Work Text:
Truthfully speaking, when Alhaitham arrived at his makeshift office in the House of Daena, he wasn't expecting a figure to be lounging on his desk whilst flipping through his documents. At the sight though, he is on edge immediately, hand reaching for and pulling out his blade.
"So the almighty Scribe of the Akademiya finally arrives!" The figure exclaims, sitting up.
Ah, it's him. Alhaitham doesn't lower his weapon, but he puts his efforts into keeping his composure still and expression passive. He won't acknowledge the sudden rapid heartbeat in his chest, nor does he wonder how the other person got into his office.
"What are you doing here, Kaveh?"
Kaveh hops off the desk. "Aww, aren't you happy to see me, Haitham?" He coos.
The familiar nickname, once used with loving care, is said with a saccharine sweet sarcasm carrying years of frustration and heartbreak.
"Not particularly," he deadpans back, then tucks his blade away. The man won't do anything to hurt him. "I'll ask again: what are you doing here, Kaveh?"
The blond pulls out a gun and sets it on the desk. If Alhaitham's eyes flicker to stare at the weapon, he doesn't mention a word of it.
"Last time we met, you were on the edge of your seat ready to turn me in," Kaveh says, in lieu of an answer.
"Those were orders."
"Orders? My my, did the Haitham of my memories suddenly disappear? Where is the man that only acted for his own sake and convenience? Tell me, Haitham, what do you gain from following the Sage's orders?"
A comfortable life, he doesn't say. A life without trouble. If he follows the Akademiya's orders and does his job, then his life remains constant and comfortable. Maybe a little mundane, but his goal has always been knowledge, not excitement.
He dares not recall the time when his house occupied another, whose presence brought a typhoon of creativity and light. He dares not remember what it was like to live life on a whim, driven by the passion of the man he loved.
Loved. Or is it loves? Alhaitham does not wish to ponder the question any more than he already has.
Unfortunately for him, Kaveh has words about it.
"I know you still love me."
"And I know you would rather kill yourself than continue to delude yourself into such thoughts." Alhaitham's response is practically instinct; they've repeated this song and dance too many times.
Alhaitham grabs the gun, a motion easily noticed by Kaveh. He checks the chamber. It's empty.
"Shame, you had me hopeful there for a second," Alhaitham mutters.
Kaveh laughs dryly, with no real joy or amusement. "You think I'd give you a chance to kill me so easily?"
"I haven't tried to kill you yet."
"Of course. Because of orders, I'm assuming?" Kaveh rolls his eyes and flaps a hand at him. "Truly, what a pet you are to the Akademiya."
"Watch your tone." Alhaitham takes a step closer in warning and watches as Kaveh backs up but doesn't shrink away.
"Watch me not care! Fun fact, I left the Akademiya for a reason. I also left you for the same reason." He jabs a finger at Alhaitham's chest, the touch a hot imprint through the thin fabric of his top.
Alhaitham tries to ignore how easily he leans into the touch. He also tries to ignore the sharp words that Kaveh ended his statement with.
"I ask again. What are you doing here?" He stares into eyes the color of bloody rubies, eyes that reflect defiance as much as they reveal regret.
Kaveh leans away now. All the while rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, and it's such an unbearably familiar sight to Alhaitham's memory that his heart practically aches.
"What are you now, a guarddog? I wasn't aware you wanted Cyno's job so badly."
"Cyno is dead," Alhaitham scowls. "Because of one of his closest friends selling information about him to the enemy side. Sound familiar, Kaveh?"
The information makes the other man smirk with a confidence that unsettles Alhaitham enough to make him take a cautious step back.
"Dead? Please, you know Cyno doesn't die that easily," Kaveh counters. "Where's your proof that he's dead?"
He knows something, Alhaitham realizes.
"I'm sure your Akademiya superiors informed you that the brilliant General Mahamatra was killed off by the scum rebels. I'm even more sure that they didn't tell you the great General Mahamatra defected."
And that information is shocking.
Alhaitham's thoughts must be evident on his face, because Kaveh takes the chance and snatches his gun back with a flair.
"You really think Cyno would fight against Tighnari?"
The answer is no, of course. Cyno's reluctance to participate in any combat against the rebels was evident from the beginning. It was part of the reason the Sages stopped giving him missions and stopped telling him information. He'd never do anything to hurt Tighnari.
Unlike you. Is the secondary message behind Kaveh's words.
"Do you get it now?" Kaveh's eyes darken, the usual bright red a dull maroon in the shadows of the room.
He stalks closer and slips something out of his sleeve with a swift hand. Alhaitham remains frozen in place, because he does get it. What Kaveh is trying to say without saying, what Alhaitham refuses to acknowledge.
Kaveh drapes a thin knife along Alhaitham's collarbone, and the movement is slow, contemplative. It's also gentle, and despite the implications of a weapon so close to him, the action is vulnerable. The thin knife does not cut, it simply rests.
Just as Alhaitham rests his mind. Today he will not try to convince Kaveh of anything. Today he will let the man go.
"Where did things go wrong?" Alhaitham whispers in one final question, one he can't help.
Every time, one of them will ask the question. And every time, it remains without a conclusion.
"You're the all-knowing Haravatat scholar, you tell me." Kaveh's voice is mournful, his eyes averted from Alhaitham's own.
It went wrong when the Sages started operating on their own and for their own benefit. It went wrong when I stopped coming home on time. It went wrong when you saw me apprehend members of your Darshan for trying to promote creative arts. It went wrong when we started to disagree on the path our nation was taking. It went wrong when I went the wrong way.
But he says none of it out loud, because it's all in the past. No amount of fixing can change what's already happened. His actions can't be taken back and Kaveh's status as a rebel and criminal can't be repaired.
And when Alhaitham doesn't respond, Kaveh sighs and backs away some steps.
"I didn't think you would have changed," he says. "But I suppose it was foolish of me to hope."
"Sorry to disappoint." Sorry Alhaitham is indeed, for not being what Kaveh wanted. He does not beg for forgiveness though.
Kaveh grabs the folders on the desk slowly. It’s as if he’s giving him a final chance to say something else, do something else. But Alhaitham doesn’t move, so Kaveh straightens up and heads for the door. "I'll be taking these then. Have fun explaining an Akademiya break-in to your higher ups."
"Will do."
The blond pauses before he takes the final step out. Alhaitham wonders what he could be thinking.
"I will keep trying. I hope you know that." Words so quiet Alhaitham nearly believes he's imagined them. But then Kaveh continues, voice a little louder. "And you can call me an idiot or a buffoon or whatever adjective you want for it. But I'm not giving up on you."
Kaveh turns around just a smidge, eyes meeting Alhaitham's with a gaze so strong of sincerity and determination that Alhaitham is reminded of the past, when those glittering eyes had their sights set on building the most wondrous of creations. It's a message, a sign that he's going to keep his promise. Alhaitham is tempted to say something to stop him from leaving, or maybe counter with an argument of how pointless his efforts will eventually be, but before he can, Kaveh is gone.
In the blink of an eye, swift feet have dashed out the door and somewhere away.
Alhaitham doesn't stop the man. It's his own way of reluctantly admitting his care for Kaveh. He's no Cyno, fighting for what's inexplicably right all the time and maintaining that unbudging loyalty. He can't switch sides this late in the game.
But he can do what he does best, lying through his teeth when the Sages question his office in disarray and pretending to have lost the notes about the Akademiya's next big project.
After the Sages have left, Alhaitham notices the gun still on his desk. Tucked under it is a slip of paper.
If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.
And Alhaitham smiles.