[Any other time, Kaveh's reaction would be predictable. This is a well-worn routine of theirs by now: He forgets his keys, Alhaitham lets him in with a snide remark. Kaveh snaps back as he pushes his way inside, and they bicker, with varying degrees of irritation, as they move around each other with familiar domesticity. Kaveh might get started on dinner while Alhaitham finishes reading an article, or Alhaitham might start making coffee as Kaveh settles at his desk to get to work.
Right now, though, Kaveh can't even process Alhaitham's words. The door opens, and Kaveh realizes that he didn't have a way to get inside--but even that thought is a vague aside, unimportant. No, right now, all of Kaveh's attention is on the man in front of him.
It hadn't hit him, how long it's been since he'd seen Alhaitham, until this moment. Although he spoke of him at times, Kaveh hadn't dared to let himself think about Alhaitham too much--hadn't wanted to face even more painful truths on top of the ones he was already carrying. Certain trains of thought, Kaveh knew, would lead him nowhere good, and Kaveh couldn't afford to break when Ylfa and Haru still needed him.
...They don't need him anymore, though. And now, Alhaitham is standing in front of him, and everything Kaveh pushed away for eight weeks threatens to boil over inside of him.
He looks the same, Kaveh thinks, his eyes darting over Alhaitham's face, searching and just a little urgent. There's nothing out of place in his expression, no signs that he's noticed anything out of the ordinary. (But is that just because Kaveh is so prone to flights of fancy that Alhaitham wouldn't notice if he vanished? Would he care? Why does it hurt so much, the idea that he might not?)
...Oh. He should say something. He opens his mouth, then falters, feeling more lost than he ever has before.]
[ alhaitham is expecting immediate indignance, a puffing of cheeks, a shove in the chest so kaveh can quickly escape inside. they would continue their riveting, tumultuous dance around each other until the late hours of the evening (or even later, if kaveh's latest commissions demanded it). this is nearly always how it goes.
none of it comes. kaveh stares up at him for far too long, with too much intent. alhaitham can only stand there and endure it, confused, and eventually look for the telltale signs that kaveh's already been drinking.
instead, there's an implacable, bone-deep exhaustion in kaveh's eyes that alhaitham's never seen. he's never said alhaitham's name this way before—like he can't believe that he's here in the doorway of his home. ]
Yes? [ he furrows his brow, a small indicator that he's concerned. he gives kaveh another small once-over. ] If you continue to stand here, people will notice you.
[People will notice. Yes, they will, won't they? That... that was important to him. Maybe it still is? It's so hard to say. Towards the end, Kaveh let himself start believing they'd all make it home--but he hadn't really prepared for what that would feel like. There was no time, and even in quiet moments, his thoughts had been occupied by other things. Heavier things, like loss and fate.
When he moves, it's on autopilot. He slips inside, past Alhaitham--none of his aggression present, nor any of the irritability that sometimes accompanies his exhaustion. Mehrak automatically floats to its resting stand just like always, but Kaveh lingers in the entryway, shoulders drawn, staring into the house. It's not unlike the way he behaved when Alhaitham first invited him to live here. Back then, he'd been afraid of touching things, of taking up too much space, of giving Alhaitham any reason to regret his offer. Alhaitham saw him at his most horrible long before he ever made the offer, but Kaveh hadn't wanted to remind him of that.
He's afraid now, too, albeit for very different reasons. And it seems so ridiculous to be so mistrustful of peace and familiarity, so certain that it's going to be taken away--but Kaveh's always been that way, really. Paranoia like this isn't new to him. It's just different, now. Worse, a thousand times over.
He turns back to Alhaitham and reaches out, wordless. He hesitates before he makes contact, but only for a moment before he wraps his fingers around Alhaitham's wrist, drawing it forward between them and studying it with just as much scrutiny as he studied Alhaitham's face.]
[ kaveh doesn't say a word. that's already indicative of something horribly off, horribly wrong. the furrow in alhaitham's brow deepens, his mouth opening to speak, but kaveh brushes past him and inside before another word can leave his mouth. (mehrak turns to its side and slides in after him. alhaitham pays no mind, his attention on arguably more important things.)
with the door closed and locked behind him, alhaitham is left staring at kaveh's back—not for the first time. he recalls it just as kaveh might: kaveh with his few belongings in bags over his shoulders, staring at the emerald windows and piles of books and the chandelier in the vaulted ceiling above the sitting area.
but kaveh seems defeated, somehow: shoulders slack, limbs heavy, surveying the room as if it were a site of ruin. he's only a few steps ahead of alhaitham, yet at the same time, he feels leagues away.
alhaitham finally steps forward, ready to speak, but kaveh turns around before anything can happen. he watches kaveh reach for him, hesitate, and finally study his hand. alhaitham lets him—more out of confusion and curiosity than anything else. he was only out for a day. had he gotten into some trouble with some eremite heretics? was he briefly lost in a ruin? ]
Kaveh.
[ he says it more firmly this time, as if to summon him back to reality. his fingers curl in a little in kaveh's grip. ]
What's gotten into you?
Edited (deleting that part about kaveh shouting bc your tag said he would be very meek at first sorry) 2023-08-15 23:36 (UTC)
[Kaveh doesn't make a habit of studying Alhaitham's hands--but he's more familiar with them than he'd ever admit out loud. If pressed, he'd claim that he's an artist, that he can't help noticing beautiful things, regardless of any other details, like what, or who, they might be attached to. And if he notices the way the light hits Alhaitham's skin when he's not wearing his gloves, or if he sometimes watches the elegant shift of Alhaitham's bones as he writes, engrossed in his notes, if he can't help but spot the smudges of ink that sometimes stain Alhaitham's fingertips--it's just his duty to acknowledge those things, if only to himself.
Regardless of his excuses, he knows Alhaitham's hands. And he knows, even though it feels like it happened a hundred years ago, that they look just the same as they did when he left. There are no new scars, or lines, or ink stains. Nothing at all to show that anything happened while they were apart. No traces of the fact that Alhaitham almost vanished, none the wiser, because Kaveh couldn't face reality until it was too late.
It hits him, then, all at once: He could've lost this. He almost did. Not even just Alhaitham, or this house, or the Palace--all of it. Sumeru. Teyvat. Everything. Everyone. And he didn't, but at the cost of so much blood. So much pain.
He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels tears on his own hand, and suddenly, he's aware of just how tightly he's holding onto Alhaitham's hand. He should let go, he knows--Alhaitham's solidity isn't actually proof that he's real. But his mind latches onto it anyway, and he can't bring himself to pull away.]
...Sorry, I'm sorry--
[He needs to explain. To say something coherent, before Alhaitham thinks he's completely lost his mind. But he can barely speak, his throat tight, burning--his breathing is short, shallow, and all he can string together are apologies.]
[ alhaitham falls silent as he observes the erratic shifts in kaveh's expressions, whether he himself is aware of them or not. the longer he looks at the lines and scars of his hands, the more grave and almost terrified he seems to become. kaveh's grip tightens on his hand, and soon it aches through alhaitham's bones. he should pull away, if only for the possibility that it will snap kaveh out of his reverie. but he doesn't.
because kaveh is unseeing, looking at his hand at something nonexistent, traumatic, horrific. he holds alhaitham's hand like a cleat upon the dock—the only thing that keeps him from going adrift, like he anchors kaveh to home. water drops onto alhaitham's hand and pools in the indents where kaveh presses down on his palm. alhaitham turns his head to look at kaveh's face. he's crying, and apologizing, and slowly beginning to panic.
it will (likely) remain unsaid that kaveh has taught alhaitham innumerable lessons since that day in the house of daena. he applies one such painfully learned lesson here: that at times, dissecting a human's emotions and values and logic is not always a solution. that it doesn't matter if kaveh gives him a reasonable explanation, it doesn't matter if kaveh might have lost his mind, or if he's hurting alhaitham's hand, or if alhaitham himself is caught in a vice grip of real worry and concern that makes his eyes widen and breath catch. nothing matters more than bringing kaveh back from wherever he went. explanations can come later.
alhaitham's free hand reaches and grasps at kaveh's upper arm, just beneath his shoulder. the other hand turns and catches kaveh's fingertips in a tight hold, thumb pressing down over the joints. he keeps himself crouched, holding kaveh's gaze in his own and ignoring the tears rolling down to his chin. ]
Don't apologize. I need you to breathe. Do it slowly.
[He isn't as prone to panic attacks as one might assume, given the sort of person he is--but they aren't new to Kaveh, and the last one wasn't even that long ago. It comes to mind now, on top of everything else. The words not guilty flash through his mind, the reminder that he'd had a hand in condemning an innocent person to death, in robbing a dear friend of their loved one--and though he knows those people are safe and sound, probably settled back home right at this moment, it's difficult to move past the fear, guilt, and tension that have his lungs locked up.
It's Alhaitham's eyes that serve as his lifeline--a tether to the present. No one in the game had eyes like his; no matter how overwhelming the memories feel, his mind can't slot Alhaitham into them, and Kaveh clings to that. It feels like he's drenched in blood, like he's caught halfway into a dreamscape, but Alhaitham's sharp eyes cut through the haze of his tears, giving him something real to latch on to. Alhaitham's grip is steady, strong, and some subconscious part of Kaveh gives way.
He tries to listen, he really does. He makes a valiant effort at steadying his breathing, at dragging air through his body even though it scrapes against his chest like broken glass. But it's all too much. Before he realizes what's happened, he finds himself halfway collapsed against Alhaitham's chest, his body wracked with heavy sobs as he clings to Alhaitham's hand where it's crushed between them. The promise of Alhaitham's unwavering steadiness is too impossible to resist, and for the first time in eight weeks, Kaveh lets himself well and truly break.
Kaveh said a lot of things about Alhaitham. Some exaggerated, some unknowing falsehoods, most of them rude or bitter or genuinely resigned. What he did not say is this: There is no one in any world that Kaveh would trust to see him at his most vulnerable--no one besides Alhaitham.
Humans aren't made for such prolonged, heightened emotion. Eventually, sooner than Kaveh realizes, he'll burn through his energy and run out of tears. His sobs will settle into unsteady little hitches in his breathing, and he'll stop shaking, and he'll realize that he's all but thrown himself at Alhaitham. In a few minutes, he'll be wrung out enough to explain. For now, though, he presses his face into Alhaitham's collarbone and gives up on words and thoughts entirely.]
[ alhaitham has seen kaveh cry before—in frustration, from heartbreak, from happiness. the fragment of the younger scholar from haravatat still keeps his senior's innermost secrets, shared with none other than him, according to kaveh. he's seen the rare moments where kaveh finally and agonizingly admitted to his loneliness, or when he would suddenly shatter over memories of his father, how he had ruined his own life.
in all of their years together, almost none of these times hold a candle to what happens. all at once, kaveh falls apart, dropping part of his weight onto alhaitham's chest and tightly crushing their hands between him. alhaitham nearly staggers backward, and before he can call kaveh's name again, he suddenly breaks down. hot tears and warm, broken breaths bloom over his collarbone as kaveh sobs, the effort tightening and shaking and slacking kaveh's shoulders. alhaitham keeps still, lets kaveh cling to his hand.
alhaitham's mind could be racing, coming up with possibilities and explanations. some part of him likely is. despite this, alhaitham can only recall two young scholars alone in the pavilions at the akademiya, lit by moonlight, holding tightly to one another while one of them sobs over the other's back—two lonesome birds in the same cage, huddled against each other for warmth. here they are again, this time in the same nest meant only for the two of them.
alhaitham's other arm folds around kaveh's back, almost protective as it presses him closer. his other hand squeezes what it can of kaveh's fingers as if to acknowledge them, or ground him in the present. his head lowers, his temple brushing the side of kaveh's golden hair, and he stares into kaveh's shoulder as he silently waits. ]
[As clarity begins to return to him, Kaveh realizes, somewhat distantly, that he should move away. He's probably made Alhaitham so incredibly uncomfortable--physically and emotionally. The thought alone makes Kaveh want to crawl in a hole and curl up, far away from everyone he's ever known, so that he can stop burdening them with his problems like he always, always does.
But the rest of him can't relinquish this comfort. Even if it was coerced, the warm lines of Alhaitham's body are more reassuring than anything he had while he was away, and he can't give that up so quickly. Kaveh's love for others is genuine, but no one, not even Vash, knew him the way Alhaitham does, and that makes all the difference.
Kaveh's never liked showing his wounds to others. But Alhaitham has always been the exception to every rule.
They can't stay like this forever, but for once in his life, Kaveh lets himself be selfish. He tells himself that if he doesn't lift his head, if he doesn't look, he can pretend they're children again. If he keeps hiding like this, he can pretend Alhaitham is holding him because he wants to, not because Kaveh, once again, left him with no choice.
He's not sure he can hold himself up anyway, really. Alhaitham's arm might truly be the only thing keeping him on his feet right now.]
...Sorry. [It's quieter this time, mumbled into Alhaitham's collarbone, but more coherent. A conscious apology, rather than a half-step into panic. His grip on Alhaitham's hand loosens, but he doesn't let go.] ...Um... what--what day is it?
[ if kaveh's full weight fell against him, alhaitham only tightened his hold to accommodate it. he sighs softly through his nose at receiving yet another apology, although it's predictable of kaveh to squeeze in another one at the very end.
but after that, kaveh's next question makes alhaitham's concern erupt again, like a cold wave running from his neck to his feet. kaveh loosens his grip on his hand, but alhaitham's doesn't falter. he has half a mind to reach into his pouch for some kind of tissue, but kaveh stopped him dead in his tracks.
what day? what could have made him forget how much time had passed (or not passed)? all of this can't be the result of a bad hangover. for kaveh's sake, he does make the effort to push the thought to the edge of his mind. ]
Last night was Tighnari's banquet for Collei. It's early evening now.
[Right... the banquet. Kaveh remembers. It was the last thing he recalled from home--the fuzzy blur of getting drunk and ranting to the Traveler. If he tries, he can remember vague snatches of the period after that, but only insofar as knowing he'd made it home.
...It's barely even been a day, then. It makes sense, but at the same time, it seems impossible.
He's been through this before, though. He remembers coming back with Alex and Eiden, remembers breaking through loop after loop after endless, awful loop only to find out they'd barely been gone a few hours. It's not really any easier to go through this again, but... it helps, a little, in believing this is real.
(Well, kind of. He's working on it.)]
You must think I've lost my mind. [But he knows how this must look to Alhaitham, so he doesn't say it in an accusatory way. Even if he'd wanted to, he's worn himself out--he doesn't have the energy for his usual behavior, that instant ire and paranoia that's only half a facade.]
[ as far as you coming to me for comfort, yes, is his immediate response. he withholds it, recognizing the untimeliness of making a half-joke. (it has nothing to do with kaveh suddenly regaining full consciousness and drawing away from him. really. not at all.) at the same time, who else has kaveh gone to for comfort, for issues of this magnitude?
alhaitham keeps holding him, for as long as kaveh decides to weigh against him. ]
I'll reserve judgment until after you tell me what's going on. However, you don't need to explain yourself now.
[ not after a breakdown like that. kaveh is already fragile; remembering things might only hurt more than help when he's in this state. ]
[Alhaitham may not say it out loud, but some part of Kaveh--the part that never forgot all of Alhaitham's ways despite their long separation, the part that, even now, helps him move in tandem with Alhaitham, even when they're opposed--hears that quip anyway. Alhaitham's actual words are calm, even kind, but before he says them, Kaveh's mind is ready to respond. Something like don't get used to it or well someone has to help you practice empathy--a little too sharp to be true humor, since Kaveh's never been as good at hiding his feelings as he would like.
Alhaitham doesn't say it, so Kaveh doesn't either. But the fact that such things come to mind so easily... in truth, it does more to reassure him than almost anything else. It's a reminder, however ugly, that he hasn't fully lost himself.]
No, I do. [The longer he waits, the more time Alhaitham will have to make his own assumptions, even if he makes an active effort not to. And beyond that, he has a feeling Nahida will say something when she sees Alhaitham. Explaining it all shouldn't rest on her shoulders, not when she has so many other things to deal with already.
He hesitates.] ...We should sit down. It's a long story.
[ he'll keep an eye out if it looks like kaveh is pushing himself needlessly. alhaitham loosens his grip on kaveh's hands, but the arm around his back stays where it is. ]
Can you stand?
[ alhaitham needed to let go eventually, he reminds himself. kaveh briefly mended their broken bond, and for a moment alhaitham could exist again in his memories—in those pockets of time where kaveh needed alhaitham as much as alhaitham needed him, and they both knew it to be true. it's over, though, and alhaitham prepares himself to let go. ]
[For a long moment, Kaveh debates saying no. He considers pleading exhaustion, which is true, or injury, which is not. Alhaitham is being so indulgent, letting him cling like this--even if it's because he thinks Kaveh's gone insane, would it be so wrong to keep this a little longer? To pretend that they aren't... what they are, these days?
But with clarity comes that old guilt, and wounds that have never truly healed. Even as he thinks about it, he already knows his own answer.
All he ever does is bring Alhaitham trouble. He can't lean on Alhaitham any more than he must.]
...Yes. I'm alright now. [Reluctantly, he lifts his head. He lets go of Alhaitham's hand to wipe at his eyes, clearing away the rest of the tears that cling to his eyelashes--but he doesn't pull away from Alhaitham's arm right away. That's Alhaitham's step to take; it's Kaveh's turn to brace himself for it.]
[ with his arm falling slowly back to his side, alhaitham keeps his arm around kaveh's back, watching as he sniffs and cleans the tears from his red-rimmed eyes. in every word, alhaitham hears the light rasp and inflammation in kaveh's throat. he's tempted, again, to insist that kaveh recuperates before they talk about what's happened. a larger part of him knows that what kaveh would want in these circumstances.
when kaveh seems to have cleared his eyes, alhaitham finally drops his other arm. he waits only for kaveh to slide and take a seat on one of the divans before he goes toward the kitchen area. ]
I'll be back.
[ unless kaveh stops him, he'll be getting a small, clean towel from the kitchen, a half-finished bottle of wine, and two glasses. back in the sitting room, the bottle and glasses are set on the table; the towel gets handed directly to kaveh.
alhaitham mostly avoids his eyes as he does this, as if it were a normal routine and not a gesture of concern. they do this sometimes, though never before in this scenario: they would have wine or beer after dinner, get swallowed up in intellectual debates or the goings-on about their days, alhaitham mildly buzzed while kaveh drapes and contorts himself over the couches, complaining and ranting and bursting with inspiration. kaveh, thankfully, never seems to notice or remember how deeply alhaitham stares at his mouth during those times.
[Kaveh doesn't stop him--he just sits on the divan, staring at his hands and trying not to miss the stabilizing pressure of Alhaitham's arm around him. He feels so dreadfully similar to the way he did right after he moved in, the knowledge of his burdensome presence tempting him into trying to make himself smaller than he is--than he wants to be. He's so absorbed in his own thoughts that Alhaitham's return makes him jump, and after a brief hesitation, he accepts the towel, mumbling an awkward thank you. It's tempting to bury his face in it and hide until he feels more like a human again, but he pushes it back, quietly cleaning up his face.
It's only after he's done that he notices the glasses and the wine; it gives him pause, a complicated flurry of emotions twisting around his heart. Predictably, he settles on guilt--of course his behavior has made Alhaitham feel like he needs a drink. Kaveh would probably think Alhaitham utterly unhinged if their positions were swapped.
(Some small, devastatingly honest part of him whispers that that's not true. He ignores it.)
He looks at Alhaitham, but Alhaitham doesn't seem to be looking back, so Kaveh can't try and gauge his thoughts or feelings. Kaveh gives up, looking back at the wine--if Alhaitham pours the wine for them, he'll take his glass and cradle it in his hands; if Alhaitham doesn't, Kaveh will, an unspoken gesture of gratitude and apology wrapped into one.
Either way, once Alhaitham sits down, Kaveh takes a deep breath.]
You said last night was Tighnari's banquet. But for me, that was eight weeks ago. [...] I think. More or less.
[Time loops complicate things so much.]
I know we made it home at some point. But it's so fuzzy, and... when I woke up, I wasn't in Teyvat anymore. There were 39 other people with me--including Nahida.
[...Ah, he'll have to get back into the habit of calling her Lesser Lord Kusanali around other people. How strange.]
[ alhaitham pours the wine. once he's seated, he takes his own goblet in hand and settles his attention back onto kaveh. in the early days of his residence, kaveh was just as reticent as he seems now. his footfalls throughout the house were as soft as snow, even in daylight or dusk. he kept to his room except to do chores, and he would sooner starve than disturb alhaitham while he was in the kitchen.
in contrast, just yesterday, kaveh monopolized the shower for an full hour and later commandeered the kitchen for his spin on fattoush. suffice it to say that he had grown almost perfectly comfortable living in alhaitham's residence. what could have happened in the span of the day to have kaveh regress this badly?
alhaitham sips his wine and keeps his gaze focused. his brow furrows occasionally, trying to parse what he's hearing, but he does as he did before: pour kaveh his wine, allow him to speak, entertain him regardless of internal judgments and assumptions. fortunately for kaveh, "time" and it's passing has been under more scrutiny as of late for several reasons. ]
I would hope that you made it back, considering where you are now. [ in their sitting room, drinking wine. ] Lesser Lord Kusanali was a part of this as well?
[He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that checking in with Nahida is immediately going to be one of Alhaitham's top priorities after this. He doesn't mind, though. If anything, it makes him feel better--knowing that a neutral third party can verify their experiences. Not that he'd ever doubt Nahida, but still.]
There was a woman from Liyue as well--her name is Shenhe. But everyone else was from worlds I'd never heard of. A few of them found that the place we'd been brought to bore similarities to their homes, but only in some ways.
[He chews on his lip, staring down into his wine.]
...Initially, we were told that we were all dead, and that we were to form teams and compete for the opportunity to be brought back to life.
[ other worlds. alhaitham had nearly lost kaveh's line of logic when he'd said the word, and what comes after it just muddies the waters even further. how was he so sure that those contestants were from other worlds? why would a game setting resemble some worlds, but not others? did all of these outlanders gather against their will?
kaveh looks into his wine, but alhaitham's concentration doesn't waver. reserving judgment. right. one errant turn of phrase could make kaveh withdraw from him again, so he'll suspend disbelief. dream or mishap or not, kaveh was told that he died and must fight other people for his chance at living again. for him, that circumstance was real and had real consequences. ]
Initially. [ he repeats, waiting for kaveh to confirm and append to it. ] You won, I assume.
[It's... almost sweet, honestly, Alhaitham's faith in his abilities. It's not that Kaveh doesn't believe in himself, but after so much time spent trapped in impossible circumstances, it's a little startling to be met with such simple confidence. It's not the same as the people who'd told him that he'd done enough just by holding onto kindness--this is true belief in him, and Kaveh has to remind himself that Alhaitham doesn't have the full context yet.]
Only one team was allowed to win. Four people. The rest of us, we were told, would lose the chance to return to life. [...] ...And the rules stipulated that the fastest way to earn a great deal of points was to kill.
[Which... well. Alhaitham will know how Kaveh reacted to that. Kaveh couldn't even bring himself to win the Interdarshan Championship if it meant denying someone else's hard work, despite all his confidence--asking him to put his own life above others, and to kill for it, to boot? There's no world in which Kaveh would ever be okay with that.]
We later learned that we weren't actually dead when we were taken. But not until very late into the game.
[After so many people were dead--for real this time.]
[ unfortunately for kaveh, alhaitham assumed that he won given the fact that he's home now and he felt kaveh's very active heartbeat a moment ago. if kaveh is visibly startled, alhaitham has no reason to react to it other than furrowing his brow at him.
at kill, his eyes immediately widen, his mouth parting. he knows exactly how kaveh would have reacted to a stipulation like that—how he would sooner die himself than harm another person for anything but self-defense. the possibility that this may be product of a dream or residual trauma makes it all the more concerning.
there is one thing he knows for certain: kaveh did not and would not kill. if he did, there was no way he would have walked back to alhaitham's home, let alone back into sumeru. not even if it damned him for all eternity. ]
But why would someone force you to play a game like this? What reason would there be to hide the fact that you were alive when the rules of this game essentially wouldn't change?
Supposedly, every world has these so-called "Reaper's Game"s. [He sounds so sour about it--a hint of that ever-present righteous fury slipping through, proof that despite how devastated he'd been earlier, he is still himself.] Presumably, the goal is for players to prove they want to live badly enough that they'll do anything to win.
[Which is a concept that Kaveh has vehemently torn to shreds every time he's encountered it, and this was no different. He has no idea how many times he told people that they didn't need to do anything to prove they deserved to live.
The anger helps him settle a little more, and he sips at his wine, leaning back against his seat a little more comfortably. Not relaxing, exactly, but--letting go of some of that tension. Slowly, ever so slowly, readjusting.]
As for the rest--it's hard to say. Our game was an anomaly, apparently. It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. Living people aren't supposed to be dragged in. Nor are our worlds supposed to be threatened the way they were.
[ while there is relief in seeing kaveh's all-too-familiar righteous anger and easing posture, it quickly dissolves. it's becoming vastly more difficult to entertain all of he says with every bit of information revealed, but aren't there texts on seemingly world-ending calamities? is there no chance that, for as real as everything seemed, every threat was nothing but talk? was this yet another samsara, just like the sabzeruz festival?
all of these ideas churn, attempting to prod their way into the forefront of alhaitham's thoughts. he doesn't betray any of this outwardly, only takes another drink himself and curls his hand over his chin and mouth, eyes narrowing at kaveh. ]
Are you saying that the worlds of the losing teams would be put at risk?
Yes. They were slated to be completely destroyed. [And even though he lived through it, he knows how it sounds, and he knows how Alhaitham's mind works extremely well. So--] Trust me, I know it sounds ridiculous. But the people we were dealing with had the power to manipulate space, time, and life and death--I have no reason to believe they couldn't have done it. I can only presume they were deities, or something like it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Right now, though, Kaveh can't even process Alhaitham's words. The door opens, and Kaveh realizes that he didn't have a way to get inside--but even that thought is a vague aside, unimportant. No, right now, all of Kaveh's attention is on the man in front of him.
It hadn't hit him, how long it's been since he'd seen Alhaitham, until this moment. Although he spoke of him at times, Kaveh hadn't dared to let himself think about Alhaitham too much--hadn't wanted to face even more painful truths on top of the ones he was already carrying. Certain trains of thought, Kaveh knew, would lead him nowhere good, and Kaveh couldn't afford to break when Ylfa and Haru still needed him.
...They don't need him anymore, though. And now, Alhaitham is standing in front of him, and everything Kaveh pushed away for eight weeks threatens to boil over inside of him.
He looks the same, Kaveh thinks, his eyes darting over Alhaitham's face, searching and just a little urgent. There's nothing out of place in his expression, no signs that he's noticed anything out of the ordinary. (But is that just because Kaveh is so prone to flights of fancy that Alhaitham wouldn't notice if he vanished? Would he care? Why does it hurt so much, the idea that he might not?)
...Oh. He should say something. He opens his mouth, then falters, feeling more lost than he ever has before.]
...Alhaitham.
no subject
none of it comes. kaveh stares up at him for far too long, with too much intent. alhaitham can only stand there and endure it, confused, and eventually look for the telltale signs that kaveh's already been drinking.
instead, there's an implacable, bone-deep exhaustion in kaveh's eyes that alhaitham's never seen. he's never said alhaitham's name this way before—like he can't believe that he's here in the doorway of his home. ]
Yes? [ he furrows his brow, a small indicator that he's concerned. he gives kaveh another small once-over. ] If you continue to stand here, people will notice you.
no subject
When he moves, it's on autopilot. He slips inside, past Alhaitham--none of his aggression present, nor any of the irritability that sometimes accompanies his exhaustion. Mehrak automatically floats to its resting stand just like always, but Kaveh lingers in the entryway, shoulders drawn, staring into the house. It's not unlike the way he behaved when Alhaitham first invited him to live here. Back then, he'd been afraid of touching things, of taking up too much space, of giving Alhaitham any reason to regret his offer. Alhaitham saw him at his most horrible long before he ever made the offer, but Kaveh hadn't wanted to remind him of that.
He's afraid now, too, albeit for very different reasons. And it seems so ridiculous to be so mistrustful of peace and familiarity, so certain that it's going to be taken away--but Kaveh's always been that way, really. Paranoia like this isn't new to him. It's just different, now. Worse, a thousand times over.
He turns back to Alhaitham and reaches out, wordless. He hesitates before he makes contact, but only for a moment before he wraps his fingers around Alhaitham's wrist, drawing it forward between them and studying it with just as much scrutiny as he studied Alhaitham's face.]
no subject
with the door closed and locked behind him, alhaitham is left staring at kaveh's back—not for the first time. he recalls it just as kaveh might: kaveh with his few belongings in bags over his shoulders, staring at the emerald windows and piles of books and the chandelier in the vaulted ceiling above the sitting area.
but kaveh seems defeated, somehow: shoulders slack, limbs heavy, surveying the room as if it were a site of ruin. he's only a few steps ahead of alhaitham, yet at the same time, he feels leagues away.
alhaitham finally steps forward, ready to speak, but kaveh turns around before anything can happen. he watches kaveh reach for him, hesitate, and finally study his hand. alhaitham lets him—more out of confusion and curiosity than anything else. he was only out for a day. had he gotten into some trouble with some eremite heretics? was he briefly lost in a ruin? ]
Kaveh.
[ he says it more firmly this time, as if to summon him back to reality. his fingers curl in a little in kaveh's grip. ]
What's gotten into you?
no subject
Regardless of his excuses, he knows Alhaitham's hands. And he knows, even though it feels like it happened a hundred years ago, that they look just the same as they did when he left. There are no new scars, or lines, or ink stains. Nothing at all to show that anything happened while they were apart. No traces of the fact that Alhaitham almost vanished, none the wiser, because Kaveh couldn't face reality until it was too late.
It hits him, then, all at once: He could've lost this. He almost did. Not even just Alhaitham, or this house, or the Palace--all of it. Sumeru. Teyvat. Everything. Everyone. And he didn't, but at the cost of so much blood. So much pain.
He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels tears on his own hand, and suddenly, he's aware of just how tightly he's holding onto Alhaitham's hand. He should let go, he knows--Alhaitham's solidity isn't actually proof that he's real. But his mind latches onto it anyway, and he can't bring himself to pull away.]
...Sorry, I'm sorry--
[He needs to explain. To say something coherent, before Alhaitham thinks he's completely lost his mind. But he can barely speak, his throat tight, burning--his breathing is short, shallow, and all he can string together are apologies.]
no subject
because kaveh is unseeing, looking at his hand at something nonexistent, traumatic, horrific. he holds alhaitham's hand like a cleat upon the dock—the only thing that keeps him from going adrift, like he anchors kaveh to home. water drops onto alhaitham's hand and pools in the indents where kaveh presses down on his palm. alhaitham turns his head to look at kaveh's face. he's crying, and apologizing, and slowly beginning to panic.
it will (likely) remain unsaid that kaveh has taught alhaitham innumerable lessons since that day in the house of daena. he applies one such painfully learned lesson here: that at times, dissecting a human's emotions and values and logic is not always a solution. that it doesn't matter if kaveh gives him a reasonable explanation, it doesn't matter if kaveh might have lost his mind, or if he's hurting alhaitham's hand, or if alhaitham himself is caught in a vice grip of real worry and concern that makes his eyes widen and breath catch. nothing matters more than bringing kaveh back from wherever he went. explanations can come later.
alhaitham's free hand reaches and grasps at kaveh's upper arm, just beneath his shoulder. the other hand turns and catches kaveh's fingertips in a tight hold, thumb pressing down over the joints. he keeps himself crouched, holding kaveh's gaze in his own and ignoring the tears rolling down to his chin. ]
Don't apologize. I need you to breathe. Do it slowly.
no subject
It's Alhaitham's eyes that serve as his lifeline--a tether to the present. No one in the game had eyes like his; no matter how overwhelming the memories feel, his mind can't slot Alhaitham into them, and Kaveh clings to that. It feels like he's drenched in blood, like he's caught halfway into a dreamscape, but Alhaitham's sharp eyes cut through the haze of his tears, giving him something real to latch on to. Alhaitham's grip is steady, strong, and some subconscious part of Kaveh gives way.
He tries to listen, he really does. He makes a valiant effort at steadying his breathing, at dragging air through his body even though it scrapes against his chest like broken glass. But it's all too much. Before he realizes what's happened, he finds himself halfway collapsed against Alhaitham's chest, his body wracked with heavy sobs as he clings to Alhaitham's hand where it's crushed between them. The promise of Alhaitham's unwavering steadiness is too impossible to resist, and for the first time in eight weeks, Kaveh lets himself well and truly break.
Kaveh said a lot of things about Alhaitham. Some exaggerated, some unknowing falsehoods, most of them rude or bitter or genuinely resigned. What he did not say is this: There is no one in any world that Kaveh would trust to see him at his most vulnerable--no one besides Alhaitham.
Humans aren't made for such prolonged, heightened emotion. Eventually, sooner than Kaveh realizes, he'll burn through his energy and run out of tears. His sobs will settle into unsteady little hitches in his breathing, and he'll stop shaking, and he'll realize that he's all but thrown himself at Alhaitham. In a few minutes, he'll be wrung out enough to explain. For now, though, he presses his face into Alhaitham's collarbone and gives up on words and thoughts entirely.]
no subject
in all of their years together, almost none of these times hold a candle to what happens. all at once, kaveh falls apart, dropping part of his weight onto alhaitham's chest and tightly crushing their hands between him. alhaitham nearly staggers backward, and before he can call kaveh's name again, he suddenly breaks down. hot tears and warm, broken breaths bloom over his collarbone as kaveh sobs, the effort tightening and shaking and slacking kaveh's shoulders. alhaitham keeps still, lets kaveh cling to his hand.
alhaitham's mind could be racing, coming up with possibilities and explanations. some part of him likely is. despite this, alhaitham can only recall two young scholars alone in the pavilions at the akademiya, lit by moonlight, holding tightly to one another while one of them sobs over the other's back—two lonesome birds in the same cage, huddled against each other for warmth. here they are again, this time in the same nest meant only for the two of them.
alhaitham's other arm folds around kaveh's back, almost protective as it presses him closer. his other hand squeezes what it can of kaveh's fingers as if to acknowledge them, or ground him in the present. his head lowers, his temple brushing the side of kaveh's golden hair, and he stares into kaveh's shoulder as he silently waits. ]
no subject
But the rest of him can't relinquish this comfort. Even if it was coerced, the warm lines of Alhaitham's body are more reassuring than anything he had while he was away, and he can't give that up so quickly. Kaveh's love for others is genuine, but no one, not even Vash, knew him the way Alhaitham does, and that makes all the difference.
Kaveh's never liked showing his wounds to others. But Alhaitham has always been the exception to every rule.
They can't stay like this forever, but for once in his life, Kaveh lets himself be selfish. He tells himself that if he doesn't lift his head, if he doesn't look, he can pretend they're children again. If he keeps hiding like this, he can pretend Alhaitham is holding him because he wants to, not because Kaveh, once again, left him with no choice.
He's not sure he can hold himself up anyway, really. Alhaitham's arm might truly be the only thing keeping him on his feet right now.]
...Sorry. [It's quieter this time, mumbled into Alhaitham's collarbone, but more coherent. A conscious apology, rather than a half-step into panic. His grip on Alhaitham's hand loosens, but he doesn't let go.] ...Um... what--what day is it?
no subject
but after that, kaveh's next question makes alhaitham's concern erupt again, like a cold wave running from his neck to his feet. kaveh loosens his grip on his hand, but alhaitham's doesn't falter. he has half a mind to reach into his pouch for some kind of tissue, but kaveh stopped him dead in his tracks.
what day? what could have made him forget how much time had passed (or not passed)? all of this can't be the result of a bad hangover. for kaveh's sake, he does make the effort to push the thought to the edge of his mind. ]
Last night was Tighnari's banquet for Collei. It's early evening now.
no subject
...It's barely even been a day, then. It makes sense, but at the same time, it seems impossible.
He's been through this before, though. He remembers coming back with Alex and Eiden, remembers breaking through loop after loop after endless, awful loop only to find out they'd barely been gone a few hours. It's not really any easier to go through this again, but... it helps, a little, in believing this is real.
(Well, kind of. He's working on it.)]
You must think I've lost my mind. [But he knows how this must look to Alhaitham, so he doesn't say it in an accusatory way. Even if he'd wanted to, he's worn himself out--he doesn't have the energy for his usual behavior, that instant ire and paranoia that's only half a facade.]
no subject
alhaitham keeps holding him, for as long as kaveh decides to weigh against him. ]
I'll reserve judgment until after you tell me what's going on. However, you don't need to explain yourself now.
[ not after a breakdown like that. kaveh is already fragile; remembering things might only hurt more than help when he's in this state. ]
no subject
Alhaitham doesn't say it, so Kaveh doesn't either. But the fact that such things come to mind so easily... in truth, it does more to reassure him than almost anything else. It's a reminder, however ugly, that he hasn't fully lost himself.]
No, I do. [The longer he waits, the more time Alhaitham will have to make his own assumptions, even if he makes an active effort not to. And beyond that, he has a feeling Nahida will say something when she sees Alhaitham. Explaining it all shouldn't rest on her shoulders, not when she has so many other things to deal with already.
He hesitates.] ...We should sit down. It's a long story.
no subject
[ he'll keep an eye out if it looks like kaveh is pushing himself needlessly. alhaitham loosens his grip on kaveh's hands, but the arm around his back stays where it is. ]
Can you stand?
[ alhaitham needed to let go eventually, he reminds himself. kaveh briefly mended their broken bond, and for a moment alhaitham could exist again in his memories—in those pockets of time where kaveh needed alhaitham as much as alhaitham needed him, and they both knew it to be true. it's over, though, and alhaitham prepares himself to let go. ]
no subject
But with clarity comes that old guilt, and wounds that have never truly healed. Even as he thinks about it, he already knows his own answer.
All he ever does is bring Alhaitham trouble. He can't lean on Alhaitham any more than he must.]
...Yes. I'm alright now. [Reluctantly, he lifts his head. He lets go of Alhaitham's hand to wipe at his eyes, clearing away the rest of the tears that cling to his eyelashes--but he doesn't pull away from Alhaitham's arm right away. That's Alhaitham's step to take; it's Kaveh's turn to brace himself for it.]
no subject
when kaveh seems to have cleared his eyes, alhaitham finally drops his other arm. he waits only for kaveh to slide and take a seat on one of the divans before he goes toward the kitchen area. ]
I'll be back.
[ unless kaveh stops him, he'll be getting a small, clean towel from the kitchen, a half-finished bottle of wine, and two glasses. back in the sitting room, the bottle and glasses are set on the table; the towel gets handed directly to kaveh.
alhaitham mostly avoids his eyes as he does this, as if it were a normal routine and not a gesture of concern. they do this sometimes, though never before in this scenario: they would have wine or beer after dinner, get swallowed up in intellectual debates or the goings-on about their days, alhaitham mildly buzzed while kaveh drapes and contorts himself over the couches, complaining and ranting and bursting with inspiration. kaveh, thankfully, never seems to notice or remember how deeply alhaitham stares at his mouth during those times.
he uncorks the bottle. ]
Go on.
no subject
It's only after he's done that he notices the glasses and the wine; it gives him pause, a complicated flurry of emotions twisting around his heart. Predictably, he settles on guilt--of course his behavior has made Alhaitham feel like he needs a drink. Kaveh would probably think Alhaitham utterly unhinged if their positions were swapped.
(Some small, devastatingly honest part of him whispers that that's not true. He ignores it.)
He looks at Alhaitham, but Alhaitham doesn't seem to be looking back, so Kaveh can't try and gauge his thoughts or feelings. Kaveh gives up, looking back at the wine--if Alhaitham pours the wine for them, he'll take his glass and cradle it in his hands; if Alhaitham doesn't, Kaveh will, an unspoken gesture of gratitude and apology wrapped into one.
Either way, once Alhaitham sits down, Kaveh takes a deep breath.]
You said last night was Tighnari's banquet. But for me, that was eight weeks ago. [...] I think. More or less.
[Time loops complicate things so much.]
I know we made it home at some point. But it's so fuzzy, and... when I woke up, I wasn't in Teyvat anymore. There were 39 other people with me--including Nahida.
[...Ah, he'll have to get back into the habit of calling her Lesser Lord Kusanali around other people. How strange.]
no subject
in contrast, just yesterday, kaveh monopolized the shower for an full hour and later commandeered the kitchen for his spin on fattoush. suffice it to say that he had grown almost perfectly comfortable living in alhaitham's residence. what could have happened in the span of the day to have kaveh regress this badly?
alhaitham sips his wine and keeps his gaze focused. his brow furrows occasionally, trying to parse what he's hearing, but he does as he did before: pour kaveh his wine, allow him to speak, entertain him regardless of internal judgments and assumptions. fortunately for kaveh, "time" and it's passing has been under more scrutiny as of late for several reasons. ]
I would hope that you made it back, considering where you are now. [ in their sitting room, drinking wine. ] Lesser Lord Kusanali was a part of this as well?
no subject
[He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that checking in with Nahida is immediately going to be one of Alhaitham's top priorities after this. He doesn't mind, though. If anything, it makes him feel better--knowing that a neutral third party can verify their experiences. Not that he'd ever doubt Nahida, but still.]
There was a woman from Liyue as well--her name is Shenhe. But everyone else was from worlds I'd never heard of. A few of them found that the place we'd been brought to bore similarities to their homes, but only in some ways.
[He chews on his lip, staring down into his wine.]
...Initially, we were told that we were all dead, and that we were to form teams and compete for the opportunity to be brought back to life.
no subject
kaveh looks into his wine, but alhaitham's concentration doesn't waver. reserving judgment. right. one errant turn of phrase could make kaveh withdraw from him again, so he'll suspend disbelief. dream or mishap or not, kaveh was told that he died and must fight other people for his chance at living again. for him, that circumstance was real and had real consequences. ]
Initially. [ he repeats, waiting for kaveh to confirm and append to it. ] You won, I assume.
no subject
Only one team was allowed to win. Four people. The rest of us, we were told, would lose the chance to return to life. [...] ...And the rules stipulated that the fastest way to earn a great deal of points was to kill.
[Which... well. Alhaitham will know how Kaveh reacted to that. Kaveh couldn't even bring himself to win the Interdarshan Championship if it meant denying someone else's hard work, despite all his confidence--asking him to put his own life above others, and to kill for it, to boot? There's no world in which Kaveh would ever be okay with that.]
We later learned that we weren't actually dead when we were taken. But not until very late into the game.
[After so many people were dead--for real this time.]
no subject
at kill, his eyes immediately widen, his mouth parting. he knows exactly how kaveh would have reacted to a stipulation like that—how he would sooner die himself than harm another person for anything but self-defense. the possibility that this may be product of a dream or residual trauma makes it all the more concerning.
there is one thing he knows for certain: kaveh did not and would not kill. if he did, there was no way he would have walked back to alhaitham's home, let alone back into sumeru. not even if it damned him for all eternity. ]
But why would someone force you to play a game like this? What reason would there be to hide the fact that you were alive when the rules of this game essentially wouldn't change?
no subject
[Which is a concept that Kaveh has vehemently torn to shreds every time he's encountered it, and this was no different. He has no idea how many times he told people that they didn't need to do anything to prove they deserved to live.
The anger helps him settle a little more, and he sips at his wine, leaning back against his seat a little more comfortably. Not relaxing, exactly, but--letting go of some of that tension. Slowly, ever so slowly, readjusting.]
As for the rest--it's hard to say. Our game was an anomaly, apparently. It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. Living people aren't supposed to be dragged in. Nor are our worlds supposed to be threatened the way they were.
[OH YEAH THEY DID THAT TOO.]
no subject
all of these ideas churn, attempting to prod their way into the forefront of alhaitham's thoughts. he doesn't betray any of this outwardly, only takes another drink himself and curls his hand over his chin and mouth, eyes narrowing at kaveh. ]
Are you saying that the worlds of the losing teams would be put at risk?
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)