[ He guides them between the trio of daybeds and settles them both in the very middle—where Kaveh would normally sleep. Tucked away near the side of another divan is the folded blanket Alhaitham uses to cover him.
Once they're seated side-by-side, he keeps Kaveh's hand in his own and slides his other arm tentatively about his waist, if Kaveh allows it. He stares at their joined hands, letting his fingers flare and settle between each of Kaveh's, locking their palms together. He's not pulling away first either.
The more pragmatic answer to Kaveh's dilemma is this: that in pursuits of knowledge and understanding, no discoveries or breakthroughs can be made without a certain amount of risk involved. Kaveh is an intellectual, prioritizing practicality and utility and safety even before artistry, which Alhaitham greatly respects despite Kaveh's dubiousness. Kaveh has taken risks plenty of times in his lifetime. He knows better than to let fear (over something he demonstrably sees evidence for and chooses to ignore) govern his actions.
But Kaveh has been lied to, betrayed, traumatized. He is an intellectual, but he is foremost a human being who requires comfort and safety and support. If their feelings are to be believed, neither of them want to lose what remains of their relationship regardless of the pain and confusion it can bring. Kaveh will do what it takes to keep him, even if it hurts. Alhaitham will do, and has done, just the same. ]
I can understand your fear and uncertainty. [ There's no appendix to that. He understands. ] Until now, you've been left with the impression of my indifference and contempt, regardless of my true intentions. It makes sense to safeguard yourself against it when the nature of our relationship is put into question.
[ His thumb smooths over Kaveh's hand. He lifts his gaze up towards Kaveh's. ]
I will say this plainly for you as well so that it might dispel any lingering doubts in the future. I am not indifferent to you, nor so I have any intention of leaving you for as long as you're willing to have me.
[ I don't think I can, he could say, but even that feels too vulnerable. Sometimes you've been lovesick forever and no one else in your region measures up to that exceptional person and likely no one ever will in your lifetime. That's one absolute thing that Alhaitham is actually willing to accept. ]
If I still must earn your full trust and vulnerability, I can accept that and will endeavor to do so.
[Alhaitham's noticed the increase in Kaveh's physical affection since his return from the game; he goes willingly now, too, tucking himself into Alhaitham's side. It's not the first time he's done so even after moving into the house, but such occasions were relatively rare before he was pulled away to Shibuya. It was the sort of thing he only did at his most comfortable--when he wanted to read what Alhaitham was reading, or when he was dozing off, usually tipsy, and couldn't be bothered to drag himself to bed. After the game, once he'd (kind of) pulled himself together, he'd tried to keep his nightmares to himself--but there was only so much he could do to be mindful of Alhaitham's rest and comfort while wracked by the memories of Nahida being held under dark water, of repeatedly taking Alex and Eiden's alternate lives with his own hands, of the haunting smell of blood. The Kaveh trapped in those moments could only cling desperately to his anchor to reality--pressing against Alhaitham like this was the last of his concerns, registering only, as he'd said earlier, as safe. As home.
This is somewhere between the two--less dire than those flashbacks, but not as easy as their happier moments. Still, he doesn't feel particularly nervous or awkward as he fits himself to Alhaitham's side. Really, it's almost as though nothing's changed--well, no, that's not quite right. Rather... with the way things have finally clicked into place in the liminal space of this late hour, Kaveh feels a bit like he's dreaming. An odd sensation, given how long it took for them to regain that ability.
He fidgets a little until Alhaitham begins to speak. Then, he settles--listening quietly for once as he, too, gazes at their clasped hands. Though he's a naturally expressive person, he keeps his expression tightly schooled as Alhaitham lays out his thoughts. It isn't because he consciously wants to hide--it's simply a habit he developed at a young age, one that a single conversation, no matter how significant, can't break.
Though his face is neutral and his eyes are distant, inwardly, he aches. It hurts to hear Alhaitham accept so much responsibility, even though Kaveh had just told him that, more or less, he couldn't trust Alhaitham with his complicated feelings. But hadn't Kaveh spent so much of their time in school insisting to others that Alhaitham wasn't cold and indifferent, that you simply had to learn to read him, to look for his humor, his warmth, his kindness in other ways? Wasn't he the one who so quickly regretted what he'd said when they fought, the one who was too ashamed to beg Alhaitham to let him take it all back--too wounded by the truth to even try? Alhaitham's hurt him, yes, but surely Kaveh could've done better. He could've done so many things to stop himself from wrecking what they had, over and over. Even if he acknowledges Alhaitham's contribution to the mangling of their relationship, he can't not view himself as the bigger source of blame. His father, his mother, his classmates, Alhaitham--there is only one common factor amongst all of those who've left.
...But Alhaitham wouldn't have wanted him to fake it. Kaveh has undeniable proof of that. Alhaitham's gotten angry with him for hiding his wants and downplaying his needs plenty of times. If he'd smiled when he wanted to yell, Alhaitham would've seen right through it.
Even now, Alhaitham cuts through to the core of it all. Kaveh should've expected it, really. When has Alhaitham ever done anything else? But hearing I have no intention of leaving you so clearly and plainly--he wasn't prepared for that.
His throat constricts, and his eyes sting. He closes his eyes and tries, desperately, to breathe through his nose--but he can't hide the trembling of his lip, and his nails press into Alhaitham's hand without his awareness. He swallows hard.]
Don't... [He begins, and his voice is steady, but it clearly takes great effort to keep it that way.] Don't make it sound as though I'm blameless. I know I've hurt you too.
[A part of him wants Alhaitham to say it. That gnarled part of his heart fed by all of Kaveh's little hurts, self-inflicted or otherwise--the part that, in an awful way, takes comfort in the consistency of his suffering, that's convinced it's how the world should be--that part of him craves validation, desperate for Alhaitham to confirm that Kaveh, with all the cruelty he flung out, deserved to wade through all those fears and doubts. But Kaveh has no idea how to put that into words, so his fingers simply flex uselessly in Alhaitham's grip.]
...I don't want you to go. [Softly--less steady. He opens his mouth again, but the only thing he think of is, But I don't deserve to keep you, and he closes it again, lost. It is, he thinks distantly, probably horribly pathetic to need so many reassurances--but those thoughts war with memories of his parents, of their mutual lack of families, and all he can do is cling. His emotions and thoughts are both too jumbled for him to sort out on his own.]
[ Making you sound blameless wasn't my intention. We both have wounds from each other and facets of ourselves that need tempering.
It's on the tip of his tongue, like so many other tactless words from the rest of the evening. They dry up as Kaveh's voice begins to quiver and his eyes shine with tears.
So Alhaitham takes Kaveh's cheek in his hand and carefully thumbs away the suggestion of tears at the edge of his eye. Alhaitham leans forward, brushes his mouth past Kaveh's bangs, and presses an earnest kiss against his forehead. This is all Kaveh needs to say. He doesn't need to qualify it with any self-deprecation, like there's some unknown beast of karma always hanging over Kaveh's head, poised to strike any time he's selfish or finds happiness for once. ]
Good. [ He leans back and finds Kaveh's watery eyes with his. Kaveh said that Alhaitham's eyes are an anchor for him; that's hopefully true now, when he wants to ground Kaveh in this reality where he's loved. ] Because I want to be with you.
[ Kaveh's self-assessment doesn't matter. Kaveh knows how deeply Alhaitham considers every decision he makes, weighing the actions with the outcomes, factoring in unpredictability and all manner of consequences. He wants to be with Kaveh because he is Kaveh. And, again, god forbid Alhaitham ever does something he doesn't want to do.
He doesn't hold Kaveh's hand as tightly as Kaveh grips his, but he does briefly squeeze back in acknowledgment. Alhaitham's eyes soften, tapping into painful memories of the Akademiya—the only few that he'd ever allowed to cut him deeply following his grandmother's death. ]
You can still decide to leave here at any point, if that's what you want. Just know that although I would respect your decision, my preference was always to have you stay with me. I wouldn't have invited you to live here otherwise.
[ He doesn't want Kaveh to go either. An unabashedly selfish part of him wants Kaveh to consider this house his home. ]
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no subject
Once they're seated side-by-side, he keeps Kaveh's hand in his own and slides his other arm tentatively about his waist, if Kaveh allows it. He stares at their joined hands, letting his fingers flare and settle between each of Kaveh's, locking their palms together. He's not pulling away first either.
The more pragmatic answer to Kaveh's dilemma is this: that in pursuits of knowledge and understanding, no discoveries or breakthroughs can be made without a certain amount of risk involved. Kaveh is an intellectual, prioritizing practicality and utility and safety even before artistry, which Alhaitham greatly respects despite Kaveh's dubiousness. Kaveh has taken risks plenty of times in his lifetime. He knows better than to let fear (over something he demonstrably sees evidence for and chooses to ignore) govern his actions.
But Kaveh has been lied to, betrayed, traumatized. He is an intellectual, but he is foremost a human being who requires comfort and safety and support. If their feelings are to be believed, neither of them want to lose what remains of their relationship regardless of the pain and confusion it can bring. Kaveh will do what it takes to keep him, even if it hurts. Alhaitham will do, and has done, just the same. ]
I can understand your fear and uncertainty. [ There's no appendix to that. He understands. ] Until now, you've been left with the impression of my indifference and contempt, regardless of my true intentions. It makes sense to safeguard yourself against it when the nature of our relationship is put into question.
[ His thumb smooths over Kaveh's hand. He lifts his gaze up towards Kaveh's. ]
I will say this plainly for you as well so that it might dispel any lingering doubts in the future. I am not indifferent to you, nor so I have any intention of leaving you for as long as you're willing to have me.
[ I don't think I can, he could say, but even that feels too vulnerable. Sometimes you've been lovesick forever and no one else in your region measures up to that exceptional person and likely no one ever will in your lifetime. That's one absolute thing that Alhaitham is actually willing to accept. ]
If I still must earn your full trust and vulnerability, I can accept that and will endeavor to do so.
no subject
This is somewhere between the two--less dire than those flashbacks, but not as easy as their happier moments. Still, he doesn't feel particularly nervous or awkward as he fits himself to Alhaitham's side. Really, it's almost as though nothing's changed--well, no, that's not quite right. Rather... with the way things have finally clicked into place in the liminal space of this late hour, Kaveh feels a bit like he's dreaming. An odd sensation, given how long it took for them to regain that ability.
He fidgets a little until Alhaitham begins to speak. Then, he settles--listening quietly for once as he, too, gazes at their clasped hands. Though he's a naturally expressive person, he keeps his expression tightly schooled as Alhaitham lays out his thoughts. It isn't because he consciously wants to hide--it's simply a habit he developed at a young age, one that a single conversation, no matter how significant, can't break.
Though his face is neutral and his eyes are distant, inwardly, he aches. It hurts to hear Alhaitham accept so much responsibility, even though Kaveh had just told him that, more or less, he couldn't trust Alhaitham with his complicated feelings. But hadn't Kaveh spent so much of their time in school insisting to others that Alhaitham wasn't cold and indifferent, that you simply had to learn to read him, to look for his humor, his warmth, his kindness in other ways? Wasn't he the one who so quickly regretted what he'd said when they fought, the one who was too ashamed to beg Alhaitham to let him take it all back--too wounded by the truth to even try? Alhaitham's hurt him, yes, but surely Kaveh could've done better. He could've done so many things to stop himself from wrecking what they had, over and over. Even if he acknowledges Alhaitham's contribution to the mangling of their relationship, he can't not view himself as the bigger source of blame. His father, his mother, his classmates, Alhaitham--there is only one common factor amongst all of those who've left.
...But Alhaitham wouldn't have wanted him to fake it. Kaveh has undeniable proof of that. Alhaitham's gotten angry with him for hiding his wants and downplaying his needs plenty of times. If he'd smiled when he wanted to yell, Alhaitham would've seen right through it.
Even now, Alhaitham cuts through to the core of it all. Kaveh should've expected it, really. When has Alhaitham ever done anything else? But hearing I have no intention of leaving you so clearly and plainly--he wasn't prepared for that.
His throat constricts, and his eyes sting. He closes his eyes and tries, desperately, to breathe through his nose--but he can't hide the trembling of his lip, and his nails press into Alhaitham's hand without his awareness. He swallows hard.]
Don't... [He begins, and his voice is steady, but it clearly takes great effort to keep it that way.] Don't make it sound as though I'm blameless. I know I've hurt you too.
[A part of him wants Alhaitham to say it. That gnarled part of his heart fed by all of Kaveh's little hurts, self-inflicted or otherwise--the part that, in an awful way, takes comfort in the consistency of his suffering, that's convinced it's how the world should be--that part of him craves validation, desperate for Alhaitham to confirm that Kaveh, with all the cruelty he flung out, deserved to wade through all those fears and doubts. But Kaveh has no idea how to put that into words, so his fingers simply flex uselessly in Alhaitham's grip.]
...I don't want you to go. [Softly--less steady. He opens his mouth again, but the only thing he think of is, But I don't deserve to keep you, and he closes it again, lost. It is, he thinks distantly, probably horribly pathetic to need so many reassurances--but those thoughts war with memories of his parents, of their mutual lack of families, and all he can do is cling. His emotions and thoughts are both too jumbled for him to sort out on his own.]
no subject
It's on the tip of his tongue, like so many other tactless words from the rest of the evening. They dry up as Kaveh's voice begins to quiver and his eyes shine with tears.
So Alhaitham takes Kaveh's cheek in his hand and carefully thumbs away the suggestion of tears at the edge of his eye. Alhaitham leans forward, brushes his mouth past Kaveh's bangs, and presses an earnest kiss against his forehead. This is all Kaveh needs to say. He doesn't need to qualify it with any self-deprecation, like there's some unknown beast of karma always hanging over Kaveh's head, poised to strike any time he's selfish or finds happiness for once. ]
Good. [ He leans back and finds Kaveh's watery eyes with his. Kaveh said that Alhaitham's eyes are an anchor for him; that's hopefully true now, when he wants to ground Kaveh in this reality where he's loved. ] Because I want to be with you.
[ Kaveh's self-assessment doesn't matter. Kaveh knows how deeply Alhaitham considers every decision he makes, weighing the actions with the outcomes, factoring in unpredictability and all manner of consequences. He wants to be with Kaveh because he is Kaveh. And, again, god forbid Alhaitham ever does something he doesn't want to do.
He doesn't hold Kaveh's hand as tightly as Kaveh grips his, but he does briefly squeeze back in acknowledgment. Alhaitham's eyes soften, tapping into painful memories of the Akademiya—the only few that he'd ever allowed to cut him deeply following his grandmother's death. ]
You can still decide to leave here at any point, if that's what you want. Just know that although I would respect your decision, my preference was always to have you stay with me. I wouldn't have invited you to live here otherwise.
[ He doesn't want Kaveh to go either. An unabashedly selfish part of him wants Kaveh to consider this house his home. ]