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indigently) wrote2023-01-23 02:27 pm
indigently) wrote2023-01-23 02:27 pm𝒪𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉 🏛️
OPEN POST
action • text • canon • cross-canon • assumed cr
indigently) wrote2023-01-23 02:27 pm
no subject
I won't be home tonight.
Don't come looking for me.
[ Largely because he doesn't even know where he'll be yet. But that's okay, it's barely noon— there's time for him to plan his day out around this promise. ]
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the curt reply, cold with none of the fire kaveh usually responded to his barbs with was unbelievably frustrating. alhaitham was the true embodiment of a diligent researcher - he was used to predictability, rules, boundaries within which everything should operate. kaveh sat decidedly outside of any such rules and boundaries, always catching him off-guard with his passionately argumentative self, content to wear his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see.
or it seemed, what he simply wanted them to see.
it annoys alhaitham that kaveh is a loud, blonde enigma that he can never quite figure out, and this was perhaps the worst instance of his fickle nature to date. whether or not the architect liked it, alhaitham had absorbed what he'll neutrally term as 'responsibility' for him. exactly when that happened, he didn't know; why he felt so obliged to fight a battle of attrition when logic dictated that was a fool's errand, he didn't know either.
but that's why he does the exact opposite of what kaveh asks, belligerently setting out to search for him when he stays true to his word and the house remains empty through until the evening. what comes next when he finds him isn't something he's thought far enough into yet, but the stubborn side of the scribe would turn over every stone in sumeru if it meant being contrary to the last (and, to a lesser extent, finding kaveh). ]
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And really, where else would he go when he's in a mood like this but the tavern?
He's deep in his cups by the time Alhaitham walks in— how deep he couldn't even begin to say, but judging by the way he's half-draped across the bar, mouthing off to the man behind it, the exact number no longer matters. He's laughing at something or other, but when his attention is drawn to the newest entry into the establishment, the look on his face is quick to turn sour, pretty features forming an ugly scowl.
Of course he's ignored the one thing Kaveh asked of him and come in search of him. Can't he just have one damn night in peace? One night without the stupid back and forth it's somehow become between the two of them?
The blonde's fist clenches, and he turns back to the drink in front of him. Maybe if he just... pretends Alhaitham isn't here, he'll leave. Or something.
He's got a Cryo Slime's chance in the desert, but he can hope, right? ]
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distantly, alhaitham wonders why he has such an encyclopedic knowledge of kaveh's movements, habits and whereabouts, but he's momentarily distracted from answering that by the death stare pointed in his direction as he spots the blonde across the room. not because it was about to deter him; no, nothing in teyvat could really do that once alhaitham set his mind on something - but it did seem more genuine, more sour than usual.
the bar is humming with activity, patrons bustling around him as he weaves through them, everyone in seemingly better moods than these two. it's an odd dichotomy, being surrounded by sumeru residents and scholars letting their hair down, chatting joyously and celebrating - and then choosing to slip into the empty seat next to the grumpiest looking man in the room like a masochist.
maybe he'd become one.
the bartender motions to alhaitham, wondering if he wants to join kaveh in - how many empty glasses were here? - a drink, many drinks. he simply shakes his head no, and instead fixes his gaze on the blonde head of hair purposely turned away from him. ]
You didn't come home. [ he says flatly, stating the obvious. ] I came to do a welfare check.
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(His outbursts regarding Alhaitham are well-known in this particular establishment, after all.)
He's halfway into a deep drink— ignoring, all the while ignoring— when the other's smooth voice sounds behind him, flat and emotionless, and it's like a switch is flipped; Kaveh whirls on him, nearly toppling off the barstool in the process, and jabs a finger in his face, the other hand slamming the cup back onto the bar so hard that some of the liquid sloshes out over his hand. ]
You...! [ If the slam didn't make half the tavern look their way, the volume and pitch of his voice certainly does, opposite in every way to his roommate's calm, flat tone, words broken and slurred together. ] I doan need a welfare sheck, you arrogant, self-importann ashhole! Why won'tshoo juzz leave me alone?!
[ Oh, but that spin was too quick. He sways in place, the slow blink of his lashes taking away from his angry appearance for just a moment before he recovers, and looks back at the bartender, a wide spread of his arms to indicate Alhaitham sitting next to him. ]
Didn't I stell you thiss asshole wooud show upp?
[ The bartender, to his credit, just smiles awkwardly and places two cups of water in front of Alhaitham and the noisy, angry blonde. ]
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public opinion was never really much of alhaitham's concern in the first place - people would always talk, so why bother caring about it? but kaveh was always the one worried about his image, about his downfall, his living situation, the perception others had of him; and here he was, drawing all that attention he didn't want to him, as usual.
most illogical.
with a bemused expression, the scribe nods a brief 'thanks' to the bartender, both for the water and not for getting further involved in what was already a messy situation. both of the glasses of water end up slid over in kaveh's direction as a suggestion to drink, though the thought of pouring one over the blonde's head does briefly pop into alhaitham's head to speed the sobering process up. ]
If you're slurring your words, you need a welfare check. [ he replies flatly, one arm leaning against the bar as he fixes kaveh with that unwavering gaze of his. ] You can't even sit up straight.
[ and maybe he'd seen the architect in a much worse state but - he wasn't often this furious. something had crawled under kaveh's skin, and the curiosity inside alhaitham was dying to figure out what it was. ]
'This asshole' would also like to point out that's going to leave a stain.
[ alhaitham points at the wine kaveh had just spilt over his hand, the crimson alcohol starting to creep into the cuff of his white sleeve. with a stilted sigh; ]
Why are you so worked up tonight?
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(There were other complaints, too, grumbled into his cups between drinks, about the Akademiya scribe's unfair bodily proportions and the bronzed turquoise of his eyes, but those went mostly unheard— except of course by the bartender, who very much remains as "staying out of it" as he possibly can.)
For now, though, the architect regrets nothing, apart from perhaps the damage he's done to his shirt; his eyes drift to the wine-stained cuff as an agonized cry escapes his lips, and where Alhaitham had considered dumping the water over Kaveh's head, the blonde in his drunken wisdom takes the nearest cup and dumps it over his own arm, doing little of use and instead making an almighty mess on the top of the bar.
He blinks.
The bartender sighs. ]
SORRY. [ It's yelled, a red flush staining his cheeks— although who's to say if that's embarrassment or just the alcohol?— and Kaveh reaches for the nearest cloth he can think of to mop up the spill: Alhaitham's cape. The action pulls the garment right off his roommate's shoulder, and it's not exactly a substitute for a towel, and his drunk actions do little but spread the water around... but at least he's trying. He apologizes again as he works, not to the man whose outfit he's stolen but to the bartender.
It's a mess, he's a mess, but at least while he's focused on correcting the hell he's just made for himself, he can ignore the far worse hell of the question Alhaitham has asked him, because quite frankly, he doesn't want to answer that. ]
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the scribe simply raises an eyebrow, a bemused look on his face as kaveh enthusiastically soaks himself with one of the glasses of water - but the architect was quick despite his drunken state, and alhaitham doesn't even have the time to react before he yanks the cape from his shoulder to wipe up the spill sprawling across the counter.
it takes a lot to irk him enough to show, but there's a flicker of annoyance that crosses alhaitham's face as kaveh yells back at him, sloshing the spilt water around the counter in such an ineffective way that it does little but force it over the edge and on to their legs. ]
Really?
[ so, with an irritated sigh, he stands up abruptly from the seat he'd just taken. for a moment, it seems as if he was about to simply leave and relinquish kaveh into the hands of the bartender for the rest of the night - but without warning, muscular arms reach around kaveh's waist and with little leverage, the scribe throws him unceremoniously over his shoulder. the blonde was light and lean, therefore very easy to carry - but he's prepared for whatever loud resistance he's sure kaveh has in store as he searches in his pocket for some mora to cover the tab, dropping it on the bar for the bartender before attempting to remove his roommate from the establishment.
it might seem flippant, but alhaitham's mind is genuinely reasoning this as a protective measure - kaveh being here much longer was going to do much more damage to his reputation, acting out like this. it was logical to simply remove him from the equation entirely and preserve what dignity he had left.
as for his sodden cape, he makes a mental note that he can come back for it tomorrow when the dust had settled. whether or not kaveh would be responsible for the cleaning bill? mm. ]
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Then, Kaveh promptly begins shouting. ]
What the fuck, Alhaitham!! Put me down!
[ In his far too drunken state, his attempts to flail and thrash his way off the scribe's shoulder are inept at best; it's clear even to him that he's not getting out of this one even as he tries his best to make things difficult for the other. After all, hasn't Alhaitham made things difficult for him? There was no need for him to come here and impose himself in the situation, and yet here he is with his stupid arrogance and his stupid mora and his stupid muscles to do exactly that.
...Ugh. Kaveh wishes he never had that stupid dream. All it's done is make things worse... and it's not as if things were in a good state between the two of them anyway, since that fight. (And isn't it funny how he can't even remember what it was about, anymore? Only the fact that they fought. That they continue to fight. That he can't stand him, or so he tells himself.)
And now the blood is rushing to his head.
Kaveh groans, a long and frustrated sound, and hits Alhaitham's back with his fists. ]
Let go, I said!
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No.
[ he's able to keep the blonde relatively contained until they manage to exit the tavern, though because of all the punching and squirming going on behind him alhaitham regretfully has to use his boot to kick open the door enough to let them out. for all kaveh was wiry and lithe, he was still surprisingly strong - a strength only fueled by the many, many glasses of liquid courage he'd imbibed while slouching at the bar.
it's a logical solution to remove kaveh from the tavern;
1. the cold, night air of sumeru city would do well for him to sober up some;
2. he wouldn't further ruin his career by carrying on down a road that would only end in a bar fight and/or reparations to the bartender;
3. alhaitham would know where he is, rather than having to worry he'd fallen into a gutter somewhere, or stumbled drunkenly off a ledge, or gotten into an altercation with one of tighnari's pot plants, etc. etc. etc.
but: he's also aware that kaveh is unhappy with the current situation, has been unhappy since they'd talked earlier. the scribe isn't quite sure what to do about that, because kaveh is fiery and emotional and unpredictable, all the things that leave him at a loss to respond to with anything other than the first sassy comment that sneaks into his mind because what else is he supposed to do? talk about ephemeral feelings? soul-search on top of five wines?
he's broken out of his Very Logical thought process as kaveh lands a particularly neat blow near the small of his back, causing alhaitham to hitch his breath in mild pain - and that's enough for him to stop and dump the blonde back on his feet, deeming them far enough away from the tavern that any further continuation of this scene wouldn't be the talk of the entire city the following day.
the warmth of kaveh's body from his shoulder was gone, and without his cape, the chill of the night air makes him miss it. yes; the chill is what makes him miss it. a reasonable conclusion. ]
You're acting like a child.
[ the scribe is frowning, arms crossed over his chest. they had ended up on one of the lower walkways on the way back to alhaitham's house, but were still a decent distance away. ]
Can't you just use your words and explain what's wrong? Or do you simply enjoy making me ask you over and over again?
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Later, perhaps, he'll see the benefit in being dragged out of there by the other before he could make more of a scene... but even if such a time comes to pass, he swears he'll never say as much, or even admit that he was making a scene to begin with. If Alhaitham wants to accuse him of being proud, then he will be, end of story.
...Which admittedly lends some credence to what the other is saying, Kaveh watching from the corner of his eyes as Alhaitham's arms fold over his chest, and mimicking the action without even meaning to do so. ]
Shut up.
[ It's half-muttered to himself, half-said aloud, and if he cared to notice he'd realize that the cold slap of air has taken the worst of the slurring from his voice. But his ex-friend just keeps talking, and Kaveh feels his scowl deepening. Why can't Alhaitham just leave him alone for once? He feels his temper rising at the accusations, and perhaps it's a good thing that they're alone because his voice when he speaks is as usual too loud, high with indignation and frustration. ]
Has it perhaps occurred to you that I don't want to explain? I said I didn't want to talk about it, Alhaitham!!
[ To be fair, a tiny voice in his mind says— an almost reasonable voice despite the fact that he's drunk and upset— he never actually said as much in words. Of course, anyone with an empathetic bone in their body would surely have inferred it from the situation and the words he did choose... but empathy has never been Alhaitham's strong point, has it?
The thought makes him waver in place, a physical movement of his body echoing the hesitation in his mind and perhaps for a moment making it look like he's about to tip over before he corrects himself, eyes closing. When he speaks again, his voice is calmer. ]
I don't want to talk about it.
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- apart, that is, from the wine stain on his sodden sleeve. ]
Is Dori chasing your debts again? [ the scribe responds with a sigh, completely disregarding kaveh's protesting. ] I assume all this carry-on is about your financial situation.
[ after all, it was the touchiest subject that got broached in their household - frequently, loudly, and usually ending in the two of them not talking for days on end. aside from debt collectors breathing down that slim neck of his, alhaitham can't guess at anything else that might send kaveh into such an immature spiral.
career? couldn't be, because even though he was terrible with money, kaveh was objectively one of the best architectural minds perhaps in the world, even though he'd never admit as much out loud. friends? mm, alhaitham doesn't pay much attention to kaveh's personal life - quite the opposite, he tries to stay out of it - but he hadn't had his ear bent to any drama pertaining to tighnari or cyno in recent past.
so, this was the logical conclusion. ]
You do realise that, generally, the outcome of ignoring a problem is that the problem grows bigger?
[ he tries to put a sarcastic spin on the words, but much to alhaitham's disappointment, they come out rather genuine. ]
If she's causing you trouble, I can talk to the matra about it.
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I said—
[ Why. Is Alhaitham. Still. Talking? It's with something near disbelief that Kaveh turns back and stares at him for the next few moments, because despite now having been told both indirectly and directly of the architect's desire to not discuss this, he continues to do exactly that, ignoring Kaveh's wishes in what the drunkard can only assume is an arrogant need to prove himself correct yet again.
And truth be told, in a way he is sort of correct. Dori is a never-ending source of problems in Kaveh's life, and is as a result part of the reason his moods have been so difficult the past several days. Her Palace of Alcazarzaray may have raised him to the level of renown he now appreciates, but it has also put him in crippling debt... to her. It's a big part of why he's living with Alhaitham in the first place, which, as far as Kaveh is concerned, is the only reason he had that stupid dream...
By the time he remembers to turn away from the other man once more, the flush of heat is already creeping from his neck to his face. Oh, fuck that. He'll ignore that problem for as long as he possibly can. Forever, if possible. Never mind what the other said about ignored problems getting bigger.
He balls his hands into fists, eyes closing as he lets out a deep, irritated breath, and in his dissipation of his newly found calm he doesn't realize that he's starting to pitch backward once more, won't notice until it's too late and he's sprawled out on the tiled path like the drunk he is. ]
I don't want you to go to the matra. Have you finally lost your hearing from playing your music too loud? For the last time, stay out of my business!!
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[ alhaitham starts, his mood souring a little at kaveh's unwaveringly obstinate behaviour - but then he's abruptly cut off by the other swaying sharply backwards, his protest obviously a little more impassioned than his body had stability for.
later on, he might reason away the way that he takes a hurried stride forward to close the distance between them and catch kaveh so that he doesn't further inconvenience his own evening by having to take the other to a healer; so that he doesn't need to be culpable as the reason for yet another one of kaveh's problems (that problem being a concussion, as he hits the ground).
but it's unfortunately far more instinctual than that, the way that he easily catches his obnoxiously loud, belligerent roommate from eating a mouthful of concrete in the lower streets of sumeru city. even though it feels a little like trying to calm down an angry cat, there's a little relief somewhere deep, deep down that kaveh's caught in his arms and not by the ornate tilework.
so - now what does he do?? ]
Calm down.
[ the scribe chastises, though he's aware that particular phrase will do the exact opposite. what a scene they made; the acting grand sage standing here with his arms hooked under the armpits of the light of kshahrewar, having what looked like, for all intents and purposes, a lover's spat.
alhaitham can't decide what to do with kaveh, because he's in half a mind to simply throw him over his shoulder again and half leaving him in one of tighnari's softer hedges to sleep it off - so he just lets him hang there.
they look fucking ridiculous.
under his breath; ]
- and, fine then. Far be it for me to stick my neck out for someone so set on wallowing in - whatever this is you're whinging about. I won't go to the matra, but only if you start being reasonable.
[ frustration is creeping in at the edges of his voice, if only for the fact that kaveh is the only one he ever makes an effort to give a shit about, and even that was being made entirely too difficult. he didn't know when the architect had become a non-negotiable fixture in his existence, but it was an extremely annoying (and confounding) discovery. ]
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[ Not a word of thanks, despite the fact that Alhaitham's quick actions just saved him from the indignity of landing on his ass, or his face, or whichever part of him decided to hit the concrete tiles first. Not a single word, because apparently he's drunk enough that his horny brain is doing most of the work for him, and all he can really think about is the strength in the arms that caught him. It's safest to pull away, scowling and snarling, so he does— no doubt succeeding in pissing the other off even more.
Honestly, it's horseshit. Which part of his brain decided it would be good to dream about Alhaitham anyway? And of all the times it could have happened, why now when he's already indebted to him for giving him a place to stay?
(It's not really giving, some pedantic corner of his mind argues, when that asshole pesters him constantly for rent, but that's neither here nor there.)
Only once he is standing upright and focused on staying that way does he look back at the other man, trying to keep his gaze steady and ignore the heat in his cheeks. It's a big ask, all in all, and he falters in each and every part of it as the seconds tick by, undoubtedly looking unsteady and uncomfortable as his eyes refuse to stay on Alhaitham's face. The one thing he does manage, however, is the arch tone in his voice. ]
I'll remind you that I specifically asked you to stay out of this. Meaning the only reason it became your business is because of you. If I want your help, I'll ask for it.
[ He doesn't like the frustrated tone in the other's voice, though, almost feels bad for it; it sneaks insidious, wandering questions into his mind: where did it come from? is the scribe being genuine? does he actually want to help him? why, when he never—
Maybe he should have just said it was Dori, given him something to focus on. Give him the feeling that he's being helpful in the way he apparently desperately wants to be, while Kaveh just keeps ignoring problems and hoping they don't get bigger the way the other claims they will. ]
I hope you're proud of yourself, though. You've ruined my buzz.
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however, it seems as though alhaitham's patience is beginning to run out as kaveh continues his aggressive tirade, punctuated with those back and forth barbs they're so used to - so why is it pissing him off so much right now?
a scowl creeps on to the scribe's normally fairly neutral face as what he's perceived as only offers of help are ridiculed upon that lyrical voice. why did he bother to even come out and search for kaveh in the first place? alhaitham is struggling to find any sort of logical reason that this entire escapade had been even remotely worth it.
taking a half-step forward so they're almost toe-to-toe, the taller man looks oddly imposing as his temper is clearly piqued. unlike kaveh, he's absolutely unafraid to engage in eye contact and to that end, fixes him with a glower that could wither a plant at a hundred paces.
while he'd come out with at least halfway decent intentions to make sure the blonde wasn't destroying himself, he's now instead wondering how quickly he can get his house locks changed.
in a low, dangerous hiss; ]
I won't be waiting at your beck and call next time you need something.
[ normally interpersonal relationship issues wouldn't annoy him so much, but for some reason, alhaitham feels - genuinely angry. hurt? mm, he doesn't know, doesn't really care enough day to day to analyse these kinds of feelings to be able to pinpoint them with any accuracy. ]
If you want to act this stupidly, be my guest. Go drink yourself into a stupor and be a coward, if that's what you want so badly.
[ and he lets that last word hang heavily in the air for a moment before straightening back up, looking to leave - unless kaveh had anything else to throw at him. ]
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Somehow, the thought emboldens him, and where he's still shaky on his feet Kaveh manages to hold Alhaitham's glare and return it, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he takes the other half-step that brings them toe-to-toe— and the part of his brain that's still drunk is insisting that he just close the space and shut the scribe's arrogant mouth with a kiss— his upper lip curling in scorn. ]
Good! [ He can't hiss the way Alhaitham does, the word half-shouted instead as his fists tighten in an effort to hold his ground and not do something heinously stupid. ] I don't want your help anyway!!
[ It's the kind of argument that might have left him furiously teary-eyed after the fact if he weren't drunk and horny. The scribe cuts to his core in a way that no one else has ever seemed to be able to, understanding him well enough to tear him to shreds without blinking an eyelid. Which just makes Kaveh wonder all over again why he's supposedly trying to help him tonight, why he's making the architect's problems his business when usually he stays the hell out of it all—
Maybe it's this new fucking hero complex he's got.
That's the thought on his mind when Alhaitham calls him a coward, and Kaveh feels something break, and very suddenly there are tears glimmering in the corners of his crimson eyes. And as the other man straightens up, but before he can turn away, he swings with one of those clenched fists, aiming to hit him square in the jaw. ]
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what he hadn't expected had been the blonde to actually throw a jab straight at his face, and to that end, he was actually quite unprepared.
they'd fought fraught and often, but had never come to the point of exchanging blows past angry words yelled down the corridors of a house that felt empty if either of them were missing from it. as the pain blossoms in the scribe's jaw, he's dimly aware he'd done at least something to deserve it - but that more rational part is drowned out for want of wounded pride, frustration, annoyance, why can't kaveh just pull his fucking head out and let him in.
taking a staggered step backwards (because kaveh wasn't weak by any means - he was all lithe, wiry muscle, a glass cannon in a beautiful vessel) a gloved hand reaches up to clutch his mouth where he'd been struck, the flash of something wild crossing his face for the briefest of moments. it was rare, so rare to see the scribe's resolve slip, but kaveh was the only one that could irk him so, worm his way into his goddamn brain and live there just as lackadaisical on the rent as he did in his real home.
without thinking, alhaitham closes the distance between them again with one furious stride and grabs kaveh by the shoulders, fingers curling into his shirt. part of him wants to simply throw the architect into the bush; kick him out, for good this time; perhaps, spend a great deal of time elucidating to him his many, many flaws; but despite the pain in his jaw, he can't bring himself to do any of those things.
the tears in kaveh's eyes act like his kryptonite - and while he's not going to turn this into a brawl, it only builds on his immense frustration at the situation. voice raised for the first time since they'd started this carry-on; ]
What the hell has gotten into you?
[ he demands scathingly, emerald eyes flashing as he stares kaveh down - searching, for answers that he was obviously not going to get. almost as quickly as he'd grabbed the blonde's slender shoulders, he lets them go like kaveh is white hot. maybe he remembers the more rational part of himself; that they're in public. maybe he just realises that perhaps, this is all a foregone conclusion anyway.
taking a step back, it's alhaitham's turn to curl his hands into fists, obviously trying to quell some of the rage bubbling up within. he couldn't let himself get sucked into this vortex - and there was obviously no point in being part of kaveh's tempest anyway. turning on his heel, he looks over his shoulder back towards kaveh - but down at the ground, not directly at him. ]
You won't have to worry about my 'help' at all in the future. How stupid I was, not to see that you were doing perfectly without it.
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The anger and hurt is still bubbling and churning in his own gut, shining in the tears at the corners of his eyes, but something in that furious look staggers him into a shame that prevents him from acting further, even as Alhaitham drops his grip again and steps away.
What the hell has gotten into him, is the question on the scribe's lips... and the truth is: a lot. So much, in fact, that even lips loose from too much alcohol won't spill a word of it. So much that he would rather punch his way out of a situation than talk about it, lest his pride be left shattered.
Never mind that his pride is already in pieces at his feet.
...He's well and truly fucked things up this time, hasn't he?
For several long moments, all Kaveh can do is stand there as the scribe strides away, watching the broad shoulders of his departing figure in a silence that rings loud in his ears. And it feels like hours before he pulls himself away, slinking in the opposite direction in the search of something strong with which to drown this newest sorrow that he's just created for himself. ]