Chapter Text
A Truth Universally Acknowledged
“Dance with me.”
Al Haitham’s words float between them, cooled by the setting sun of summer’s end. Kaveh nearly misses them, lost in the sounds of quiet around them: Waterfalls rumble as they cascade from the towering cliffs in the distance, filling the streams below the balcony of Alcazarzaray. Wildlife croaks, crickets and caws from the forest all around. The door behind them leading to the main hall is cracked open, and Kaveh can still hear the music, the dancing, and the celebration of Sumeru’s newly elected Grand Sage and Al Haitham’s official leave.
“Dance? There’s hardly any room.” Kaveh says, still trying to fix the pin holding his gold dupatta on his shoulder. He lifts the fabric higher, not letting it touch the floor full of petals from the flowering trees around them, nor the railing lined with flickering candles.
“That’s never stopped you before.” Al Haitham says, pulling his hands out of the pockets of his navy sherwani to help, muttering a quick hold still to the other before fidgeting with the pin himself. “If I had a mora for every time I’ve caught you dancing in the kitchen while burning breakfast, I could pay off your debt twice over.”
Kaveh swats the air. “It couldn’t have been that often.”
“Fine.” Al Haitham relents. The pin snaps closed and Kaveh rolls his shoulders, satisfied when it doesn’t fall or pull at the sunrise orange fabric beneath. Al Haitham shrugs. “Maybe not all of it.”
“Thank you.”
“But it could certainly pay off your student loans.”
Kaveh rolls his eyes. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
“Well, with how the great Light of Ksharehwar looks at me—”
He groans at the epithet but Al Haitham goes on.
“— I must be a masterpiece.”
Kaveh feels his face go more pink than the flower trees. He pointedly looks off into the distance, ignoring the other in favour of the sea of soft petals dancing in the breeze like a rolling wave.
Al Haitham takes his hand. “If space concerns you so much, just stay close.”
“You’re so predictable,” he says in a laugh, placing his other hand on Al Haitham’s side.
“But you love it.”
Through the crack in the door, they hear the rise of strings from the main hall. The next song begins, and so do they.
“There’s something I’d like to know,” Kaveh starts, leading them both through the cramped waltz.
“No, we did not leave the stove on, the front door is locked, and your project isn’t due until next week.” Al Haitham affirms.
Kaveh guides them both around the small balcony with steps synced to the strings. “Not that. Come on, seriously now.”
“Alright, alright.” Al Haitham says, letting Kaveh’s hand go for a spin. “What is it?”
He waits until he can see Al Haitham’s eyes. “When did you know that you loved me?”
Caught off guard, Al Haitham nearly misses a step. Recovering quickly, he reconnects their hands and declares, “it was love at first sight.”
“Bullshit.”
Al Haitham grins. “Fine. Perhaps not sight.”
“What then? First smile? First touch?”
“First insult.”
“What?!”
Al Haitham quickly dips Kaveh before he can get another word in, tips of his blond hair nearly grazing the stone floor. He can hear Al Haitham’s grin through his words: “It was love at first debate.”
Kaveh jolts with a bark of laughter, letting go of Al Haitham’s waist completely, dangling at the other man’s mercy. “Was that when I called you a pompous—”
“A pompous, impertinent, egotistic, lazy, brat? Yes.”
Kaveh laughs harder, forcing Al Haitham to step forward and hold his waist with both arms. He waits until Al Haitham’s face is a breath away from his own before saying, “hey.”
“Hey?” Al Haitham asks, lifting a brow.
“I got a secret. Come closer.”
Al Haitham turns his head, letting Kaveh whisper in his ear: “You’re still a brat.”
Al Haitham drops him.
“Hey!” Kaveh yelps from the floor. “Way to prove my point!”
“Perhaps if you had another name for me, I could embody it just as well.” Al Haitham says with a gleam in his eyes. He dips his head in a dramatic bow, extending a hand. Kaveh takes it. Al Haitham pulls him up and into a spin with the sudden upturn of the music's rhythm.
“Then, perhaps you could be… ‘the architect of all that is right in my life’, and I, ‘the scribe’ of yours.”
“A bit of a mouthful, don’t you think?”
“I could make it longer?”
“You’re being silly.”
Al Haitham lifts their joined hands for a twirl. “I’m the happiest man in the world. What’s not to laugh at?”
He’s right, no doubt. Kaveh can see it in Al Haitham’s very spirit; weightless, bright.
“You didn’t seem to mind when I introduced you as my partner tonight.” Al Haitham says as the last rays of sunlight dip below the horizon. Torches along the paths below and candles lining the railing flicker; beautiful in their own dances of yellows and golds, but nothing compares to the constellations above.
“‘My partner’ is a fine enough moniker in public,” Kaveh finally starts.“But is that really what you want to call your love?” He asks, following Al Haitham’s lead of steps and turns.
“My love? No. No, I will refer to my love by whatever name he sees fit.”
“Oh? Well in that case,” Kaveh spins in and out of Al Haitham’s grasp, ending with his back pressed against the other’s chest. He looks over his shoulder at Al Haitham. “I would like to be ‘yours’ from dawn till dusk.”
They separate and half spin — “Corny names are acceptable, too, but only before my coffee.”
Al Haitham laughs at that before his hand finds Kaveh’s waist once more. “Go on.”
Two steps forward, another turn back — “I don’t mind ‘my love’ either, but save it for when we’re alone together.”
“Certainly, my love.” Al Haitham pulls Kaveh closer, stopping the other from bumping into the railing on their tiny balcony. “And when upset with you, darling, what should I call you then?”
An open break and sway to the gentle strings — “I wouldn’t mind ‘darling’.”
“Then darling, it is.” Al Haitham affirms.
The song and their steps slow down together, and the ensemble quiets, leaving only a cello and a piano. “And, when, my dear,” Al Haitham starts, “may I call you by your name?”
“My name?
Al Haitham nods. Kaveh thinks for a moment, letting their steps shrink with every thought that grows.
“You may only call me Kaveh when you are most ardently, most deeply in love with me.”
Their dance crawls to a gentle sway. Al Haitham’s hands slowly trail up from Kaveh’s waist, cupping his cheeks. Kaveh leans into the touch. Closing his eyes, he feels every digit, every scar.
“And how are you tonight, Kaveh?” Al Haitham asks, pressing his lips to Kaveh’s forehead. Staying close, Kaveh feels Al Haitham’s lips trail down his face to his ear.
“Kaveh.” The whisper and kiss against his cheek echo down his entire body with a shiver. He pulls Al Haitham closer. Al Haitham’s lips ghost over his own, and Kaveh can feel the way they form each syllable,
“Kaveh.”
Kaveh tilts his head and leans forward, kissing the man he loves. Al Haitham all but melts into his arms.
In the gentle breeze, pink flower petals race in shifting shapes of wind. Their paths are unpredictable as they dance and chase, separate and reconnect. Blown from one direction to the next, they learn love is both the calm and the storm. Through it all, a truth holds fast, certain as dusk and dawn: To love is to learn how best to weather the worst of storms, float in boundless clear skies, and find tranquility in clouds of grey, together. After all,
Contrast is essential.
THE END