Archive of Our Own ^beta

Looking for a new place to live a few months before the new semester started was, admittedly, not the smartest move on Kaveh’s part. The stress figuring out what you were going to do after graduation, combined with the stress of figuring out where the hell you were going to live the following year, was enough to crack his head open like an egg. But Kaveh was nothing if not adaptable. He would roll with the circumstances before him, even if they were created by him.

Kaveh had moved into the place following sophomore year, rooming with some junior he’d met in one of his electives. He figured it’d be a good roommate pairing—they were both architecture majors, which meant neither of them were likely to be at the apartment very often because they’d both be spending all their time in the studio at their respective desks. And he was right about it.

Perhaps, then, the lack of contact was why Kaveh thought nothing of it when his roommate graduated and moved out immediately. At first, he thought about how nice it was to have the apartment to himself. About halfway through the summer, he realized—oh shit, the roommate was not coming back and he couldn’t afford to live by himself. He suddenly needed to find a new place to live. 

(Probably for the best, too, because Sangemah Bay was the scummiest of landlords and he didn’t want to deal with her anymore.)

So, with the desperation of a starving man—because he kind of was—Kaveh threw himself into the search. He went on the r/AkademiyaU subreddit, posted in the Facebook group (in case anyone still used it), and joined the Housing GroupMe, asking anyone, anywhere, if someone needed a roommate.

Things started to look better when he got a few responses. But then they started to look worse when he actually read them.

Have a free room about ten miles off campus. $968 a month.

Hey, do you still need a place to stay? I’ve got a room in a house of seven, $723 a month. No off-street parking.

$300 a month but you’d have to live in the basement. It’s also unfinished.

Kaveh sighed.

“Still looking for a place?” Tighnari asked.

“Yeah.” Kaveh shoved a hand through his hair, resting his forehead on his palm as he glared down at his phone. “Everyone’s either really far away or really expensive, or both. Or they’re a couple looking for a third roommate to fulfill their voyeurism kink.”

“Huh?” Cyno blinked.

“Okay, that was only one.” Kaveh huffed. “But a lot of these options suck.”

“This is why you should have started looking in the fall, like I told you—” started Tighnari.

“I know, I know, I know, I know—” Kaveh groaned.

“—when you already knew that your roommate was going to be graduating.” Tighnari sighed. “Archons, Kaveh. For an architect, you really lack planning skills.”

“Okay, the planning that goes into architecture isn’t the same as the planning that goes into, like…”

“Common sense?” supplied Cyno.

“Stoooop.” Kaveh groaned into his hands. “I’m going through a difficult time. Stop dogpiling on me.”

Through his fingers, he saw Cyno and Tighnari grin at each other.

“You know what, you guys seem like a couple that’d want a third person for your voyeurism kink.”

Cyno raised an eyebrow. “We don’t live together.”

“And we don’t have a voyeurism kink,” added Tighnari quickly.

“Sure you don’t,” said Kaveh. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be waving your happy long term relationship in front of single people like m—”

His phone buzzed.

Kaveh lunged for his phone. Hope thumped in his chest as he frantically unlocked the phone and swiped down to read the notifications.

Hey, I heard you were looking for a place to stay. My roommate also moved out recently so I have a room open.

“You’re shitting me,” said Kaveh.

“What?” Cyno tilted his head.

Kaveh held out his phone. Cyno and Tighnari leaned over until the sides of their heads were touching as they read the message.

Tighnari jerked away. “Al-Haitham sent you that?”

“I didn’t know he had it in him,” said Cyno.

“Had what?”

“A charitable soul.”

Tighnari rolled his eyes. “Be nice, Cyno.”

Kaveh sighed and put his phone down. “There’s no way. I bet it’s some fucked up prank he came up with to make my final year an actual hell.”

“Al-Haitham’s not the type to pull pranks,” said Tighnari.

“But he is the type to make my life hell.”

Kaveh’s phone buzzed again.

$525 a month. Close to the northwest side of campus. In-unit laundry and dishwasher. There’s a $200 pet fee if you want a pet, though.

“Dammit,” muttered Kaveh.

“What?” Tighnari was frowning.

“He has the cheapest place of everyone that’s contacted me. And , he lives close to the architecture library!” Kaveh wailed.

“I’m…not following why that’s bad,” said Tighnari.

“It means he’s the best choice,” groaned Kaveh. “And I’m broke. And a slave to Kshahrewar. Which means living with Al-Haitham is the most logical choice.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean you have to move in with him, though,” said Tighnari, still the optimist. “There has to be other places left to live near campus.”

“You’re right.” He hoped so. He would manifest it. “I’ll just…reach out to a few more people. Al-Haitham will not be my only good option.”

As it turned out, Al-Haitham was his only good option. So, Kaveh reluctantly responded to Al-Haitham asking if he could see the apartment. Al-Haitham responded in ten minutes with a date and time with the added message of: Don’t be late. I have things to do. Asshole.

Kaveh showed up a minute late out of spite anyway. But when he knocked, Al-Haitham still opened the door.

“Al-Haitham,” said Kaveh.

“Kaveh,” said Al-Haitham.

He let out a sigh and stepped inside, brushing past Al-Haitham’s shoulder. “Let’s see the apartment.”

The door shut behind him.

Al-Haitham’s apartment was pretty nice for a college apartment. Spacious, with nice wooden floors and a large kitchen. There weren’t nearly as many cracks in the walls as there were in Kaveh’s current apartment, which was always a plus, and there was a dishwasher and a gas stove—though you had to be careful when turning the flame too low in case it went out, warned Al-Haitham. Plus, he already had a microwave and a vacuum cleaner, and a ton of appliances Kaveh’s old roommate had, so he didn’t need to buy new things.

Overall, the apartment seemed pretty nice. There were a few downsides though, the main one being: Al-Haitham lived there. But man. He couldn’t believe this place was only 525 a month. He’d have to be a goddamn idiot and/or exceedingly petty not to live there.

“What do you think?” asked Al-Haitham.

“It’s…nice,” he admitted.

“Do you think you’re going to move in?” asked Al-Haitham. 

“I have to think about it,” Kaveh said out of spite. He wanted a bit more time to prolong the inevitable, hold out hope for the smallest chance that there could be a better place to live.

After he left, he kept digging and searching, trying to cling to the fraying strands of hope that there was somewhere, anywhere without Al-Haitham. Kaveh was too proud to give in, and he thought that if he searched hard enough, he could will it into existence. 

But as the search continued, it became clear: what other choice did he have?

Kaveh moved in a few weeks later.

Kaveh had met Al-Haitham during his sophomore year when Al-Haitham had been a freshman in some philosophy class that fulfilled a literature gen ed. Most of the people in that giant lecture hall were there just to fill the degree requirement, but Kaveh—being both the intellectual and try-hard he was—actually put in an earnest amount of effort. He loved his architecture classes no matter how much pain they caused him, but the philosophy class was still a wonderful change of pace. So he answered a lot of questions and asked his own, too.

Then someone rebutted his claim.

Irritation sparked behind his eyes as Kaveh turned around, searching for the voice that had spoken. He caught the gaze of someone sitting a few rows up with the most piercing green eyes he’d ever seen narrowed at him. Maybe it was the upward slope of the lecture hall or the general vibe he gave off, but it felt like the other student was looking down on Kaveh.

“I’m fighting for my life trying to remember any of your names,” laughed the professor. “So please, say your name and year and pronouns, please.”

“Al-Haitham,” said the other student. “I’m a freshman. He/him.”

A fucking freshman? Kaveh was going to destroy him.

“Great, thank you, Al-Haitham,” said the professor. “Continue, then.”

“I just think you need to be more realistic,” said Al-Haitham, still looking down at Kaveh from his seat. “No art form is eternal. The day when all of its value has been exploited is the day it loses its reason for existence. Like a fruit getting overripe and falling to the earth to become nourishment for new plants.”

Who the hell did he think he was? Kaveh remembered Al-Haitham speaking before, but this was the first time in two weeks he’d directly responded to something Kaveh had said. He gave off the vibe of one of those smart kids in high school who coasted through life to get there, and Kaveh had the sudden, visceral urge to knock him down a few pegs.

“That’s a very materialistic viewpoint,” retorted Kaveh. “Especially in a society today that values production and output. You can’t compare art to production and exploitation for commercial purposes because the inherent value of art can’t be analogously compared to production.”

Al-Haitham pursed his lips. “Analogous is a pretty big word for someone proposing something so impractical. You’re arguing that you can’t compare the two, but can the production of anything exist without commercial exchange?”

“Impractical?” Kaveh shrieked, voice bouncing off the lecture hall walls. “Excuse me? I’m literally an architecture major, the whole point of my degree is—”

“Alright, okay—” The professor interrupted. “As interesting as it was hearing you two talk, maybe it’d be best if you continued this conversation outside of class? Let’s, uh, move on to the next topic.”

Kaveh’s face burned. He cast a glare up at Al-Haitham, but the fucking freshman had already turned back to his notes, looking half bored in his seat. He swallowed the rising insult in his throat and turned around.

And so the class continued like that through the semester. It turned into a dueling ground for Kaveh and Al-Haitham to argue with each other, which eventually devolved into ad hominem attacks, which eventually devolved into near yelling before the professor had to verbally pry them apart. It got to the point that if either one of them spoke up on a topic, the professor wouldn’t allow the other to directly respond. Kaveh normally enjoyed a debate, but arguing with Al-Haitham put him into a different state of mind–so much so that it wasn’t until they had all turned in their final papers that the shame of disrupting the classroom finally crashed over his head. To repent, Kaveh gave the professor a homemade cake as an apology and left a glowing review on Rate My Professor about what an incredibly patient and wonderful professor he was.

When the semester ended, Kaveh thought he’d never see Al-Haitham again. And thank the Archons for that because he didn’t need his blood boiling at nine a.m. with architecture studio following immediately afterward anymore. He stepped out of the building one final time, sucked in a breath, and prayed for peace.

Living with Al-Haitham was about as bad as he’d expected.

For one, he woke at sunrise and slept at sunset, meaning he nagged Kaveh endlessly about not making noise late at night while also clambering around in the morning. For another, he had a stick up his ass the size of a flagpole, holding onto the orderliness of the apartment with an iron fist.

Kaveh liked to think of himself as a neat person. His parents raised him right; he knew how to do the dishes and wiped the counters every night and cleaned out the lint drawer every time he did laundry. Hell, he used to clean up after his old roommate most of the time in their old apartment.

But Al-Haitham was on an entirely different level. He kept an almost suffocating hold on the order of the apartment.

If Kaveh brought a blanket into the living room to work on homework and left to go to the bathroom or get a snack, he’d come back to find the couch devoid of blanket, only to later find it folded neatly and placed passive aggressively in front of his bedroom door. If he dropped a pasta noodle onto the stove while cooking, he’d get a bright sticky note on his door later reminding him to clean the stove daily. If he left a plate on the counter longer than two seconds after he finished eating off of it, Al-Haitham gave him hell.

“Archons, who raised you?” Al-Haitham muttered. “The dishwasher is right there, it takes two seconds to put your things away.”

“I was going to!” Kaveh hissed. “But then I had to take a phone call. I’m sorry for not putting my dishes away in two seconds, but I was busy!”

“And the trash?” Al-Haitham nodded toward the bin. “I’ve seen you shoving trash deeper into it when it’s already overflowing.”

“I—I’m busy.” Kaveh flushed. That was actually his fault, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

“I am, too.” Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow. 

And so on.

Perhaps it was made worse by the fact that the semester hadn’t started yet and all they could do was exist in the same space with nothing to distract them. What else could they do except butt heads?

On a rare morning where Kaveh was up early, he found himself facing the true horrors of having the most annoying fucking roommate in the world.

Apparently, Al-Haitham had gotten too comfortable living by himself for most of the summer, because when Kaveh emerged from his room, Al-Haitham stepped out of the bathroom at the same time. He was wearing shorts—thank the Archons—but he was not wearing a shirt. He just had a towel draped over his shoulders, one corner lifted up to rub at his hair.

Kaveh scrunched up his face. “Ugh, move.”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes and disappeared into his own room.

Another thing he hated about Al-Haitham: it was unfair as hell how buff he was. And yet, he’d never seen Al-Haitham at the gym. He had to be doing steroids or something. It was also unfair how Kaveh went to the gym regularly and his arms were still half the size of Al-Haitham’s.

“Where are you going?” Al-Haitham called.

“Out,” said Kaveh. “Getting coffee with Tighnari and Cyno.”

A pause. Then, “Take the trash out while you leave.”

Kaveh’s eye twitched. “Why can’t you do it?”

“You’re already leaving, so it makes the most sense for you to do it.”

“I’m going to be late.”

“Well, then you should have left earlier.”

Any ounce of civility he had left evaporated. The petulant, petty part of Kaveh won as he shouted, “Fuck you, I’m not taking it out!” before stalking down the hall.

He furiously pulled his jacket on and shoved his keys in his pocket when the kitchen caught his eye. He turned to see that the trash was, in fact, quite full. And despite the all-consuming desire to piss off Al-Haitham, the discomfort of a dirty apartment glowed stronger. So, reluctantly, he took the trash bag out and tied the ends together before dragging it downstairs with only the thought of letting Al-Haitham replace the trash bag mollify him.

“So, how’s the new roommate?” Tighnari asked.

Kaveh stared down at his paper cup. He’d ordered a dark roast with a shot of espresso but instead got a mocha because a new employee got flustered and put chocolate in his drink. He was already running on very little sleep and the noise of the cafe wasn’t helping his headache, so he just accepted the drink and sat mournfully at the table.

“Awful,” he groaned. “Al-Hatiham is so—anal about the order of the apartment and being clean. He nags me about not putting dishes away five seconds after I’ve finished eating and calls me a mess.” He took another sip of his mocha hoping it would be less sweet and gross than the last one. It was not. “I’m not even that messy! I wipe the counters and clean up after I cook but not to his standards or whatever. And the fucking hypocrite leaves his books everywhere. Archons, I feel like I’m suffocating.”

Cyno hummed. “That’s unfortunate.”

“We warned you,” said Tighnari.

“Stop, I know,” Kaveh groaned.

Tighnari frowned at him. “Look, we know how you are with Al-Haitham. Are you sure the rent is worth living with him for a whole year?” 

“I don’t have a choice.” Kaveh could live ten miles off campus and pay nearly a grand a month, live in an unfinished basement, or live with Al-Haitham. “I’m broke and I don’t have the time to search for a new place, nor the money to break the lease.”

“Wait.” Cyno’s eyes widened. “Is that him?”

Kaveh froze. He turned slowly to see Al-Haitham at the register, probably ordering a coffee blacker than his soul.

“Shit.” Kaveh ducked his head.

“What are you doing?” Tighnari gave him a flat look. “Are you trying to hide from him? Kaveh, you live with him.”

“Yes, I know, I know, just—” He lifted his head to check if Al-Haitham was still there.

He was. And Al-Haitham was watching him.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Kaveh ducked his head again. “He saw me looking.” 

“Oh my gods.” Tighnari rubbed the space between his eyebrows. “Kaveh, if you’re not going to move out of the apartment, you should at least try to get along with him, right?”

Kaveh didn’t answer and flipped him off instead. “Is he walking over?”

“No, he is not walking over.” Tighnari turned his head, following the movement of Al-Haitham. “He’s walking out the door.”

Kaveh lifted his head to see the door of the cafe swinging shut with a final ding. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just move out?” asked Tighnari. 

“Let me reiterate: I am poor. And busy.”

“Then maybe you should make an effort to get along with him.”

Kaveh sighed. “When the semester starts, I won’t have the energy to.” When the semester started, he’d be back in the studio all the time building models and suffering. Huh. Maybe that was the trick. He looked up at Tighnari. “I’m just going to spend all my time in the architecture library so I’ll never have to see him.”

“Kaveh.”

It was strange how life worked itself out. The very enemy Kaveh had made sophomore year somehow became friends with all of his friends without becoming friends with Kaveh himself. 

Al-Haitham had apparently gone to the same high school as Tighnari so they’d known each other years before Kaveh ever knew either of them. He worked the same campus job as Cyno, so while they hadn’t gotten along at first, both of their flavors of “quiet” and “surly” had somehow mixed well and they started talking to each other in a way only both of them seem to understand. He’d had a group project with Dehya once and somehow she’d made it past his thorny exterior and found that, “He’s actually not that bad.”

Kaveh didn’t realize Al-Haitham knew all of his friends until one day, the semester after their philosophy class ended, when he wandered over to Tighnari’s dorm to celebrate his birthday. He opened the door, gift bag in hand, when he saw Al-Haitham leaning against one of the bunk beds.

Kaveh had dropped the gift bag rather dramatically and pointed an accusatory finger at him as he yelled, “You!”

Al-Haitham looked up from his book (who the fuck in their right mind would read a book during a friend’s birthday party?) and frowned. “Huh, it’s you.”

“What are you doing here?” Below him, Candace tentatively reached over and set Tighnari’s gift onto one of the desks.

“Celebrating his birthday.” He nodded towards Tighnari.

“How are you friends with him?” Kaveh had screeched.

Tighnari eventually told him to quiet down because they’d hidden vodka in the minifridge and didn’t want the RA to come over and investigate the noise. After some grumbling and protesting, Kaveh let himself be ushered into the room where he sat on the ground and fumed over the fact that the annoying ass freshman from his philosophy class was there. Then, he took a shot and was less mad about it, but every time he looked over at Al-Haitham, he felt pissed off all over again.

Kaveh hoped it was just some strange one-off experience—that the stars aligned and the moon turned red and it was all just a strange cosmic event of mutual friends crossing paths. But some cruel force tangled the threads of their fate together because he kept showing up at their study sessions and birthday parties and other random hangouts, though he always brought a book or headphones which made Kaveh wonder why he’d even come in the first place.

Al-Haitham had unexpectedly wormed his way into Kaveh’s undergraduate life. And Kaveh knew, then, that he’d never know peace again.

Kaveh did, in fact, start spending all his time at the architecture library when the semester started. Not that it came as a surprise. It came with the territory of being a fourth-year architecture student; he lived and breathed the studio—and glue and balsa wood and what have you.

Spending more time outside of the apartment was good for his sanity. In the remaining weeks of summer, he spent most of his time rotting in his room or going to Tighnari’s apartment to avoid Al-Haitham.

Getting outside felt good again, though. Really, it did.

In the second week of school, Kaveh officially broke the one a.m. marker for leaving the architecture library. Truly, the soonest he’d done so out of all his semesters. It was exhausting. He felt like he’d wrung his brain dry trying to figure out what was wrong with his project. Then, in a fit of sleep-deprived impulsive rage, he’d disassembled it and started over again. Before he knew it, it was one a.m. and seven hours had passed since he’d last eaten something that wasn’t caffeinated. He took it as a sign that he should leave.

The air felt cool on his skin as he started the trek back to his apartment. The throbbing in his head eased with the gentle wind. Archons, it was so peaceful out here. One of the things he missed most about living in the dorms was walking outside like this at night.

Kaveh soaked in the night as he walked home. And when he reached the apartment complex, he thought about how nice it would be to crawl into bed. His headache pulsed with each step up the stairs. He reached into his pocket and felt around for his key.

“Shit.”

It wasn’t there.

Kaveh groaned and let his head thunk against the door. It hurt—but not nearly as much as the mental pain of going through the day. Weariness sagged in his bones. How the hell did he forget his key?

“Archons, fucking dammit.” He pulled out his phone and furiously pulled up Al-Haitham’s number and hit call. Hopefully he was awake, or else Kaveh would be stuck outside all night. He imagined Al-Haitham answering the call, grumpy from being woken, and Kaveh would probably have to say something through gritted teeth about how he wasn’t in the mood to be nagged right now so for the love of god Al-Haitham could you please just come get the door—

“Hello?” A voice crackled through his phone.

“Al-Haitham!” Maybe someone was watching over him. “I know it’s late but please yell at me later because I forgot my key so I need you to open the door for—”

The wall in front of him disappeared. Kaveh pitched forward, shrieking as the ground came rushing toward him. There was a ledge you had to step over to get into their apartment, a metal corner that was about to put a perfect 90-degree dent in his skull—

Something warm and solid caught him by the arms. Kaveh looked up to see Al-Haitham staring down at him, eyebrow raised.

“Hello?”

Kaveh scrambled back, untangling himself from his roommate. “What the hell? Why did you open the door?”

Al-Haitham picked up his phone from the side table and ended the call between them. “Because you asked me to?”

“You could’ve waited until I wasn’t leaning against it!” Kaveh stomped past him into the apartment. “Or like, given me a warning or something.

“I didn’t know you were there.” Al-Haitham’s voice was cool and collected. He shut the door behind them.

“Whatever.” Kaveh pulled his shoes up. “You’re up later than usual. Shouldn’t you be in bed by now, Grandpa?”

Al-Haitham looked at him, unamused. “I’m younger than you.”

“Yeah, the most annoying freshman I’d ever met in my life.”

“I’m not a freshman anymore.”

“Still annoying as one, though”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes.

Kaveh caught a glimpse of the laptop open on the couch out of the corner of his eye, a pillow underneath it. “What are you still doing up, anyway?” What happened to his impeccable normal-person sleep schedule?

“I’m working on a linguistics paper due tomorrow.” Al-Haitham moved back to the couch and sat down, pulling the laptop and pillow into his lap.

Kaveh scoffed. “Knowing you, I would’ve thought you’d have it done and revised by now.”

“I do,” said Al-Haitham. “I’m reading it over to make sure there aren’t any mistakes.” He glanced at Kaveh. “What were you doing out so late?”

“Working at the architecture library.” Kaveh picked a strip of dried glue off his fingers.

“I see.”

Kaveh waited for Al-Haitham to say more, and when he didn’t, turned toward the hall.

“Well, I’m gonna go pass out.” He hesitated. “Thank you for getting the door for me.”

Al-Haitham didn’t look up. “Don’t forget your keys again.”

Kaveh threw up his middle finger before disappearing into his room.

And so the semester continued, as it tended to do. Kaveh studied in the architecture library, built maquettes, cried over the lack of sleep, avoided Al-Haitham, and in the moments in-between, saw his friends.

Nilou’s invitation came via text.

Hey guys, I’m having a birthday party this Friday and it would really mean a lot to me if y’all came! Please let me know if you can make it :)

Nilou! Archons, Kaveh had barely seen her since the semester started. Shortly after the message appeared, the group chat lit up with texts from everyone saying they were excited to come. The message came at a perfect time because AutoCAD had just crashed on his laptop and this was the very thing that stopped him from bursting into hysterical laughter (and maybe tears) in the middle of the library.

And so the prospect of Nilou’s birthday party turned into the very glue holding him together to the end of the week. Whenever the daily challenges of college became too much, he pulled himself back up with the idea of getting wine drunk like his aunt in her mid-forties.

Nilou—being Nilou—was friends with everyone. Everyone, unfortunately, included Al-Haitham, meaning he was also invited to her birthday party along with the rest of the friend group.

“We’re not pregaming here,” Al-Haitham said on the night of the party.

Kaveh rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to offer.” Not with the way Al-Haitham was.

Tighnari ended up hosting the pregame. He lived a bit down the street from their apartment complex, so they ended up walking together. They managed the walk in silence—which was kind of awkward but better than arguing the whole way.

“Hey, welcome!” Tighnari greeted as he opened the door.

Kaveh grinned and stepped inside, Al-Haitham just offered a nod.

Tighnari’s apartment was usually neat and orderly, never more than three people in the place at a time. Today, it was full of people playing various drinking games with different bottles of things lining the countertops. Cyno was sitting on the couch talking to Dehya. Dunyarzad was teaching Collei, the freshman Tighnari had adopted, how to hold her drink so no one could drop anything in it. Candance was drinking Fireball straight from the bottle. It was so lively and wonderful that Kaveh could feel the tension of the day physically draining from his shoulders.

“Is there wine?”

“Only for you.” Tighnari nodded toward the kitchen.

“I could kiss you on the mouth!” Kaveh declared as he made his way toward the kitchen.

As promised, a wine bottle sat on the table—Kaveh’s favorite cheap wine that cost six dollars and was so sweet that he was the only one who liked it. He twisted the top off and leaned back against the counter, taking a swig. He turned around to find that Al-Haitham had followed him.

“Do you drink?” he asked. It was odd that for all his years of knowing Al-Haitham, he’d never thought to ask.

“Sometimes.” Al-Haitham pulled a Solo cup from the stack.

“Hm.” He watched Al-Haitham pour a disturbing amount of vodka into the cup before topping it off with orange juice. Kaveh could imagine the smell of it as Al-Haitham took a sip. “By the Seven, are you a secret alcoholic?”

Al-Haitham didn’t even flinch at the taste. “I’m not. I just don’t get drunk very easily, so I have to pour in a lot.”

Kaveh took another drink from the wine bottle. “I bet I could drink more than you.”

Al-Haitham narrowed his eyes. “We are not having a drinking competition.”

Kaveh gasped. “What? I would never suggest something so irresponsible—”

“I’m saying that because if you throw up tonight, I’m not taking care of you.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to.” Kaveh flipped him off before returning to the living room.

The noise had grown, festive enough that they could possibly get noise complaints. But it was so lovely: all of his friends in one space and laughter swelling in his lungs.

Once everyone was sufficiently tipsy, they all braced themselves for the cold air and departed Tighnari’s apartment.

This was what Kaveh needed after a week of hell. He’d spent so much time in the studio that he almost forgot what his own room looked like, but walking around with his friends was exactly what he needed. Laughter and air and delirium.

Nilou lived in a century-old house with three other dance majors two streets away from campus. When they arrived, the door was open, letting the thumping bass of top 100 pop songs flow out of the door and onto the lawn. Kaveh stepped inside, and when he lifted his foot, the bottom of his shoe peeled off the ground with a sticky sound. Archons, he hoped Nilou had help cleaning this place after the party.

“Hi!” Nilou appeared in a flurry in front of them. “I’m so glad you made it!”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Dunyarzad smiled.

“Come in, come in, all the bugs are gonna get it.” Nilou ushered them inside. 

The group dispersed when they crossed the threshold. Kaveh headed to the couch where he saw a bunch of Kshahrewar students lounging like a bunch of hipsters and dropped himself in the middle of them. 

Kaveh loved parties. He loved talking to people. He spent the next undetermined amount of minutes whirling from room to room, catching up with friends and acquaintances and people he’d shared one class with, but still wanted to talk to anyway. The happy little buzz from the wine carried him on a cloud as he made his way through talking to nearly everyone at the party before he finally calmed down enough to realize where he was.

Kaveh found Al-Haitham standing in the corner of the room, looking at his phone. He didn’t look uncomfortable, per se, but it was very in character for him to stand by himself with a literal party raging around him. Maybe the image of his roommate standing by himself felt too pitiful, but Kaveh found himself walking over.

“Hey.” Kaveh melted against the wall. “Are you drunk yet?”

Al-Haitham looked up at him. He blinked, as if he were trying to understand the image in front of him. “No,” he said, unamused.

“Why not?” Kaveh poked him in the chest. “It’s a party.”

“I told you—I don’t get drunk easily.”

Kaveh grabbed Al-Haitham’s wrist and tugged his hand down, peering inside his cup. “Your cup’s empty.”

Al-Haitham looked down at him, unamused. “It sure is.”

Kaveh thrust his wine bottle out to him. “Drink this.”

“I don’t want your wine.”

Kaveh shoved it forward, outraged. “But it’s wine.”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes and finally pulled his hand away. Kaveh didn’t realize he’d forgotten to let go of Al-Haitham’s wrist. “Why do you like wine so much?”

Kaveh pouted and took a drink. “What’s not to like about wine?”

“You sound like my aunt.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes. “Everything else tastes gross. I like sweet things.” 

“Do you?”

Kaveh nodded enthusiastically.

“I thought you preferred black coffee.”

“Yeah.” Kaveh gestured vaguely. “For efficiency. And maximum caffeine. It’s like—I have layers, you know. I like black coffee and sweet wine. It makes me interesting.”

“I think there needs to be more than that to make someone interesting.”

Kaveh responded with a hum.

Around them, the world continued to spin. He could barely hear his own voice above the noise of the party; and yet, standing at the edges of it, back against the wall, he’d found a stillness in this corner of the room. When he wasn’t actively arguing with Al-Haitham, being near him turned out to be quite peaceful.

Eventually, some old classmates and acquaintances wandered into their corner. Kaveh chatted with them, laughed with them, and charmed them with his brightest smile, but once they started to leave, Kaveh found that he didn’t particularly want to move. 

“Do you know everyone here?”

Kaveh startled. He turned and realized Al-Haitham had been listening to every conversation. “In the loosest definition of the word.” He took another drink. “I’ve definitely at least spoken to everyone here before.”

“I see.”

It took Kaveh a moment to realize that Al-Haitham’s phone had turned off. Somehow, he’d managed to snatch Al-Haitham’s attention away long enough that his phone had fallen asleep.

Al-Haitham’s eyes darted down. “Can I actually have a drink?”

Kaveh grinned as he handed the bottle back to Al-Haitham. “Why, of course.” He felt smugger than he had any right feeling, but the satisfaction of Al-Haitham cracking lingered. Al-Haitham lifted the bottle and took a sip.

“Do you like it?” asked Kaveh.

“It’s too sweet,” said Al-Haitham as he passed the bottle back.

Kaveh scoffed. “Typical. See if I ever give you my drink again.”

“Like I would trust your tastes in the future after this.”

Kaveh scrunched up his face. “Dickhead.”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes.

Let Al-Haitham stand by himself at a party. Kaveh was going to go enjoy himself.

He threw one last middle finger towards Al-Haitham before he peeled himself off the wall and wandered back into the crowd in search of his friends. He found Dunyarzad and Collei dancing to a pop song about falling in love; and when they noticed him, Kaveh grinned and shimmied over.

“Cutting in!” He announced before grabbing Collei’s hands. He alternated pulling each hand back and forth, twisting with the motion. Dunyarzad’s laugh burst from the side. Collei grinned up at him, cheeks flushed.

When the song ended, he bowed to Collei before releasing her back to Dunyarzad. Then, he turned back to the rest of the party.

Kaveh made the rounds, feeling more alive than he had felt the entire week. No studio, no models, no AutoCAD crashing, just floating on the buzz of wine and laughter.

He found Cyno in the kitchen playing Pong and joined him in a match. He gossiped with Candace and Tighnari later on the front porch about various professors and business majors (Dunyarzad exempt, of course, because she was Dunyarzad). He picked up a stray earring on the ground and went on a quest with Candace to find its owner.

There was a wonderfully exorbitant amount of wine at Nilou’s party. Kaveh went through three bottles of it. He should probably thank her for it. He found her talking to Dehya later and threw his arms around her to thank her for the wine because he’d lost control of his tongue. Dehya watched him, amused, as he disappeared back into the house. The night disappeared in a blur of voices and music. There were a lot of bodies and skin—so much skin. This was part of the euphoria, some lovely oblivion that took away the day.

As the world spun festively below him, so too did it suddenly halt.

Kaveh grabbed the nearest shoulder. “Hey.” It was Cyno’s. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go throw up.”

Cyno startled. “What—”

A hand grazed his arm, but he was already pulling away, stumbling towards the bathroom.

Kaveh threw up rather ungracefully, the sourness of stomach acid coating his entire tongue. He sat at the toilet bowl, panting, feeling awful. At least his hair was tied back. He vaguely registered the door opening, but couldn’t see more beyond the fog.

“...tham…take him home…?”

Kaveh lifted his head.

Al-Haitham was standing at the door of the bathroom, Nilou speaking to him.

Al-Haitham let out a long sigh. “Yeah. I can.”

“Huh?”

Nilou startled, then looked down at Kaveh. She gave him a gentle smile. “Hey, Kaveh. You doing alright?”

Kaveh responded with a vague wave of his hand.

Al-Haitham sighed and then he was moving again, hosting Kaveh up by the arms. “Come on, let’s get you home—”

The sudden movement was too much. He tumbled forward and slammed into Al-Haitham’s shoulder. “Ow…”

“Archons,” muttered Al-Haitham, shifting and winding an arm around his back. “Can you stand?”

“I’m up.” His head spun. “Asshole. I’m moving. I’m—” He shoved himself off Al-Haitham’s shoulder and propelled himself into the door frame. “Shit.”

“Kaveh!” Nilou gasped. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m fine, I’m good.” His left shoulder ached like a bitch. “Sorry for drinking all your wine.”

Nilou smiled. “It’s okay. Most of it was for you anyway.”

Kaveh groaned into the door frame.

“Come on.” Al-Haitham dragged him up by the arms again and into the hall.

“What happened to not taking care of me?” Kaveh mumbled.

“Can’t turn down the birthday girl on her birthday,” he said simply.

“Asshole,” muttered Kaveh. 

Now that he was nauseous and empty of stomach, the noise and the heat of the house were suffocating. It took everything in him to stay connected to Al-Haitham as his roommate led them both out of the house.

The frigid air hit him like a tidal wave when they stepped outside, the sting of it shocking some clarity back into him. He let out a violent shiver.

“Al-Haitham.” Kaveh pressed closer. “It’s cold.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Al-Haitham.” Kaveh whined.

Al-Haitham sighed and pulled away. The cold shocked his right side, entirely exposed to the air. Kaveh turned to complain when he felt something warm drape across his shoulders.

“Here,” said Al-Haitham. “Now shut up.”

“Oh.” Kaveh tugged at the fabric wrapped around him—Al-Haitham’s green jacket, still warm from his body heat. “Aren’t you cold?”

Al-Haitham was only wearing a black T-shirt underneath. And yet, the wind didn’t seem to bother him. “I’d rather be cold than listen to you complain.”

Typical Al-Haitham. Kaveh swallowed whatever amount of gratitude he had and made a face instead before continuing down the road, Al-Haitham dragging him along.

They only made it a few more steps down the street before they realized how truly incapable Kaveh was at walking. Archons, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten this drunk—still woozy even after throwing up. Al-Haitham kept lifting him up when all he wanted to do was fall over.

“Archons,” Al-Haitham bit, pulling away. “Okay, that’s it.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes. “Well sorry for—”

Al-Haitham bent down as Kaveh fell forward. He maneuvered and suddenly Kaveh was on Al-Haitham’s back. Al-Haitham pulled his arms so they looped around his neck.

“Oh.” Kaveh tightened his arms on instinct, trying not to fall off.

“Ease up.” Al-Haitham's voice strained. “Do you want to choke me to death before we get home?”

“Are you strong enough to carry me all the way home?” Kaveh taunted, but loosened his grip anyway.

“Yes.”

He said it so simply, it stopped Kaveh cold. He searched for a response, and couldn’t find one, so he said nothing.

Al-Haitham started walking. Kaveh pressed his chin into Al-Haitham’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He couldn’t be assed to stay awake now that he wasn’t responsible for his own movement.

The rise and fall of Al-Haitham’s steps were soothing, rocking him like a cradle. Al-Haitham’s steady heartbeat felt warm against Kaveh’s chest, and the only sign of exertion he showed was the rhythmic puffing of his breath into the air.

Al-Haitham was truly one of the most annoying people Kaveh had ever met. And yet…he’d still given Kaveh his jacket; he was still carrying Kaveh home.

Kaveh lifted his head, trying to hold his mouth up to Al-Haitham’s ear. “Thanks…for taking me home…”

“Put your head back down,” said Al-Haitham. “I don’t want to smell your vomit breath.”

Kaveh dropped his head back onto Al-Haitham’s shoulder and laughed, something dislodging in his chest. “Asshole.” He said it with a smile this time.

“This asshole’s carrying you home,” reminded Al-Haitham.

“I meant it affectionately. Endearingly.” Al-Haitham’s shoulder was warm and solid. Pressed this close, Kaveh could feel the texture of his shirt rubbing against his skin. 

The alcohol pressed down on his lungs. Kaveh exhaled again to remember to breathe. He looked and saw goosebumps sprouting across the back of Al-Haitham’s neck.

Kaveh laughed. “Liar.” He poked the goosebumps. “You said you weren’t cold.”

“It’s not from the cold.”

Kaveh scrunched up his face. “What’s it from then?”

Al-Haitham didn’t respond.

He sighed and let his head fall back onto the shoulder. Al-Haitham’s shoulder was warm and solid. He could feel the muscles of Al-Haitham’s back shifting with every movement.

“Do you take steroids?” asked Kaveh.

“What?”

“You’re—fucking—” He poked Al-Haitham’s shoulder twice, finding it entirely too firm. “Too muscular. Yet I never see you go to the gym.”

Al-Haitham let out a quiet chuckle. “I do not take steroids. You’re just asleep whenever I go to the gym.”

“Unfair,” muttered Kaveh. “Your bicep is bigger than my thigh.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Ah, but I’m being hyperbolic for emphasis.” Kaveh mumbled into his shoulder. “For comedy.”

“Hm,” hummed Al-Haitham. “Didn’t find it very funny.”

“Because you have the sense of humor of like..like..a brick.” Words. Head. This was very hard. “Like. A dry brick. Or—a dry piece of wood. Or—like. A mean brick.”

“Good one, Kaveh.”

“I know it was.”

Another laugh. Kaveh felt it rumble through his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Al-Haitham laugh this much. He felt a strange sense of pride that he’d made this happen, even if it was because Kaveh was just a silly drunk.

The gentle rocking of Al-Haitham’s steps lulled his eyes shut until he lost track of where they were. It was still cold, but being wrapped up in Al-Haitham on all sides made him forget about it.

All too soon, Al-Haitham muttered, “I’m putting you down,” before dropping him gently. Kaveh barely opened his eyes in time to catch his legs from crumpling beneath him.  

The door opened and Al-Haitham ushered him inside. 

Kaveh stumbled onto the couch and collapsed.

“Hey, don’t lie down,” scolded Al-Haitham.

Kaveh grunted.

Hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him upright. “You have to sit up until I get you water.”

“Whyyy?” Kaveh whined. His tongue tasted sour.

Al-Haitham didn’t answer, just disappearing into the kitchen. Kaveh heard the sink turn on briefly before Al-Haitham returned with a cup of water and two pills of ibuprofen on a paper towel.

“Here.” He handed Kaveh the cup. “Don’t spill any water on the couch.”

“I knoooooow…” He brought the cup to his lips. Everything existed in a fog around him, he could barely register his own limbs. A force moved his arm up as he drank, but when he blinked he realized it was his own arm. The couch was so soft. He could just…lay down. Really. Who could stop him?

“Don’t fall asleep on me.” Al-Haitham lifted the cup out of his hands a moment before Kaveh’s head crashed onto the pillow. “Kaveh.”

The pillow fabric was rough against his face, yet he sunk deeper into it. 

Above him, Al-Haitham sighed. Kaveh vaguely registered footsteps walking away from him as he sunk into the couch. Good. Finally, some peace.

A weight dropped onto him. 

Kaveh peeled an eye open to see that Al-Haitham had dropped a blanket on him. Al-Haitham let out another sigh before leaning over and suddenly his hands were in his hair. Kaveh tried not to tense before he realized they were unclipping the red clips in his hair. Slowly. Gently. As if to muffle the snap so it wouldn’t disturb him. Then, his fingers slipped through the braids, unraveling them strand by strand.

Kaveh turned his head, peeling both of his eyes open. Al-Haitham glanced at him, a single green eye peering at him.

“I thought you fell asleep,” said Al-Haitham.

“No,” said Kaveh. It was all he could say.

Al-Haitham hummed and pulled his hands free when Kaveh’s hair was loose.

“Hey.”

Al-Haitham dropped the last clip onto Kaveh’s nightstand. “What?”

“Why did you offer to let me live with you?”

Al-Haitham tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“We’re not friends.” Kaveh rolled onto his side so it was easier to speak. “We’ve been fighting constantly for three years. It feels like you’re about to have an aneurysm every time I don’t read your mind and do something in the apartment you hate. It doesn’t really make sense—knowing you—to let me live here.”

For once, Al-Haitham didn’t answer with a snarky question. He just said, “Are we not friends?”

Kaveh snorted. “You have a weird definition of ‘friend’ if that’s the case.”

“We talk enough to be friends.”

“Because we’re academic rivals!”

“We’re in two completely different majors, Kaveh.”

“But that intro philosophy class!’ Kaveh protested. “You kept rebutting all my points and talking over me! You just wanted to show everyone that you were the smartest person in your high school so I took it upon myself to knock you down a few pegs so the rest of college wouldn’t eat you alive.”

“That’s what you thought you were doing?” Al-Haitham sounded almost…amused? He pinched a red hair clip between his thumb and forefinger. “I wasn’t talking over you, I was just responding to your points like how philosophy debates go. Your arguing with me had no effect on my pride. It was actually—”

He cut himself off.

“What?” Kaveh asked.

“Nothing.” Al-Haitham set the clip down. “Maybe I am a little drunk. If you don’t need anything else, I’m heading to—”

“Al-Haitham.” Kaveh snatched his wrist. “Don’t just trail off ominously like that. You’re gonna kill me from the suspense.”

Al-Haitham was silent for a moment before he conceded. “I just—I liked debating with you. You really are smart, so I looked forward to philosophy.”

“You ‘like debate.’” Kaveh huffed a laugh and dropped his wrist. “Does that extend to arguing? Is that why you offered me a place to live?”

Al-Haitham gave him a flat look.

Kaveh laughed. “Dude, if you wanted to talk to me more, you could have just asked me for my number earlier.”

“Would you have given it to me?”

Kaveh thought back to sophomore year. “Okay, I guess not.”

“Then I rest my case.” 

Kaveh turned to find Al-Haitham looking down at his lap. From his tone, Kaveh wouldn’t have been able to tell how Al-Haitham felt, were it not for the upward tilt at the corner of his mouth.

Al-Haitham was smiling —now that had to be some kind of wine-overload-induced hallucination. 

Something hot built in his chest, and he couldn’t stand it.

Kaveh kicked through his blankets. “Why the fuck are you smiling?” 

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

“It’s weird.” Kaveh kicked again, grazing Al-Haitham’s thigh. “Stop it.”

Al-Haitham laughed, full-chested, blasting through the room. He pressed a hand down on Kaveh’s shin through the blanket as he stood. “You’re getting too worked up so I’m going to bed.”

“What? Don’t just leave in the middle of the conversation motherfu—”

“I’ll leave my door open if you need anything.” Al-Haitham started toward the hall. Then he paused, and looked back. “Good night, Kaveh.”

Kaveh swallowed. “Night.”

If the Archons were more merciful, Kaveh would have forgotten the night of Nilou’s birthday party. Since they were not, he woke with a raging hangover and a sprout of sympathy and goodwill towards Al-Haitham.

“Dammit.” The sunlight streaming through the windows was brutal, like knives stabbing against his eyelids. He rolled to the side and fell onto the hardwood floor. “Shit. Fuck.”

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything positive towards Al-Haitham. He wanted to continue sniping at him, but when he lifted his head, he saw the pile of red hair clips Al-Haitham had taken out and the two pills of ibuprofen still sitting on the folded paper towel. He was still wearing Al-Haitham’s jacket. Gods. Fuck. He should probably thank Al-Haitham again. 

Kaveh slammed a hand on the coffee table and pushed himself off the ground. He pulled his hair into a short ponytail before stumbling into the kitchen.

Al-Haitham was sitting at the table, unbothered, drinking his black tea and eating his healthy breakfast of eggs and toast. He was fully dressed at eight a.m. You wouldn’t be able to tell how much he drank last night, or how late he’d gone to bed.

“Up already?” Al-Haitham didn’t look up from his book.

“Yes.” Kaveh looked at him. “My neck hurts.”

“That’s what happens when you sleep on the couch.”

The goodwill evaporated. “You left me there!”

Al-Haitham finally set his book down. “In case you forgot, you would not move no matter how much I tried. So it’s not really my fault, is it?”

Kaveh took a deep breath. He tried to remember the hands in his hair, unraveling the braids, the jacket around his shoulders. “I don’t…want to start a fight this early.” He was too hungover for this. “I’m just—I’m trying to say thank you for taking care of me last night.”

“You already thanked me.”

“Well, I’m thanking you again.” Kaveh leaned against the wall. “Because. I’m an adult and I can acknowledge that you did something nice for me.”

“What if I told you I wasn’t being nice? Maybe I just took you home early so you wouldn’t bother Nilou by staying over, and then bothering me by knocking on the door and waking me up.”

Kaveh bristled, irritated, “Okay—do you always have to be an asshole? I’m trying—to be nice.”

“Are you?” Al-Haitham took a sip of tea. “Well, you’re welcome, then.”

Kaveh stopped. “What?”

Ak-Haitham stood. “There’s breakfast on the stove if you have an appetite. I’m going to the gym because I don’t take steroids.”

He blinked, still processing. “Wait—”

Al-Haitham brushed past him as he headed to the door. Before he left, he paused and said, “You can leave my jacket in my room. Also, wash the pans when you’re done with breakfast.”

Then he was gone, leaving Kaveh reeling. Of course, nothing good came from Al-Haitham for free.

Kaveh did end up eating the breakfast Al-Haitham made, simply because he was starving and it was right there. If he’d been stronger, he would have left the food on the stove out of spite. But since he was not, Kaveh found himself washing the pans thirty minutes later. 

Now that he was up and moving around, he felt too antsy to lay back down, so he tossed Al-Haitham’s jacket into his room before getting dressed. He found his phone under the coffee table later at four percent battery so he rushed to plug it in and then his screen burst to life with a million notifications from his friends.

From Nilou:

Hey did you get home okay? Text me when you see this.

Also thank you for coming! It was great seeing you again!

From Tighnari: 

Did u throw up on Al-Haitham?

Also Cyno wants to know if ur okay.

Kaveh sighed and sent Nilou a text saying, yes, he did make it home, thank you for checking in. Then, he sent Tighnari three middle finger emojis before setting his phone aside and flopping back on the couch.

His phone buzzed again a few moments later.

I’m assuming that’s a yes.

Do you wanna come over and study today?

And, well, between trapping himself in the studio, staying at home until Al-Haitham returned, and facing Tighnari’s ridicule, the choice was easy.

So, Kaveh packed up his things and made the trek down the street to Tighnari’s apartment complex.

Tighnari greeted him at the door with a bottle of Pedialyte. “Hey, party animal.”

Kaveh grabbed the Pedialyte and shoved past him. “Don’t call me that.” Cyno looked up when he walked in.

Tighnari closed the door. “On a scale from one to ten, how hungover are you?”

“Fifteen.”

Tighnari moved past and plopped onto the couch next to Cyno. “And this is why I keep stressing how important it is to drink water while you’re drinking.”

“I know, Mom.” Kaveh unscrewed the cap and took a long drink.

“I’m just saying. You got white-girl-wasted on wine. You could barely stand.” Tighnari leaned forward, eyebrows scrunched in concern. “How the hell did you get home? Did Al-Haitham have to carry you in his arms?”

“He—” Kaveh stopped. He knew Tighnari meant it as a joke, but he still flushed.

Tighnari raised an eyebrow. 

“He did not carry me in his arms.” Kaveh took another drink of Pedialyte to give himself more time. “He, uh, carried me on his back.”

“Oh, yes, very important distinction.” The corner of Tighnari’s mouth quirked up.

Cyno’s eyes widened a fraction, which was the most surprised Kaveh had ever seen him. “The whole way back?”

“Like…most of it.”

“Al-Haitham did that? Like, your roommate Al-Haitham?”

“Yes, he did!” Kaveh sighed and sat on the ground in front of the coffee table. “Can we move on from how my roommate had to take care of me last night because I got too fucked up?”

“Sorry, we’re not trying to embarrass you.” Tighnari’s eyes were kind. “I’m just…surprised.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Unease curled in his stomach, squirming under his skin.

“So…like, are you two friends now, or…?”

Kaveh snorted. “Oh, hell no. I literally tried to thank him again this morning but he said something stupid because he loves starting shit.”

Tighnari smiled at that.

“What?” Kaveh snapped.

“I think he’s only like that with you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean—” Tighnari said in that placating tone of his. “—that Al-Haitham isn’t really that argumentative, at least not when I talk to him. He can be abrasive, but otherwise he just keeps to himself. He mostly just argues with you.”

“I wish he wouldn’t.”

Tighnari grinned. “It’s like you bring out the worst in each other.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes.

“But, hearing that he took care of you last night…maybe he’s not so bad.”

“Please. He made me wash the pans he used for breakfast. So he’s still an asshole.”

Cyno looked at him, puzzled. “Why would he do that?”

“Because—” He’d made Kaveh breakfast. “Because.”

Tighnari raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t—” Are we not friends? Al-Haitham peering at him. A green eye burning through the dark. “I’m too hungover for this. Can we do something else?”

“Sure. Whatever you want, Kaveh,”

Kaveh finished his homework a few hours later and ended up playing Smash with Cyno and Tighnari for a few hours. By the time he got home, it was late enough that Al-Haitham had already gone to bed and they couldn’t talk about it again.

When the week started again, he didn’t see Al-Haitham for a few days. Kaveh’s architecture classes started drowning him in work again and he didn’t have much time to contemplate anything.

And when he finally saw Al-Haitham again, it was like Nilou’s birthday party had never happened. They picked up their old arguments again like a habit nailed into the years. It was comforting in a way, like recalibrating the cognitive dissonance that came from the knowledge that Al-Haitham was capable of being nice. 

Archons.

Al-Haitham continued to be a nightmare of a roommate and Kaveh continued trying to tiptoe around his rules. 

And for all of Kaveh’s efforts to avoid his roommate, one day, Al-Haitham snapped.

“Oh, my gods. Kaveh.” Al-Haitham’s eyes flashed. “Have you ever considered taking out the trash on your own?”

Kaveh flushed with guilt, because yeah, he’d been bad about that. They’d had this argument before. A typical one. Kaveh wasn’t the worst roommate in the world, in fact, he and his last roommate had gotten along just fine, but senior year was a bitch and a half so maybe he’d fallen by the wayside on his chores. It wasn’t fair for Al-Haitham to take out his anger on him.

But then again, junior year was also a bitch and a half, and Al-Haitham—for all his facades—was losing sleep, too.

“Fine. Whatever, I’m sorry. I’ll take it out next time.”

Al-Haitham paused and narrowed his eyes. “You will?”

“Yes!” Kaveh sighed, exasperated. “You don’t have to sound so—fucking— suspicious.”

Al-Haitham stared at him for a moment longer, like he was trying to keep the steam in him. But then, he exhaled and said, “Fine. Thank you.”

“Wow, you do know that word,” sneered Kaveh as he pulled the trashbag out.

“I will kick you out of the apartment.”

“You can’t!” Kaveh sang as he walked out the door. “My name is on the lease!”

As he closed the door, he almost thought he saw Al-Haitham smile.

As the semester went on, Kaveh found Al-Haitham in the living room late at night more and more. Before, he would have found peace coming back to a quiet apartment at one in the morning. Now, he found Al-Haitham on the couch, brows furrowed and frowning at a paper or homework assignment. 

After another late night in the studio, Kaveh finally crawled back to the apartment at one a.m. And when he opened the door, he found Al-Haitham awake in the living room again. Al-Haitham sat on the couch with his laptop in front of him on the coffee table, tablet in his lap and writing with a stylus.

Kaveh slipped off his shoes and started to make his way to the hall when Al-Haitham said, “You’re home late.”

Kaveh stopped. They weren’t supposed to acknowledge each other.

“And you’re up late,” he said warily. “What happened to sleeping at a normal hour?”

“Well you see,” said Al-Haitham wryly. “When you major in two things completely unrelated to each other, you find yourself fairly busy with the coursework.”

Kaveh hesitated at the edge of the hallway. He could leave the conversation there, and continue what they had before.

Are we not friends?

Kaveh walked over. Al-Haitham looked up, eyes widening for a fraction of a second as Kaveh leaned over to look at the screen. The laptop had a textbook pdf open.

“What the hell is this?” Kaveh furrowed his eyebrows as he scanned the text. 

“It’s real analysis.” Al-Haitham brushed Kaveh’s hand aside and went back to reading the screen. He glanced back and forth between the laptop and tablet before starting to write. “I’m trying to figure out this proof.”

“Archons.” The last time Kaveh took a math class was calculus in high school. He didn’t understand half the words in the textbook; and when he looked down at Al-Haitham’s tablet, there were barely any numbers written down. “‘Prove that (0,1) is the same size as the real numbers—’ What is the point of this?”

“Well, the point is to teach students how to do analysis on the real numbers,” said Al-Haitham wryly. “For example, here we could use some kind of diagonalization argument to prove this. And this lemma was groundbreaking because it taught people that there are, in fact, different sizes of infinity—”

“Don’t—” Kaveh dropped onto the arm of the couch. “My brain is fried from working on AutoCAD all day. I don’t want to hear your theoretical math bullshit.”

The corner of Al-Haitham’s mouth lifted.

Huh.

“What, uh…” Kaveh couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually tried making conversation with Al-Haitham. “What made you pick math and linguistics?”

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to start something?”

“A conversation,” said Kaveh through gritted teeth. “Just answer the question, asshole.” He paused, then added, “And you’re the one that likes to start arguments.”

Al-Haitham snorted. “Well, I liked both subjects so I decided to study both.”

“But aren’t they completely different?”

“Linguistics is more systematic than you think. There’s a logic puzzle in math that linguists can actually figure out because both require logic.” 

“Wait, really?” Kaveh’s eyes widened. “That’s really cool.” Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow, and Kaveh frowned self-consciously. “What?”

“Are you being serious?”

“Yes!” Kaveh sighed. “I wasn’t being sarcastic. That is genuinely really cool. I just didn’t realize you actually liked your majors.”

Al-Haitham snorted. “Why else would I study them?”

“I dunno. Because you get a power trip from feeling smarter than other people?”

“And you say I’m the one that starts arguments.” Al-Haitham shook his head, though he didn’t sound too offended. “I don’t need to make myself feel smarter than other people if I already am.” 

Kaveh’s eye twitched. “You—”

“I’m double majoring in them because I like them. Clearly, you still have a lot to learn about me.”

He huffed. “I mean, it’s not like you know a lot about me either.”

Al-Haitham tilted his head. “Don’t I?”

Kaveh hated that tone of voice—the one where that made Al-Haitham sound like he really did know everything. It made him feel like no matter what he said next, Al-Haitham would prove him wrong somehow.

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” Kaveh tried. “Like, grad school or something?”

For once, Al-Haitham looked puzzled. He glanced at the window for a moment before turning back to Kaveh and shaking his head. “Probably not. Academia just seems full of insufferable people.”

“Insufferable for you?” Kaveh laughed. “Well, damn, I didn’t think that existed.”

Al-Haitham gave him a wry smile. “Well, they’re all very focused on working until they fall and trying to outdo each other. I’m sure there are some good people, but the overall culture seems awful. Honestly, I just want to find a well-paying office job that lets me do whatever I want in my free time.”

And somehow, that was the most Al-Haitham answer he could have given. Kaveh thought—well, he’d thought a lot of things about Al-Haitham which were starting to prove themselves wrong. It was strange to think that he really didn’t know that much about Al-Haitham, despite all the years they’d known each other.

“What?” Al-Haitham leaned forward to peer up at Kaveh. “Did I surprise you again?”

“No. I was just thinking—you struck me as the type that would want to do big grand things with a mind like yours.”

“Are you complimenting me? Are you calling me smart?”

Kaveh rolled his eyes. “You already know you’re smart. You just seemed like the person who’d think office jobs were below them when you have the potential to do more.”

“Potential isn’t a promise,” said Al-Haitham. “And who’s to say that I’m not using it? I won’t be doing research and wrestling with funding, and I won’t be trying to appease random people I don’t care about. But I will be reading books and learning what I like, and that’s enough for me.”

The thought shocked him: Al-Haitham—who seemed so lofty and larger than life—with goals as humble and unperturbed as doing what he liked. How could Kaveh argue with that? 

“...I guess that makes sense.”

The corner of Al-Haitham’s eyes turned up, like the bastard was amused. “What was that?”

“I said: I guess that makes sense,” Kaveh snapped. “Lesser fucking Lord Kusanali you make it so hard to have a conversation with you.”

“And yet here we are.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes.

“What do you want to do after you graduate?”

Kaveh startled. “What? Are you asking me?”

“Are there any other graduating seniors in the room?” 

Kaveh flipped him off. “Are you going to make fun of me for my answer?”

“I’m trying to continue the conversation you’re desperately trying to sabotage.”

He exhaled and counted to ten. “Well. Obviously, I’d like to be an architect.”

Al-Haitham tilted his head, as if he were saying, Go on.

“I’d like to work at some company for a bit, get some experience and some licensing, then get my master’s at some point.” Kaveh searched deeper. “I’d like to design beautiful things and practical things. One of the first things we learned as architecture students was: form follows function. But one time when I was a kid, my parents took me on vacation into the city and I just saw this—this ridiculous museum. Part of it was made with old brick while the other part had geometric glass walls coming out at an angle so it looked like—like this cool anachronism of past and present.”

The memory came so clearly he could almost paint it. If he remembered nothing else of his formative years, he remembered this.

“It didn’t look real, but when we went inside, I saw all the slanted walls and windows and remembered thinking it looked so weird but there was still so much natural lighting and it held so much stuff.” He exhaled, chest falling. “Like, I’ve always been an art kid, but nothing struck me in the way that building did. The sheer size and scale of permanence of it reminded me of the temples built for the old gods and it made me want to create something large and lasting like that.”

Kaveh took a deep breath. He didn’t often talk about his passion for architecture—he didn’t have time for it when he spent most of it complaining about studio. But even through the pain, through the sleepless nights and the anxiety, the love for it never faded.

The room felt oddly quiet. He realized that Al-Haitham hadn’t spoken since he started. Kaveh quickly turned around to find Al-Haitham smiling faintly at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” The smile lifted higher at one corner.

Kaveh narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking about? Trying to come up with ways to make fun of me?”

“I would never.” Al-Haitham propped his chin up in his hand. “I was just thinking: that was a very Kaveh answer. Something I’d only expect from you.”

Kaveh scoffed. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“No. It definitely was not.”

Al-Haitham’s eyes were a strange shade of green in this light—under the yellow incandescent lights, his eyes felt like the mouth of a bottomless well. Kaveh couldn’t see the bottom, but something was swimming in there down in the dark. He really didn’t know anything about Al-Haitham. Why did it suddenly bother him now after all these years?

“Kaveh?”

He blinked and lurched back. “What?”

Al-Haitham was frowning. Fuck. “Are you good?”

“Sorry.” He jumped back off the arm of the couch. “I’m extremely sleep deprived. I’m going to bed. Gonna try to sleep at least four hours tonight.”

Al-Haitham looked at him strangely. “Okay, try not to pass out tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Kaveh nodded and stepped backwards. Toward the hall. Toward his door. “Uh, bye.” He turned and speed-walked to his room. He threw his door open and stepped one foot in when Al-Haitham spoke again.

“Kaveh!”

Kaveh stopped and glanced back. “Yeah?”

“Goodnight.”

Kaveh released a breath, something tense in him unwinding. “Goodnight.”

Then, he stepped into his room and shut the door.

“Dehya, I’m dropping out.” Kaveh dropped his head onto the table.

“Do it, coward,” said Dehya. “You won’t.”

Kaveh flipped her off without looking up. “You’re right. I won’t, but I really want to.”

“Don’t encourage him,” said Tighnari, not looking up from his textbook.

“Tighnari, I’ve slept five hours in the past two days. I can’t keep living like this.” 

“There, there.” Kaveh felt Tighnari pat the top of his head lightly. 

Kaveh really was an inch away from passing out. Keeping his eyes closed for this long was dangerous because he could feel the darkness swimming under him, threatening to pull him under.

Distantly, he heard the bell ring as the door opened. The cafe was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday, which meant relative peace for Kaveh and his friends as they studied their own separate thing. But every time a new patron entered, it made him groan.

“Can I get a black tea?”

Kaveh jerked his head up. Tighnari gave him a curious look as Kaveh craned his neck to see Al-Haitham standing at the counter. The barista nodded and rang up his order before turning away to make his drink. When Al-Haitham pulled his card out, he finally turned to see Kaveh looking at him.

Oh.

Al-Haitham glanced at the barista, then back at Kaveh. He tilted his head slightly in question. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tighnari following his gaze. “Oh, I didn’t know Al-Haitham came here.”

The barista returned and handed Al-Haitham his drink. Kaveh heard the low rumble of Al-Haitham’s voice thanking her before he finished paying for his drink and turning around and leaving. The door swung shut, the chiming of the bell echoing in Kaveh’s head. 

“Hey.” Dehya snapped her fingers next to his ear. “You good, Kaveh? Do you need another coffee?”

Kaveh shook his head, turning back to the table. “I’m good, I’m fine. I think I just need another nap.” 

Dehya nodded. “I’ll wake you up in thirty minutes.”

“Archons bless you,” said Kaveh before he put his head down on the table. He closed his eyes, and as the darkness finally reached up to pull him under, he tried not to think about his roommate.

A few days later, in a rare instance, Kaveh found himself at one of the regular libraries on campus instead of the architecture library. He’d gotten tired of looking at other architecture majors and all of their finished maquettes, and instead of letting himself stew in the stress of being behind, he fucked off to the closest library and stole a whole table to himself.

All day, the sky had been a concerning gray hinting at rain. But as the afternoon pressed into the evening without a drop from the sky, he finally accepted that he might be safe. Kaveh didn’t often toy with fate, but he couldn’t drag himself away from his laptop to the safety of his dry apartment just yet .

Then, the sky cracked open and rain started pelting against the windows.

“Shit,” muttered Kaveh. Archons, the poor laptop would not be able to survive this deluge.

“Kaveh?”

He looked up, startled, to find Al-Haitham approaching him.

“Oh.” He leaned back in his chair. “You.”

Al-Haitham’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Me.”

Kaveh hadn’t spoken to Al-Haitham in depth since their midnight conversation, just passing exchanges when they happened to cross paths in the living room or the kitchen. They had fallen back into the routine of working for hours on end and barely seeing each other, though their doors were right across from each other. 

“What are you doing here?” Seeing Al-Haitham on campus was like seeing him at the coffee shop: disconcerting. Kaveh associated his roommate with one place, and when he saw him outside of it, it was disconcerting.

“Studying.” Al-Haitham rested the tip of his umbrella on the ground. Kaveh glanced down at it. “Obviously.”

“I don’t know, you could’ve been here for, like, a group project or something.”

“Sure.” Al-Haitham’s eyes drifted down to Kaveh’s closed laptop and open phone. “I see you’re getting a lot of studying done.”

Kaveh scowled. Of course Al-Haitham would come right at Kaveh’s breaking point where he’d started to mindlessly scroll on Reddit. “I was studying. I was just taking a break.”

“I’m sure.”

Kaveh opened his mouth on instinct to bite back, but when he saw the corner of Al-Haitham’s eye crinkling, he got the strangest feeling he was being teased.

“Are you heading home?”

“Yeah.”

Kaveh glanced down at the umbrella again. There—an opportunity to get home and protect his laptop from the rain had just walked up to him. But the idea of standing that close to Al-Haitham for twenty minutes made his stomach churn. They were both big guys, and no matter how big Al-Haitham’s umbrella was, they’d be bumping shoulders all the way home.

And yet, it was either that or wait until the rain stopped.

Kaveh sighed. “Can I walk with you?”

Al-Haitham looked at him for a moment. “Why?”

“I left my umbrella at home,” said Kaveh. “And I need to protect my laptop.”  

Al-Haitham watched him for a moment. Kaveh waited, tense. His roommate was enough of an asshole to actually say no—either out of spite or a general sadistic pleasure that came from inconveniencing Kaveh.

“Yeah,” said Al-Haitham. “Are you done with your work?”

Kaveh blinked. He let out a breath, quiet enough so Al-Haitham wouldn’t know he’d actually been nervous, and nodded.

“Then let’s go.”

“Right.” Kaveh stood and gathered his things. He made sure all of his models were saved on AutoCAD first before closing his laptop and shoving it into his backpack. Then, they headed out of the library.

Al-Haitham stepped out first, opening the umbrella in front of them before stepping under it. He tilted his head in a gesture for Kaveh to step closer.

He did, and stared at the cracks in the ground as they started walking home.

The rain fell against the umbrella in a gentle hum, splattering against the ground with a rhythm that helped Kaveh zone out. He had been right about the umbrella—it was too small for the both of them, and his right shoulder hung out from underneath. He wanted to pull in tighter, but that meant risking touching Al-Haitham.

“So…” Kaveh said, trying to distract himself. “How…was your day?”

Al-Haitham huffed a laugh. “Are you forcing yourself to have a conversation with me?”

Their shoulders brushed. Kaveh’s face heated. “Maybe.”

“Well, don’t force yourself. I don’t want you to pull a muscle or anything.”

“You—!” Kaveh knocked into his shoulder again, making Al-Haitham step sideways. The umbrella disappeared over his head for a moment, the rain pelting onto his exposed head making him yelp before the umbrella reappeared, shielding him once again. 

“That was brilliant foresight on your part,” said Al-Haitham.

“Shut up.” His shoulder still ached from how hard he had knocked into Al-Haitham’s.

“My day was fine.” Al-Haitham continued staring ahead. The puddles around them were growing. Al-Haitham was wearing boots, but Kaveh was not. “I skipped my morning class but came for my afternoon ones.”

“The amount of class you skip is astonishing.” 

“Why would I go if I could teach it to myself at home? And sleeping is a better use of my time anyway.” Al-Haitham adjusted his grip around the umbrella. “I don’t see a point in attending something pointless.”

Comments like that always made Kaveh’s desire to strangle him grow tenfold. Of course he could just say that with confidence and not a care in the world. He could just say that, and Kaveh knew the bastard had a 4.0! And, well, Kaveh had a 4.0, too, but he also slaved away in Kshahrewar’s studio for it. Al-Haitham got his 4.0 by doing papers and math and didn’t even have a caffeine addiction for it!

“Archons, this is why I hate talking to you.” Kaveh rubbed the space between his eyes. 

“Then why do you keep talking to me?” Al-Haitham’s voice was tinged with amusement.

“Because I’m bored and I have nothing better to do.” Kaveh huffed.

“Bold words from someone whose laptop needs protecting.” Al-Haitham spun the umbrella in his hand.

“Okay, wait, wait, wait—” Kaveh clasped his hands around the umbrella handle, holding Al-Haitham’s hand still. 

Al-Haitham looked down where their hands overlapped and raised an eyebrow.

Kaveh hastily pulled his hands back. 

“Have mercy on my laptop, please,” he begged. “I spent the last three hours modeling in CAD and it’s only saved locally.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Alright, only for today.”

Kaveh’s face, inexplicably, warmed. He turned and focused on the road ahead of them, trying not to step in any puddles. Al-Haitham, being the inconsiderate asshole that he was, paid no attention to where he stepped. Because of his boots, he stepped heavily into the puddles making water splash onto Kaveh’s ankles.

“Do you mind?” Kaveh asked.

“Not really.” Al-Haitham answered with a smile.

They jaywalked across the road that separated the campus from the residential area because the crosswalk was too far down the road. Al-Haitham grabbed Kaveh’s wrist and leaned forward, looking both ways before he tugged them both forward. They ran through the rain, reaching the other side just as a car came barreling down the road.

“Why did you do that?” Kaveh gasped. “There was a car coming!”

“It was far enough away.” Al-Haitham was grinning.

Another grin. Kaveh’s heart pounded in his head from the brief run—he was entirely too out of shape. It was a strange combination: the rainfall in his ears, his heartbeat pulsing under his skin, and the frame of Al-Haitham’s smile under the umbrella.

Kaveh pulled his wrist away. “You’re a fucking maniac.” 

Al-Haitham hummed, the grin still stuck to his face as he followed, keeping the umbrella over them.

When they reached their apartment, Al-Haitham dutifully held the umbrella over their heads while Kaveh dug out his keys. And when he wiggled the door open, Kaveh kicked his wet shoes off while Al-Haitham shook out the umbrella.

There was a beat of silence. Kaveh turned it over in his head. Al-Haitham closed the door and set the wet umbrella near the door, away from the rest of the floor.

“...thank you for letting me walk home with you,” Kaveh finally muttered. 

“What was that?”

“You heard me!” Kaveh threw off his wet jacket and retreated into his room to change. When he emerged again, his jacket lay folded on top of the coffee table. 

He found Al-Haitham in the kitchen brewing another cup of black tea. The kettle hissed on the counter while he pulled out his black tea bags.

Al-Haitham turned around. “Are you going to bed?”

“No, actually.” Kaveh rubbed his eyes. “I still have a lot of work to do.” He eyed the box of black tea on the counter. “Are you?”

“I’m not.” The kettle clicked off and Al-Haitham lifted it to his cup, pouring the boiling water out while steam rose up in a cloud. He pulled a tea bag out and dropped it in the mug, wrapping the string around the handle. “I have a few papers to work on. And another analysis assignment.” Al-Haitham lifted the mug. “Do you want a cup?”

Kaveh eyed it. Truthfully, he wanted another cup of coffee. But black tea was probably better, and healthier for him at this hour, so he nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

Al-Haitham grabbed another mug out of the cabinet and set it on the counter. Kaveh watched as he repeated the same steps, preparing a cup of tea in the mug Kaveh had gotten as a freshman in college. It had the little lion on it with Kshahrewar School of Architecture underneath it. It was the first piece of Akademiya merch he’d ever bought, and it had stayed with him through all his years there.

“Here,” said Al-Haitham, handing him the mug. “Wait five minutes and then you can take out the tea bag.”

“Thanks,” said Kaveh, a little less begrudgingly. 

Al-Haitham moved to the living room where he started pulling all of his notebooks and devices out of his backpack. Kaveh watched by the doorway for a moment as Al-Haitham started setting up his study space before asking:

“Why do you always study out here?” asked Kaveh.

“Is it a problem?” Al-Haitham said without missing a beat.

“No—you just seem like the kind of person who’d want to hole up in their room to do work.”

Al-Haitham hummed. “I just like being out here. There’s more space, and the couch is more comfortable than my desk chair.” 

“That makes sense.” The more that he talked to Al-Haitham, the more Kaveh started to understand his actions.

Al-Haitham didn’t respond, which Kaveh took as his cue to leave. He turned to go back to his room when he thought about the darkness of his room, the isolation and lack of space for anything, the music he would loop over and over to stay awake until it faded to an electronic whine. He had gone to the library in the first place to be around other people so he didn’t feel trapped inside his own head.

Kaveh looked back at Al-Haitham working silently at the coffee table.

Al-Haitham had never explicitly dismissed him.

“Can I work out here with you?” he asked quickly before he could stop himself.

“Sure.” Al-Haitham responded without missing a beat, like it was no matter of importance to him.

Kaveh let out a breath. That had been anticlimactic. 

“Cool.” Kaveh quickly retreated to his room to grab his materials before returning. “Thanks. Because, it’s, uh…my room is kinda small. So it’s annoying trying to build models in there.”

Al-Haitham hummed noncommittally. 

Ever since Al-Haitham carried him home from Nilou’s party, Kaveh was starting to learn that silence from Al-Haitham didn’t necessarily mean disapproval. It was strange to know that, and stranger to find that knowing this made him feel less upset when Al-Haitham didn’t respond.

Kaveh took a seat on the floor across the coffee table from Al-Haitham. Earlier that day, he’d sat for an excruciatingly long time waiting for the laser cutter to finish cutting all of the little pieces he needed for his model. He’d been dreading all the hours it would take to put it together, but suddenly it didn’t seem so bad.

They drifted into silence into their respective tasks—the typing, the gluing, the quiet tick of the clock on the wall murmured in his ear as the night walked on.

Kaveh often worked at the studio because of the space and because he didn’t want to be alone. But he always hated stepping into the cold air to make the trek back to his apartment. He thought he didn’t have any other choice before—that it was either work in the studio with all the other sleep-deprived architecture majors or work in his cramped room, which wasn’t really a choice at all.

But since the night he stayed up with Al-Haitham, working until they were both too tired to function, he found it oddly peaceful. And extremely convenient.

They didn’t talk about it—as was habit for them. Just one night, after Kaveh returned home from campus, he found Al-Haitham sitting on the same spot on the couch that he had for every other night. This time, though, he just lifted his head, pulled his laptop closer to make more space on the coffee table, then went back to work.

It really was easier to just do work at home. The kitchen was there for snacks and when he got tired, he could just crawl into bed. There was also Al-Haitham’s strange, silent and steady presence—not a motivator per se, because Al-Haitham wasn’t making any maquettes that spurred Kaveh into anxious action, but he did sit there quietly at the coffee table like the promise of physical laws of nature. The sun was eight light minutes away. Parallel lines did not cross on Euclidean spaces. And Al-Haitham would sit at the couch with Kaveh late into the night.

The first few nights were mostly silent; Al-Haitham with his headphones on and Kaveh listening to nothing but his own thoughts. But the words built in his throat like a geyser, and Kaveh—being Kaveh—couldn’t resist speaking every thought he had in his head.

“I think I’ve sanded my fingerprints off,” said Kaveh one day, fingers aching.

Al-Haitham looked up from his laptop and raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“I feel like all the glue I’ve peeled off my fingers removed my fingerprints.” He stretched his fingers, trying to flex the feeling back into them. “Do you think if I set the architecture library on fire, I can push studio back a few days?”

“No.”

“Come on, they won’t even find me if I don’t have fingerprints.”

Al-Haitham watched him for a moment, then looked down at his math homework. “You’re an idiot.”

Kaveh stuck out his tongue. “Didn’t ask.”

The night ticked on.

“I spent eighty dollars on this model.” He glared at the completed model sitting on the floor in front of him. It was beautiful, truly, every ninety-degree angle he measured, every single laser-cut shingle he had hand-glued painstakingly onto the roof, the plexiglass windows and the curving pillars. He was probably more coffee than blood at this point but at least the model was done. “Archons, I can’t look at this anymore.”

“Eighty dollars,” repeated Al-Haitham, not looking up from his homework. “No wonder you’re broke.”

Kaveh stuck up his middle finger, then continued. “The fucking professor noticed a two-centimeter error on my last model. This one is perfect though, I dare him to try and find anything wrong with it.”

Al-Haitham finally lifted his head. He leaned forward and peered at Kaveh’s model over the table. “It looks fine to me.”

“Of course it would, you don’t have the eye of an architect.”

“But I do have eyes.” Al-Haitham looked at the model a moment longer before leaning back to look at his tablet again. “It looks good, Kaveh.”

Kaveh watched him work for a moment. “Thanks, Al-Haitham.”

And Al-Haitham, being him, said nothing.

Kaveh dropped his head onto the coffee table and let out a pitiful cry.

“What?” Al-Haitham asked from his spot on the couch.

“My CAD crashed again,” mumbled Kaveh into the table. The seed of a headache that had planted itself in his head at nine p.m. was finally sprouting, rooting into the crevices of his skull. “I want to drop this class.”

“You need it to graduate,” Al-Haitham reminded him.

Kaveh lifted his head suddenly. “I’m gonna go take a shot.” 

“Kaveh, it’s a Wednesday.”

He started marching towards the kitchen. “My CAD crashed three times, Al-Haitham. I deserve it!”

Al-Haitham stood, following after him. “Kaveh—”

Normally when they worked in the living room together until ass o’clock, they worked in a kind of quiet fervor, almost numbing themselves to everything in the world except their work and themselves. Today though, close to midnight, Kaveh’s stomach rumbled loud enough that Al-Haitham looked up from his tablet.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“No,” said Kaveh as his stomach rumbled again.

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow. “Did you eat dinner?”

“...no.”

Al-Haitham sighed, exasperated. “Kaveh—”

“I know, I know, I know.” He raised his hands in surrender. “But! You’ll be glad to hear that I didn’t have coffee after four today. Because after I had coffee, I started working, and then…uh…”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes and stood. “Come on.” He gestured before walking towards the kitchen.

Kaveh looked at his half-finished floor plan, then stood and followed.

He found Al-Haitham opening the fridge and pulling out a giant bag of pizza rolls. The image was startling somehow, Al-Haitham juxtaposed with the 150-pack of pizza rolls and the two images couldn’t be reconciled.

“Are those yours?” asked Kaveh.

“If you have no memory of buying them, then they’re clearly mine,” said Al-Haitham.

“You could have just said, ‘Yeah,’ like a normal person,” he grumbled.

“You can have some of my pizza rolls while we study,” said Al-Haitham. “Here.”

Surprisingly, he handed the bag to Kaveh. Kaveh watched as Al-Haitham pulled a baking pan out from one of the cabinets before dropping it on the counter with a clatter. 

Kaveh unclipped the bag, dumping out a third of the pizza rolls as Al-Haitham preheated the oven. They shuffled around in silence until the timer on the oven went off.

The yellow lights always felt hotter around midnight, or maybe it was just the heat from incandescent light bulbs. Still, Kaveh tied his hair up into a ponytail while he pushed the tray of pizza rolls into the oven. 

“How long should I bake these for again?” asked Kaveh.

“Ten minutes,” said Al-Haitham.

“‘Kay.” He set a timer on his phone and then pulled the oven mitts off, leaning against the counter. He watched as Al-Haitham clipped the bag closed and shoved it back into a corner of their freezer.

What level of domesticity is sharing pizza rolls? Kaveh wondered, then he shook his head. 

It was strange to think that a few months ago he couldn’t stand being in the same room as Al-Haitham. Now, they were regularly staying up late together to do homework and here they were, making food together late at night. Their recent memories were tainted with suffering, but they were together.

“How much do you have left?” asked Kaveh.

Al-Haitham turned to him. Kaveh could see the dark circles pressing like bruises under his eyes. Al-Haitham hardly ever showed his fatigue, but his body betrayed him.

“Three more problems on Analysis.” Al-Haitham joined him by the counter.

He didn’t prompt him, but Kaveh continued anyway. “I have half a floor plan left.”

Al-Haitham hummed, a sound of acknowledgement.

Kaveh turned. “Hey, thanks for, uh, the pizza rolls.”

Al-Haitham hummed again.

“And, uh, letting me stay up late and work with you.”

“Why are you thanking me? Your name is on the lease, too.”

“Well, you always just seem like—” All these years he'd misjudged Al-Haitham. It took moving in together, and then some, to realize Al-Haitham wasn’t as insufferable as he’d nearly thought. “I don’t know, I never thought I’d get along with you.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Kaveh whirled on him. “Yours?”

Al-Haitham laughed. “It seems like you were the one who thought I had it out for you in that philosophy class. That’s just how I talk. It was your fault that you took it as an attack.”

“You’re terrible.” Kaveh knocked into his shoulder, though he found that he wasn’t as mad as he could have been.

“So you’ve said.” Al-Haitham was smiling.

Their fatigue hung between them, something solid in the air gently pressing down on them. Kaveh, inexplicably, didn’t want to prematurely wipe that smile off his face, so they stayed like that, side by side and leaning against the counter, heat radiating off his shoulder, as they waited for the timer to go off.

Kaveh had always been something of an artist. He loved beautiful things, yes, but also the small things, the interesting things, the details that made up something visceral and tactile even if it was flat on the page. 

The drawing started because he wanted to do something with his hands and he wanted to imprint the memory of tendons flexing, water dripping, and a million other things into a moment. The architecture came later when he saw that museum with its glass corners jutting out from the old brick, like the cross-section of a fourth-dimensional object. The monolith of it planted into the city like a marker of humanity—the feeling struck him like lightning. That hands had designed this structure, that hands and machines made from hands had built it, that the thought of something in the human mind had turned tangible and grand.

Kaveh would say it was one of his core memories in deciding to do architecture, and forced the feeling to resurface whenever classes got too rough—always that zing down his spine when he saw the simple angle of the corner where the windows intersected. 

After sitting in the living room doing homework from morning to late afternoon, the door finally opened and Al-Haitham walked in. The late afternoon sunlight hit his back, spilling over the curves and folds in his sweater. Al-Haitham’s eyes were trained on the ground as he slid his shoes off. He pulled one headphone off and looked at Kaveh. For once, Kaveh could see both eyes—one uncovered, the green of the other poking through the silver curtain of his hair.

“Hey,” greeted Al-Haitham as he closed the door.

Zing. Lightning. Monolith. Permanence. Hands.

“Wait.” Kaveh scrambled for his sketchbook.

Al-Haitham froze. He eyed Kaveh warily. “Why?”

“Don’t move. Give me, like, five minutes.” He leaned back against the coffee table, propping his sketchbook against his knees.

Al-Haitham’s scrunched his eyebrows. “Are you drawing me?”

“Yep.” Kaveh looked up and down frantically, trying to get the slope of his nose right. He slashed five quick lines over the same spot before he gave up and moved on to the hair. 

“Why?”

Kaveh didn’t answer, too focused on getting the drawing out of his hands. When he finished, he showed Al-Haitham. “What do you think?”

Al-Haitham slipped off his shoes and walked closer. He peered at the drawing for a moment before he leaned back. “It looks good. I’ve never seen you draw a person before.”

“Hm, I’ll have to show you my other sketchbooks sometime.” He looked at the drawing and frowned. Al-Haitham didn’t look quite right and it bothered him. “But, uh, I haven’t had practice drawing anything other than buildings in a while.”

“That’s fine.” Al-Haitham took a seat on the couch. “Why did you draw me?”

“I dunno, the lighting looked good.” Kaveh frowned at the drawing. “Hang on, let me draw you again.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like how it turned out.” He tapped his pencil against his lower lip, trying not to feel bad about it. “Maybe I’m out of practice.” 

“Is that something you’re going to get insecure about?”

“What the hell— no.” He whipped his head up and glared. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Al-Haitham shrugged. “I’ve noticed that…sometimes you get caught up in the inconsistencies of what you make, even though daily skill fluctuates. I just wanted to ask in case you forgot that what actually matters is your average growth over time.”

Kaveh stared at him for a long moment. Then, “What the fuck? That was so wise?” He glared. “You’re not even an artist! How did you come up with something so comforting?” Kaveh flipped his sketchbook to a clean page. “Also, that was actually the worst possible way you could have phrased that.”

“But I’m right.”

“Yeah…you are,” grumbled Kaveh.

Al-Haitham actually smiled, which pissed him off. “I wasn’t trying to be comforting, I was just saying something obvious.”

“Oh my gods, shut up. You keep ruining the moment.” Kaveh wanted to throw his pencil at Al-Haitham’s head, but kept it to his paper instead as he started sketching the shape of his face again. “Archons, I have no idea how you made it this far in life with the way you say shit like that.”

Al-Haitham had the nerve to sound amused . “What do you mean?”

“I am baffled by your conversational skills. How did you make friends or form any positive relationships growing up?”

“I mean, I didn’t, really,” said Al-Haitham. “I liked studying more than making friends.”

Kaveh scoffed. “What—is your tragic backstory that you had trouble making friends so you threw yourself into academics?”

“No,” said Al-Haitham. “It’s not tragic. I love learning and knowledge and that had no correlation with having no friends.”

“That’s incredibly sad.”

“It’s really not.”

Kaveh looked at him. Al-Haitham really wouldn’t think it was sad. In the time he’d known Al-Haitham, he really had never seemed to care about his solitude. He could make conversation with Cyno and Tighnari and Nilou, but more often than not he’d sit by himself in the library with his headphones on studying or reading his books. It was odd to think, then, that Kaveh had made the cut. Huh.

“So you’ve never had any friends?” Kaveh said again.

“Very few.”

Al-Haitham didn’t sound too upset about it, and yet something, inexplicably, tugged at Kaveh’s chest.

“But I’m one of them now, right?” Kaveh teased.

Al-Haitham gave him a flat look.

“Right?”

“What do you think?”

Kaveh laughed. “You know, Al-Haitham. I’m kind of glad we’re friends now.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah.” Kaveh grinned. “Makes it easier living in your apartment.”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes.

Kaveh returned to drawing, focusing on the ear poking out of Al-Haitham’s hair. “So…you’ve never had any friends. What about a girlfriend?”

“No.”

Kaveh blinked, surprised. “Really? But you’re—” Hot. “Uh, like tall and muscular and shit.”

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow. “I was less muscular in high school. And as you so often remind me, I’m an asshole.”

“Right, of course.” Kaveh drummed his fingers on the table. “But you were still—uh, tall. And smart. Someone would’ve been into that.”

“And yet, no one was.” Al-Haitham didn’t sound too upset about it.

The moment hung in the air between them. Kaveh kept scratching at the paper, forced to keep looking at Al-Haitham for reference. Maybe drawing him had been a bad idea. 

“...am I allowed to make fun of you for that or will you get offended?” Kaveh tried.

Al-Haitham snorted. “I don’t care. It’s not something I’m embarrassed of.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Kaveh sighed.

“So you think you know me pretty well?”

“I never said that.” Kaveh looked back at his drawing. He added a lone over Al-Haitham’s eye—the one always covered by his hair. “Well, unlike you, I’ve dated a lot of people.” He meant it as a lighthearted taunt, but it fell a little flat, turning awkward.

“Hm, not surprising.”

Kaveh snapped his head up. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you always assume I mean the worst?” Al-Haitham shook his head. “Look, anyone could look at you and come to the same conclusion.”

Al-Haitham said it so straight-faced, it took half a second for Kaveh to register that it was supposed to be a compliment.

“Oh.” Kaveh blinked.

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes. “Are you done drawing me yet?”

“Huh?”

Kaveh looked down at the drawing. Truthfully, no. He didn’t get the chance to capture the fold of his clothing, the fan of his eyelashes, the curl of the headphones around his neck because his hand had frozen. But a drawing was never truly done. And honestly, a restlessness had been growing in his fingertips since Al-Haitham walked through the door and now it was nearly at the surface of his skin, threatening to break out.

“Yeah, here.” He hastily handed the sketchbook to Al-Haitham.

Kaveh sat on his hands and waited as Al-Haitham stared at the drawing. A moment later, he nodded and passed it back. “Thanks for drawing me, it looks nice.”

“Y-Yeah, sure. No problem.”

One rare morning when they were both awake at the same time, Al-Haitham caught Kaveh as he was trying to leave.

“Need a hand?” asked Al-Haitham.

Kaveh—holding pieces of his maquette on various parts of his body with the floor in his hands, the tower in a tote bag over his left arm, and a roll of different blueprints on his right shoulder over his backpack—stared at him. “Yeah,” he finally conceded. Then, he narrowed his eyes. “Why? You’re not planning to destroy my model when I’m not looking are you?”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes. “No, moron.”

“Why else are you offering to help?” He kept his eyes narrowed even as he started sliding the tote bag off his arm.

Al-Haitham took the tote bag and the roll of blueprints, pulling the straps over his own shoulders. “Because I don’t want to hear you complain about it later.” 

Kaveh scoffed, offended. “You dick!”

Al-Haitham didn’t respond as he opened the door and let Kaveh walk through. He waited as Al-Haitham shut the door behind them and locked it.

They began the walk down the street towards campus. Kaveh had made this walk many times before—often alone, and struggling, feeling like a dumbass with a million things in his hands. He had to admit: it was nice, for once, having someone help him carry his stuff. Had Al-Haitham ever been in the architecture library before? Would this be his first time?

Kaveh paused. “Wait, can we stop at a cafe?”

“Don’t you have class?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t had coffee yet today and I have a headache.” Kaveh looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Please? I’ll be quick.”

“Ah, okay,” said Al-Haitham. “So we’re feeding your caffeine addiction.”

Kaveh glared. “Listen, I’ll work on it after I graduate and get a job.”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes.

They stopped at a cafe close to campus. Al-Haitham walked ahead to open the door for Kaveh again since his hands were free, and followed behind. Kaveh stood in line, Al-Haitham waiting behind him, and when he got to the front, he ordered a large black coffee.

“Do you want anything?” he asked, turning around.

Al-Haitham shook his head. “I’m good.”

Kaveh turned back and nodded at the barista, indicating that was all he wanted. Then, he pulled out his card and paid.

“Kaveh?”

Kaveh jerked his head up, turning to see Cyno sitting at one of the tables nearby. For once, Cyno’s hair was out of his face, revealing both of his red eyes as they went wide, darting back and forth between Kaveh and Al-Haitham.

“Oh.” Kaveh glanced at Al-Haitham, then back at Cyno, inexplicably nervous. “Hey, Cyno. What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for Tighnari.” He kept his eyes on Al-Haitham. “What are you two doing here?”

Kaveh glanced at Al-Haitham, who looked massively bored. “What people usually do at cafes,” he said flatly.

“I’m getting coffee,” said Kaveh. “Because. You know. Caffeine addiction.”

“Right. And Al-Haitham?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“Hey, did you say Tighnari was coming?” interrupted Kaveh. 

“I did.” Cyno turned his eyes back to Kaveh. “He said he’d be here in a few minutes.”

“Cool, cool, cool.” So he had time. “I think that’s my coffee so we’ll head out now. Tell Tighnari I said hi!”

“Kaveh—”

He turned right as the barista did call his name—thank the Archons—and he grabbed his coffee swiftly with one hand before hurrying out the door. 

“What was that?” asked Al-Haitham when they were back outside. 

Kaveh glanced up and down the streets, trying to see if Tighnari was approaching. When he decided it was safe, he let out a sigh. “I just didn’t want them to give me shit this early in the morning.”

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Tighnari just loves making fun of me. Lives for it probably. I didn’t feel like dealing with it before I had caffeine circulating in my system.”

“What would he have to make fun of you this early in the morning?”

You. “Uh, well—” Wow, look at you two finally getting along. What body part did you sacrifice to have Al-Haitham carry your stuff? Very interesting Kaveh. He could imagine the barrage of Tighnari’s comments. Cyno alone could be calmed down, but the both of them together started a positive feedback loop that spiraled out of control. “Can we just go? My arms are getting tired.”

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. “Sure, whatever.”

The rest of the walk continued mostly in silence because it was a balancing act trying to drink his coffee and not drop any of his very important materials. They’d left early enough that the sun wasn’t too harsh yet, but the light still beat down on his brow as they trudged further into campus. He turned his forehead into his sleeve to wipe off the sweat.

“Kaveh? Al-Haitham?”

Kaveh turned to see Nilou running towards them.

He grinned. “Hi, Nilou!”

“Hi, hello!” She exhaled as she came to a stop. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two together on campus before.”

“Yeah, well, I have a million maquette parts to take to class.” Kaveh hefted up the floor of the maquette in his arms. “So, Al-Haitham offered to help.”

Nilou turned to Al-Haitham. “A rare instance of Al-Haitham feeling helpful?” Her tone was light, teasing.

He expected Al-Haitham to frown or offer some sort of curt answer. Instead, his eyes darted to the side and he looked almost—flustered.

“Something like that,” he said lightly.

“Yeah, after harassing me for a while,” interjected Kaveh.

Nilou looked between them and laughed. “Of course, that sounds more in character for you.”

Al-Haitham shot her a glare that sent her down another bout of laughter. Kaveh got the distinct feeling that he was standing on the outskirts of a joke he wasn’t in on, and it made something in his stomach twist. He didn’t think he’d seen Al-Haitham give that much facial expression to anyone else except him.

Kaveh shook his head, ignoring the curl of unease in his stomach. What did it mean? Did he want to know? He hefted the maquette up in his arms and took a step back before he could say something embarrassing.

“Well, I have to go to class,” said Kaveh, nodding to the left. “I’m in that building. So, uh—”

Al-Haitham frowned. “Do you want me to help you carry these in?”

“Nope, nope, I’m fine.” Kaveh grabbed the remaining bags, starting the juggling game of all his maquette pieces, his backpack, and his coffee. “You can catch up or whatever. It was great seeing you, Nilou!”

Nilou startled. “Wait, Kaveh—”

“Bye! I’ll see you at home, Al-Haitham.”

Then, ignoring whatever the fuck was going on in his head, Kaveh raced to his classroom.

Kaveh didn’t examine the Nilou situation when he got home. It had been a long day of classes and homework and stress that by the time he got home, he’d nearly forgotten about it when he got a text from Nilou saying:

Hi kaveh! You seemed kind of rushed this morning so I wanted to say I’m glad I got to see you! Lmk if you want to get coffee sometime :)

And— Archons —Nilou was the sweetest goddamn thing in Sumeru, how could he have felt—whatever the fuck he was feeling that morning? That strange, uneasy twist in his gut that made him want to spit his intestines out. 

Al-Haitham was sitting on the couch when he got home. He looked up when Kaveh walked in and pulled off his headphones, as per their routine.

“Kaveh—”

“Busy,” he said automatically, frantically. “Tired. Caffeine crash hit like an hour ago. I—” He gestured vaguely toward the hall. “I’m gonna go to bed. Good night!”

Al-Haitham opened his mouth again to speak, but Kaveh quickly hurried down the hall and shut the door to his room. He collapsed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as the air in his lungs spiraled down, down, down.

By the Seven, what was wrong with him?

Kaveh saw Al-Haitham the next morning when he emerged from his room to go to the bathroom.

Al-Haitham stopped as they passed each other. “Kaveh.”

Kaveh jumped, then froze in place. He turned slowly to Al-Haitham. “What?”

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?”

And that was such an Al-Haitham question—so blunt and borderline rude—that it snapped Kaveh out of whatever funk he’d been in. “Nothing, what the fuck is wrong with you ?”

Al-Haitham stared at him for a moment before he nodded, seemingly satisfied. “I guess you’re fine then.”

Indignation flared in his chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”

But Al-Haitham ignored him and walked into his room.

“Hey, asshole, don’t walk away from me—”

Al-Haitham shut his door, leaving Kaveh yelling at him through the wood and resetting their clockwork routine back to normal.

Kaveh met up with Tighnari and Cyno at a cafe again later in the week. Part of him wanted to hole up in the studio and rot in his own pit of anxiety by himself, but then he decided it’d probably be good for him in the long run to see his friends, so after class, he found himself in  a cafe south of campus searching for his friends.

Kaveh walked in and spotted them towards the back. He hurried over and sat down.

“Hey,” said Cyno.

Kaveh collapsed into his seat with a groan.

“How many hours did you sleep last night?” Tighnari asked, a grin lacing his voice.

Kaveh held up a hand and counted a few fingers before dropping it. “Three a.m. to eight a.m.”

“Do you have a critique coming up?” 

“Yeah.” Kaveh lifted his head. “But I was also talking to—uh. Al-Haitham.”

Tighnari lifted an eyebrow.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Kaveh’s face, inexplicably, heated. “He’s my roommate. It’d be impossible to not talk to him.”

“But the way you said that implies you were up late because you were talking to him.”

“Archons, stop making it sound weird.”

Tighnari glanced at Cyno. “You know, a little bird told me that Al-Haitham was spotted at a cafe with you and holding your things.”

Kaveh looked at Cyno, betrayed. “Cyno!”

Cyno gave him a flat look. “You didn’t tell me it was a secret.”

“It wasn’t—” Kaveh flushed. “I—Look, we were heading out at the same time and he caught me struggling to carry all of my shit so he offered to help.”

“ Al-Haitham offered to help,” repeated Tighnari. “Sounds kind of suspicious if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Kaveh huffed. “It wasn’t a secret, I just thought you’d make fun of me and I wasn’t awake enough to deal with it.”

Tighnari smiled. “Are you awake enough now? Because I really want to make fun of you.”

“Tighnari.”

“I’m just saying!” Tighnari spread his hands. “Two months ago you hid from him at a cafe because you didn’t want to talk to him and now you stay up late talking to him?”

“We’re just getting along better now,” said Kaveh, twisting a ring on his finger.

“Is that all you’re doing?”

Kaveh kicked Tighnari under the table, ignoring the flash of warmth on his face. “The fuck are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything!” Tighnari raised his hands in surrender, but the curl of a grin pressed at the corners of his mouth.

Kaveh sighed. “You know what—I’m not dealing with this right now. I have a lot of shit to do.” He pulled open his laptop and his sketchbook to start sketching ideas. But when he flipped open a page, the crease in the spine made it fall open to the drawing of Al-Haitham.

Tighnari’s eyes widened with pure glee. “Kaveh! What is this?”

Kaveh snatched his sketchbook away right as Tighnari lunged forward.

“Get the fuck away from me!” Kaveh batted him backwards. “Stop, it’s nothing weird!”

“Nothing weird about drawing an extremely detailed sketch of your roommate’s profile?” Tighnari stood up and reached over the table.

Kaveh looked at Cyno desperately. “Help me.”

Cyno looked back and forth between them. “I’m an impartial party. I will not interfere.”

“Dude, fuck you.”

The door dinged open. Kaveh craned his neck back to see Al-Haitham walking through the door.

“Oh look at that,” said Tighnari from behind him. “It’s your man.”

“Stop! It’s not!” Kaveh knew they were disturbing the peace with their yelling and theatrics, but the adrenaline made him feel frantic. He needed to put an end to this soon because he did not have enough caffeine in his system to entertain this any longer. “Al-Haitham!”

Al-Haitham turned, startled. Something electric zipped down his spine when their eyes connected.

“Get over here!”

“Trying to incriminate yourself further?” Tighnari taunted.

Al-Haitham glanced at the line in front of the cashier before walking over.

“It’s not weird that I drew this, right?” Kaveh cracked his sketchbook open, showing the drawing he’d done of Al-Haitham before he even sat down.

Al-Haitham looked bewildered. “What?”

“It’s not weird I was drawing you because we were just hanging out in the living room,” he repeated. “Tell Tighnari.”

“If it’s not weird, then let me see it!” 

Tighnari lunged forward again. Kaveh lifted the sketchbook higher, but instead of going up, Tighnari went down, jabbing at the exposed parts of Kaveh’s torso. He tickled his fingers up Kaveh’s sides until he could barely hold it together.

“Stop!” Kaveh wheezed, trying to scoot his chair back. “No, stop, you’re gonna turn me on!”

Tighnari sprung back, repulsed.

Kaveh recovered, setting the sketchbook in Al-Haitham’s lap so he could collapse onto the table, cackling in relief at his victory. He lifted his head to find Tighnari’s face twisted in disgust, glaring at Cyno who was also laughing.

“Cyno! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Al-Haitham sat at the corner of his vision and—Archons—was that a smile? He turned to find Al-Haitham hiding the tail end of a grin under his hand and it made something warm and giddy bubble up in his chest. Al-Haitham was laughing at him. Al-Haitham thought Kaveh was funny.

Kaveh stopped. What the hell did that mean?

Tighnari whacked Cyno on the arm. “ Why are you still laughing? ”

“I think you should calm down.” Al-Haitham dropped his hand, face impassive once again. “We’re disturbing other people.”

Kaveh looked around to see that, indeed, people at other tables were staring at them. He gave them his most charming smile and said a quick, “Sorry,” before turning back to the table.

“Well, if it’s apparently not weird, can I see the drawing?” asked Tighnari.

“After that behavior? No.” Kaveh plucked the sketchbook off Al-Haitham’s lap and slid it into his backpack. He’d work on his sketches at home.

“Can I go now?” asked Al-Haitham. 

“Yeah, go order your black tea with no sugar or whatever.” Kaveh waved his hand. “Do you want to study with us?”

Al-Haitham looked at him. If he hadn’t been getting familiar with Al-Haitham’s expressions for the past two months, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight twitch of his eyebrows, showing that he was surprised.

“Sure.”

Cyno’s eyes widened like he truly hadn’t expected that answer, but Kaveh couldn’t bite back the grin. As Al-Haitham stood up to grab his tea, Kaveh threw up a finger at Tighnari’s shit-eating grin.

When he returned, Kaveh moved his chair over to give Al-Haitham more space. He took a seat next to Kaveh, pulled out his laptop and headphones, and got to work. They sat almost thigh to thigh around that tiny cafe table, the warmth of Al-Haitham’s calf radiating like a furnace. As they sat next to each other studying in the cafe, some terrible, treacherous part of Kaveh’s mind whispered that it almost felt like they were home in their apartment.

After another long and grueling week, Friday ended with a text from Dehya.

Hey Kaveh, do u wanna go out tonight?

Candace is coming.

You can bring Al-Haitham if u want!

Kaveh quickly responded with yes!!! please!!! Then, he looked up from his phone to look at Al-Haitham sitting on the couch, book in hand.

“Al-Haitham,” said Kaveh. “Do you wanna go out tonight?”

Al-Haitham paused and looked up. “What?”

“To a bar.” Kaveh shifted on the floor so he was fully facing him. “Dehya and Candace invited us.” 

“Why?” Al-Haitham furrowed his eyebrows.

“I dunno, because I’m the life of the party and fun to be around. And supposedly you’re, like, a friend.” Kaveh waved vaguely.

“Maybe they invited me because they don’t want to take care of you when you drink too much.” The corner of his mouth tilted up.

Kaveh grabbed a pillow on the floor and threw it Al-Haitham’s head. He dodged it effortlessly and leaned back, looking up thoughtfully for a moment. Finally, he said, “Sure.”

So, Kaveh sent another affirmative text saying Al-Haitham would come, and then a few hours later, they were walking down the road to Dehya’s place. The air, once again, chilled with the departure of the sun. Kaveh, dressed in a thin button-up, felt the razor edge of every cold gust of wind.

“Archons, it’s fucking freezing.” He rubbed his arms furiously, turning to Al-Haitham. “Hey, give me your jacket.”

“No. Why didn’t you bring a jacket?”

“I can’t wear a jacket!” Kaveh cried. “It would ruin the outfit!”

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “You gave me your jacket when you took me home from Nilou’s. Why can’t you give it to me now?”

“You remember that?” Al-Haitham gave him a strange look.

“Of course, I do.” Kaveh scoffed. “I remember a lot of things. So give me your jacket.”

Al-Haitham stared at him for a moment longer before turning away. “No. You should have dressed warmer.”

“Asshole.”

They arrived at Dehya’s apartment only five minutes late. Kaveh texted her that they had arrived and she came downstairs to let them into the building.

“Candace beat you here by ten minutes,” said Dehya as they walked down the hall.

“I know, I know,” sighed Kaveh. “Sorry for being late.”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking for an apology, but if you want to show that you’re sorry, you should buy me and Candace drinks.”

Kaveh sighed into his palms. “Dehya…please…you know I’m broke.”

Dehya’s laugh echoed down the hall.

They arrived at Dehya’s unit and when they opened the door, Dunyarzad and Candace were sitting on the couch laughing about something. Dehya directed them to the counter where a collection of half-drunk vodka and wine bottles were open. Al-Haitham went for a cup and filled up water from the fridge while Kaveh reached for the wine bottle.

“You’re not coming with us, Dunyarzad?” asked Kaveh as he took a sip.

“No,” sighed Dehya. “She has an event tomorrow that she has to wake up early for, so she’s being responsible.”

“I’ll take a shot with you before you go, though,” offered Dunyarzad.

Dehya grinned. “Excellent.”

Dunyarzad took that shot with them before she retired to her bedroom. Candace ordered the Uber and they waited for it to arrive. Al-Haitham walked up beside him, close enough that their arms were almost touching.

“Did you drink anything?” Kaveh asked, struggling between standing still or choosing to lean into the warmth of Al-Haitham’s arm.

“I had a shot,” he said.

“You don’t wanna get drunk tonight?”

Al-Haitham shook his head. “Drinking will make me lose sleep, which is a hassle.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes. “You’re so practical.”

The Uber arrived and they crowded in. Candace made the sacrifice of sitting shotgun next to the driver, and Kaveh squeezed in between Al-Haitham and Dehya. They were all a little tipsy and a little giggly, turning to talk to each other and laugh over stupid jokes. Beside him, Al-Haitham was silent, but he had come to know that it didn’t mean Al-Haitham wasn’t enjoying himself, merely that he was just comfortable.

The ride ended sooner than expected and they stumbled out of the car, shouting a haphazard, “Thank you!” to the driver before they charged into the bar.

A wave of hot, sweaty air blasted them as they opened the door. It was disgustingly crowded with people. Kaveh almost wanted to leave except they’d already made it this far, and the Uber had already left, so he charged in with his friends.

Candace and Dehya grabbed him by the arms and pulled him into the depths of the crowd, right in the middle at the maximum density of the crowd. Kaveh turned to find Al-Haitham trailing behind them. Kaveh tried to dance with Dehya and Candace for a bit, but when he thought about how little fun he was having, he realized he was too sober.

Archons, it was so crowded. He turned and grabbed Dehya’s arm. “I’m not drunk enough for this!” Kaveh yelled over the crowd. “I’m going to the bar.” He jerked his head to the side.

Dehya nodded and went back to dancing with Candace.

Kaveh grabbed Al-Haitham’s arm. “Come with me.”

Al-Haitham furrowed his eyebrows, but didn’t object as Kaveh yanked him away from the epicenter.

Kaveh started pushing his way through the crowd. He glanced back once to make sure Al-Haitham was following, and saw the crowd jostling him around. Someone stepped back and knocked Al-Haitham to the side. The offender turned around and muttered a quick apology before walking away, but Al-Haitham glared with his teeth bared, looking irritated. 

He’d never thought Al-Haitham would be one to be uncomfortable in crowds when he was so unbothered by everything else. But here he was looking like he was on the verge of screaming.

Kaveh reached back and grabbed Al-Haitham’s hand, just so their fingers folded on top of their palms. He gave a tug so Al-Haitham looked at him before shoving through the rest of the crowd.

They emerged at the other end like they had just crawled out of the trenches. Kaveh let go first, wiping the sweat off his palms.

“Archons,” said Kaveh. “What a nightmare.”

“That was unpleasant,” agreed Al-Haitham.

Kaveh turned and searched for an opening among the wall of people at the bar. A hole appeared at the corner, and he gestured for Al-Haitham to follow.

“Can I get a Cosmopolitan?” The person next to him asked.

“Sure,” said the bartender. “That’ll be eleven dollars.”

Kaveh choked. “Eleven dollars?” He was too broke to pay for an eleven dollar drink. He turned to Al-Haitham. “I’m not paying eleven dollars for a drink.”

Al-Haitham looked at him, unperturbed. “Didn’t you say you weren’t drunk enough? What are you going to do then?”

Kaveh looked around before sighing dramatically. “I guess…I just need a cute guy to buy me a drink.” He tilted his head to the side and grinned.

Al-Haitham gave him a flat look. “No.”

“Come on! I’ll—” He thought for a moment. “I’ll clean the bathroom next week.”

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow.

“The next two weeks?”

After a moment, he sighed and waved the bartender over. Kaveh whispered a drink in his ear and Al-Haitham relayed it to the bartender.

“Open or closed?” she asked, taking Al-Haitham’s card.

Kaveh opened his mouth.

“Closed.” He turned to Kaveh. “You’re only getting one drink out of me.”

“Better than none, I guess.” He waited for the bartender to come back. He watched as she made a drink before sliding it over to him. “Thank you,” he said, giving her a smile.

Surprisingly, she returned it with equal warmth. “No problem. If you want another one, you can just tell me your number instead.” Then, she winked before turning back to the other customers.

Kaveh blinked. “Was that flirting?”

Al-Haitham sighed. “Try your drink, Kaveh.”

He took a sip.

“...How is it?”

He turned the Al-Haitham and held the cup out towards him. “Wanna try?”

Al-Haitham looked down at the cup. Then, wordlessly, he grabbed the cup and lifted it to his mouth. The top of the two black straws disappeared under his top lip before reappearing.

“Too sweet,” he said, sliding the cup back towards Kaveh.

Kaveh blinked. “I knew you’d say that.” He grabbed it and took another long drink, the shudder of alcohol buried behind the sugar.

“Slow down. I’m not taking care of you if you throw up.”

“That’s what you said last time.” He tossed Al-Haitham a crooked grin.

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes. “Let me go to the bathroom really quick and then we can find Dehya and Candace.”

“Alright, alright.”

Al-Haitham stood and disappeared into the throng of people. Kaveh sat at his stool, idly sipping his drink and watching all the bodies around him move and bump into each other in the dim light. The lighting honestly hurt his eyes. Maybe it was the trauma of working in the studio. Or maybe he was just getting old.

“Hey.”

Kaveh looked up to see a guy sliding into the seat next to him where Al-Haitham originally sat.

“Hi,” said Kaveh, offering a friendly smile.

“I’m Nasser.” He nodded at Kaveh’s glass. “Need someone to buy you another drink?”

Kaveh paused and looked down to find that it was nearly empty. “Oh, uh—”

“Kaveh, are you ready to go?”

He turned to find Al-Haitham standing there as if he’d materialized out of nowhere. Al-Haitham was watching him as if Nasser wasn’t there at all.

Nasser startled, shooting an alarmed look at Kaveh.

“Uh.” Kaveh suddenly felt immensely uncomfortable. “Sorry, thank you for the offer, but I’ll pass.” Kaveh downed the rest of his drink and then set it near the bar for cleanup. “Let’s go.”

He stood and this time, Al-Haitham led the way.

Al-Haitham’s silence was cold this time rather than comfortable. Kaveh couldn’t see his face, but he got the sense that this silence was stiffer. He wanted to reach out and ask what was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

“Are you drunk enough now?”

Kaveh startled. “Oh—yeah. Yes. I am. Maybe.” He was drunk enough that once he broke the dam, he couldn’t stop talking. “Maybe I should have gotten a drink from that guy.”

Al-Haitham frowned and turned away.

Kaveh nudged him. “What? Are you sad that no one’s offering to buy you a drink?”

“I can buy my own drinks.”

“Well, yeah. But it’s the principle of it.” Kaveh nudged him. “I’d buy you a drink if I had money.”

“If you had money, then you should be buying yourself a drink.” Then, Al-Haitham pulled away and walked ahead.

Kaveh tried to understand the hurt swirling in his stomach. It shouldn’t have bothered him like that, and yet—

He realized he nearly lost Al-Haitham and hurried after the silver head bobbing in the crowd before it disappeared. They found Dehya and Candace again near the back where there were less people. He slotted himself into their conversation and tried not to bristle at the fact that Al-Haitham had gotten irritated for no reason. And just when they were starting to get along! Whatever. Whatever, Al-Haitham. He was having fun with Dehya and Candace anyway. Who needed him?

He lost track of time and soon Dehya was pulling up her phone to call another Uber.

“Hurry and finish your drink, Kaveh,” said Candace.

“Ah! Okay!” Kaveh did the very responsible thing of chugging the rest of his drink.

Candace drifted away to watch Dehya’s phone with her, leaving him alone with Al-Haitham. He still had that uncomfortable quiet to him that Kaveh couldn’t figure out how to break.

“The Uber’s here!” Dehya called. “Hurry the fuck up!”

“Ahhh, coming!” Kaveh lurched forward. “Al-Haitham, come on!”

Al-Haitham’s eyes darted around. His face remained impassive as always, but when he glanced at Kaveh, he could see the uncertainty there. Al-Haitham truly didn’t like crowds.

Kaveh hesitated, then sighed before he reached out and grabbed Al-Haitham’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He braced himself and charged through the crowd. 

Candace glanced back to make sure they were still following. When they broke through the other side of the crowd, it was cold.

“Shit,” said Dehya. “The Uber said it was here but they changed drivers.” She shivered. “Gods, it’s fucking freezing.” 

Kaveh’s hand was still warm and he realized he was still holding on to Al-Haitham’s hand. He jerked away before Al-Haitham said something, though he mourned the loss of warmth. Al-Haitham must have not realized either, because there was no way Al-Haitham would sustain any kind of physical contact for that long.

He waited while Dehya kept tapping at her phone angrily. Candace rested her chin on her shoulder, looking thoughtful.

Kaveh let out a violent shiver.

“I told you you should have dressed warmer,” said Al-Haitham. 

Kaveh glowered, then tried to look as pitiful as possible. “Will you give me your jacket now?”

“No.”

“Bad news guys,” said Dehya. “There’s no driver and the next car isn’t available for another thirty minutes, so we’ll probably have to walk back up.”

“What?” Kaveh cried. “But it’s so cold!”

Dehya flashed him a grin. “Don’t worry, Princess. I can give you my jacket.”

Kaveh glowered.

Dehya laughed and headed out of the parking lot, starting the long trek back to the other side of campus. 

Kaveh shivered violently, pressing close to Al-Haitham. He was drunk enough that it didn’t embarrass him, and cold enough that he was desperate enough to. Al-Haitham radiated heat like a furnace—it must have been all the muscle and the steroids he wasn’t taking, not that it didn’t still piss Kaveh off. Well, at least not at the moment, he was too cold to give a fuck.

Kaveh risked pressing closer.

Al-Haitham turned and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cold.”

“Dehya offered her jacket to you, didn’t she?”

“I want your jacket.”

“Why?”

“So you can suffer.”

Al-Haitham gave him a flat look.

Kaveh laughed and fell against him again, trying to leech as much warmth out of his arm as possible. Maybe all he’d needed to do to break that weird silence was cling to him like a koala. 

Al-Haitham and Kaveh walked with them to Dehya’s street to make sure they got home safe.

Just then, Candace called out, “Hey, are you okay?”

A girl stood leaning against a tree, looking entirely out of it and wobbly on her feet. Al-Haitham and Candace hurried over to check on her while Dehya stayed back to make sure Kaveh didn’t fall over. Kaveh watched distantly as the girl stared foggily at them. When her eyes landed on Al-Haitham, her eyes widened and she suddenly became lucid. She pitched forward almost falling into his arms when another girl appeared out of nowhere and caught her.

“I’m so sorry about her,” she cried. “So sorry. We lost her because we were dumb. Thank you for checking on her.”

Kaveh leaned against Dehya’s shoulder and laughed in her ear. Dehya watched on with amusement.

The other girl took her friend away. Dehya and Candace headed back into Dehya’s apartment and then they were alone again.

“That was funny,” said Kaveh.

“Was it?” Al-Haitham sounded weary. “She almost fell onto me.”

“I mean, if you helped me while I was drunk off my ass, I would swoon,” said Kaveh.

Al-Haitham gave him a wry smile. “Would you?”

“Oh yeah.”

Then, startlingly, the smile stretched into something more genuine. Kaveh couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Al-Haitham smile like this: small and tiny and cute. He really did have a nice smile. Al-Haitham had no idea of the power he had. Al-Haitham laughed then, and it was warm and affectionate and that smile still stuck to his face when he said, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” Kaveh burst, breathless.

Al-Haitham startled. “What?”

“Like—” Kaveh gestured vaguely. “How do you not have a girlfriend when you’re so…”

“So what?”

He turned, looking at Al-Haitham. Al-Haitham was watching him, no longer smiling, just staring at him through his silver hair with his piercing green eyes. A strand slipped in front of his face, and Kaveh had to shove down that feeling twisting in his chest that made him want to reach out and brush it away.

“You know.” Kaveh gestured again.

Al-Haitham stilled as if waiting for Kaveh to say something else. When he didn’t, he said, “Do you want me to have a girlfriend?”

Kaveh opened his mouth to find that he didn’t have anything to say. His tongue flopped in his mouth. He couldn’t answer. The knot in his chest tightened. “Just wondering,” said Kaveh. “I don’t get it.” He laughed at an attempt to lighten the mood. “I think if you smiled more like that, you’d have a girlfriend.”

Al-Haitham turned away, pink tinging the edge of his face.

Kaveh’s stomach curdled. He’d ruined it. They were having a good, lighthearted moment and he ruined it. “Ahhh, sorry, sorry. We were having a good time.” Kaveh grasped blindly for Al-Haitham’s arm. “I didn’t mean to ruin it. Let’s go back to having fun, please.”

Al-Haitham turned back, having composed himself. The smile returned, though smaller, and more subdued. “It’s too late for that now.”

He hauled them both up the stairs to their apartment. And while Kaveh leaned against the wall trying to make the world stop spinning, Al-Haitham pulled out his keys and let them back into the apartment. It all felt very familiar.

“One of these days, you’re gonna have to get wasted so I can take care of you and return the favor,” muttered Kaveh.

“I’d never be so reckless that I’d need someone to take care of me,” said Al-Haitham. “Hey, hey, you can’t lay on the couch.”

Kaveh let out a long groan.

“I’m not letting you make that mistake again.” Al-Haitham dragged him by the arm into Kaveh’s room. He fumbled around through the dark to reach his bed. When his knees bumped against the edge, he collapsed.

Kaveh lay there, eyes closed and listening to the sound of his racing heartbeat when he felt hands in his hair again, gently unsnapping the red clips in his hair. 

“You took out my hair clips last time, too,” Kaveh mumbled into the pillow.

Al-Haitham’s hands stilled. “You remember that?”

“I told you…” The gentle tide of sleep brushed his ankle, trying to tug him under. “I remember a lot of things.”

He nearly fell asleep to the feeling of fingers unwinding the braids on his hair, when they suddenly retreated. He cracked an eye open to see Al-Haitham starting to retreat. Before he could think about it, he reached out and grabbed Al-Haitham's wrist.

Al-Haitham paused, then turned. “Kaveh?”

Stay, he wanted to say. And that startled him enough to let go.

“Nevermind,” said Kaveh. “Thanks for taking care of me again.”

He closed his eyes and fell asleep before Al-Haitham could respond.

Kaveh once again woke up cursed with the gift of memory.

For all of his drinking habits, Kaveh didn’t blackout often. It was because he knew his limits! He knew how much he could handle before he suffered larger consequences, though, the unfortunate part meant that he’d remember whatever embarrassing thing he’d done last night. Like:

Al-Haitham’s smile under the streetlight. His tongue, loosened by the eleven dollar drink Al-Haitham had bought him, asking, Why don’t you have a girlfriend?

Al-Haitham pulling him to his bedroom. Hands in his hair. I remember a lot of things.

The surge of emotion and the way he reached out to grab Al-Haitham, on the verge of asking him to stay.

Stay? Then what? You sleep next to your roommate?

Disastrous. Disastrous.

He rolled onto his side and groaned. He spotted the glass of water Al-Haitham had left on his side table and felt nauseous all over again. Kaveh grabbed the glass of water and chugged it, a few stray droplets sliding down the skin of his throat. His mouth tasted awful and his head felt stuffed with cotton.

For all he remembered while drunk, he somehow never remembered to drink enough water.

Kaveh slid out of bed still in the same clothes he was wearing last night. He was disappointed to find that Al-Haitham had never given him his jacket, but instead, Kaveh had pressed fully into Al-Haitham’s arm trying to leech off as much warmth as he could.

“Oh gods,” he muttered. No one was watching him, but Kaveh still buried his face in his hands. Fucking embarrassing. Next time, he’d have to ask Candace to watch him and make sure he didn’t make a fool of himself.

After a few more minutes of wallowing in self-pity, Kaveh braced himself and headed into the kitchen.

Al-Haitham was waiting for him at the kitchen table again and an inexplicable feeling of dread pooled in his stomach.

“How do you feel?” asked Al-Haitham.

“Hungover.” He rubbed his eyes, giving him a chance to avoid eye contact with Al-Haitham for a moment longer. “I forgot to drink water again.”

“I left you water on your nightstand.”

He did, of course he did. Kaveh ignored the pang in his chest. “I mean that I forgot to drink water throughout the night.” 

“Do you want me to remind you next time?”

No, anything but that. Kaveh winced. When did Al-Haitham casually start asking questions about Kaveh’s wellbeing? Every moment reminded him of last night, of whatever feeling had been building up inside him that made him reach out and grab Al-Haitham’s wrist.

“No, that’s fine.” Kaveh focused on the salt shaker on the table.

Al-Haitham was silent for a moment. Then, “What’s wrong with you?”

He’d asked Kaveh that before, and he got the sense that Al-Haitham was trying to get that same reaction out of him again. But he couldn’t imagine Al-Haitham doing something like that when he was so straightforward.

“Just…hungover.” Kaveh tried. “I think I’m gonna go back to bed.”

“Alright.” Al-Haitham’s expression was unreadable.

Kaveh winced, something like desperation gripping his chest. He didn’t want to end the conversation there. “What are you doing later today?” Maybe they could study together and pretend everything was normal.

“Nilou asked me if I could help her move some stuff for the theater.”

“Oh.” He tried not to sound like he was drooping so much. “Oh, okay. Tell Nilou I said hi.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, was he revealing himself? What the fuck was wrong with him? “I’m—I’m gonna go back to bed. I’ll see you later.”

Al-Haitham furrowed his eyebrows. “Bye—?”

Kaveh hurried back to his room and dove under the covers. When he heard Al-Haitham’s footsteps, the door opening and shutting, he threw his blankets off and grabbed his phone, sending a quick text to Tighnari:

Tighnari EMERGENCY are you free???

Half an hour later, Kaveh was sitting across the couch from Tighnari, trying not to squeeze all the blood out of his fingers from wringing them.

Tighnari tapped his knee. “So…what’s the emergency?”

“Uh…” 

“Did you get too drunk with Dehya and Candace last night and say something embarrassing to Al-Haitham?”

Heat flared in his face. “Why is that your first guess?”

Tighnari raised an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

“Not…entirely.”

“Then what is it?”

What was it? 

A million things. A tangled web of them. Not just one embarrassing thing he’d said to Al-Haitham, but the night at the bar, fingers wrapped with fingers and the heat of Al-Haitham’s shoulder burning like a star through the dark. Whatever bullshit that spewed from his mouth, tongue loose from a drink that Al-Haitham had bought him. Hands in his hair, pulling out clips and unweaving his braids. The wrist wrapped with his pointer finger and thumb. The water on his nightstand. What did he say first? Where did it start?

Kaveh chose to start by grabbing a pillow and screaming into it.

When he looked up again, Tighnari looked partly amused, partly bewildered.

“Are you done?”

Kaveh took a deep breath. “Yeah. Just, please…don’t make fun of me. I’m too fragile and hungover right now.”

Tighnari huffed a laugh. “Alright.”

Then, Kaveh explained the night and the weird tangle of emotions he’d felt. The skittishness. The hand holding that he didn’t think was a big deal until he woke up the next day and recalled the entire night, and the pang he felt when Al-Haitham talked about Nilou, and the grab he’d made like he almost wanted Al-Haitham to stay in his room—Archons, what the fuck was wrong with him?

“Interesting…” said Tighnari once he was finished.

Kaveh was sweating. The top of his head had gone warm from stress. He sucked in a breath. 

“What…what do you want from me?” asked Tighnari. “How can I help you? Do you want advice or a slap or…?”

“I don’t know!” Kaveh cried. “I don’t know what this means. I don’t know why I feel like this.”

“Are you serious?”

Kaveh blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Are you asking me what you’re feeling?” 

“I—” There was something lingering at the back of his mind. Like a shadow in the dark that he could make out the vague shape of, but he was afraid to shine the light on it, afraid of what he might see. He suddenly didn’t want to talk about this with Tighnari. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with it. “No, I just don’t know what to do with myself. I live with him. I can’t be weird around him.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Tighnari asked. “How do you think you can feel less weird around him?”

“I don’t know.” Kaveh chewed the inside of his cheek. “I could avoid him again like I used to.”

Tighnari gave him a flat look. “You are not doing that. Al-Haitham will notice.”

Kaveh groaned. “Ahh, so? It’s fine, I’ll just say I’m busy. He’ll get it.” 

“But haven’t you spent the last month staying up late with him?” 

“I have.” The headache behind his eyes grew. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. “But…it’s fine. I’ll get over it in a few days if I just spend it at the studio.” 

Tighnari sighed.

“What?” Kaveh frowned. “What are you thinking?”

Tighnari gave him a weary look. “Just…maybe do some self-reflection while you’re in there, Kaveh.”

And so, Kaveh holed himself up in the studio for the next few days and threw himself into his work. He started the routine that he had at the start of the semester again: get out of class, go to the architecture library, work until some ungodly hour, and then wander home. The only change he made was shuffling quickly inside past the living room to minimize his interactions with Al-Haitham. 

It hurt having to ignore Al-Haitham like they were back at the start of the semester, but the sleep deprivation and headaches overpowered the pain of that as he shuffled to his room and collapsed into bed.

Kaveh went on like that for a few painful, lonely days, working through a haze. He felt like he had junior year with no one to talk to or complain to. The only thing that knocked him out of his stupor was the startling realization that he had a critique coming up in three days and he was barely halfway done with his project.

“Shit.” He muttered at his desk.

Kaveh didn’t know if it was senioritis or the creeping creative burnout or sleep deprivation, but he couldn’t think of a way to do the project. He wanted to tear his hair out.

Kaveh turned to his right to complain or voice his concerns when he realized Al-Haitham wasn’t there to listen to him. He wasn’t at home on the floor of the living room sharing the coffee table with Al-Haitham, he was in the studio working under blinding white fluorescent lights that were agitating his headache.

I feel like shit. He wanted to say to the air.

When was the last time you ate? He wanted it to say back to him. Drink this whole bottle of water. Go wash your hair, it’s been three days. Go to sleep, you’re not going to get anything done in this state.

“I don’t know what to do,” muttered Kaveh.

The air did not answer. Around him, other architecture students were silently working on their own projects, the scratches filling the air.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to just pack up and go home. But he had three days and a crippling fear of failure, so he rolled up his sleeves, shoved his earbuds in, and went to work.

The next two evenings passed in a blur—either from three cumulative hours of sleep or the singular meal he remembered to eat—and when he finished, he felt like he’d been juiced like a lemon. He didn’t know if this was good, or if this was right, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that it felt wrong. He knew he was capable of creating something better, but it terrified him that no matter how much time and thought he’d thrown into it, he couldn’t make something he liked.

Kaveh carried his project into the classroom the next evening at five p.m. He set it down carefully on the table and struggled to fight his anxiety between the rolling waves of nausea and fatigue.

Two students went before him. Then, his critique started.

And the professor tore him apart. This professor was known for being fair and objective—which made it hurt even more because she didn’t have a personal vendetta against Kaveh. She was just telling him truthfully that his project was mediocre and lackluster and impractical. He knew all this beforehand, but he wondered if people expected better from him or if they looked at him with pity and thought: At least my project wasn’t that bad. At least I didn’t drop the ball that hard.

Kaveh didn’t fall into pits of insecurity like this often, but every word bruised harder on his skin which had turned thin from the past few days. His mental and physical health was already so fragile, hairline fractures sprawled all over that all it took was three sharp taps and everything shattered.

When they finished with him and moved onto the next student, Kaveh was ready to crawl under his desk. The rest of the class passed in a blur and suddenly it was over. Then, Kaveh was running.

He at least made it outside of the building before he started crying. He tilted his head down and brushed the tears away, trying to stifle his sniffing so he wasn’t so clearly sobbing in public.

Archons, what the fuck was wrong with him?

It was around the time that he’d probably head to the studio to start getting ahead on other work, but just thinking about it—his desk and the blinding white lights and his mess of construction materials everywhere, the dark shadow of the past few days hanging over him—he couldn’t do it. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed and scroll mindlessly on his phone for the next few hours.

He stumbled home like a drunkard, but the saddest part was how stone cold sober he was. By the time he reached the apartment, he was more snot than tears. He was sure his eyes were a horrendous shade of pink, but as he fumbled for his keys, he hardly cared. Kaveh shoved his key in haphazardly and opened the door.

“Kaveh?”

Shit. He’d completely forgotten about Al-Haitham.

“Ha,” muttered Kaveh. “Hey, Al-Haitham.”

Al-Haitham sat in his usual spot on the couch, laptop resting on the coffee table while he worked on some linguistics or math assignment. He had his headphones on, but one ear was pulled to the side. Al-Haitham’s eyes widened. “Kaveh, what happened?” 

The dam broke. The pressure behind his eyes surged as salt flooded his tongue. “I’m gonna drop out. I’m an awful architect.”

Al-Haitham rose which made him cry harder. “What are you talking about?”

“My fucking critique was shit.” Kaveh dropped to his knees on the floor, right next to the shoe rack. He felt like a fucking turtle as his backpack dragged him backwards, but he couldn’t find it in him to lean forward again, not while the swirling vortex of his chest pain sucked him down, down, down.

He lifted his fingers and found that he couldn’t see the shape of them, everything blurred by tears. He knew Al-Haitham was in front of him because of the gentle, solitary hand on his shoulder and the low rumble of his voice as he asked, “Kaveh, what’s wrong?”

What was wrong? Well, the problem was that Kaveh loved architecture. He loved it so much and wanted to pursue it so badly, but perhaps, in life, the love of something wasn’t enough—maybe you also had to be good, maybe you also had to be talented, and Kaveh thought passion was enough but perhaps it wasn’t. Kaveh had slaved away on this project—as he always did, pulling all nighters and subsisting off of espresso beans when coffee wasn’t enough and wandering down into the depths of his soul to find an idea that was good or great or something he could be proud of that still felt like him, and holding it up newborn and still naked in front of his professors to flay alive and see what was left after you wiped the blood away. And it wasn’t enough. The hours and hours and the midnights he’d become so acquainted with meant nothing because he couldn’t brute force his way into something he could be proud of. And maybe, at the end of it all, love for something wasn’t enough.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Kaveh blinked. Had he said all that out loud?

Something shoved into his hands. He looked down to see that Al-Haitham had dropped a box of tissues in his lap.

“You are good,” said Al-Haitham. “Not just because of all the work you put in, not with whatever natural inclination you had towards art and design, but because you want to keep going. Isn’t that enough?”

Al-Haitham said it so simply. But maybe things like that were simple for someone like Al-Haitham.

Kaveh blinked. His eyelids were burning. Wasn’t it enough?

“Are you really going to quit architecture after this one critique?”

Kaveh sniffed. “I might.”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes—and Kaveh would have called him out on it for doing that in the middle of comforting someone if he didn’t find it so deliriously funny. “Be honest with yourself, Kaveh. You will become an architect because you still want to. Isn’t that enough?”

Al-Haitham’s voice had not softened, he had not turned to pity. He had rolled his eyes and then stuck his fingers into the grooves of Kaveh’s mind and probed him of his true thoughts and feelings. It was startling to realize that: Al-Haitham really is kind.  

Here Al-Haitham was: with his steady—but not cold—rationality, the one that spoke of reality not as it could be, but what it just was. Al-Haitham was not warm. He was not soft. He was sturdy like a steel beam that would not bend in the wind.

In that moment, Kaveh came to the startling realization that— holy shit —he’d missed Al-Haitham. A lot. Like, an embarrassing amount. All those weeks of having another person next to him like a life raft—both of them clinging to each other so neither of them drowned in their insanity in the depths of their assignments—and he’d just. Let go. Kaveh had voluntarily drifted out alone into the sea because of one embarrassing night and the days following had nearly destroyed him.

“Archons,” Kaveh half laughed, half cried. “I hate when you’re right.”

Al-Haitham smiled at that, and Kaveh couldn’t stop the relief that washed over him like a tidal wave.

“You must hate me often, then.”

“Yeah, do I not tell you that enough?” Kaveh grabbed a tissue and blew his nose.

He missed Al-Haitham, and it was the worst thing to acknowledge in his mind. He missed the coffee table and the living room floor, the rumble of his voice when he scolded Kaveh to consume something other than coffee, the constant murmur of his keyboard, clicking steadily like a metronome. He had felt the absence like a phantom limb and it was nowhere near as fun to trade insults with a ghost. But here, again, on the living room floor near the thresholds of their apartment, Kaveh found the familiar shade of Al-Haitham’s eyes and imagined sinking into it like a bed of moss.

Archons. He wanted to laugh. I’m so fucked.

“Kaveh?”

He jolted. “Hm?”

“Do you…need anything?”

“A hug and a kiss and to be told that everything will be alright.”

Al-Haitham gave him a flat look.

Kaveh snorted, despite himself. He leaned against his backpack and let his bones sink into the floor. “Nah, I just…need to sit here for a bit.”

“Okay.”

Kaveh expected him to leave and get back to his spot on the couch. Instead, Al-Haitham wordlessly took a seat next to him. Their knees brushed, and he could feel the heat of Al-Haitham’s shoulder against his own. 

They sat like that for a while, listening to the sound of Kaveh’s breathing evening out, the sniffles quieting into something softer.

“Hey, is that why you haven’t been home lately?” asked Al-Haitham suddenly. “Because of the critique?”

Not exactly, he should say. But Kaveh was a coward. And doomed. A doomed coward because he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Yeah, it was.”

Al-Haitham nodded, satisfied by the explanation. Kaveh didn’t know if he felt relieved or disappointed, and didn’t have the energy to find out.

With no words left between them, Kaveh allowed himself a small indulgence: gravity dragging his right arm down, down the slope of his backpack, until it rested against Al-Haitham’s elbow.

Kaveh woke up the next morning with the feeling of cotton in his head and a heavy, dispersed weight on his chest. He partially felt like he was underwater, but when he managed to peel his eyes open, he realized that he had, in fact, just slept twelve hours. 

He rolled over onto his side and grabbed his phone off the table. There was a single text from Al-Haitham:

Let me know when you’re up. 

Kaveh frowned and texted him, up, before rolling to the other side of his bed and opening YouTube. He lay there for another fifteen minutes before he got another text:

Are you sure?

Kaveh sighed and yelled, “Al-Haitham!”

There was a moment of silence before he heard footsteps shuffling towards his door. 

“Don’t yell,” said Al-Haitham, voice muffled by the door.

“What do you want?” Kaveh asked, quieter. 

“When are you getting out of bed?”

Kaveh sighed. “Archons, just open the door and come in. This is weird.”

Another pause, then Kaveh heard the door creak open. He turned over and saw Al-Haitham standing at the door, leaning against his dresser.

“What?” asked Kaveh.

“Are you free today?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Nilou heard about what happened last night,” said Al-Haitham. “And she wanted to go to a new cafe that opened up. It could be a nice break for you—something different to do after the week you had.”

Kaveh narrowed his eyes. “...how did she hear about it?”

Though Al-Haitham’s expression didn’t change, there was a brief pause. “I told her.”

Kaveh threw an arm over his eyes and groaned. Fucking—stupid fucking Al-Haitham, he could have just said that instead of going about it through some weird, roundabout way. 

“You’re so fucking weird,” muttered Kaveh.

“Well, do you want to go?”

“Is it expensive?” Kaveh groaned. “I bought a lot of coffees this week. I probably shouldn’t spend any more money.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

Kaveh nearly flinched.“...you will?” Archons, Al-Haitham have mercy on him, please. “Why?”

“Because you need to eat real food. And getting out of the apartment will be good for you.”

Archons, Celestia, the fucking Abyss and every holy and unholy thing in Teyvat, he couldn’t believe Al-Haitham was a real man.

“Fine, fine, fine.” Kaveh flipped onto his stomach. “Give me another fifteen minutes.”

He heard Al-Haitham’s footsteps retreating. “I’m timing you.” Then, the door shut.

Kaveh rolled around in his bed for a bit before finally getting up. As he stood and threw open his curtains, the memories of last night pulled him back—again and again and again. His eyes still felt raw from crying, but the weight in his chest had lightened. 

Al-Haitham was there, on the ground in front of him, next to him, while Kaveh fought through another architecture mental health crisis. A year ago, he thought Al-Haitham wouldn’t have given him the time of day. But he was there, again and again and again.

Kaveh threw the door open and stumbled into the bathroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and suddenly felt faint. His hair was a wild tangle of strands sticking up and out like a thicket, leftover tears crusting his cheeks, and his eyes swollen and puffy. 

Al-Haitham had walked in and seen him like this. Kaveh felt self-conscious and stupid all at once, because Al-Haitham had literally seen him in worse situations.

“Ten minutes!” Al-Haitham called through the door.

Kaveh tried to summon the annoyance he would have felt weeks ago, and tragically only found affection. He went through the rest of his morning routine in a blur before getting dressed and finally running into the living room where Al-Haitham sat on the couch, book in hand.

Al-Haitham snapped the book shut when Kaveh walked in. “You’re two minutes over.”

“Dude, shut up.” Kaveh shoved his phone in his pocket. “How are we getting there?”

“I’m driving.” Al-Haitham pulled a set of keys out of his pocket as they left the apartment. 

They made their way down the stairs and into the back alley parking lot. They got in and started the drive.

“So…” Kaveh picked at a stray thread at the hem of his button up. “Is anyone else going to the cafe? Or just us three?”

“Just us,” said Al-Haitham.

Kaveh’s stomach dropped and tried to pass it off as a laugh. “Why would Nilou want to voluntarily hang out with you? I’m way better company.”

Al-Haitham glanced to the side and gave him a flat look. “You voluntarily hang out with me.”

“That doesn’t count, I live with you.”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes. “I was also the one who told her about your mental breakdown. And I’m the one with the car. So.”

Kaveh sighed. He hated that Al-Haitham was so logically correct.

He turned to look out the window, watching the buildings of campus fall away to the rest of the city. His hands fidgeted in his lap.

“So…” Kaveh hated the silence. “Do you…talk to Nilou a lot?”

“What do you mean?”

Kaveh winced. What the hell was he saying? “Nevermind.”

“Kaveh.”

He had started on his grave, he may as well keep digging. “Just…wondering. I’ve just never known you to talk to people a lot.”

“I talk to you a lot.”

“I know, but I’m saying—” Kaveh wrung his hands in his lap. “Like, you and Nilou…?”

Al-Haitham frowned. “What are you getting at, Kaveh?”

He exhaled slowly. “Nothing, nothing, just trying to tease you.”

Al-Haitham’s eyes darted to the side. “What? Why?”

Archons, Al-Haitham was so fucking oblivious. It would’ve been a higher form of torture to explain the implications directly, so instead, he said, “Remember what I said about, uh, your smile?” 

They slowed at a redlight, giving Al-Haitham the opportunity to turn to the side, fully facing Kaveh. “Vaguely, why?”

Kaveh stared into his eyes for a moment. They were close enough that he could make out the vague shape of his head in Al-Haitham’s pupils.

Tell him, part of him urged. An insistent tugging at the arteries in his heart. Do it, do it.

But the selfish part of him silenced the voices. 

“Nevermind,” said Kaveh.

Irritation flashed across Al-Haitham’s face. “What?”

There was a long moment of silence. Long enough that the stoplight changed in his periphery.

“I said nevermind.” Kaveh leaned back against the seat. “The light’s green.”

Al-Haitham furrowed his eyebrows. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the car behind him honked, so he had no choice but to face forward and keep driving.

The cafe was fucking adorable, a little building about a fifteen minute drive away from campus and set up as a mishmash of Liyue and Fontaine desserts. Kavehh lit up the moment he saw it, tumbling out of the car and halfway rushed to the entrance before he realized Al-Haitham wasn’t following him.

Kaveh swallowed his embarrassment. “Hurry up,” he grunted.

Al-Haitham ignored him and leisurely locked his car twice before taking his sweet time meeting Kaveh at the door. Then, they entered.

A bell rang as they entered. Light wooden floors sprawled out beneath them, running under a collection of tables and chairs with black metal and white tops. Little lights hung in a glass case, illuminating the little pastries.

“Nilou won’t be here for a bit,” said Al-Haitham. “So we should get something to eat first.”

Right. Al-Haitham had promised to buy him something.

Kaveh’s mouth suddenly went dry. “Okay.” He shoved the fluttering in his stomach down and followed.

Al-Haitham apparently already knew what he wanted, but he didn’t complain as he silently waited for Kaveh to figure out what he wanted. Once they ordered two scones (one for Al-Haitham and one for Kaveh) and a latte (just for Kaveh), they stopped at the cash register.

“Together?” asked the cashier.

I wish, thought Kaveh, and then mentally slapped himself for being cringe.

“Yeah,” said Al-Haitham, pulling out his card.

Kaveh watched as Al-Haitham paid for the both of them. The little, delusional part at the back of his mind fluttered with glee. They were in a cute cafe on a Saturday morning, standing next to each other while Al-Haitham paid for him. It felt like a date, and Kaveh let himself entertain the feeling for a moment before he pinched the inside of his wrist and snapped back to reality.

Al-Haitham slid his card back into his wallet and turned to Kaveh. “Where do you want to sit?”

“Oh, uh.” Kaveh spotted a small table at the corner of the cafe, nestled between two tall windows and surrounded by light. “There.”

“Alright.”

Kaveh grabbed his latte while Al-Haitham carried their scones. It was a short walk to the table but the silence felt deafening. They sat down across from each other and Kaveh had to keep his feet tucked under his chair so he didn’t accidentally bump Al-Haitham’s leg.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Huh?” Kaveh blinked. “Oh, uh, fine. I guess.”

Al-Haitham frowned, unsatisfied with the answer. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ah, well. It wasn’t my first mental breakdown, I can tell you that.”

“No, I mean: insecure.”

“Well, that wasn’t my first time either.” Kaveh wiped a stray drop of coffee at the base of his cup. “It happens sometimes. It kind of hits when you’re doing something creative like that. You have to be practical and conscious of different factors, and also produce something interesting. Which is subjective. Which makes it hard.” He exhaled slowly. “But it’s fine. I usually get over it in a few days, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Al-Haitham frowned. “You didn’t have to shut yourself in the studio though. You could have worked at home.” Al-Haitham, who was normally so cool and unbothered, suddenly flickered with agitation. “You didn’t tell me. You could have—”

“Hiii!”  

Kaveh turned to find Nilou rushing towards them, and he felt so relieved in that moment that she’d cut Al-Haitham off.

“Hi! Oh my gods, hi Kaveh, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Nilou stopped at their table. “Stand up, let me hug you.”

Kaveh stood and Nilou threw her arms around him, squeezing him in a massive bone crushing hug. He let out a small oof before he laughed and wrapped his arms around her. Nilou was short enough that he could rest his chin on the top of her head, and her arms were pressed firmly around his back. Maybe the cure-all to everything was a true and proper full body hug because he felt the bones in his body sinking down towards her, as if Nilou could carry him.

At that moment, he felt terribly relieved and terribly guilty—glad to see her and angry at himself that he’d ever felt any kind of jealousy at the mention of her name from Al-Haitham. She was his friend first and foremost.

She pulled away and grinned up at him. Then she turned to Al-Haitham and nodded, “Hey, Al-Haitham.”

He nodded back at her.

Kaveh sat back down and Nilou took the third seat, sitting in between them at the little round table.

They slipped into an easy conversation like nothing had happened at all. He caught Nilou up on his terrible critique and how he’d started eating espresso beans and only espresso beans that week, to which she’d frowned her I’m-very-disappointed-with-you frown and pulled a water bottle out of her bag and ordered him to drink the whole thing while she watched. Then, she talked about the theater club and some dance performances coming up before they both turned to Al-Haitham to ask if he had any updates, to which he’d said that his professor emailed him asking to show up to class more, even though he had a ninety-six in the class.

“I hate you,” said Kaveh. “Why don’t you have normal updates like normal people?”

Al-Haitham shrugged. “That’s the only exciting thing that’s happened to me.”

“The only exciting thing, Al-Haitham?” Nilou cut in.

Al-Haitham’s eyes cut to the side. If Kaveh hadn’t spent so many hours with Al-Haitham, he wouldn’t have spotted that it was Al-Haitham’s way of subtle glare.

“Yes,” he finally said. “The only thing.”

Nilou laughed, light like a bell. “Okay, if you say so.”

“What?” Kaveh looked between them. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Nilou checked her phone and stood. “Speaking of which, I should probably head out to practice. It was wonderful catching up with you. Please take care of yourself, Kaveh. Or ask Al-Haitham to.”

Kaveh flushed and tried to pretend he wasn’t. “Like hell he would.”

Al-Haitham looked at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“Bye guys.” She shot a mysterious smile at Kaveh before turning and leaving.

Kaveh watched her walk out the door before he turned back to Al-Haitham, he was still glaring at him.

“What?” asked Kaveh.

“I have dragged you home drunk twice now, Kaveh.”

His heart fluttered again. He’d been trying very hard to not think about that. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, sorry.”

Al-Haitham sighed, though he seemed less upset now. “Do you want to head home?”

Kaveh looked around, at the latte in his hands, at the half eaten scones. Al-Haitham across from him and light surrounding them. Now that it was just the two of them again, it really did feel like a date.

“No, not yet. You were right: it is nice being out of the apartment.”

Avoiding Al-Haitham wasn’t possible, so Kaveh moved from the denial stage of grief to the acceptance and resigned himself to trying to act as normal as possible. Which was much, much easier said than done.

After they’d spent another at the cafe, they finally went home. The moment they stepped into the apartment, Kaveh felt like he was sweating all over again. At least there were other people at the cafe to distract him—here in their apartment, it was just him and Al-Haitham.

But still, he bit his tongue and clenched his jaw and swallowed the lump in his throat and survived the next few days with Al-Haitham. He made tactical retreats to his room when he got too flustered, but not isolating himself so much that Al-Haitham would find it suspicious.

One day, he found himself in a library with Al-Haitham. Normally, it would be fine because there were other people around, but they’d managed to find an isolated table and the way they were sitting with their heads bending towards each other felt like too much. Too much. Kaveh was going to combust on the spot.

Kaveh whipped out his phone and sent a quick text:

TIGHNARI EMERGENCY AGAIN.

IM STUDYING ALONE WITH ALHAITHAM I CANT BE ALONE WITH HIM

Tighnari responded a minute later:

You live with him???

Kaveh wanted to bite his fist:

TIGHNARI PLEASE COME STUDY WITH US AT THE LIBRARY IM LOSING IT

Tighnari didn’t answer after that, which sent Kaveh into a miniature panic spiral. Al-Haitham thankfully didn’t notice, too engrossed in his work to look up. Kaveh sat anxiously in front of his laptop, willing his CAD not to lag when Tighnari’s head appeared above his laptop like an angel descending from Celestia.

“Oh, hey guys,” said Tighnari a little too sarcastically. “Wow, I had no idea you two were here.”

Kaveh glared at him.

Al-Haitham looked up. “Tighnari?”

“Is it alright if we sit with you guys?”

Kaveh sat up straighter in his chair and saw Collei’s head over his laptop. The poor girl was staring down at her feet and her entire face had gone pink.

“Yes, please,” said Kaveh.

“I was helping Collei study for a biology midterm so I thought I’d invite her along,” said Tighnari as he sat.

“Ah.” Kaveh watched them sit down at the other adjacent sides of the square table.

Despite Tighnari giving him a heart attack by not responding, he was grateful that Tighnari pulled through.

Silence fell over the table as they started working on their separate things. Collei was frowning at her laptop and occasionally leaned over to whisper a question to Tighnari. Al-Haitham had his earbuds in, and Kaveh kept staring at AutoCAD on his laptop.

He felt significantly less panicked now. Al-Haitham and Kaveh were still sharing a corner of the table, but they weren’t leaning into each other anymore. The foot under the table he accidentally bumped could have been anyone’s. The tiny corner of the library, hidden among the stacks.

Kaveh eventually wandered out of his AutoCAD window and onto the r/AkademiyaU page where he scrolled mindlessly through different posts. 

Suddenly, Tighnari’s phone rang.

Fuck, thought Kaveh. Tighnari was leaving him alone with Al-Haitham. But at least Collei was there.

“Ah.” Tighnari grabbed his phone and stood. “Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”

Kaveh watched him leave, and when he looked back down, Collei looked like she wanted to combust on the spot.

He tried to give her a reassuring smile. “How’s the studying going, Collei?”

She yelped. “Ah!” She flushed, embarrassed that she had startled. Collei seemed to be a lot more skittish without alcohol and Dunyarzad by her side. “It’s, um, it’s going good. I borrowed Tighnari’s notes because he took the class two years ago. Because it’s a freshman class. So…”

“I see.” Kaveh tapped his finger lightly on the table. “How are you doing with your first semester of college?”

“Fine,” said Collei. “But, um, everything’s really expensive. Like textbooks.”

“Don’t buy textbooks,” Al-Haitham interjected. “Don’t even rent them if you don’t have to.”

“What—”

“Here, let me show you something.” He gestured for her laptop.

Collei scrunched her eyebrows in confusion before sliding it over. Al-Haitham typed something that Kaveh couldn’t see. A moment later, he turned to Collei and said, “You can use this website to pirate textbooks for free so you don’t have to buy them.”

“Oh.” Collei’s eyes widened. “Oh! Thank you so much, that saves me so much money.”

Al-Haitham nodded. “Of course. I haven’t bought a single textbook because I didn’t need to.”

“Really?” Collei’s eyes widened. “Wow, there’s so much I don’t know. I feel like…” Her gaze drifted down to the table. 

Al-Haitham tilted his head. “What?”

“I’m honestly a little overwhelmed,” she admitted. “Actually very overwhelmed. There’s so much I don’t know and there’s a lot going on all the time and I’m just worried that I’m going to do everything wrong.” Then she flushed again, like she couldn’t believe she’d said that.

Kaveh opened his mouth to reassure her, but Al-Haitham spoke first. “You will inevitably get some things wrong. But that’s fine. Everyone does. It just makes you part of the majority, so you won’t be alone in it.”

Kaveh frowned. What the fuck kind of comfort was that? He turned to say something, but Collei, surprisingly, looked relieved.

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re right. Thanks, Al-Haitham.” She glanced down at her laptop, then back up. “You’re actually really nice, Al-Haitham.”

Al-Haitham shrugged.

Kaveh’s terrible, treacherous heart trembled in his chest. Something warm bloomed inside of him, and he quickly grabbed his water bottle to drown it out. Al-Haitham was too standoffish to be that fucking cute, but maybe Kaveh was just doomed.

Collei quietly went back to work and put her headphones on.

Against his will, Kaveh leaned towards Al-Haitham. “That was nice of you,” he whispered. “What’s gotten into you?”

Al-Haitham kicked him under the table.

He grinned. “It’s okay to admit that you’ve gone soft. Honestly, why couldn’t you be as cute as Collei as a freshman?”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes and leaned back against him. “Shut up.” He whispered it back, low enough that it was more rumble than sound.

Kaveh jumped back.

When Tighnari finally returned, Collei looked visibly more at ease, but she still sent them a small smile before putting her headphones back on.

“Did I miss anything?” asked Tighnari, eyes darting back and forth between them.

“No,” said Al-Haitham.

Help, mouthed Kaveh.

Tighnari snorted and put his earbuds back in.

Kaveh probably should’ve learned his lesson by now about situations involving both alcohol and Al-Haitham, but he was an anxious architecture student and he didn’t have to develop healthy coping skills until after he graduated.

Nilou, despite her soft voice and wholesome round face, was actually a wild party animal. She and her other dance major roommates had just finished another performance, so they threw yet another party to drink away their sorrows and, of course, everyone was invited.

Kaveh opted out of pregaming at Tighnari’s apartment to fuss around in his own and ask Al-Haitham his opinion on five different outfits.

“They all look fine,” Al-Haitham had said. “It’s going to be dark. No one will know what you’re wearing.”

“But I will.” Kaveh threw his hands up and disappeared back into his room.

They kept that dance up for another thirty minutes before Tighnari texted them that they were all leaving for Nilou’s. Kaveh quickly took a shot, Al-Haitham took two, and then they were off into the night once again. 

They arrived only thirty minutes late and found the others dispersed in various parts of the house. Kaveh greeted Nilou with another hug, and quietly watched as she gave Al-Haitham a one-armed hug before she ushered them inside.

“I’m not drunk enough,” Kaveh whisper-shouted to Al-Haitham.

Al-Haitham gave him a flat look. “You would’ve had more time to drink if you didn’t spend all your time figuring out what to wear.”

“Shut up.” He grabbed Al-Haitham’s arm by the bicep. “Let’s go find more drinks.”

They shoved through the crowd of people to get to the kitchen. The fact that there was such a high density of people was a true testament to the amount of friends Nilou had, it was almost awe-inspiring.

There wasn’t anything special in the kitchen—just the usual twenty-four pack of terrible, watery beers and a few bottles of cheap vodka. Someone very kind had left a giant bottle of lemonade supposedly as a chaser or a mixer, but it would be gone soon with the amount of people in there.

Kaveh grabbed a plastic cup and started pouring a terrible drink that was half vodka and half lemonade. He took a sip, winced, and poured more lemonade.

“Careful there,” said Al-Haitham. “I’m not taking care of you again.”

“You keep saying that and yet it keeps happening.” Kaveh shot him a grin. “Are you drinking, Al-Haitham?”

Al-Haitham gave him a flat look, then sighed. “Sure, why not.”

Kaveh watched as Al-Haitham copied him, also pouring another awful drink, but significantly stronger because he had a much higher tolerance than Kaveh. Which was honestly really unfair because they were the same height and it didn’t make any sense—

“Height isn’t the only factor that determines alcohol tolerance,” said Al-Haitham. “There’s also genetics, how much you ate beforehand, body composition, et cetera. I also have more muscle mass than you.”

Kaveh froze. “Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.”

“Fuck, I can’t be drunk already.”

The corner of Al-Haitham’s mouth turned up. “Remember how much vodka you poured into your cup?”

“Shut up.” Kaveh bumped into his shoulder. “Shhhh—shut the fuck up.”

Al-Haitham laughed and it sent his heart spiraling.

This was such a bad idea. Kaveh couldn’t tear his eyes off of Al-Haitham, could’t stop leaning into him and touching him. They moved away from the kitchen once they had their drinks, but instead of wandering off to catch up with people he knew, Kaveh found himself orbiting around Al-Haitham.

This was so unlike the last time they’d come to a party at Nilou’s. He couldn’t stop following Al-Haitham around like a puppy. Al-Haitham was a magnetic pole that kept tugging the needle in Kaveh’s compass north.

“Al-Haitham—” Kaveh grabbed his shoulder. “Where—are you going?”

“Wall,” was all he said.

“Are you lurking?” Kaveh pulled himself forward by Al-Haitham’s shoulder. He hooked his chin over Al-Haitham’s shoulder and grinned up at him. “Are you going to stand in a corner again all by your lonely self?”

“Well, I’m not going to be by myself because you’re following me everywhere.”

“Huh.” Kaveh blinked. “You’re right.”

“Of course I—” Al-Haitham hiccuped.

Kaveh blinked, then laughed. “What was that?”

“I said: of course I’m r—” Hiccup.

Kaveh didn’t think he’d ever heard anything remotely like that exit Al-Haitham’s mouth before. “Al-Haitham…are you drunk?”

“I’m—” Hiccup. “—not.”

Kaveh laughed again. “Oh my gods, you are. I can’t believe you hiccup when you’re drunk. I didn’t know people did that in real life.”

“Shut—” Hiccup. “—up.”

Kaveh laughed. “Oh my gods, you’re so cute. I can’t believe you just exist like that.”

Al-Haitham flushed redder. Kaveh reached up and pinched his cheek.

“Your skin’s so soft,” he marveled. “How have I never touched your face before?”

Al-Haitham grunted. Warmth bloomed beneath Kaveh’s fingers. 

“Aw, don’t be grumpy.” Kaveh wiggled the pinched skin of Al-Haitham’s cheek. “Are you grumpy? Are you angry? Don’t be.” 

Al-Haitham furrowed his eyebrows which somehow looked impossibly cuter.

“You’re fucking adorable,” said Kaveh. “Why weren’t you this cute as a freshman? It doesn’t make sense to get cuter when you’re older.”

“That would make sense from your point of view.” Al-Haitham took another drink.

Kaveh sputtered. “How are you coming up with cleverly worded insults when you’re fucked up? That’s so unfair.”

“That wasn’t even my best insult.” The corner of Al-Haitham’s mouth ticked up. “Your standards just dropped.”

“Get that—” Kaveh pressed his thumbs to the corner of Al-Haitham’s mouth and pulled. “Stop grinning.”

Al-Haitham’s tongue poked to the side and licked Kaveh’s thumb.

“Ew!” Kaveh yanked his hand back. “Ew, what the fuck! Do you know where my hand’s been?”

Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow, amusement sparkling in his eyes.“Somewhere gross and embarrassing?”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that—I mean, do you know how many things my hands have touched? That’s so fucking unsanitary Al-Haitham—”

And then, finally, finally, finally, the laugh burst free and Al-Haitham was leaning against the wall, hair skimming along his face as it fell with gravity. Kaveh could suddenly see both of Al-Haitham’s eyes—closed—as he leaned against the wall, perfect teeth slashing white though the dark. 

Kaveh jolted like he’d been punched in the chest. Archons, he couldn’t move, could just stare as Al-Haitham laughed hysterically. He’d never seen him so loose and open and it drove him a little insane.

When Al-Haitham finally recovered, he opened his eyes and turned the full weight of his gaze on Kaveh. Kaveh was still frozen. Al-Haitham stared at him, eyebrows bunching together in confusion, but Kaveh barely noticed. He could barely notice anything except the fan of Al-Haitham’s eyelashes. They were so long, and he’d seen Al-Haitham’s eyes so many times but this was the first time he noticed.

Against his will, Kaveh’s gaze dropped, pulled down by gravity to rest on Al-Haitham’s pink mouth, fallen slightly open and wet with his drink. They were close enough that he could smell the alcohol on Al-Haitham’s breath. But he didn’t mind. He really didn’t mind as long as he was this close to Al-Haitham. He thought about how much closer he’d like to be, and then he was leaning in, hearing Al-Haitham inhale sharply, and then—

Hands stopped the trajectory of his mouth. Kaveh blinked and realized those were Al-Haitham’s hands.

“What—are you doing?” Al-Haitham wheezed.

“Oh.” Kaveh blinked. He pulled back. “Oh. Oh, oh shit. Oh, shit, Al-Haitham, I’m so sorry—” He stumbled back. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You ‘ didn’t mean to?’” He could have sworn Al-Haitham sounded almost pained. “What did you mean to do?”

“I just—” Kaveh fumbled for words. “I—sorry, I thought—sorry, sorry.” He dug his hands into his hair so he’d have something to hold onto. “I fucked up. I’m sorry, Al-Haitham. I know you have that thing with Nilou and I’m a terrible roommate for shoving my feelings onto you, and—”

Al-Haitham furrowed his eyebrows. “Kaveh, wait.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Kaveh took another step back, nearly tripping over the person behind him. He spun around. “Oops, I’m sorry—”

It was Nilou.

“Oh, hey Kaveh.” Nilou blinked up at him. “Are you enjoying the party?”

Kaveh nearly burst into tears on the spot.

“I’m sorry, Nilou!” He threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “I did something bad. I’m sorry, I almost kissed Al-Haitham, but I didn’t mean it. I love you so much, you’re one of my best friends, I didn’t mean to be selfish and come between you two—”

Nilou suddenly shoved him back. “Kaveh, what the fuck are you talking about?”

That finally stopped the constant stream of words out of his mouth. Nilou hardly ever swore, and that caught him.

“I thought—” He glanced back at Al-Haitham to find him trying to burn a hole in the back of Kaveh’s head with a glare. He turned back to Nilou. “Weren’t you two—?”

“No, Kaveh.” Nilou sighed. “Please stop that sentence right now.” She glanced around him, presumably at Al-Haitham. “Oh boy, oh boy, okay, I think you two should really just—talk to each other. Please.”

“Like…alone?”

“Yes, alone.” Nilou gave him a light push backwards. “Just trust me, Kaveh.”

He turned slowly, like he was about to face a predator. Al-Haitham’s glare was cutting, but still, he gestured for Kaveh to follow him out the door.

They stepped onto the porch and the gust of cold wind shocked him enough into a level of sobriety he did not want to be. Drunk enough to still be stupid, but not sober enough to have control of his head.

There was a beat of silence. Kaveh fumbled for what to say.

“So—”

“Did you mean to kiss me?” asked Al-Haitham.

Kaveh wanted to shrivel up. “Well, yes, but no—”

Irritation flashed across his face. “Did you want to kiss me?”

“I—I mean not if you didn’t want me to.” Kaveh sighed. “Look, I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again. I know you probably don’t like me so—”

Al-Haitham let out a long, suffering sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face. It was the most agitated he’d ever seen Al-Haitham.

“Are you stupid?” 

Any nerves he had evaporated in that instant. Kaveh glared. “What the fuck? Are you stupid?”

“Definitely not.” Al-Haitham gripped his drink in one hand, cup teetering at a dangerous angle over the porch.

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Because you’re an idiot, that’s why.”

“No, I’m not!” What the fuck was happening?

Al-Haitham sighed. “No, I guess not. You’re just a coward.”

“I am not a coward.”

Kaveh burned. He was not a coward, and fuck Al-Haitham for baiting him like that. His hands found the collar of Al-Haitham’s shirt before his brain caught up. Their faces were close enough that they were sharing a breath.

“Oh, you’re not?” Al-Haitham narrowed his eyes. “Then prove it and kiss me.”

You know what? Fine.

Kaveh yanked forward until they slammed into each other at a meeting point. Their mouths were the epicenter and Kaveh nearly fell over from the force of their collision, but Al-Haitham’s arm snaked around the divot of his waist and caught him. Hands. Kaveh’s hands reached for purchase—hair or sweater collars or skin. Anything to ground him against the tide of Al-Haitham.

Kaveh’s back met the wall. The hundred year old brick of the old house prickled through the thin skin of his shirt, shocking him out of the heat of Al-Haitham’s mouth enough that he gasped, pulling away.

Al-Haitham turned his attention to Kaveh’s check, to his ear, crawling down to the underside of his jaw. 

“Al-Haitham—” Kaveh wheezed, shoving lightly.

Al-Haitham pulled away to look up at him, lips wet and pupils blown wide. “What?” 

He asked it so simply, so normally like he hadn’t just come up from sucking Kaveh’s neck, that Kaveh couldn’t help but grab the back of his neck and yank their faces back together.

Al-Haitham gasped into his mouth and it only drove him a little insane. Al-Haitham’s hands had not left their place on his shirt, and the heat of his palms burned through the fabric like a brand.

The path of his mind split into two: one following the road that tracked every point of contact between their bodies down to the texture of Al-Haitham’s tongue against his, and the other wondering where the hell Al-Haitham learned to kiss like that when he’d never dated anyone before. It almost pissed Kaveh off enough to make him want to pull away, but then Al-Haitham sucked on his lower lip and the thought capsized again.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just Al-Haitham himself, but Kaveh’s lungs were burning, heartbeat jackrabbiting and he became startlingly aware of how he was running out of air.

Kaveh tapped his shoulder. “Al-Haitham,” he muttered in the brief moments their mouths detached. “Al-Haitham—”

He pulled away. “What?” he sounded irritated.

Kaveh knew he was fucked because he found it more endearing than anything. “Let me breathe,” he laughed.

Al-Haitham frowned and it took Kaveh a moment to realize he was pouting.

Kaveh grabbed his face in his hands and squished his cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re so…” He squeezed.“Did you want me to kiss you back there?”

Heat bloomed beneath his fingers, spreading pink across Al-Haitham’s skin. His eyes darted down. “Obviously.”

“How long?” He pulled Al-Haitham’s face closer, close enough that they both went a little cross-eyed. “Since we got to the party? Since we moved in together?”

Al-Haitham closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Kaveh’s. He murmured something that was more breath than voice.

“A little louder, Al-Haitham.”

“...the philosophy class.”

His brain took a moment to recalibrate. “What?” Kaveh shrieked, shoving Al-Haitham back. “Philosophy? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I?” Al-Haitham flushed redder, and Kaveh was suddenly so, so thankful Al-Haitham had decided to drink tonight because now he could see the wonderful way his face flushed with embarrassment.

“Because—we could have—”

“You admitted yourself that you didn’t like me my freshman year.” He didn’t sound particularly sad about it, just merely stating facts. “There was no reason for me to tell you, so I didn’t.”

Kaveh frowned, a little prickle of guilt pooling in his stomach. But he quickly waved it away; Al-Haitham was here now, hands in hands, talking about their feelings. He gripped Al-Haitham’s shoulders tighter. “But—why didn’t you act like a normal person? Why didn’t you blush or flirt or anything? You just kept fucking arguing with me every time I saw you.”

The corner of Al-Haitham’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah, well, I told you I liked arguing with you and let you live in my apartment. So.”

“I hate you.” Kaveh shook him. “Why can’t you be normal?”

Al-Haitham laughed and Kaveh, against his will, softened.

“Since freshman year, huh? Wow, that’s kind of embarrassing for you.”

Al-Haitham rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” taunted Kaveh.

“If you insist.”

Kaveh and Al-Haitham returned to the house when someone suddenly burst onto the porch to throw up over the side. They had both stared for a moment before the retching sound got too loud and they decided they should head back inside.

They’d made it five steps into the house when Nilou reappeared. 

“Did you talk it out?” she asked warily.

Her eyes drifted down to their joined hands, where Al-Haitham’s fingers were laced with Kaveh’s.

Kaveh smiled. “Yeah, we did.”

Nilou pressed a hand to her chest and sighed with relief. “Oh thank the Archons.”

Al-Haitham and Kaveh never announced that they officially started dating, but the news spread like a bad case of herpes among the group chat. Kaveh realized it one day when Dehya sent a barfing emoji to Al-Haitham and Kaveh responding to each other in the group chat. A few hours later, Cyno sent him a Congratulations text while Tighnari sent, Congratulations on finally getting together. You both took thirty years off my lifespan.

It was strange to think that he’d made it to the end of a saga. He could relax now, he thought, but there was still one thing left to take care of.

A week later, he showed up at Nilou’s house again carrying a bag of greasy fries from her favorite fast food restaurant in hand. He stopped onto the porch and he unconsciously glanced at a particular spot on the wall. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

A few agonizing seconds passed before the door opened. Nilou looked half awake, but when she noticed it was Kaveh, her eyes widened.

“Kaveh? What are you doing here?”

Kaveh fell to his knees and held the bag out in front of him in offering. “Nilou, I’m so, so, so fucking sorry.”

He could hear the bewilderment in her voice. “For what?”

The words tumbled out of his mouth. He apologized about the whole misunderstanding, how he thought she and Al-Haitham liked each other because they kept texting and seeing each other when Kaveh knew Al-Haitham hardly spoke with anyone. He apologized for the jealousy towards her, but promised again that he valued his friendship with her so, so, so much and he’d always support her and—

Nilou burst out laughing, cutting his ramble short. “Oh my gods, Kaveh. You are all good, I promise. You know, the only reason we were talking so much was because he asked me for advice when you moved in and he said I was the only one he could trust not to tell anyone. He thought he could handle being your roommate, but then he kept getting flustered so he wanted emotional support. That’s why I kept teasing him whenever I saw you two together.”

Kaveh snapped his head up. “He what?”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened again. “Oops. I guess I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Kaveh shot to his feet. “No, no thank you so much. This is very important information.” He shoved the bag of fries in her hands. “I gotta go, but—but thank you, Nilou. I love you. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Kaveh!” She laughed, but he had already turned around and started the sprint back home.

Al-Haitham was sitting on the couch with his laptop on the coffee table when Kaveh burst into the apartment, breathless and face flushed with the sweat and sun.

Al-Haitham looked up, startled. “Kaveh—what happened?”

“Is it true that you thought you could handle living with me but then you got too flustered?”

Al-Haitham stiffened. “Where did you hear that?”

“Is it true?”

Al-Haitham’s face—delightfully reddened. “...maybe. But where did you hear that?” His eyes widened, part angry and part panicked. “Did Nilou tell you—”

But Kaveh didn’t let him finish because he charged forward and kissed Al-Haitham into the couch.