[ in all the possible permutations, of break-ups and falling-ins, of coming togethers and partings, of them being kaveh and alhaitham and then kaveh and alhaitham, two creatures made of the same sinew and bone, chest-to-chest, shoulder-to-shoulder, heart-to-heart, of a thousand unnamed and unvoiced marriages and divorces, as it were, only alhaitham is the position to understand just what that admission takes from kaveh. if you don't want to, kaveh says, carving out immediately the openings of an exit wound in its aftermath. alhaitham, who has never done anything he didn't want to do, merely looks. ]
Why would it be strange to ask it of me? [ alhaitham asks. ] It is merely you, and me.
[ it is merely midnights in alhaitham's much roomier akademiya dormitory after a grueling set of exams, two undergraduate men crammed face-to-face, chest-to-chest squeezed into a bed meant for one. it is merely long days side-by-side in the house of daena, heads bowed over ancient deshretian script and the foundations of sumeran desert housing structures, creating a blueprint that would change sumeru's understanding of that era forever. it is merely humid nights of passing a cheap bottle of wine between them back and forth, drinking each time from the lip as they debated idly the efficacy of self-determination all the way to the pigment mixing techniques of ancient liyuen craftsmen. it is merely, after all, kaveh and alhaitham. who could ever judge what passes between them save for them? who would dare?
in turn, alhaitham shifts. he wipes the seeds into a waiting dish, and passes over a towel so that they can wipe their hands. alhaitham's hand on kaveh's shoulder is warm and sure as he reaches behind him. the large bathrobe had been prepared ahead of time to replace kaveh's sweat-soaked shirt. he eases kaveh into it one arm at a time, before he motions for kaveh to get up. the divan is meant for two. it had always been so. alhaitham draws kaveh up with him onto it with a guiding arm around his waist. the cushions sink beneath their weight in tandem, alhaitham carving out just enough space in the curve of his body for kaveh to rest there against him, one silver spoon against one outlined in gold.
this is a household where there is always a book within reach. alhaitham flicks through one, and shifts just enough so that the shadow of it falls over kaveh's face, obscuring the silver slant of the moonlight. ]
Mind your elbows. I do not intend on rising later bruised like your back.
no subject
Why would it be strange to ask it of me? [ alhaitham asks. ] It is merely you, and me.
[ it is merely midnights in alhaitham's much roomier akademiya dormitory after a grueling set of exams, two undergraduate men crammed face-to-face, chest-to-chest squeezed into a bed meant for one. it is merely long days side-by-side in the house of daena, heads bowed over ancient deshretian script and the foundations of sumeran desert housing structures, creating a blueprint that would change sumeru's understanding of that era forever. it is merely humid nights of passing a cheap bottle of wine between them back and forth, drinking each time from the lip as they debated idly the efficacy of self-determination all the way to the pigment mixing techniques of ancient liyuen craftsmen. it is merely, after all, kaveh and alhaitham. who could ever judge what passes between them save for them? who would dare?
in turn, alhaitham shifts. he wipes the seeds into a waiting dish, and passes over a towel so that they can wipe their hands. alhaitham's hand on kaveh's shoulder is warm and sure as he reaches behind him. the large bathrobe had been prepared ahead of time to replace kaveh's sweat-soaked shirt. he eases kaveh into it one arm at a time, before he motions for kaveh to get up. the divan is meant for two. it had always been so. alhaitham draws kaveh up with him onto it with a guiding arm around his waist. the cushions sink beneath their weight in tandem, alhaitham carving out just enough space in the curve of his body for kaveh to rest there against him, one silver spoon against one outlined in gold.
this is a household where there is always a book within reach. alhaitham flicks through one, and shifts just enough so that the shadow of it falls over kaveh's face, obscuring the silver slant of the moonlight. ]
Mind your elbows. I do not intend on rising later bruised like your back.