[Tilting his head gently to rest the side of it against Kaveh's, Alhaitham rubs his temple against him affectionately even if he doesn't stray his eyes from his writing. If Kaveh were to peek, he'd find a table of contents, more than actual writing—ideas set in a cadence, from the beginning to the development and ending in a conclusion. Something about poetic frames in ancient scriptures and what they may mean.
Alhaitham hums an affirmative, free arm wrapped securely around his senior, as he double checks what he wrote. Once he's done, he drops the stylus, sprawls more comfortably on the chair and brushes Kaveh's wet hair away from his face before kissing the side of his face.] You can ask, now.
no subject
Alhaitham hums an affirmative, free arm wrapped securely around his senior, as he double checks what he wrote. Once he's done, he drops the stylus, sprawls more comfortably on the chair and brushes Kaveh's wet hair away from his face before kissing the side of his face.] You can ask, now.