Archive of Our Own

Kaveh is pretty sure that he’s conscious.

That’s just about the only objective fact he can conjure up in his mind, and even then, his certainty is shaky.

He’s awash in stomach-churning sensation, a relentless throbbing in his head and a feeling of vertigo so intense that he’s not sure whether he’s laying horizontally or standing upright.

He hopes he’s not standing upright.

A voice cuts through the blur that’s sharp with concern, a distinct counterpoint to the hand that settles gently on his forehead.

Then, the fog descends once more.

When Kaveh comes to again, his thoughts are just unscrambled enough to comprehend the extent of his pounding headache. It’s a crushing sort of agony that radiates from behind his forehead, spreading through to the back of his head, pulsing in his temples with each heartbeat.

He tries to lift his head to take in his surroundings, but quickly lays back down when it makes his stomach churn and his headache pulse thunderously. There’s a burning sensation in his throat, and he gets the impression he has probably thrown up at least once.

There’s light, and sound, and bustle, and it’s so much, it almost feels like the brightness is driving a series of needles further into his skull. He squeezes his eyes shut, and quickly abandons any premise of attempting to take in his surroundings.

“Kaveh? Kaveh. Can you hear me?”

A groan crawls up his throat, coming out in the form of a weak, scratchy sound. He opens his eyes for a split second, then squeezes them shut again. A person is standing at the foot of his bed — maybe two people? His view had been awfully blurry. He tries to think about who it could be, but his efforts only make his headache pound harder.

“Is it too bright? Zakariya, can you draw the curtains?”

“Of course, Mister Tighnari.”

It takes Kaveh a long moment to register the words.

Tighnari?

That seems familiar. Yes…yes, he definitely knows a Tighnari.

Kaveh registers a noticeable shift in the lighting. Slowly, painstakingly, he inches his eyes open. The scene swims nauseatingly before him, though now there is less light assaulting his senses, which helps. He tries to focus his gaze, but the effort once again has him wincing through another bout of throbbing pain.

“Zakariya, do you have any painkiller blends on hand? Something that won’t cause drowsiness…perhaps a concoction with qingxin?”

“I…yes, of course, Mister Tighnari. I will retrieve one of our blends right away.”

“Wonderful, thank you. Please try to be quick.”

There’s the sound of a swishing curtain, and then Zakariya is gone. Kaveh blinks sluggishly as Tighnari rounds the bed, standing by his side.

“Are you alright to sit up, Kaveh?”

He shudders, shaking his head with a wince. He can almost feel bile burning up his throat at the mere prospect.

“That’s alright, don’t push yourself. Do you remember what happened?”

Kaveh tries to think, but stringing together anything remotely coherent seems entirely out of reach, akin to stumbling blindly through a dense fog. Even when he’s right beside him, he can hardly bring Tighnari’s face into any sort of clarity.

Somehow, he gets his mouth moving, but the syllables slur incomprehensibly.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine.” There’s a pause. “Do you know what month it is?”

Again, he tries to think, but he comes up completely blank. His headache pulses in his temples, blood roars in his ears.

Is he supposed to know that?

Why doesn’t he know that?

“I don’t know,” Kaveh says again.

“Hm…do you know where you are?”

Kaveh looks around, but the room is a blur, colours and shapes bleeding into one another like a smudged oil painting. His bottom lip starts to wobble, a lump forming in his throat.

There are snatches of…of something , of an older woman’s stricken face, sitting on a couch, weeping, weeping…

He doesn’t know.

Why doesn’t he know?

“I don’t know,” he says miserably, “I’m sorry.”

Tighnari’s voice softens slightly. “It’s alright, Kaveh. No need to be upset. You have a concussion, so this is not unexpected.”

He leans over, settling a hand on Kaveh’s forehead. He looks Kaveh in the eyes, his gaze scrutinising, as though examining something.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

“…Tighnari,” Kaveh mumbles, after a moment.

A small smile graces Tighnari’s lips. “Good. That’s good.”

He leans back again. He goes to say something more, but then the curtains swish, and someone else enters. Kaveh squints, wincing at the light that briefly pours inside. His hand flies up to his head, and he sucks in a sharp breath. The beige ceiling spins above him.

Tighnari pipes up. “Ah, Alhaitham. You got my message, then.”

“I did.”

It takes a moment for Kaveh to process the words. When he does, he lowers his head slightly, his fuzzy gaze landing on the turquoise figure looming at the end of his bed.

“…Alhaitham?” he utters.

“That’s good,” Tighnari comments, “he recognises you too.”

The figure remains still for a moment. Then, he rounds the other side of Kaveh’s bed, looking down at him with sharp eyes.

“What’s the situation?” he asks.

“From my assessment, he seems to have sustained a severe concussion. Headaches, vomiting, light and noise sensitivity, confusion, and memory problems…these are all symptoms you might typically find in a case of this severity. At the moment, I’m just monitoring for any further developments.”

Alhaitham seems to turn the words over in his head for a moment. “I see.“

There’s a burst of noise and chatter beyond the curtain, a blurry commotion that makes Kaveh groan and press his hands to his ears. The pressure, however, only serves to make his headache ratchet up in severity, with an accompanying ringing in his ears that’s so shrill it might as well be stabbing through his skull.

The curtains are drawn open, and the light pierces right through him, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut tightly.

“Mister Tighnari? My apologies for the commotion, a new patient has arrived that requires urgent care. I have the medicine here.”

There’s a pause.

“Yes, this will do nicely. Thank you, Zakariya.”

“Of course. Please excuse me, I believe my assistance is required outside.”

The curtains swish, and are promptly drawn shut once more, leaving the room blissfully dark. Of course, the bliss is short-lived, because a series of loud, urgent exchanges erupt again just outside that twist into his skull, pounding fiercely behind his forehead.

There’s a hand on his forearm, cool and firm.

“Kaveh, do you think you could sit up so you can take this medicine?” Tighnari asks.

A whimper squeezes from his throat at the thought. He shakes his head, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

“Please, don’t make me,” he begs, the words sounding disjointed in his ears.

Tighnari sighs, not unkindly. “I’m not forcing you, but this is important. It’ll help with your headache. It might not be pleasant initially, but it’ll be worth it.”

Tears begin to sting at Kaveh’s eyes. He doesn’t like this — he’s in an unfamiliar bed, with lights that are too bright, sounds that are too loud, and everything is too much.

Every thought that flits across his conscious mind evaporates, leaving no trace. He can’t even remember the name of the man who had given Tighnari that medicine a minute ago.

His vision blurs, tears gathering along his lashes as despair seizes up inside his chest. There’s so much he should know, that he should be able to think, and remember, and say. But it’s all just beyond his reach, leaving him to grab desperately at smoke.

“He’s quicker to tears than usual,” Alhaitham notes. “I’ve read that concussions can cause emotional volatility, amplifying negative emotions in particular.”

Tears begin to drip down Kaveh’s face. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, breaths shuddering slightly.

Tighnari sighs, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “Let’s refrain from making observations like that out loud for the time being, Alhaitham.”

“It’s not a judgemental observation — it’s entirely factual.” He pauses. “In any case, you mentioned a sensitivity to noise earlier, didn’t you?”

“That’s right. Unfortunately, we can’t control the environment here…if we were at Gandharva Ville, we’d have far more peace and quiet.”

“Which is exactly why I have these.”

As Kaveh registers the words, he slowly lowers his hands away from his face, directing his fuzzy gaze toward the earpieces in Alhaitham’s hand.

“The noise in the city is…let’s just say, too much for my tastes. I’ve found these to be rather effective.”

Alhaitham turns, meeting Kaveh’s gaze as he extends the earpieces to him.

Kaveh blinks, dazed, before reaching out to accept the earpieces. Unfortunately, he misjudges the distance, and the earpieces slip right through his fingers, landing on the bed.

“…Sorry,” he says after a moment.

“It’s fine. Hold still.”

Alhaitham picks up the earpieces, tilting Kaveh’s head gently. Deft fingers brush his hair aside and slot one of the earpieces in. Then, he tilts Kaveh’s head to the right, slotting the other earpiece in. The difference is almost astounding — Alhaitham’s voice is muffled yet audible, while the rest of the ambient noise and bustle outside has totally vanished.

Kaveh sinks back onto the bed, breathing in deeply. A tap on his shoulder pulls him from his temporary reverie.

“Is that better?” comes Alhaitham’s voice, filtering through much more quietly than better.

Kaveh nods. There’s still a throbbing ache radiating from behind his forehead, but it is no longer inflamed every few seconds by ceaseless noise. His eyes start to flutter shut of their own accord, but then he feels Tighnari’s hand on his forearm again.

“Come on, Kaveh. Let’s sit up now so you can have this medicine.”

A plaintive whine escapes him as he moves to turn over. “I wanna sleep,” he protests.

Tighnari tuts. “That’s not a good idea right now. I’d still like to monitor your symptoms, and see how you respond to the medicine. You should stay awake a bit longer.”

Kaveh deflates with resignation, sinking into the bed. After a long moment, he reluctantly begins to lift his head.

“Very good,” says Tighnari, as he settles a hand on Kaveh’s back, helping him sit up.

The motion, however slow it is, still has nausea churning dangerously in his gut. He exhales once he’s sitting upright, a wounded sound squeezing from his throat.

“There. Good, Kaveh. This won’t take long.”

As Tighnari shifts, preparing to help Kaveh drink the medicine, Alhaitham clears his throat.

“I’ll be going now,” he says.

Tighnari frowns. “Already? That seems a bit abrupt.”

“I just have to make a trip to the Library of Daena, that’s all. Besides, his condition appears to be stable, and it would seem that you have things under control for the time being.”

“Alright then. I’ll be staying here for a couple of hours at least. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

Alhaitham nods in acknowledgement. “Good. Then, I’ll see you.”

As he exits the room, he takes care to open the curtains the least amount physically possible. Kaveh lets his mind switch off as he drinks the medicine, succumbing entirely to the fog.

He isn’t sure how many hours pass before he wakes up again. The flow of time seems rather nebulous and hard to follow clearly. There’s sunlight peeking into his room beneath the curtains, which means it must be the same day. Or the next day. Or the day after that. To be honest, he isn’t so sure.

“Good. You’re awake.”

Kaveh squints, eyes gradually adjusting as he lifts his head to see Alhaitham sitting on the chair beside his bed. There’s a frankly ridiculous stack of books piled up on the floor beside him. Once he has Kaveh’s attention, he carefully slots a bookmark into the book on his lap and sets it aside.

“Where’s Tighnari?” Kaveh asks, focusing hard to get the syllables correct. Perhaps he overenunciates.

“Out running a few errands in the city. He requested that I stay here and watch over you, and seemed rather unimpressed with my suggestion that a job like that could be left to the medical staff. He seemed to theorise that having a familiar face here may be helpful for you. I’m still not entirely sold on his line of reasoning. In any case, I have a free day, and I was planning on reading anyway.“

Kaveh blinks. Swallows. His throat is a bit dry, but his headache seems to have receded into a dull pressure for the time being. He reaches up and carefully removes the earpieces Alhaitham had given him, relieved to find that all of the bustle outside has lessened.

“Do you remember anything about what happened to you?” Alhaitham asks.

Kaveh inhales deeply, closing his eyes. He tries to remember, he really tries, but he’s once again left grasping at something just out of reach.

He opens his eyes again. “No. I don’t.”

“Do you know what month it is?”

Kaveh wracks his brain, and comes up totally blank once again. Frustration surges in his chest.

“No,” he says.

“Alright. Do you know where you are?”

Kaveh clenches his jaw, which is a mistake, because the tension has pain lancing through his head, coiling inside his skull. His hands fly up to cover his eyes, and he shakes his head jerkily.

“Breathe, Kaveh. You’re letting frustration get the better of you. Look around and tell me what you see.”

He shakes his head again, fingers tightening over his face until they tremble, until they make hot pain radiate across his forehead.

Why can’t he answer the most basic questions?

For a moment, only his harsh breaths fill the room. Then, a hand closes over his, pulling it away from his face.

“What do you see?” Alhaitham repeats.

Kaveh reluctantly starts to cast his gaze across the room.

“The bed,” he mumbles.

“Good. What else?”

“The — chair. Your books.”

“And?”

“The stool. The bowl of medicine.”

“Good. Anything else?”

“The curtains…” Kaveh trails off, eyes narrowing.

Slowly, as his gaze flits about the room, the tangled ends start to come together, resembling something vaguely familiar.

“The Bimarstan,” he says in a rush. “The Bimarstan in Sumeru City. That’s where we are.”

Alhaitham nods approvingly, smiling slightly. “Good. There still appear to be gaps in your memory and knowledge, but you are able to take environmental clues that exist in the present moment and use them to draw conclusions — a positive development. I’ll let Tighnari know.”

Kaveh smiles, a certain warmth glowing inside him at the approval.

He’s still fuzzy on the exact details, but he gets the intuitive impression that approval from Alhaitham is hard to come by. A chaotic jumble of memories swarm in, derisive words, heated exchanges and a feeling of frustration so intense that it burns.

His eyes find Alhaitham again, who appears to have returned to reading his book and is seemingly no longer paying him any mind. Kaveh supposes that he’d stayed true to Tighnari’s request, and sees no need to entertain conversation beyond gathering occasional updates on Kaveh’s condition.

He deflates against the pillow, casting his gaze toward the ceiling.

A few long seconds — or, minutes, maybe, pass before the silence starts to become oppressive.

“What are you reading?” Kaveh asks abruptly.

Ahaitham doesn’t look up. “A book by an Amurta scholar who catalogued various types of brain injuries. More specifically, I’m reading the section on concussions.”

Kaveh takes a moment to process the words.

“Oh,” he says. “…And the other books?”

“A few books on the anatomy of the brain, and a few on psychology. There’s one by a Vahumana scholar who debunks a colleague’s categorisation of human personalities rather extensively. Some of his arguments are flawed, but it’s an interesting read nonetheless.”

Alhaitham turns to a new page, eyes flitting across it rapidly.

Kaveh watches him for a moment. “Could I read one?” he asks.

“…That would be a bad idea. Tighnari specifically stipulated that you shouldn’t engage in activities that require too much brainpower lest it hinder your recovery, and I’m inclined to agree with his assessment for the time being.”

He returns to his reading without further comment. Kaveh huffs, rolling over onto his side, and facing away from Alhaitham.

He feels useless — all this knowledge that hovers at the very edges of his consciousness that he can’t reach, a vague impression of all the responsibilities that he’s neglecting that he can’t do anything with.

Kaveh thinks for a moment, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

Buildings flit through his head, familiar in a way that he can’t pinpoint. A bin filled with crumpled construction paper, a green glow emanating from a holographic figure.

Designs.

He still has designs to finish.

But how many? When are they due by? What even are they?

Kaveh scrubs a hand over his face, presses his lips together, and goddamnit, he wants to cry again.

Alhaitham must sense this, because he speaks up.

“There’s no need to be upset,” he says, in an infuriatingly reasonable tone.

There’s the sound of another page being turned.

“I’m not upset,” Kaveh insists, drawing further into himself and curling into the corner of the pillow.

“Your actions and demeanour suggest otherwise.”

“Not upset,” Kaveh reiterates, sniffling.

His head hurts, and Alhaitham is being annoying, and it’s not fair.

There’s a pause.

“Kaveh, do you remember how old you are?”

Kaveh blinks at the non-sequitur, confusion clouding over his irritation for a moment.

“I’m twenty…something.”

“Interesting.” Another pause. “And how old do you feel? ”

He frowns, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t know,” he says, a bit apologetically.

“That’s fine. I was just curious.”

Alhaitham closes his book with a soft thud, and his chair scrapes across the floor as he pulls it closer to the bed, making a wince twist across Kaveh’s face.

“Can you turn over?” Alhaitham asks.

Kaveh pouts slightly, but follows the instruction regardless, shifting so that he can roll over onto his other side. Alhaitham regards him with scrutiny, eyes flitting over his face. He places a hand on Kaveh’s forehead, then pulls it away after a moment.

“Look at me,” he requests, and Kaveh does, tipping his head up to meet the man’s gaze.

Alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly as they peer back. It’s hard to tell what thoughts are running through his head, but…that’s not unusual. He’s a difficult person to read, even under ideal conditions.

“What are you doing?” Kaveh asks.

“Just making sure I didn’t miss anything.”

He’s checking for more symptoms? Is that all?

“Is there something wrong with me?” Kaveh asks, softer now.

Alhaitham looks at him for a moment, considering. “No. Apart from the concussion, that is. But you’re already showing improvements in that regard.“

Kaveh sighs. “I feel confused.”

“That’s not unexpected. It’s a rather common symptom.” He pauses. “…But, I can imagine it would feel somewhat disorienting regardless.”

“Mmm.” Kaveh looks up at him. “Haitham?”

“What is it?”

“Would…would it count if you read to me? Would Tighnari be mad?”

A faint smile ghosts across Alhaitham’s face. “Tighnari suggested that you should take some more medicine once you woke up. Perhaps, if you do that, I’ll see what I can do.”

Kaveh considers this proposal for a few moments. “Okay.”

Alhaitham leans over toward the stool, grabbing the medicine bowl and offering it to Kaveh. Kaveh takes it somewhat reluctantly, cringing slightly as he begins to take sips from it. It takes him a few minutes to get all of it down, but once he does, he extends it back toward Alhaitham.

“Done!”

Alhaitham nods approvingly and sets the bowl aside. “Good job.”

Kaveh beams, warmth expanding in his chest. There’s a strange comfort in the blurriness he feels now, different to the chaos and overwhelm from earlier.

He watches as Alhaitham stands, lifting his entire stack of books and carefully laying them out at the foot of Kaveh’s bed.

“You can choose one,” he says. “I don’t particularly have a preference.”

Kaveh sits up, shuffling toward the end of the bed and squinting as he scans over each title. They’re all long and somewhat perplexing. Eventually, he points toward one at random, and directs a questioning look at Alhaitham.

“Fine by me,” Alhaitham says, as he sets about gathering up the rest of the books and putting them away once more. Once he’s done, he sits back down in his chair.

“You should lay down,” he suggests.

Kaveh obliges, scooting backward on the bed and carefully lowering his head back against the pillow.

“Alright,” Alhaitham says, as he opens up the book Kaveh had selected. He clears his throat. “Chapter One: The Origins of Neuroscience.”

Kaveh makes it about halfway through the first chapter. It might been a product of his his dazed, semi-conscious brain, but somewhere in the fog he thinks he feels the thin bimarstan blanket that had been rumpled at the end of his bed being carefully pulled up to his shoulders.

There’s a relieving clarity to Kaveh’s thoughts when he next comes to consciousness. Darkness gathers at the edges of his room, and it’s clear that dusk has fallen. Tighnari and Alhaitham stand at the foot of his bed, their conversation coming to a halt when they hear a rustling of sheets as Kaveh sits up.

Alhaitham is the first to speak.

“Do you—“

Kaveh cuts in before he can finish the question. “I hit my head during an unexpected confrontation while Tighnari and I were making the trek to Sumeru City from Gandharva Ville. We were heading there after his ecology lecture, which I spoke at. It’s May, and I’m at the Bimarstan in Sumeru City.”

Tighnari nods, a tinge of relief in his expression. “And what do you do for work?”

“I’m an architect. I create architectural designs for clients on a freelance basis.” He sighs. “I have three designs due at the end of this week.”

Tighnari nods again. “That’s a marked improvement, especially compared to when you first regained consciousness. Without being too hasty, it would appear as though most of the confusion has come to pass.“

“He’s even regained his affinity for interrupting me,” Alhaitham remarks. “A promising development, indeed.”

Kaveh very much intends to respond to that particular comment, but Tighnari jumps in just as he’s about to do.

“Before we get too excited, are you still experiencing any physical symptoms, Kaveh? Headaches, neck pain, nausea, anything like that?”

Kaveh considers this. He still feels slightly unbalanced in a way that’s hard to pinpoint, as though something still isn’t quite right, but the throbbing, all-consuming pain from earlier doesn’t seem to have resurfaced.

“Not at the moment, no. I suppose…hm, how do I describe this…you know that sensation you have before a headache comes on? That’s sort of how I feel now.”

Tighnari nods. “I expect that you’ll continue to experience intermittent headaches over the next week or so. The most we can do in that regard is ensure you’re regularly taking your medicine. But, if that’s all, then you should be alright to be discharged from the Bimarstan soon, with the only caveat being that someone should be there with you for tonight to closely monitor your condition. I would be more than happy to accompany you.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Alhaitham says, “you mentioned to me earlier that you have forest ranger schedules to write and a lesson with Collei planned this evening. You are far better served attending to those things. I am more than capable of keeping an eye on Kaveh.”

Tighnari looks over at him, eyes narrowed. “Are you sure about this, Alhaitham? This will require active monitoring, at least for tonight — missing any sign of worsening symptoms could be dangerous. No holing away with a book.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Alhaitham says, “like I said, I am more than capable of keeping an eye on him. In any case, Kaveh and I live together, so this arrangement makes far more practical sense.”

Kaveh groans, raising a hand to his forehead. “He’s right, Tighnari. You have done more than enough for me today, and I’m very grateful — you should return to Gandharva Ville before it gets too dark. I’ll be fine here.”

Tighnari nods, looking between them for a moment. “If you’re sure. Just look after yourself, alright? Don’t stress yourself out too much, and don’t over-exert yourself, physically or mentally.” He directs a pointed look at Alhaitham. “Speaking of which, you shouldn’t wind him up, either. Feeling frustrated and on edge will only hinder his recovery.”

Kaveh can’t help the smug smile that comes to his lips. “You hear that, Alhaitham? He’s asking you to summon up a modicum of respect for your senior. That won’t be too difficult for you, will it?”

“Not if my senior behaves in a manner deserving of that respect,” Alhaitham remarks.

“Seriously? You—“

Tighnari winces. “You know what? I’ll take my leave now. I’ll be in touch over the next few days to see how things are going. Zakariya will give you some advice for managing your symptoms and what you should avoid when he officially discharges you.”

Kaveh nods. “Thank you, Tighnari. I really do appreciate your help with all of this, and I’m sorry if this has been inconvenient for you. Let me buy you a drink sometime to make up for it.”

“Don’t think of this as requiring some sort of repayment. I’m just looking out for a friend, that’s all.” He pauses. “Though, if you really want to go out for drinks, we should wait until you’ve fully recovered — no alcohol for a week, at least.”

Kaveh heaves a sigh. “Alright. Understood. Thanks again, Tighnari.”

The good thing about living in Sumeru City is that the local Bimarstan is never a very far walk. That is, if you’re not taking care to avidly avoid anyone you might possibly know. Alhaitham tells Kaveh that he’s being needlessly paranoid, and that caring so much about being seen walking home together is pointless, but Kaveh begs to differ.

“You might not possess one scrap of shame, but I don’t need word going around about my unfortunate incident today. I mean, really, who sustains injuries from fighting a couple of fungi in the rainforest?”

“Objectively, anyone can hit their head the wrong way during a fight, regardless of the enemy,” Alhaitham remarks. “Besides, using all these random side streets and acting paranoid will only make people more suspicious.”

He’s making it sound entirely too reasonable, Kaveh thinks. Alhaitham doesn’t understand the first thing about cultivating a reputation, but that’s hardly a new facet of his personality, so Kaveh shouldn’t be surprised.

As it turns out, he might’ve been right to be cautious, because taking the scenic route home allows Kaveh to lay eyes on architecture around the city he doesn’t get to see as often. The quiet atmosphere also makes it far easier to bask in the pale moonlight, the leaves of all the trees made to look like shimmering jewels. There’s an undeniable artistry to the sight that makes Kaveh let out a wistful sigh as they reach Alhaitham’s front door.

The peace doesn’t last very long, however, because the moment they step inside Alhaitham is quick to try and usher Kaveh to the couch, informing him that he’s due for another round of medicine.

Kaveh huffs, and lingers stubbornly by the doorway. He may be injured, but he’s still Alhaitham’s senior.

“I hope you realise that I’m concussed, not incapable.”

Alhaitham, who’s in the process of transferring bags with various herbs to the kitchen, turns to face him. His eyebrows are raised. “I’m quite aware of that. Sit down, please. Or do you want Tighnari thinking that I’m incapable of supervising you?”

The frustration that flashes through Kaveh feels like second nature. Somehow,  Alhaitham manages to maintain his infuriatingly superior disposition, even while lending his assistance.

“Why are you helping me, anyway?” Kaveh asks. “It’s uncharacteristic of you.”

Alhaitham slings the bag of herbs over his shoulder, as though settling in for some kind of argument. He lets out a sigh.

“I wouldn’t want you to over-extend yourself trying to understand my reasoning.”

Kaveh puts his hands on his hips, levelling Alhaitham with a flat look.

After a moment, Alhaitham clears his throat. “…It’s true that I would much rather Tighnari be assisting Collei than monitoring your symptoms, which I am perfectly capable of doing myself. Besides, you live with me. This whole debacle is rather unavoidable, either way.”

Debacle.

Kaveh scoffs. Whenever he feels like he’s just on the cusp of expressing any appreciation toward Alhaitham, the other man says or does something that keeps the words perpetually trapped in Kaveh’s throat.

He nods in resignation. “This is just my luck,” he mutters to himself.

Kaveh turns, then, entering the living room and settling on one of their couches. He hears Alhaitham’s footsteps as they track the hall and disappear into the kitchen, becoming slightly muffled. Something like regret takes shape inside of him, sharp and bitter. Second nature, once again.

It is undeniable that Alhaitham has given over a good part of his day to watch over Kaveh and monitor his well-being, after all. Kaveh knows plenty of people, but only a select few who would do something like that for him. Even less who Kaveh would allow to do something like that for him in the first place.

If it were anyone else who entered the living room, carefully carrying a cup of medicine and pressing it into Kaveh’s hands, he’d feel guilty in an instant. As it stands, Kaveh just barely manages to choke out a small “thank you” as he accepts the cup, fingers wrapping around warm ceramic.

Their living room is flooded with warm light, emanating from the lamps that Kaveh had painstakingly selected. They gently ward away the encroaching darkness, and he finds himself feeling even more grateful for his selection than usual. He shudders slightly at the thought of those harsh lights at the Bimarstan.

The couch dips slightly as Alhaitham sits down beside him, eyes lingering on Kaveh for a moment.

“Zakariya said that you’re allowed to undertake certain activities, so long as they don’t require too much brainpower.”

Kaveh heaves a sigh. “I suppose that means my designs are off-limits.”

“For a few days,” Alhaitham agrees, “in any case, considering your attitude to your work and your clients’ demands, I highly doubt that it will be conducive to your recovery. It’ll only wind you up.”

For his own sanity, Kaveh ignores the part about his attitude.

“I have three designs due at the end of this week. I’ll have to let those clients know.” He barely suppresses a groan. “I hope they don’t spread the information. I really don’t need people knowing about this.”

There’s a certain tightness in Alhaitham’s expression, as though he wants to say something but is restraining himself. A very rare occurrence, Kaveh thinks.

“You can worry about that tomorrow,” Alhaitham seems to settle on, “trying to locate your clients at this time of night would be pointless, and Tighnari was very adamant that you should be taking the time to recuperate.”

Kaveh considers this for a moment, absently tracing his fingers along the edge of his cup. “Maybe I’ll draw. It’s been a while since I’ve drawn anything that isn’t a blueprint.”

He looks toward Alhaitham, as though he needs to get his approval.

Alhaitham nods blandly, standing up from the couch. “Fine by me. I’m going to start on dinner, so I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

And, just like that, Alhaitham leaves the room.

Kaveh remains seated on the couch as he finishes the medicine, eyes gravitating toward the darkened world beyond their windows. Through the warmth of the reflected light, he can make out the shape of the Divine Tree, gnarly branches and green moss. Eventually, he sets his cup down and lowers himself to the floor, extracting his drawing supplies from the coffee table drawer.

Usually, Kaveh finds himself obsessing over the finer details of his drawings, a precise combination of aesthetic appeal and realistic proportions. Of course, attention to detail is important in his work, but this sentiment tends to bleed into his drawings for leisure, an underlying pressure for perfection.

Now, he finds himself drawing with a certain absent-mindedness, eyes drifting up to the windows occasionally. On the page, lines spill over one another, forming buildings with wild proportions, branching trees and clashing colours.

His mother’s voice flits across his mind — “It’s very nice, Kaveh. Here, why don’t I help you with the next one?” — fond, indulgent, kind. Somewhere amidst the haze of memory and the lines of his drawing, Kaveh loses himself.

A sharp clack pierces through the silence, the sound of ceramic meeting the polished wood of their coffee table. Kaveh looks up sharply, eyes finding Alhaitham’s as he takes a seat on the pillow opposite him, holding a bowl and a spoon in his hands.

“I thought you didn’t like soup,” Kaveh says, gaze falling to the steaming bowl on his left.

Alhaitham lets out a small huff as he sets his bowl on the coffee table.

“…I never said that. Soup is an inconvenient dish to consume while reading, that’s all.” He pauses. “You like soup, which was a more significant factor in my decision.”

Kaveh takes a moment to set his sketchbook aside, sliding the soup in front of him.

“Thank you,” he says. It comes out a bit easier this time.

Alhaitham nods, and doesn’t say anything further. Silence settles in the space between them, interspersed with the occasional metallic clink of spoons scraping the bottom of their bowls.

Kaveh hadn’t realised quite how hungry he was until the first spoonful of soup flowed across his tastebuds. He hadn’t eaten anything that day since the breakfast he and Tighnari shared in the Avidya Forest. Unfortunately for him, it seems that despite his hunger, his body isn’t quite prepared for the influx of food. Nausea starts to churn in his stomach about halfway through his meal, a stifling warmth washing over him.

The queasy feeling only grows from there, builds until his palms are clammy and he can feel himself trembling slightly. The headache that had lingered on the periphery of his mind finally rears its head once more, pounding fiercely behind his forehead with each heartbeat. He stands abruptly, blinking rapidly and trying hard to steady himself.

Alhaitham is up in an instant, rounding the coffee table. His eyes are sharp, sweeping Kaveh’s form.

“Your head?” He questions.

“I—“ Kaveh cuts himself off, clutching at his stomach as it gives another terrible lurch.

He turns abruptly and makes for the bathroom, sweat prickling along his hairline. His surroundings pass in a blur as he throws open the door and collapses unceremoniously to his knees, retching over the toilet bowl. Bile burns along his throat, but he doesn’t quite throw up. The queasy feeling is starting to verge on painful, now, tightening inside his stomach. The next wave comes quickly, and this time his world tilts dizzyingly as he leans over and empties the contents of his stomach. Distantly, he registers his hair being pulled away from his face.

After a few minutes, he slumps backward, against the wall. The grooved tiles beneath him are cold and hard, the pressure bordering on uncomfortable, but he can’t bring himself to get up just yet. There’s a distinct and immediate relief now that his stomach has been emptied, the overwhelming nausea receding into a faint feeling of queasiness, but the pounding in his head continues.

When he focuses his gaze, he finds a pair of turquoise eyes looking into his own. Alhaitham hovers in front of him, carefully appraising him. A despairing whimper cuts through the silence, and Kaveh is horrified to realise that it had come from him.

Alhaitham settles a hand on his forehead, keeping it there for a moment before sliding it down to cup the side of his face. His thumb brushes along Kaveh’s cheek, just once. His hand feels cool against Kaveh’s skin, and Kaveh feels himself swaying into the contact before he can stop himself.

“Nausea and a headache?” Alhaitham surmises.

Kaveh nods. His bottom lip trembles.

“Is there anything else?” Alhaitham asks.

Tears sting at Kaveh’s eyes, and he looks down at his lap, away from the gaze that’s dissecting him in a manner that’s entirely too unfeeling. He’s still trembling slightly, and it’s hard to put words to the distinct unbalance he feels, like everything is wrong somehow.

“Just…feel bad,” he mumbles.

Alhaitham withdraws his hand. There’s a moment of silence.

“These appear to be normal symptoms — to be expected in recovery from a concussion that is — but we’ll continue to monitor for any further developments. I’ll touch base with Zakariya tomorrow morning.”

Kaveh nods, and his next exhale shudders slightly. He forces down the whine that wants to crawl up his throat, tugs at his sleeves restlessly. His thoughts travel at a sluggish pace, caught in a fog that feels different to the one that had shrouded his mind at the Bimarstan.

“You should take a shower or a bath. I can wait outside, in case something urgent comes up, symptoms-wise,” Alhaitham says.

“Okay,” Kaveh forces out, keeping his gaze firmly on his hands. His headache has lessened slightly from its fever pitch, but it’s a lingering presence, a dull throb.

He doesn’t make any move to get up. The pause that follows feels stifling, one moment stretching uncomfortably into the next.

Then, eventually—

“Can you look at me, Kaveh?”

After some brief reluctance, Kaveh acquiesces, lifting his head slowly to meet Alhaitham’s eyes. They still possess a scrutinising spark, but they seem softer now, somehow.

“How do you feel?” Alhaitham asks carefully.

Clearly, he’s not asking about physical symptoms now. Kaveh presses his lips together, presses his fingernails into his palms until they leave purpling crescent marks in their wake.

“I don’t know.” He hesitates. “Confused.”

“The way you felt at the Bimarstan this afternoon?” Alhaitham supplies. “When I read you the book on Neuroscience?”

Kaveh squints as he tries to recall the instance Alhaitham is referring to. The memories are somewhat fragmented, but the picture they paint is clear. Something freezes inside his chest as it comes together.

For a long moment, he stares at the bathroom wall over Alhaitham’s shoulder, trying to parse out how he feels.

The only thing he can come up with is that— well.

He just feels small.

Kaveh hears a sigh from Alhaitham, and his gaze snaps over to him.

“It’s fine, Kaveh,” he says, with a glimmer in his eyes like he knows, because of course he does. He always has to know, especially when it comes to Kaveh. He always has to see through him, pierce to the very depths of him.

Kaveh hates it. He hates it, he hates it, he—

He takes a deep breath, and it breaks apart around the edges.

He’s so grateful for it.

Alhaitham studies him for a moment, and maybe he sees something that makes his expression soften imperceptibly, or maybe it’s just a trick of the light. Either way, he extends his arms like an offering, opens up a space for Kaveh to collapse into, and he does.

It’s as if all of his strings have been cut, and he crumbles against Allhaitham, his cheek landing on his chest and his arms winding around Alhaitham’s waist. He presses in until there are no gaps between them, aided by Alhaitham’s hands on his back drawing him in. A few tears drip down his cheeks, and Kaveh is sure that Alhaitham hears the way his breaths shudder amidst the quiet in the room, but he doesn’t draw attention to it.

He thinks he should be more embarrassed, but it feels so good being tucked up against Alhaitham like this. His presence is quiet and steady, enough that Kaveh could crumble to pieces without uprooting him, without bringing Alhaitham down with him. On his next exhale he melts a bit more, leaning his weight fully into the embrace.

They linger there for a short stretch of time, their faint breaths heard in the otherwise quiet bathroom.

Eventually, Alhaitham clears his throat. “You should still take a bath,” he says.

Kaveh lets his dissatisfaction with that idea be known by giving a small whine and tightening his arms around Alhaitham.

There’s a sigh above him. “You’ll feel better,” Alhaitham insists.

Kaveh gazes at the bathroom wall for a moment. Eventually, he lifts his head to meet Alhaitham’s eye.

“I guess,” he says, a bit surprised at how soft the words sound in his ears.

There’s a pause. Alhaitham gazes down at him, considering.

“Do you want me to help you?” he asks, straight to the point.

A grimace twists across Kaveh’s face, and he lowers his head, settling his cheek back on Alhaitham’s chest.

“Y’ don’t have to,” he mumbles, putting a bit less effort into enunciating than he normally would.

“I know that,” comes Alhaitham’s steady response.

If it had been anyone else, Kaveh would struggle to believe them. But, this is Alhaitham, who would sooner burn all of his books than do something he doesn’t want to do. The thought has a bit more tension bleeding from Kaveh’s shoulders on his next exhale, and he shuts his eyes for a moment, lets the fog seep in further.

He turns his head and nods into Alhaitham’s chest.

“Please,” he says, in a whisper.

Alhaitham draws away slightly, eyes sweeping Kaveh’s expression. He appears to find what he’s searching for, because he nods.

“Alright. Come on, then.”

He draws away entirely and stands up, extending a hand to Kaveh. Kaveh takes his hand and, with some effort, hauls himself to his feet, swaying slightly. As soon as he’s steady, Alhaitham walks over to the bathtub, turning the tap on and taking a moment to adjust the temperature. The sound of rushing water fills the bathroom as Alhaitham scoops up a towel from the cabinet, turning back to Kaveh.

“I’ll get some clothes to change into,” he says simply.

Kaveh nods, and his eyes follow Alhaitham as he crosses the bathroom and enters the hallway. He hums a bit, tugging at his sleeves in an attempt to self-soothe. His eyes wander across the room, eventually fixating on the water as it flows into the tub. Droplets of water splash up occasionally, landing on the ledges. He watches, entranced, until Alhaitham enters the bathroom once more, holding a folded pile of clothes. He sets the pile down next to the sink, approaching Kaveh.

“Do you need help getting out of your clothes?” he asks.

Kaveh hesitates. “Mhm,” he says, finding it difficult to meet Alhaitham’s gaze.

Alhaitham steps forth, close enough that Kaveh has to turn his head at an awkward angle just to keep avoiding his eye. He feels vulnerable, flayed open.

“It’s fine, Kaveh,” Alhaitham says once more, a bit softer now.

Miraculously enough, Kaveh believes him. His shoulders slump slightly, and a rush of air escapes his lungs. He nods, more certain now, which seems to satisfy Alhaitham.

“Tell me what you see in the room,” Alhaitham prods, as he raises his hand to Kaveh’s linen shirt, starting on the buttons.

Kaveh’s brows furrow slightly. “Doin’ a test?”

“No, not a test. Grounding.” He pauses, fiddling with a stubborn button. “I’m generally sceptical of research in the field of psychology, but the evidence overwhelmingly seems to suggest that it has a calming effect.”

Kaveh blinks, his mind working overtime to try and process those words. After a moment, his eyes slide to the bathtub again, which is filling up rapidly.

“Um. The tub,” he says.

“Good,” Alhaitham says. “What else?”

“The…water? The sink. The shower…the shampoo.”

“Very good,” Alhaitham praises. “Now, arms up.”

Kaveh lifts his arms, and Alhaitham lifts the shirt up over his head. The fabric brushes along his face and musses up his hair, leaving him blinking rapidly as Alhaitham reaches over to drop his shirt into the laundry basket. A certain amusement sparks in his eyes as they return to Kaveh, and he reaches out to smooth Kaveh’s hair back down in a few quick motions.

Kaveh continues listing just about every item he can see, taking his task very seriously, until his clothes are shed and the bathtub is full.

“And…oh, and, and you,” Kaveh finishes, which earns him a rare smile.

Alhaitham approaches the bathtub, reaching over to shut off the tap. He tests the temperature of the water with his fingertips, seemingly satisfied.

“Alright,” he says, gesturing Kaveh forth.

Kaveh approaches, and Alhaitham settles a hand on his back and a hand on his forearm. He steadies Kaveh as he steps into the tub, slowly lowering himself down. The water swishes slightly at the motion, and Kaveh lets out a small hum as he sits down. The water holds a pleasant warmth that seeps beneath his skin, settles and expands inside his chest. He finds himself letting go of a bit more tension, and is slightly surprised at the realisation that his headache has receded significantly. He’d barely noticed its absence.

When he manages to pull himself from his brief reverie and look over at Alhaitham, the man is peering down at the labels for a few bottles of Kaveh’s water-soluble dye. He’d brought it a long time ago, but it hasn’t seen much use — his work often leaves him pressed for time and energy, and showers are less demanding on both fronts.

Still, he can’t help the smile that comes to his lips at the sight.

“Purple?” he questions hopefully.

Alhaitham looks up. “Sure,” he says.

Kaveh watches as he selects the purple bottle and sets aside the other colours, squeezing some of the solution into the tub. Kaveh watches in wonder as the purple dye licks across the surface of the water and starts to spread, at first in thin tendrils. As it dissipates, the water turns a vibrant purple, and Kaveh practically vibrates with excitement. He splashes his hand about, raising it and then letting it fall with perhaps a bit too much force, because water ends up sloshing onto Alhaitham’s pants.

Alhaitham’s eyebrows raise, and Kaveh quickly lifts a hand to his mouth.

“Oops,” he says.

Alhaitham huffs and shrugs off his jacket, setting it aside in a seeming attempt to preserve it.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Just be gentle.”

Kaveh nods rapidly, and makes a point to only splash very gently, enough to produce ripples in the water but not enough to splash. Like a mouse, he thinks, which brings a small smile to his face.

As he plays, Alhaitham sets himself up on a stool beside the tub, his eyes scanning over the instructions for Kaveh’s usual shampoo and conditioner. He seems to decide that it’s nothing out of the ordinary, because he picks up the shampoo and shuffles closer.

“Kaveh, can you lean this way?”

Kaveh absently follows the instruction, leaning towards Alhaitham whilst still keeping his eyes on his hand beneath the surface of the water. He lowers it down to the bottom of the tub, before slowly raising it up to the surface, trying to pinpoint the moment when he can start to see it through the purple haze.

Alhaitham starts to massage the shampoo into Kaveh’s hair, his motions careful yet efficient. Once his hair is sufficiently covered in shampoo suds, he draws away.

“Tilt your head back,” he requests, which draws Kaveh’s attention away from the water.

Kaveh follows the instruction, tilting his head backward and closing his eyes.

“Good,” Alhaitham says.

His palm rests on Kaveh’s forehead as he scoops up a bit of water in a cup and slowly starts to rinse the suds from Kaveh’s hair. He leans back again once he’s done, and Kaveh gives a small smile.

“All done,” he says.

“Not yet,” Alhaitham corrects. “We still have the conditioner.”

“Ohh.” Kaveh considers this for a moment, pouting slightly. He wants to get out so that he can keep working on his drawings, but he knows that he needs to be all clean first. Still, he guesses the purple water is fun.

“Okay,” he relents.

He returns to splashing the water about, still keeping his movements gentle, and he hears an amused huff to his right as Alhaitham reaches for the bottle of conditioner.

Alhaitham makes relatively quick work of washing Kaveh, guiding him through the motions with murmured requests. Kaveh’s mind conjures up various stories, and he enacts them using his hands, only feeling slightly forlorn at the lack of toys. He balls one hand into a fist — a pirate ship — and dips one beneath the water — a giant octopus — and kicks his feet a bit to create raging ocean waves, a thunderstorm that leads the pirate ship dangerously astray.

Occasionally, when he’s asked to turn and face Alhaitham, he catches a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth, but it never blooms entirely across his face. Kaveh’s brows furrow slightly at the sight. He thinks that Alhaitham should smile more.

Finally, when Kaveh is just starting to grow bored of the play, Alhaitham stands from his stool.

“Alright. Time to get up.”

Kaveh does so hastily, his feet slipping a bit along the bottom of the tub, which has Alhaitham’s hands flying out in an instant to steady him. He helps Kaveh out of the bathtub, drawing away momentarily to grab the towel he’d selected earlier. It’s soft and fluffy, and Kaveh lets out a pleased little hum as Alhaitham wraps it around his shoulders. Kaveh bunches up the corners of the towel, drawing them up beneath his chin.

“Can I draw?” He asks, as Alhaitham rolls up his sleeve and bends down to drain the water from the tub.

Alhaitham shakes his hand a bit as he straightens again, drying his arm off with a hand towel. “Sure. Once you’re dressed.” He observes Kaveh for a moment, then says, “I saw your drawing from earlier. Are you going to continue it?”

Kaveh can’t help but beam. He didn’t think Alhaitham had looked at his drawing.

“Mm. Maybe.” He says, fidgeting a bit with the edges of his towel. “I kinda wanna make a new one…oh, oh! Maybe you could help me,” he says, rocking up onto his tiptoes.

Alhaitham’s eyes shift away for a moment. He seems to consider his response carefully.

“I personally don’t have much interest in matters of aesthetics or art…or drawing. I think I’m more happy to leave those matters to you.”

“Oh.” The corners of Kaveh’s mouth turn down slightly, and his gaze falls to the floor. “Okay.”

Alhaitham goes to say something more, but before he can, Kaveh bounces upward again. “Oh! I know! I could make a drawing for you.”

Alhaitham nods, a tinge of relief in his expression. “That would be fine. Could you dry yourself a bit so I can help you into your clothes?”

Kaveh nods and hastily begins to pat himself down with the towel, mind racing with ideas for his drawing.

“What’s your favourite colour?” he asks. He runs his towel along his arms one last time before setting it aside.

Alhaitham reaches over for the pile of clothes he’d brought in earlier. “I’ve never considered it in much depth. Like I said, I don’t particularly concern myself with aesthetics.”

At that, Kaveh can’t help but raise his eyebrows.

Never thought about a favourite colour?

Now he’s just being silly.

“ Haitham, ” Kaveh says. He tries to level him with a firm look, but it quickly morphs into a bit of a pout.

One of those half-smiles comes to Alhaitham’s lips. “Hm? What is it?”

Kaveh grumbles a bit as Alhaitham helps him into a pair of pyjama pants. His hand comes up to rest on the man’s shoulder for balance.

“One leg, then the other. Good,” Alhaitham murmurs.

He reaches over for the pyjama shirt next, and Kaveh can’t help but huff.

“Everyone has a favourite colour,” he says, matter-of-factly, folding his arms across his chest.

Alhaitham considers this for a moment, before looking away, visibly schooling a smile.

“Green is fine, as far as colours go,” he says, in his usual monotone.

Kaveh lights up immediately, arms falling back to his sides. “Green! I like green. You can draw lots and lots of things with green, like…hm, like, like trees, and leaves, and frogs…”

He continues listing off various ideas, even as Alhaitham gently begins to pull the shirt down over his head, muffling his voice slightly. He helps Kaveh twist his arms through the sleeves, then gives a final tug to let the shirt fall into place.

“And turtles!” Kaveh finishes, humming. “What do you want in your drawing?” he asks, having given him numerous options.

Alhaitham blinks. Then, he lets out an amused huff. “…I think I’ll let you choose.”

“Really?” Kaveh questions, eyes widening a fraction.

Alhaitham brings a hand up to cup his face, a seemingly absent motion at first, but then the touch lingers, more intentional. He brushes a wet strand of hair away from Kaveh’s face, tucking it behind his ear. On the surface, his expression is neutral, but there’s something fond about it that’s difficult to pinpoint.

“I’m sure your choice will be fine.” He pauses, and his hand stills, hovering just above Kaveh’s cheek. He clears his throat. “Good,” he amends, “It’ll be good. Your drawings always are.”

Kaveh softens. He sways forward, and Alhaitham’s palm settles on his cheek. Suddenly, he feels flayed open again, laid bare. It must translate on his expression, because Alhaitham’s eyes flicker across his face.

“It’s fine, Kaveh,” he says, just like before, and Kaveh nods, because it is. It is fine.

For tonight, it’s fine.