[ Twenty-four hours before this very moment, Kaveh was stood in the same spot as he is now, talking— and then yelling— to the Traveler and Paimon. Alhaitham is incapable of being nice, he said. My bags are packed, he said. I have a house picked out already for once the money is mine. I can't wait—
He said, he said, he said. But all for naught, of course.
His bags line the wall of his bedroom, packed for nowhere. The house he marked out will sell, but not to him. And maybe that's for the best, Kaveh thinks, when the alternative to an empty house is someone who, while he may be painfully, obtusely acerbic at the best of times, is standing in front of him right now with a first aid kit and a command on his lips. Someone who, as recent events have uncovered, spent his closely-guarded personal time on finding answers that benefited Kaveh alone.
It's with such knowledge that the blonde is obedient without complaint or even comment, sitting on the divan and divesting himself of his cloak and his shirt. His face is wan, drawn from the days of exhaustion and emotion all culminating in a conclusion that has left him wanting to burrow into the depths of his sheets and cry himself hoarse. Every last inch of him aches and stings, and even half-naked he doesn't dare to look down at himself. Not that it matters— He knows all too well after all that Alhaitham will do that for both of them, seeking every stray mark and line and cataloging them in a memory practically eidetic.
Usually, Kaveh might complain about the supposed disinterest with which his roommate takes on such tasks. In the fragility of the moment, however, where a word too kind or a touch too tender might push him headlong into the spiral, he finds himself appreciating it— even as he grieves in his mind for the latest in a long line of hopes and dreams to be shattered by the cold touch of reality.
A diadem on the rainforest floor, a smirk on the fading lips of a long-dead ghost.
Alhaitham's words cut through the noise, grounding him, leaving him to nod as he bends forward in obedient response. Long fingers dig into a knee that aches almost as much as the rest of him, teeth gritting as if to get ahead of the pain that defines a dirtied wound on sunburned skin, no matter how gentle his carer's hands may be. ]
Alright. [ A single word, spoken instead of the "thank you" that burns on the tip of his tongue.
I cry for them
He said, he said, he said. But all for naught, of course.
His bags line the wall of his bedroom, packed for nowhere. The house he marked out will sell, but not to him. And maybe that's for the best, Kaveh thinks, when the alternative to an empty house is someone who, while he may be painfully, obtusely acerbic at the best of times, is standing in front of him right now with a first aid kit and a command on his lips. Someone who, as recent events have uncovered, spent his closely-guarded personal time on finding answers that benefited Kaveh alone.
It's with such knowledge that the blonde is obedient without complaint or even comment, sitting on the divan and divesting himself of his cloak and his shirt. His face is wan, drawn from the days of exhaustion and emotion all culminating in a conclusion that has left him wanting to burrow into the depths of his sheets and cry himself hoarse. Every last inch of him aches and stings, and even half-naked he doesn't dare to look down at himself. Not that it matters— He knows all too well after all that Alhaitham will do that for both of them, seeking every stray mark and line and cataloging them in a memory practically eidetic.
Usually, Kaveh might complain about the supposed disinterest with which his roommate takes on such tasks. In the fragility of the moment, however, where a word too kind or a touch too tender might push him headlong into the spiral, he finds himself appreciating it— even as he grieves in his mind for the latest in a long line of hopes and dreams to be shattered by the cold touch of reality.
A diadem on the rainforest floor, a smirk on the fading lips of a long-dead ghost.
Alhaitham's words cut through the noise, grounding him, leaving him to nod as he bends forward in obedient response. Long fingers dig into a knee that aches almost as much as the rest of him, teeth gritting as if to get ahead of the pain that defines a dirtied wound on sunburned skin, no matter how gentle his carer's hands may be. ]
Alright. [ A single word, spoken instead of the "thank you" that burns on the tip of his tongue.
Kaveh's eyes squeeze shut. ]