[ For a long moment, he is silent— and so the hush, broken briefly by Alhaitham's words, continues. For Kaveh, there's an enormity to his request that is only exacerbated by Alhaitham's confirmation that it's what he wants. The natural response is one of hesitation as his mind works to prove the other man right, to guilt him in silence, to shame him for daring to ask for something more than simply what he needs.

His lips part. If the multiverse theory is true, the action is succeeded in nearly all of them by a shake of his head. A rejection of the suggestion. A "never mind, I'm fine". A downplaying. An (untrue) admission that it is a need and not a want, causing Alhaitham to reject him once more.

Kaveh does none of those things.

Perhaps it is the stinging pain of the juice in a shallow wound. Perhaps it is the aching tiredness of his bones and muscles and the sunburn marring his skin in red. Or perhaps it is the unceasing need to cry.

Perhaps the "why" doesn't matter.

What does is the way Kaveh's eyes close, long lashes soft against the burnt flush of his cheeks. The way another aril gives under his fingers, a barely audible pop of flesh between the digits. The way his head moves, nodding an affirmative rather than rejecting the question asked of him. ]

It is, [ he confirms— and for potentially being a multiversal anomaly, his voice is surprisingly steady, even as it remains broken from his tears. ] I'm sure it seems to you like a strange thing for me to ask of you, but— Yeah, it is.

[ And then, after barely a beat of silence, in true Kaveh fashion: ] If you don't want to, it's okay.