[ There it is again, that question. Asking what he wants, when Kaveh is quite sure he doesn't dare to say it. It's not friendship, of course, butβ but isn't that the next best thing? Isn't that what will hurt less in the long run? It's less risky, surely, less dangerous, less likely to have him falling apart alone in the end; yet he's always rejected it, yet he allowed himself to ache when Alhaitham rejected it in turn.
And now he can feel Alhaitham's heart pounding against the rest of his head, the way that the younger man's fingers are curled in his hair, the press of his face against his scalp and the tickle of his breath as he inhales. It makes him want to cry all the more, and he knows that his heart is pounding in the same way. They've never held one another like this before, haven't really touched in years; Kaveh hasn't dared allow himself to get so close, not after the fight that broke them so badly in the first place.
But what does he want?
Kaveh is quiet, pulling back from the embrace just enough that he can look up at Alhaitham again, ruby eyes seeking emerald even as tears continue to glimmer in the corners. ]
I said it doesn't matter, Alhaitham. I meant it.
[ But there's something on the other's face that he can't read, something that ties his heart into knots, and his gut and his heart make the decision for him before his head can catch up. ]
Iβ I'm drunk, right? So..
[ The statement makes no sense. He's not, and Alhaitham can probably tell as much from the way he holds himself, from how clear his voice is when he talks, even through the haze of his emotion. It's an excuse at best for the way he shifts, leans up to him, mouth slotting against his in a too-hasty kiss.
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And now he can feel Alhaitham's heart pounding against the rest of his head, the way that the younger man's fingers are curled in his hair, the press of his face against his scalp and the tickle of his breath as he inhales. It makes him want to cry all the more, and he knows that his heart is pounding in the same way. They've never held one another like this before, haven't really touched in years; Kaveh hasn't dared allow himself to get so close, not after the fight that broke them so badly in the first place.
But what does he want?
Kaveh is quiet, pulling back from the embrace just enough that he can look up at Alhaitham again, ruby eyes seeking emerald even as tears continue to glimmer in the corners. ]
I said it doesn't matter, Alhaitham. I meant it.
[ But there's something on the other's face that he can't read, something that ties his heart into knots, and his gut and his heart make the decision for him before his head can catch up. ]
Iβ I'm drunk, right? So..
[ The statement makes no sense. He's not, and Alhaitham can probably tell as much from the way he holds himself, from how clear his voice is when he talks, even through the haze of his emotion. It's an excuse at best for the way he shifts, leans up to him, mouth slotting against his in a too-hasty kiss.
(He doesn't taste like wine, either.) ]