[No, he did not, and he doesn't plan to!! Even though the enormity of what Alhaitham's doing for him sits heavily on his shoulders, Kaveh's need to present a self-sufficient image almost always wins out above all else. It doesn't matter that it's clearly painfully obvious to Alhaitham that he's struggling, that Alhaitham could know through logic alone that Kaveh has no stability, no way of ensuring any of these things. It's too ingrained within him to try anyway.
Even so, Alhaitham presents his argument well, and his points hit like perfectly aimed arrows. The thought of getting Alhaitham sick from his own poor habits makes his stomach curl, and he shrinks a little, feeling vaguely, inexplicably guilty.]
...Fine. [He sits quietly for a moment. He can't just sit around and let Alhaitham feed and house him, even if the housekeeping would be his responsibility. It still feels too off-balance.] I can cook, sometimes.
[ If infusing Kaveh with a little bit of guilt will make him eat and sleep, Alhaitham decides that it's a necessary sacrifice. He and Kaveh have traded blows before; as long as Alhaitham isn't needlessly kicking him while he's down, he will be blunt if it will make Kaveh listen.
Why? He asks himself that in the silence after Kaveh gives in, as Alhaitham sips his coffee. Why do this at all? Kaveh never would have wanted nor expected this from him. The fact that he ultimately accepted it means he really is destitute. There's no other reason why he'd let Alhaitham take him in this way, when it would debase him further.
But Alhaitham still offered anyway. He's prying open old wounds again, his and Kaveh's, all because a young version of himself can't stomach seeing Kaveh this way. He would've sooner gathered Kaveh in his arms and carried him home and slept at his bedside.
Don't think about it now.
Alhaitham just looks at him flatly. ]
Do you still use as many spices as you did back then?
[Kaveh's oblivious to Alhaitham's thoughts right now, too caught up in his own--but it's probably a good thing, because if he knew, he would only take it all extremely poorly. He would interpret fondness as pity and condescension, would slam the doors of his heart shut against nostalgia, the sting of their irreconcilable differences still too fresh to bear, even though it's been so long since they went their separate ways.
But then Alhaitham says back then.
Kaveh opens his mouth, but his reply is lost as the room seems to sway, his vision blurring. Fear skirts up his spine, and he worries, for a moment, that he really did manage to get sick, that stopping to eat and rest gave his body the opportunity to fall apart--but when he blinks, the scene around him his changed. It's like looking at two layered photos with partial opacity, greens and blacks and silvers and golds blending together. The din of the cafe doesn't change, but the sights and smells do, and... above all, Alhaitham does, too.
Something about this isn't right, he knows. But all Kaveh can do is stare, lost in this strange, hazy dream, at a loss for words.]
Alhaitham, with no way to connect what's happening with what happened to him, waits for a response that doesn't come. After a moment, he furrows his brow and searches Kaveh's expression for answers. He even glances behind him briefly, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. ]
[Alhaitham is looking at him, and speaking, Kaveh can tell. But it's impossible to parse his words when there's so much else to take in. The elegant, dramatic cloak he's wearing, the warmth cast on his hair from the lamplight--the only thing familiar is the look on Alhaitham's face, piercing and immovable. Kaveh feels utterly wrung out and more than a little drunk, but he knows, somehow, that this Alhaitham, too, is holding out a hand for him. That this Alhaitham, despite his imposing figure and inscrutable expression, isn't going to let him drown. And that's--
--Before Kaveh can make any more sense of it, the vision vanishes. The cafe filters back into his view just like normal, the very same food and drinks on their table and the Alhaitham he knows is still right there, dressed in perfectly normal clothes and looking at him with--well, with a understandable confusion, now. Kaveh lifts a hand, rubbing at his forehead.]
Huh? [...] ...Sorry. I'm--just tired.
[It's not like he's been sleeping well, after all, to say nothing of his stress levels. It wouldn't surprise him to hear he's approaching his limits, though why he'd hallucinate something like that is beyond him.
But, whatever. Eager to put it behind him, he picks up his cup and drains the last of his drink.]
[ Alhaitham is quiet a moment, studying over Kaveh's faraway gaze. A suggestion blips through Alhaitham's consciousness—that Kaveh's sudden silence feels familiar, not too much off from what Alhaitham experienced a few moments ago.
If that's true, what does it mean? The next moment, Kaveh downs his drink and excuses them.
Fine. Alhaitham breaks his stare, glancing towards the space beside him as he rises from his chair. His phone goes into his pocket. ]
[It's fine it's fine it's fine, nothing weird happening here.
Kaveh, though, is still under the impression that the drink and food were from the waitress, and he'd hate to waste anything, so he briefly excuses himself to grab a to-go box for the rest of his croissant. When he returns to Alhaitham's question, he hesitates, then shakes his head.]
...No. Not with me. [He did have the sense to save the money for a small storage unit in the city, but he's not entirely convinced that any of this is real--and even if it is, he doesn't intend on taking advantage of Alhaitham's hospitality for any longer than he must. So he doesn't mention it, for now; the less traces of himself he leaves around Alhaitham's home, the easier it will be for both of them.]
[ Even all these years later, Alhaitham doubts that Kaveh would allow him to ferry Kaveh's suitcase to his car himself. If Kaveh struggles with it himself, either from weakness or sleep deprivation, that'll be a different story and Alhaitham will definitely be taking it from him.
For now, he pushes in his chair and lets his eyes graze over the croissant box before he leads them towards the door. He even holds it open! He has manners sometimes. ]
I hope you're not just stubbornly refusing to eat the things I buy for you.
[ He nods his chin towards the box. The price of him being nice... ]
[Fortunately (for Kaveh), Kaveh's gotten too used to putting on appearances. Even if he was too exhausted to carry his suitcase, he would do anything not to show any more weakness than he already has; so, leftovers in one hand and suitcase in the other, he follows after Alhaitham without struggle. The true extent of his weariness probably won't be obvious for a few days--not until he's settled into Alhaitham's house, unable to maintain his state of constant vigilance any longer.
Until then, though, Kaveh's prickly, anxious. He feels like he's walking through the streets covered in the dust of his broken dam, as if anyone could look at him and know, as Alhaitham did, what a bad state he's in. It's a feeling that wars with his gratitude, and he plans to stay quiet on the way to Alhaitham's home, keeping his mouth shut until he's certain he knows whether sugar or poison rests on his tongue.
Of course, Alhaitham always has a way of jabbing him off-kilter, whether he knows it or not. His pleasant surprise about the door evaporates, and his expression flattens immediately.]
Really? Claiming credit for a service worker's nice gesture? I always thought you better than that, but this really isn't going to work if that's the sort of person you've become.
[He was embarrassed about getting this but now he'll defend croissant waitress with his LIFE]
Very abruptly, Kaveh speeds up, veering around until he can stop in front of Alhaitham and block his path. He stands, one fist clenched at his side, the other with a white-knuckled grip on his suitcase.]
No. Absolutely not. Do you think I'm an idiot? Is that what this is? Because if you just want an excuse to lord your precious intellect over me, then you can forget it. It's one thing for you to be looking for a housemate, and I won't pretend to understand what kind of twisted logic you followed to arrive at the conclusion that I'm a viable option--but I'll accept your decision, and I'm not ungrateful. But I am not some helpless vagabond who needs your pity, nor am I going to be some kind of--plaything for you to manipulate, or whatever it is you're plotting. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and I won't have you racking up my debts just to hold it over my head later. If that's what you want, you can find someone else.
[Later, after a hot shower and his first proper sleep in days, he'll look back on this rant and feel overwhelmed with guilt. Later, he'll show remorse in quiet ways--tidying up, making coffee, little things he can do when Alhaitham isn't around to comment on it. But right now, anger and shame burn inside him; the idea of Alhaitham pitying him--or worse, manipulating him, promising him a home just to see how quickly he could drive Kaveh out of it--makes his skin crawl and his ears ring. It's not characteristic of Alhaitham at all, but it's been too long, and too much has happened since they were close, for Kaveh to trust his own memories.]
[ Kaveh wants to make a scene out on the street? Fine. They'll make a scene.
Alhaitham cares much less about public opinion than Kaveh does, so all he does is fold his arms and lean on one hip as he lets Kaveh air himself out in public. When it comes to the two of them, Kaveh's emotions always explode out of him, whether in person or indirectly or on message boards. Alhaitham just didn't expect a croissant to be the catalyst for this particular outburst.
It still stings. Alhaitham's eyes narrow just a little. He's acutely aware of the familiar ache in his chest. It could just be residual hurt from their argument years ago, but it feels ages old. Of course Kaveh thinks him capable of cruelty. He shouldn't have expected otherwise. ]
Calm down. I was never going to ask you to compensate me, nor was I acting out of some sense of self-righteousness. I made myself an imposition to you and you clearly hadn't eaten yet.
I'm only saying this because it's the truth. Whether or not you believe me is ultimately up to you, and you can think whatever you want about my motives. If you're that mistrusting of me, no one is forcing you to accept my offer.
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Even so, Alhaitham presents his argument well, and his points hit like perfectly aimed arrows. The thought of getting Alhaitham sick from his own poor habits makes his stomach curl, and he shrinks a little, feeling vaguely, inexplicably guilty.]
...Fine. [He sits quietly for a moment. He can't just sit around and let Alhaitham feed and house him, even if the housekeeping would be his responsibility. It still feels too off-balance.] I can cook, sometimes.
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Why? He asks himself that in the silence after Kaveh gives in, as Alhaitham sips his coffee. Why do this at all? Kaveh never would have wanted nor expected this from him. The fact that he ultimately accepted it means he really is destitute. There's no other reason why he'd let Alhaitham take him in this way, when it would debase him further.
But Alhaitham still offered anyway. He's prying open old wounds again, his and Kaveh's, all because a young version of himself can't stomach seeing Kaveh this way. He would've sooner gathered Kaveh in his arms and carried him home and slept at his bedside.
Don't think about it now.
Alhaitham just looks at him flatly. ]
Do you still use as many spices as you did back then?
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But then Alhaitham says back then.
Kaveh opens his mouth, but his reply is lost as the room seems to sway, his vision blurring. Fear skirts up his spine, and he worries, for a moment, that he really did manage to get sick, that stopping to eat and rest gave his body the opportunity to fall apart--but when he blinks, the scene around him his changed. It's like looking at two layered photos with partial opacity, greens and blacks and silvers and golds blending together. The din of the cafe doesn't change, but the sights and smells do, and... above all, Alhaitham does, too.
Something about this isn't right, he knows. But all Kaveh can do is stare, lost in this strange, hazy dream, at a loss for words.]
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Alhaitham, with no way to connect what's happening with what happened to him, waits for a response that doesn't come. After a moment, he furrows his brow and searches Kaveh's expression for answers. He even glances behind him briefly, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. ]
...Something wrong?
[ Please don't pass out or something. ]
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--Before Kaveh can make any more sense of it, the vision vanishes. The cafe filters back into his view just like normal, the very same food and drinks on their table and the Alhaitham he knows is still right there, dressed in perfectly normal clothes and looking at him with--well, with a understandable confusion, now. Kaveh lifts a hand, rubbing at his forehead.]
Huh? [...] ...Sorry. I'm--just tired.
[It's not like he's been sleeping well, after all, to say nothing of his stress levels. It wouldn't surprise him to hear he's approaching his limits, though why he'd hallucinate something like that is beyond him.
But, whatever. Eager to put it behind him, he picks up his cup and drains the last of his drink.]
Come on, then. Let's go.
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If that's true, what does it mean? The next moment, Kaveh downs his drink and excuses them.
Fine. Alhaitham breaks his stare, glancing towards the space beside him as he rises from his chair. His phone goes into his pocket. ]
Are there other suitcases?
[ He nods to not-Mehrak. ]
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Kaveh, though, is still under the impression that the drink and food were from the waitress, and he'd hate to waste anything, so he briefly excuses himself to grab a to-go box for the rest of his croissant. When he returns to Alhaitham's question, he hesitates, then shakes his head.]
...No. Not with me. [He did have the sense to save the money for a small storage unit in the city, but he's not entirely convinced that any of this is real--and even if it is, he doesn't intend on taking advantage of Alhaitham's hospitality for any longer than he must. So he doesn't mention it, for now; the less traces of himself he leaves around Alhaitham's home, the easier it will be for both of them.]
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[ Even all these years later, Alhaitham doubts that Kaveh would allow him to ferry Kaveh's suitcase to his car himself. If Kaveh struggles with it himself, either from weakness or sleep deprivation, that'll be a different story and Alhaitham will definitely be taking it from him.
For now, he pushes in his chair and lets his eyes graze over the croissant box before he leads them towards the door. He even holds it open! He has manners sometimes. ]
I hope you're not just stubbornly refusing to eat the things I buy for you.
[ He nods his chin towards the box. The price of him being nice... ]
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Until then, though, Kaveh's prickly, anxious. He feels like he's walking through the streets covered in the dust of his broken dam, as if anyone could look at him and know, as Alhaitham did, what a bad state he's in. It's a feeling that wars with his gratitude, and he plans to stay quiet on the way to Alhaitham's home, keeping his mouth shut until he's certain he knows whether sugar or poison rests on his tongue.
Of course, Alhaitham always has a way of jabbing him off-kilter, whether he knows it or not. His pleasant surprise about the door evaporates, and his expression flattens immediately.]
Really? Claiming credit for a service worker's nice gesture? I always thought you better than that, but this really isn't going to work if that's the sort of person you've become.
[He was embarrassed about getting this but now he'll defend croissant waitress with his LIFE]
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What made you believe it was a gesture from the waitress? I put in the order and she delivered it.
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Very abruptly, Kaveh speeds up, veering around until he can stop in front of Alhaitham and block his path. He stands, one fist clenched at his side, the other with a white-knuckled grip on his suitcase.]
No. Absolutely not. Do you think I'm an idiot? Is that what this is? Because if you just want an excuse to lord your precious intellect over me, then you can forget it. It's one thing for you to be looking for a housemate, and I won't pretend to understand what kind of twisted logic you followed to arrive at the conclusion that I'm a viable option--but I'll accept your decision, and I'm not ungrateful. But I am not some helpless vagabond who needs your pity, nor am I going to be some kind of--plaything for you to manipulate, or whatever it is you're plotting. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and I won't have you racking up my debts just to hold it over my head later. If that's what you want, you can find someone else.
[Later, after a hot shower and his first proper sleep in days, he'll look back on this rant and feel overwhelmed with guilt. Later, he'll show remorse in quiet ways--tidying up, making coffee, little things he can do when Alhaitham isn't around to comment on it. But right now, anger and shame burn inside him; the idea of Alhaitham pitying him--or worse, manipulating him, promising him a home just to see how quickly he could drive Kaveh out of it--makes his skin crawl and his ears ring. It's not characteristic of Alhaitham at all, but it's been too long, and too much has happened since they were close, for Kaveh to trust his own memories.]
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Alhaitham cares much less about public opinion than Kaveh does, so all he does is fold his arms and lean on one hip as he lets Kaveh air himself out in public. When it comes to the two of them, Kaveh's emotions always explode out of him, whether in person or indirectly or on message boards. Alhaitham just didn't expect a croissant to be the catalyst for this particular outburst.
It still stings. Alhaitham's eyes narrow just a little. He's acutely aware of the familiar ache in his chest. It could just be residual hurt from their argument years ago, but it feels ages old. Of course Kaveh thinks him capable of cruelty. He shouldn't have expected otherwise. ]
Calm down. I was never going to ask you to compensate me, nor was I acting out of some sense of self-righteousness. I made myself an imposition to you and you clearly hadn't eaten yet.
I'm only saying this because it's the truth. Whether or not you believe me is ultimately up to you, and you can think whatever you want about my motives. If you're that mistrusting of me, no one is forcing you to accept my offer.