsite grounds. He seems to be making his way back to the beach house, hair still damp from his swimming. The blonde stops on his tracks upon seeing Alhaitham.
“Tighnari sent me to come and get you for dinner,” Alhaitham declares as soon as he feels the question itching at the back of Kaveh’s tongue.
“Oh, okay.”
Alhaitham turns back, and Kaveh trails quietly behind him. Alhaitham thinks that this could be the perfect time to talk and apologize to Kaveh about everything he’s said to him, but his heart is still gnawing on the fear of his undying feelings for the blonde. So he keeps quiet and lets the natural noise fill the void of their tensed silence.
Alhaitham feels a droplet of water make its way to his shoulder. He stops and looks up at the sky as more droplets follow, a rain soon fully breaking out. He looks back at Kaveh and notices the blonde shivering from the cold of the rain and the nighttime breeze. Kaveh looks back at him, crossing his arms in front of his body.
“What are you doing? Keep walking,” he says, squinting up at him.
Alhaitham looks away toward the nearby campsite. He remembers that they have a rental cabin. He’s brought his wallet with him–as he always does, reasoning that it’s important to keep some bills in your person all the time–so they could stay there for a moment, just to keep Kaveh and himself away from the cold rain. They could just continue on with the remaining fifteen-minute walk back to the beach house, but Alhaitham’s too worried about Kaveh catching a cold.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing Kaveh by the wrist.
“What- where are we going?” Kaveh stutters out.
“Campsite. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” Alhaitham explains briefly.
“Huh? It’s fine. I won’t catch a cold. It’s not like I wasn’t already soaked in the first place,” he protests.
“Stop being stubborn.”
Kaveh harshly pulls his hand away from Alhaitham, stopping the other and making him look back at him.
“No, you stop dragging me around.”
“Kaveh–”
“You always act like that– act like you know what’s best for me. You impose yourself on me. When have I ever done that to you?” Kaveh lets the words go sharply. He wipes the rain away from his eyes, though he’s not quite sure if it’s just the rain or he’s begun tearing up from frustration. “Everything you do, I let you do it yourself. Some of the furniture you keep around your dorm room sucks, but I never commented on it. Sometimes you leave your books piled up on the coffee table where I work, and I never complained about it. When you do your art, I let you do it on your own principles. I minimize my own opinions around you. I let you do whatever you want to do with yourself. Why can’t you let me do the same with mine? Is it so hard to accept me as who I am, Alhaitham?” He recites, panting and sniffing out in the end. Now Kaveh is sure that he is crying, and while he normally doesn't want anyone to see him in that state, for now, he couldn't care less.
“It’s not that,” Alhaitham quips.
“Then what is it, Alhaitham? What’s stopping you from letting me live my life the way I want it?”
“I’ll talk once we get to the campsite.”
“No. I won’t move from here unless you talk.”
“Kaveh.”
Kaveh stares him down, willing himself to not shiver too much from the rain. He sniffles a bit, and he feels the urge to wipe his eyes but not yet. Not until Alhaitham relents.
Alhaitham clicks his tongue, a hand running up his hair and another to wipe his face. “You’re so f*cking stubborn.” He breathes in and points at Kaveh as he negotiates, “I’ll say one thing, and then I’ll elaborate once we get inside the campsite.”
“Okay, deal.”
“You… It’s not that I don’t accept who you are. In fact, I have long accepted everything that you are,” he pauses for a bit, trying to calm his racing heart. “I admire the knowledge you hold. That’s why, I push my own to you, because that way, you’ll refute it and tell me what you know, and I like that. I love that. I love when you give me a piece of your mind. It’s like I’m getting crumbs of yourself, and it feels great, because that’s the most that I can have from you. The occurrence before you left was, however, of an extremely different story. I didn’t do it because of any good reason.”
Kaveh seems to take the time to process everything that he just said. Alhaitham could practically see and hear the cogs in his brain turn very slowly, but before Kaveh could react to anything, he moved to carry him in his arms and rush to the campsite.
“Wait, Alhaitham!” Kaveh complains, arms instinctively wrapping around the other’s neck.
Alhaitham ignores him as they finally make their way to the campsite’s reception room. He puts the blonde down after they arrived and hurried to rent one of the cheapest, unoccupied clubhouse rooms they have whilst also buying the first pair of shirt and shorts he found displayed on the souvenir section of the area. As soon as he got the keys and the clothes, he maneuvered Kaveh to their room.
Once inside, he throws the new clothes on the bed and takes Kaveh to the bathroom.
“Go take a shower. We’ll continue talking right after.”
Kaveh didn’t have the chance to complain or anything as Alhaitham walked back out and shut the door behind him. While he was showering, Alhaitham took his rain-soaked phone out of his pocket and did his best to wipe it off before sending a quick text to Cyno about where they were. He doesn’t plan to stay in too long–there were umbrellas being sold at the souvenir shop, after all. He just wants to make sure Kaveh and him would at least be secured from catching a cold.
Kaveh comes out from the shower minutes later, after he asks for the clothes from the small space he opened on the door and gets dressed. Alhaitham follows afterwards, also taking just a quick shower. When he comes back out, Kaveh is seated on the bed, playing with the hem of his shirt. He raises his head when Alhaitham gets out of the bathroom.
“I have many questions,” Kaveh starts.
“Let me finish first.”
Kaveh pouts a bit but relents nonetheless. Alhaitham stays by the door of the bathroom, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms in front of his chest as he watches Kaveh.
“I want to apologize. I’m sorry for saying all those things to you–for calling you naive or for making you feel like your principles were stupid and nonsensical. I never meant anything I said back then.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
Alhaitham grimaces. “I frankly do not know. I think my brain shut down halfway through that conversation–I know it sounds sh*tty, but that’s really what it felt like at that moment.” Alhaitham looks over at the window, watching the raindrops hit the glass and slide down to the sill. He can’t stomach looking at Kaveh, the words dancing on his tongue feeling vile–like a secret that shouldn’t be said. He spits it out, regardless, for Kaveh’s peace of mind–hopefully. “I was overwhelmed by the realization that I must be in love with you.”
The silence that followed was almost similar to the one they had a month ago, after Alhaitham told Kaveh that he thinks he should move out. It scared Alhaitham so much that he felt like right then and there, he just wanted to sit down and curl up on himself. Instead, he clenches his fists hard, nails digging into his skin. He hears Kaveh get off from the bed and slowly approach him. He sees those pretty blonde locks on his peripheral vision, and Alhaitham fears that he is on the brink of everything.
“Alhaitham,” Kaveh calls out. “Look at me.”
Alhaitham doesn’t move, and he feels Kaveh hold his hand, tugging on it.
“Look at me, Alhaitham, please.”
He turns his head, meeting Kaveh’s sparkling rubies. Kaveh looks all over his face, as if searching for something.
“Say it again,” he orders.
“What?”
“Say it again. What did you realize?”
Alhaitham gulps down the lump in his throat, brows furrowing. “You heard it the first time.”
“I know, but I want to hear it again.” Kaveh takes a step closer, fingers interlacing with Alhaitham’s. “Humor me, Haitham?”
Alhaitham stares down at him, mouth agape. Archons does Kaveh look ethereal from up close. He’d kneel and worship this man for the rest of his life if he could.
“I…” He starts. He feels his throat dry up, so he tries to clear it. “I realized… that I love you.”
“And you got overwhelmed by that realization? Why?” Kaveh tilts his head in question, some of his fringe falling over his face.
“Because I know I can’t have you, but I also know the feelings aren’t… going anywhere anytime soon.”
“So you still have them?”
“...I do.”
Kaveh looks at him with an unreadable expression, and then he says, “Just so you know, I’m still hurt by the things you said to me, Alhaitham. You really confused me that one time–being rude like that all of a sudden.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I want you to make it up to me properly.”
It was all the signal Alhaitham needed for him to place his free hand behind Kaveh’s neck and pull him into a passionate and all-devouring kiss, pouring all his feelings and other unsaid words into it. Kaveh holds onto his shirt, kissing back with much fervor, months of covert pining and yearning finally being let out in the open. Alhaitham soon separates from the wall and leads Kaveh to the bed, not pulling away from his lips. The hand on Kaveh’s nape moves down to his waist, pinning him underneath Alhaitham.
“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Alhaitham murmurs against his lips once he pulls away for air. He lets go of Kaveh’s waist and moves it up to his chest, thumb teasing his clothed nipple. “That low-cut shirt of yours... It drives me mad; do you know that?”
Kaveh lowly groans, squeezing Alhaitham’s hand. “Is that the meaning of the look you gave me back then?”
“Probably.” Alhaitham dives back into his lips. He lets go of Kaveh’s hand to make his way under his shirt, caressing the warm skin of Kaveh’s torso. He pulls away shortly, tugging on Kaveh’s shirt. “Take these clothes off.”
“So demanding for someone trying to make it up to me.”
“You’ll get the main apology after you cooperate with me, Kaveh.”
Kaveh playfully rolls his eyes as Alhaitham pulls away to let him take his clothes off, helping out when he gets to his shorts.
“You know,” Alhaitham starts as he observes Kaveh in all his bare glory under him, “that night—the low-cut shirt night—”
“We’re naming events after my outfits now?”
“—was the first time we kissed.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, you kissed me.”
“Oh my gosh. Did we do anything else?”
“Not really. I had to actively stop myself from bending you over the kitchen counter, honestly.”
“Oh? Do you find me that sexy, Alhaitham?” Kaveh teases.
Alhaitham pulls away without answering, and Kaveh immediately sits up and worries he’s done too much, but Alhaitham only lifts him to sit on the edge of the bed as he kneeled down between his knees. Alhaitham wraps his co*ck in his hand, which earns a twitch from the other. He thumbs the tip, looking up at Kaveh with honest wonder.
“I’d show you how I find you,” he declares lowly, taking in Kaveh’s tip in his mouth. Kaveh groans out, a hand making its way to Alhaitham’s head and gripping on his hair. His hips jolt up as Alhaitham laps on the tip, his hand taking care of the remaining length that isn’t in his mouth. Alhaitham skillfully works his way on Kaveh’s length, bobbing his head up and down at a desirable pace and learning Kaveh’s sensitive points as he goes on. He looks up at the blonde through his lashes, groaning out as he sees the pleasure on his face.
“H-Haitham,” he moans. “Inside.”
Alhaitham tries to figure out what Kaveh meant for a moment, and when he realizes, he pulls him out of his mouth and lets his hand do the work while he answers, “We don’t have lube.”
Kaveh whines. “Well, do something!” He gasps out. “Wait, f*ck. I’m coming.”
Alhaitham immediately puts his mouth back to work, helping Kaveh arrive at his org*sm faster. Kaveh let out a long, low groan as he came inside Alhaitham’s mouth, watching Alhaitham swallow his load obediently with a cloudy gaze. When he’s cleaned up, Alhaitham pulls away again, leaving his co*ck alone with a small kiss on the tip. There’s a glint of pride and contentment in Alhaitham’s eyes as he looks up at Kaveh.
“What are you looking so happy for?” Kaveh questions, hand caressing through Alhaitham’s locks.
Alhaitham shrugs. “I’m just happy that I finally get to do this to you.”
“Did you fantasize about sucking me off?” Kaveh raises a brow.
“Maybe,” Alhaitham ambiguously answers as he stands up.
“Where are you going?”
“We’re going back now.”
“What? Already?” Kaveh looks at him in wonder. “But it’s still raining?”
“They’re selling umbrellas at the souvenir shop.”
Kaveh shifts on the bed, subtly covering himself as he suddenly feels too bare. “Don’t you think that it’s quite a waste of your money if we don’t stay even an hour long in this room?”
“Well, I just wanted to have the room so we can dry off before we manage to get ourselves sick.”
A small scowl appears on Kaveh’s lips as he quietly huffs. “Well, okay. Whatever you want.”
Alhaitham stares him down, eyes observing Kaveh with great scrutiny. “Kaveh.”
“What?”
“Do you want to go all the way?”
Kaveh chokes on his spit, coughing loudly as he turns away from Alhaitham. “I-I haven’t thought about it!”He says when he’s finally calmed down.
“Really?” Alhaitham asks, a small teasing smirk on his face.
“Yes!” Kaveh exclaims, face red.
“If you say so,” Alhaitham nonchalant shrugs. “Get dressed now while I go to the reception room to buy the umbrella and get us a bag for our wet clothes,” he says, throwing Kaveh one last glance before leaving him alone.
***
When they returned to the beach house, Tighnari, Cyno, and Collei were in the living room, playing Mario Party. Tighnari tells them their dinner is at the table, while Collei invites them to join in after they finish eating. Kaveh later joins them, but Alhaitham passes on the offer, though he does stay around to just watch them play from the side. Tighnari joins him later on, when he gets tired. He takes a seat beside Alhaitham, hugging his knees to his chest.
“Did you and Kaveh talk things out?” he suddenly asks, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
Alhaitham turns his head at him shortly, then looks back at the rowdy bunch. “Yes,” he replies, though uncertainty lingers in his voice.
“You don’t sound so confident.”
“We did talk, but some things happened that make me not so sure now about where we currently stand, so I’m not really sure if we ‘talked things out.’”
“Is that so?” Tighnari sits back, stretching his body. “Well, just give him some time. I’m sure he’s still processing everything properly before addressing it. Kaveh isn’t really the best on… expressing how he feels sometimes, so do be patient with him.”
“I will.” I am, always.
Alhaitham walks away from the group an hour later, feeling his social battery finally start to drain away. He quietly excuses himself to Tighnari and retreats to the library to read, hoping to get sleepy enough for bed. While normally, the quiet atmosphere would’ve made the perfect environment for Alhaitham to immerse himself in his book, it was producing the opposite outcome this time. Now that there’s barely any noise to distract Alhaitham, the words in front of him turn into a blur as his mind flies away to the thought of his earlier escapade with Kaveh. He thinks back to the way Kaveh looked, how hot he felt under his touch, and the sounds Alhaitham coaxed out of him. Alhaitham gives up and puts the book down, opting to hide his face in his hands instead and let out a muffled groan of frustration. The library door creaks open, and somehow, Alhaitham didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“Alhaitham?” Kaveh’s voice was softer than usual, almost tentative.
Alhaitham pulls his hands away from his face and looks at him. “Yes? Are you guys done?”
“They’re still not done. I noticed you were gone, so I swapped with Tighnari. I got worried,” he proclaims, closing the door behind him and walking up to Alhaitham. “Are you… well, you don’t look alright.”
Kaveh pulls out the chair beside him and sits down, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Kaveh plays with his hands on the table, fiddling with his fingers.
“Are you thinking about earlier?” He finally asks.
“...Yes.”
“Does it bother you so much?” Kaveh asks, voice small.
“No. At least, not what we did, exactly. Other things related to it, but you don’t need to worry about it.”
Kaveh glances at him. The room turns silent for a stretched moment, until Kaveh moves his chair to face him, his expression serious.
“I think we should learn how to talk to each other.”
“What?”
“Like, we should learn how to… say to each other what we really feel. We already fought once because we can’t properly communicate about stuff and kept it bottled up instead, waiting for it to burst and become a disaster,” Kaveh says with an articulate gesture. “So now, we should learn from our mistakes and learn to talk without hiding anything from each other, if we really want to understand each other.”
Alhaitham stares at him, watching the profound determination in Kaveh’s eyes. He’s not quite sure where it’s coming from, but he does agree with what Kaveh is saying.
“So you should start,” Alhaitham declares.
“Huh?”
“I already talked so much of what I felt earlier. You’re the one who did not say anything about yours, so I suppose it’s only fair you start this time.”
“A-Ah,” Kaveh utters nervously. “Well…”
Alhaitham crosses his arms. Kaveh meets his eyes, and a sense of realization seems to hit him as his rubies grow wide.
“You’re arguing with me.”
“Am I now?”
“You are! You’re making me realize by myself that this thing is not as easy as I make it sound like!”
“Outstanding observation, Kaveh.”
“You..!”
Alhaitham puts his head on his hand, eyeing Kaveh with interest and amusem*nt that one normally uses to gaze appreciatively at art. “We might argue if it came from me, so I’m leading you to it instead.”
An offended sound comes out of Kaveh’s lips. “Well, no, I will have to prove you wrong now.” He clears his throat then continues, “I, too, have liked you for a while now.”
Alhaitham hums. Kaveh indignantly stares at him.
“Is that all, senior?”
Kaveh reddens. “What else is there to say?!”
“As a romantic, I’ve expected you’d be more elaborate on your confession–”
Kaveh cuts Alhaitham off with a strong tug at his shirt and a lip on his own. Alhaitham was caught by surprise, but he was easy to relax and kiss back, hands finding their way to its usual place on Kaveh’s neck, the other on the table, holding him up.
“Just say you want reassurance,” Kaveh sharply points out when he pulls away.
A small, rare smile dances on Alhaitham’s lips, and Kaveh finds himself captivated by the warmth it brings to his normally stoic face.
“And what if I do want that?”
Kaveh sighs halfheartedly, cupping Alhaitham’s cheeks in his hands. “When we fought back then, I was more hurt than mad at you. I thought we were getting better at getting along with each other and coexisting despite our differences, but you telling me to leave proved me wrong. I’ve never really been so deep into someone before, so the pain was a new feeling to me too. I thought I wouldn’t recover from it. The days after it felt like I was operating on auto-pilot. It was the worst.
“You drive me crazy. You’re stubborn, and infuriating, and half the time, I want to strangle you, not because of good reasons. But you know, you’re also the most brilliant, captivating person I’ve ever met. There, is that romantic enough for you?” Kaveh nonchalantly questions, but his heart pounds loudly in his chest. He waits, breathless, for Alhaitham’s response. Somehow, it’s still nerve wracking for him despite already knowing how Alhaitham feels.
“Yes. It was very reassuring,” Alhaitham answers, voice low and almost tender.
Kaveh feels a rush of emotion surge through him, a mix of relief, joy, and something much deeper. He takes a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what now?”
Alhaitham holds Kaveh’s hands that are still cupping his face. “Now I court you properly, as you deserve.”
Kaveh smiles, amusem*nt glistening in his eyes. “You court me?”
Alhaitham raises a brow. “Are you underestimating me?”
“No,” Kaveh drawls. “I’d be very amused, I’ll be honest.”
Alhaitham's gaze never wavers. “You’ll see.”
A comfortable silence settles between them, the soft hum of the night providing a peaceful backdrop as they look into each other's eyes.
“Are you moving back in?” Alhaitham tentatively asks.
“Do you want me to?”
“I do. It’s not the same without you.”
Kaveh smiles beautifully, rubbing his thumb on Alhaitham’s cheeks. “I’ll move back in, then, but you’d have to help me carry back my stuff.”
“Okay. I’ll buy you a sturdy study desk now, too.” Alhaitham closes his eyes in contentment.
“Good, but I’ll have to come with you on buying that.” Kaveh squeezes his cheeks.
“Okay, I’ll buy you food and drinks after, then?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“And then I’d draw you once we get back home.”
“Ah?”
Alhaitham opens his eyes and stares back at Kaveh. “If you want to, I want to draw you for my final term project.”
Kaveh looks up, thinking back on it. “Is that the one with the ‘draw something beautiful’ theme?”
“Yes. I won’t give your face justice with my skills, but it doesn’t matter. Art isn’t about perfection, after all. It’s all about putting my emotions into it, right?”
Kaveh gapes, then he pulls away, a blush settling on his cheeks. “Right,” Kaveh murmurs, feeling a warmth spread through his chest.
Alhaitham chases back after his hands, however, pulling them close to him and placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. “Good,” Alhaitham nuzzles into his palm, looking straight into Kaveh’s rubies with silent adoration in his eyes, “There’s nothing prettier than you with me in our home.”
