Chapter Text
Kaveh wakes up feeling like he accidentally spent the night in a Withering Zone.
His head is pounding. Experimentally, he tries to shift his arm, but ends up biting back a swear instead. Forget the Withering Zone— why does it feel like he had an unfortunate meeting with a Lawachurl’s arm and lost, miserably?
Kaveh casts his mind back to find an answer to that, but finds nothing. Not even an inkling of a hint. Just total darkness, no matter how hard he tries to remember.
He blinks, instead, and waits for the world to swim back into view. It materialises in the familiar image of his room, looking exactly as he had left it, with every inch covered in papers bathed in the afternoon sun.
Kaveh blinks. Lovely as it is to be back, this is decidedly not the same place he remembers blacking out in.
He makes a valiant attempt to swing out of bed, but instead fall backwards as his headache reaches epic proportions. Perhaps that was a bad idea.
“Why is this happening to me,” Kaveh laments, squeezing his eyes shut. It thankfully helps a little, and grants him enough time to think as the pain gradually ebbs into a dull ache.
He has no idea how he returned to Sumeru City, seeing as he was in the desert the last time he checked. However, since he’s back home anyway, there is one other person who could possibly explain what exactly is going on.
What are the chances that said person would take pity on him and explain this situation without riling him up? Zero. Definitely zero. But what other clues does he have?
Kaveh groans for the second time, and settles in to wait for his roommate to come home.
“There you are,” Kaveh huffs, when Alhaitham finally sees it fit to stroll through the door. He has two bags of shopping in each hand. “Mind explaining how I returned here?”
Alhaitham ignores him, which is typical, but aggravating nonetheless. Kaveh is really not in the mood for it. Really, who leaves their unconscious roommate alone to go shopping , of all things?
“Hello?” Kaveh says, offering a wave. “Are your headphones on again?”
Silence.
Kaveh feels his cheeks redden. He crosses his arms. The nerve of this man!
“You know, there is a limit to how childish someone of your status should be,” he snaps. “Especially towards his own roommate. Especially in this condition! Could you not have left a note, at the very least?”
Instead of responding, Alhaitham starts to walk towards him. His gaze is fixed on the wall past Kaveh’s head, and his mouth is turned down into a frown.
Kaveh scoffs. “So now you want to answer—hey, watch where you’re going! You’ll collide with me, you brute—”
Alhaitham doesn’t slow down, so Kaveh flings his arms out, alarmed. He braces for impact.
There’s… nothing. He feels a swooping sensation in his arms, tingling through his chest and stomach, and then… nothing.
Huh.
Kaveh turns around, and feels his breath stop short. Somehow, Alhaitham is behind him, except—except he swears that he never saw Alhaitham sidestep around him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear that…
Slowly, Kaveh lifts his foot, and aims a gentle kick at their table. His foot slips through, as if the table leg isn’t even there. Behind him, Alhaitham fiddles with the newest painting they’ve acquired for the house.
Kaveh looks down at himself, realises that he can see the rug through his feet, and shrieks.
Once his headache finally dissipates, Kaveh’s muddled recollection of events goes something like this:
Three days ago, he left for a project near Aaru Village. He had been asked to consult with the villagers regarding the construction of a local school, and discussions had been progressing smoothly.
Kaveh remembers retiring to his tent one night, and waking up early the next morning to trek to the planned construction site. He had initially wanted to carry out a brief survey of the site, but something had distracted him along the way.
A girl. Yes—this Kaveh remembers, because he barely saw her over Mehrak’s floating form, and had accidentally knocked over her campsite.
“I’m so sorry,” he had apologised, feeling truly regretful. “Here, let me help pick that up for you.”
He remembers that she had looked young—far too young for the unfettered rage slowly clouding her features.
“How dare you? Do you know how hard I worked for this?” she had seethed. Kaveh had put his hands up placatingly, but she had barrelled on. “You’ll pay for this!”
And then Kaveh had blacked out, and apparently somehow woke up in his room, on the floor, invisible and without Mehrak. He hardly believes in superstitions, but this doesn’t bode well for him at all.
He thinks, and thinks, and finally manages to arrive at three possible scenarios:
- He is dead. His body is lying somewhere in a ditch in the desert, possibly buried under the sand, and no one will find him. (He hopes this is not the case).
- He is stuck in limbo, meaning that he is still alive, but his body is still lying somewhere in a ditch in the desert. (In that case, is there any certainty someone will find him?)
- He is in a dream. (How the hell does he wake up?)
There’s no way for him to prove any of this without any evidence. In other words, he is stuck, until he gleans some information from his surroundings.
Kaveh half-heartedly tries to lean against the wall, hoping against hope that somehow this is all a trick on his mind. A result of overwork, maybe?
As if one cue, he phases through the wall. It’s almost as if the universe is out to mock him.
“Archons,” he mutters, when he rights himself.
Of course this sort of thing happens to him, of all people. Of course.
Kaveh quickly creates a list of hypotheses he wants to investigate, in order to discern exactly what sort of mess he’s gotten himself into.
Firstly, he finds his roommate, who is, predictably, reading a book.
“Just to make sure, you really can’t hear me, yes?” Kaveh says, snapping his fingers in front of Alhaitham’s face. “This isn’t some sort of sick joke?”
Alhaitham doesn’t even blink. He stays completely engrossed in his book—which, granted, isn’t out of the ordinary, but Kaveh would have expected him to make an irritated expression at the very least, as he is wont to do when Kaveh bothers him.
A different tactic, then.
Kaveh flings himself onto the divan, and spreads out along it as far as he can go. He plasters on a smug smile. “Poetry? For leisure? I’m surprised someone as unromantic as you can appreciate and enjoy the finer intricacies of any stanza, let alone a collection like this.”
No response. No Alhaitham giving him an annoyed look and slowly inching away.
Kaveh frowns. He leans forward, feeling more than a little desperate.
“I actually did eat the last samosa,” he tells Alhaitham, very seriously and very truthfully.
Alhaitham doesn’t even twitch. In a last ditch effort, Kaveh tries to pull the stray lock of hair on top of Alhaitham’s head—the one which makes him look like a budding sprout. Again, his fingers pass through, and the lock remains still.
Kaveh sighs, and turns to the kitchen counter. For a brief moment, he contemplates slinging tomatoes at Alhaitham’s head.
For a second he thinks it actually works, because the stem of the tomato feels rough under his fingertips, whereas he had expected nothingness. Unsurprisingly, his hand slips through the tomato anyway. The sensation is almost like sluicing his hand through running water, and as futile as grasping that same water in his bare hands.
“You’re lucky the same rules apply to inanimate objects,” Kaveh says, ruefully. “I would have loved to see the look on your face if I used your head as target practice and you couldn’t see me.”
Alhaitham makes a noise. Immediately, Kaveh perks up.
“Alhaitham?”
Alhaitham grunts again, and Kaveh holds his breath, hopeful—
—until Alhaitham sneezes, and goes right back to reading his book.
Kaveh deflates, and contemplates his next move.
He decides to try and leave the house next. Perhaps the issue is something that only affects the current space they are in—although he wonders what the girl would have to do with it, in that case.
Still, it’s a starting point. Even if it does prove futile once Kaveh realises that the people of Sumeru also can’t see him.
“Of course,” he mutters.
Kaveh decides to do something nondescript to test his theory, so he settles for walking into people. As predicted, no one swerves for him, and he phases through all of them.
At least it’s not just an Alhaitham issue, because that might have been worse. Still, this is hardly what he wanted. Kaveh has never felt so unseen.
This is so frustrating he could scream. He then quickly realises that he can , actually, scream, and so with some trepidation he lets out the loudest scream his lungs can possibly generate in the middle of Treasures Street. It makes him feel marginally better, but no one bats an eye, which then just makes him feel infinitely worse.
Kaveh does five laps around Sumeru City like this. In a final effort, he tries to pretend to steal something from a stall, but winds up feeling too guilty to try that particular theory out, so settles for sitting on the stall itself. A customer reaches through him to inspect an item, and it feels like someone stirred his insides. It’s very unpleasant. Kaveh resolves to avoid that sensation in the future if possible.
He returns home with another headache. Surely it would have been useful if someone had at least felt cold when passing through him! But no—they had all felt nothing, apparently, which helps him none.
Neither does Alhaitham, when Kaveh makes a poor attempt at patting his back. He doesn’t even flinch—just continues to chop his onions with his signature unbothered expression.
“Figures,” Kaveh grumbles, as he flops onto a chair.
At this point, it seems as if the prospect of help is scarce. Kaveh is currently freelancing, and isn’t expected back from the desert for another week at least. This means Alhaitham has no reason to grow suspicious, because his client won’t be asking after him any time soon. She had also seemed fairly relaxed about the project at the time, and Kaveh finds himself wishing that she was a bit more draconian, if only to alert Alhaitham that something is wrong. As smart a man as he is, Alhaitham currently has no reason to feel suspicious. Therefore, he has no reason to investigate.
Kaveh laughs bitterly. Would Alhaitham even investigate his disappearance, for that matter? Kaveh considers the two of them friends, but on their bad days he gets the impression that Alhaitham considers him a grudging friend at best, and a charity case at worst.
Plus, Kaveh being caught up in his work is unfortunately not uncommon. Even if he is late by a week or so, Alhaitham would probably dismiss it as normal, and then spite him right afterwards.
And in all the time Kaveh has known him, right from their Akademiya days until now, Alhaitham only ever pursued something that would personally benefit him. This situation… probably isn’t something that would fall into that category.
Kaveh lets his head fall into his hands. What a right mess he’s in. And the one man who could possibly help him out a) can’t see him, and b) would rather spend his time mocking him than actually being of use.
Case in point: the man in question has currently abandoned his cooking pot in favour of staring at one of Kaveh’s paintings. Kaveh looks on, somewhat concerned, until Alhaitham reaches out to one of the corners and rotates it slightly.
Huh. Huh.
Alhaitham smirks, turning on his heel and walking away. It takes a second for Kaveh to register what he just did.
“I knew it!” Kaveh explodes. “I knew you had something to do with that! All this time I thought my mind was playing tricks on me—I knew my paintings looked more and more crooked every time I turned around!” If he could feel his feet he would be stamping them right now, but all Kaveh can do is seethe at Alhaitham’s general direction. “You are insufferable! I won’t let you hear the end of it when I return, mark my words.”
Alhaitham returns to the kitchen and whistles. He seems pleased. Nevermind that he can barely hold a tune, or that he’s somehow been driving Kaveh up the wall for a month straight and Kaveh only managed to figure it out when he became invisible and unknowable.
Kaveh wishes that he could turn visible right now, just to give Alhaitham a piece of his mind. Despite his sudden spike in murderous willpower, it doesn’t happen, and he has to resist the urge to tear out his hair instead.
He hopes to Celestia that his body isn’t rotting somewhere, and that he isn’t dead. A part of him despairs enough to want to give up. It would be much easier than having to worry endlessly like this.
But at his heart, Kaveh is a scholar. He is the Light of Kshahrewar, and he has never let a client down before.
Somehow, he will get to the bottom of this, and when he does, he’ll bicker at Alhaitham enough to last them a decade.
While he figures out his next course of action, Kaveh decides to accompany Alhaitham to his office.
“Oh, you really weren’t joking when you said the work was piling up,” Kaveh notes when he says when he sees the towering pile of applications on Alhaitham’s table.
Alhaitham looks vexed as he works, periodically tossing applications to a haphazard mess on the left of his desk, while reserving the right for a smaller, neater pile. Kaveh peers over his shoulder to have a look. It all looks awfully drab.
“This is a far cry from your usual scribe work, isn’t it,” Kaveh hums sympathetically. “I’m sure you’ll find a good replacement soon enough.”
There’s a knock on the door. Alhaitham puts down the application with an almost grateful look, and rubs his eyes.
“Enter,” he says.
A woman hesitantly steps through the doorway, a stack of envelopes in hand. She looks frazzled.
“My apologies for disturbing you, Acting Grand Sage,” she squeaks. “I was told to pass these on to you?”
If Alhaitham notes how nervous she is, he doesn’t say anything. “Leave them here, thank you,” he says, gesturing to the mess on his desk. “For reference, you can leave them on my desk in the future.”
“Ah! My apologies again,” she says meekly.
The poor girl looks terrified. Kaveh aims a pointed kick at Alhaitham’s leg for good measure.
Alhaitham ignores the woman in favour of rifling through the envelopes, and Kaveh fights the urge to roll his eyes. The woman, probably realising that she won’t be getting a proper dismissal any time soon, turns to leave.
“Wait,” Alhaitham says suddenly. “This clearly isn’t addressed to me.”
Kaveh takes a peek. Alhaitham’s right—there’s one envelope that isn’t addressed to him. When Kaveh takes a closer look, he nearly startles, because he didn’t expect the letter to be addressed to him instead.
How did his own correspondence arrive at Alhaitham’s office?
“I’m sorry, I was just directed to you,” the woman says, wringing her hands. “I apologise for the trouble, but I assumed you would be able to pass them onto Senior Kaveh?”
“Hm,” Alhaitham says. He takes one last look at Kaveh’s letter, before letting it fall on the messy pile. “That is true. Whether I’d take the time to find him, however…”
Kaveh gapes. The woman edges towards the door.
“Are you serious?” Kaveh explodes. “At least have the decency to deliver my own letters to me, even if they were mistakenly sent to you!”
He could wring Alhaitham’s neck right now, because Alhaitham just looks faintly smug . Kaveh seethes. This is possibly the worst kind of hell to be in—definitely worse than all-nighters he pulled in the Akademiya. Arguing with Alhaitham is infuriating in itself, but being mocked by the man without being able to rebut or defend himself is agonising.
Alhaitham tosses Kaveh’s letter onto his office chair. Kaveh opens his mouth to scream in his general direction, before the stamp on the envelope catches his eye.
He knows that stamp. It’s from his current client.
“Never mind. Alhaitham, please open that letter.”
Alhaitham returns to his work. The letter remains unopened. Kaveh grits his teeth.
“Alhaitham, please do the conventionally annoying thing and open my letter, since you’re so good at doing the conventionally annoying thing on a daily basis.”
It’s like talking to a brick wall. Alhaitham completely ignores his letter, even leaving for a meeting with the thing left out in the open in his office. Kaveh huffs as he tries to keep up.
“I’m giving you permission to be rude! Just this once!” Kaveh wheedles. “Come on, you know you’ve always wanted to read my correspondence.”
He feels like a devil (or an angel?) whispering into Alhaitham’s ear, except the devil in question is being resolutely ignored. Great.
Who the hell did he piss off enough to become like this? Evidently the answer would be ‘that girl’, but how is he supposed to find her? And get her to fix this?
Kaveh tries— and fails—not to despair.
Alhaitham clocks out at exactly 5:31PM. Kaveh knows this, because he has been staring at the clock on the wall for the past half hour, after spending the hour before that walking around the Akademiya and watching students agonise over their assignments.
“Finally!” he says, leaping to his feet as Alhaitham begins to clear his desk. “I had almost forgotten how dull office work was.”
Alhaitham strides out the door, and Kaveh is pleased to see that he’s taken the letter with him.
The sun hangs low in the sky as they make their way down the slopes of Sumeru City. The city is livelier than ever at this hour, and Kaveh finds himself missing the familiar smells: the headiness of the pani puri and chicken shawarma, the sharp iron of the forge, and even the weekly mehndi stalls. Things he would take the time to appreciate but only in passing, but now feel as far away from him as the horizon in the distance.
Alhaitham stops at one of these stalls. He picks up spices—cardamom, star anise, bay leaves, and cinnamon sticks—before continuing on his way. When they pass the tavern, Lambad steps out and waves to him.
“I haven’t seen Master Kaveh in an age!” he calls.
“He’s currently occupied with a project in the desert,” Alhaitham tells him. “He won’t return for another two weeks. Enjoy the peace while you can.”
Kaveh knows it’s futile, but he tries to smack Alhaitham for that comment anyway.
“It was getting a little quiet,” Lambad agrees with a smile. “Send him my regards when he returns, eh?”
Kaveh huffs. At least someone misses him around here.
He crosses his arms, and makes it a point to not look at Alhaitham for the rest of the journey.
As soon as they arrive home, Alhaitham toes off his shoes, tosses the letter on the table, and begins to boil a pot of water on the stove. Kaveh watches with increasing fascination as Alhaitham carefully breaks open the cinnamon pieces and cardamom seeds, before upending it all alongside a palmful of star anise and bay leaves into the pot. He then adds the evaporated milk and normal milk before topping it off with a spoonful of sugar, keeping a careful eye on the pot so that it doesn’t bubble over.
Kaveh knows that Alhaitham prefers his coffee strong in the morning, but he’s rarely home to watch this particular evening routine. It must smell divine. Kaveh’s mouth would water at the sight if it could, because this is exactly how he prefers his chai.
“You’re a cruel man, Alhaitham,” Kaveh bemoans.
The man in question has curled up on the divan, book in hand and a steaming cup of chai on the table beside him. He’s made enough for two cups, and Kaveh desperately wishes he could have some himself.
Back when they were students in the Akademiya, Alhaitham had once turned his back on the pot and realised too late that it was bubbling over onto the floor in seconds. Kaveh had to sit his junior down and show him how to make a proper cup, and to his knowledge, Alhaitham had made chai the same way ever since. Most people adjust the spices to their taste, but Alhaitham still made it exactly the way Kaveh liked it.
Realistically, Alhaitham probably preserved the recipe out because he enjoyed the taste as it was, and from a lack of desire to experiment further. Still, Kaveh likes to think he had some influence. The sight of Alhaitham with his own chai now does make him feel fond, although he’s sure Alhaitham would hardly appreciate the beauty in that shared memory.
“Well, since I’m currently fresh out of ideas,” Kaveh tells Alhaitham, a touch warmer than he intended, “I suppose I’ll just have to keep you company until I think of something.”
He sits next to Alhaitham and cranes his neck to see what he’s reading, before realising that for once, he doesn’t have to.
Things pick up the next morning, while Alhaitham is getting ready to leave for work.
For some reason, his morning routine includes him making sure the painting is still crooked (Kaveh pointedly looks away). It’s only interrupted when someone knocks on their door.
Alhaitham furrows his brow, and Kaveh finds himself mirroring him. No one calls on them this early.
The knocking grows more insistent. Alhaitham makes a face, before finally opening the door.
On the other side stands the General Mahamatra in all his glory. Alhaitham raises his eyebrows.
“Cyno,” he says flatly.
“Alhaitham,” Cyno says back, equally as curt. He looks especially grim. Kaveh’s only ever seen him this serious when he’s at work. “May I come in?”
“I leave for work within the hour,” Alhaitham says. “So no.”
He moves to swing the door shut, but Cyno wedges his foot between the doorway. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t urgent,” Cyno grits out.
Alhaitham scowls. “What could possibly be so important…?”
His voice dies away when Cyno produces a familiar briefcase from behind his back.
Kaveh gasps. Mehrak is in a sorry state; missing several hinges, with dust and sand covering nearly every inch of its surface. Its beeps are irregular and dissonant—almost sad, even. Cyno is gripping it with both hands, and Kaveh registers belatedly that this means it probably can’t even hover.
He claps a hand over his mouth, horrified. Alhaitham actually frowns when he takes a look. Mehrak has always been nothing short of pristine, so seeing it like this is uncanny.
“I was hoping Kaveh had just misplaced it,” Cyno says. “But judging by your expression, I see that isn’t the case.” He fixes Alhaitham with a steely look. “I trust that this is enough reason to have a discussion?”
Cyno and Alhaitham relocate to the dining room, and Kaveh follows in a daze. He feels his heart twist when Mehrak beeps faintly from its position in Alhaitham’s lap.
“So, Kaveh has been visiting sites in the desert,” Cyno says, leaning forward. “When did he leave?”
“Three days ago,” Alhaitham replies.
“Did he mention where he was going?”
“No. He stormed off in the morning without a word.”
Strictly speaking, that isn’t untrue. It wasn’t unexpected, though. Kaveh can hardly remember the argument now, but it was one of their usual. Nothing out of the ordinary for them.
Judging from his deadpan expression, Cyno seems to think otherwise. Kaveh begins to fidget.
Open your letter, he urges Alhaitham.
After a pause, Alhaitham actually does retrieve it. After the flash of surprise, Kaveh briefly wonders whether Alhaitham really heard him, before dismissing the thought.
Even Alhaitham’s not that good of an actor.
“This was delivered to me today,” Alhaitham tells Cyno. “It’s Kaveh’s.”
He slices the envelope open and scans the contents for himself. After a beat, he apparently comes to a conclusion, because he lays the letter on the table so that it faces Cyno.
Kaveh floats over to take a look. From what he can make out, it seems his client is simply asking for an early update on his design.
Cyno’s nose twitches. “And I assume there’s no possibility he’d leave Mehrak while onsite.”
“None at all. He treats it like his own,” Alhaitham says. “And its mapping functions are necessary for his work.”
Cyno sighs. “Alright. You’re sure he didn’t make mention of any stops along the way?”
“If he did, I wouldn’t know about it.”
Cyno closes his eyes, and presses a hand to his temple. “Can you operate Mehrak?”
Alhaitham taps the side of the briefcase. There’s no response. Kaveh’s stomach sinks.
He desperately casts his mind back. As ever, the only thing he can recall is the girl knocking him out after hurling a barrage of insults at him. He doesn’t know how, but surely that couldn’t have led to a situation as serious as this…?
The silence settles in the room like a thundercloud. Cyno continues to inspect the letter, while Alhaitham taps his foot against the rug.
Finally, Cyno sighs. “Ordinarily this wouldn’t be much cause for concern, but Kaveh never leaves Mehrak behind, and his client is expecting correspondence,” he mutters, before standing. “I will file a missing persons report. And I will speak to his client. If he’s lost in the desert, I will find him.”
Cyno casts a look behind him. “I trust that if you hear from him, you’ll report it?”
“Naturally,” says Alhaitham, still tapping his foot.
Cyno crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You know, I would’ve expected you to be more concerned.”
“Kaveh can handle himself,” Alhaitham shrugs. “He regularly undergoes solo trips to the desert; it is an integral part of his work.”
Kaveh almost feels flattered that Alhaitham openly admits his strength in front of others. He wishes Alhaitham said it to his face, but he’ll take what he can get.
He also wishes that this one time, Alhaitham could think the opposite, if only to realise that something has indeed gone terribly wrong.
Cyno’s expression remains indecipherable. “I will keep you updated, then,” he says, before he slips through the door and disappears as silently as he had come.
Mehrak beeps sadly. Alhaitham lifts it, seemingly inspecting it for something.
“Be gentle,” says Kaveh sharply.
Again, almost as if he heard him, Alhaitham places it on the sofa far more gently than Kaveh would’ve expected. But Kaveh knows better at this point. Alhaitham cannot see him, because he would have made at least one snarky comment about it if he had. It really is up to him to find his own way back.
But Cyno is looking for him. This means that at the very least, his body will be found, because once Cyno sets his eyes on someone, they never escape. Perhaps once his body is recovered, Kaveh can just… float back inside it, and resume corporeality that way.
Yes. It should be fine. Until then, he just has to hold on.
The next day, Kaveh once again follows Alhaitham to his office. His roommate looks unruffled, and works through the day as silently as he did before, with minimal interruptions.
At the end of the workday, however, Kaveh watches as Alhaitham fishes the letter out from his pocket.
“Aaru Village,” Alhaitham murmurs cryptically, before tearing off the portion of the letter with the address and stowing it back in his pocket. Kaveh barely gets the time to blink before Alhaitham is already leaving his office, striding down Sumeru City with those horrendously long legs of his. Even in ghost form, Kaveh can hardly keep up.
“Wait!” Kaveh gasps. “Not all of us—are blessed with long legs—you unfair man—”
By the time they get home, Kaveh is huffing and puffing. Alhaitham is completely unaffected, and instead strides to the sofa that Mehrak is resting on.
Mehrak beeps softly when Alhaitham draws near. Alhaitham bends down to its level, and despite the sorry sight the pair of them make, it still makes Kaveh feel warm with affection.
“Hello,” Alhaitham says, prodding Mehrak’s face bluntly. Forget being warm with affection—Kaveh wants to smack him now. “Do you know anything about Kaveh’s whereabouts?”
Mehrak is silent for a bit. Kaveh fears that it completely lost its responsive functions, but finally it beeps a negative.
Alhaitham peers at it. “I thought you would respond to my voice,” he muses, drawing to his full height, “but it seems Kaveh has still kept you password protected.”
“No, you idiot, it needs repairs!” Kaveh snaps. “Mehrak clearly said no. It’s tired!”
Alhaitham picks Mehrak up. He deliberates a while, turning it around in his hands, before he sets it down again and fiddles with the broken hinges on the exterior casing.
Finally, in a softer voice, he speaks again. “Sorry,” he says, placing it back on the sofa. “It seems you’ll have to wait for your master to get back.”
Alhaitham walks away. Kaveh stays rooted to his current position, flabbergasted.
He has never heard Alhaitham apologise in his life. Not once in all the years Kaveh has known him, and if he has, it certainly hasn’t been in front of him.
For once in his life when it comes to Alhaitham-related matters, Kaveh doesn’t know what to think.
Alhaitham becomes even more confusing a few days later, when, in a show of uncharacteristic spontaneity, he decides to set off outside Sumeru City.
“Hey! Where are you going?” Kaveh yells after Alhaitham’s retreating figure. “I’ll be stuck here, you know!”
Kaveh ends up accompanying him to the border of Sumeru City, gesticulating widely the entire way. He usually feels lightheaded so close to the city border in this state, so he prepares to grumble and turn back, resigning himself to wait for Alhaitham to return from his impromptu trip.
This time, however, he feels faint when Alhaitham disappears into the wilds, rather than the opposite. The feeling persists until Kaveh follows him, and somehow, he doesn’t feel like blacking out when he does.
Kaveh is dumbfounded. This is the first time he’s been able to set foot outside the city since he became like this. Is he tied to Alhaitham, then? If so, that would be horrendous. It would also explain why he feels faint when he tries to stray too far from the road.
Regardless, Alhaitham presses on, so Kaveh follows suit.
They walk for hours. Alhaitham doesn’t stop for a single break, so they wind up at Aaru Village by sunset, and book a room at the inn.
Alhaitham dumps his travelling bag onto the bed, before taking out the scrap of Kaveh’s letter and heading outside. Kaveh trails behind him as he converses with the residents, before finally ending up in front of a familiar house.
Alhaitham knocks on the door. After a few moments, it swings open to reveal the familiar face of Kaveh’s client.
“Miss Zahra?” Alhaitham asks.
“That’s me,” Zahra says hesitantly. “Anything I can do for you, Mister…?”
“Alhaitham,” Alhaitham says smoothly. Zahra’s eyes widen in recognition, but Alhaitham barrels on. “I understand that you are one of Kaveh’s clients. Has he informed you of his itinerary?”
“He’s given me a preliminary sketch,” Zahra says, “but nothing concrete. I was expecting correspondence this week.” She frowns, already looking a little concerned. “Is something the matter?”
“Nothing at all,” Alhaitham says, tucking the letter back into his pocket. “He simply left something behind. I thought I would catch up to him, in case he might need it.”
Oh, that is a lie. Alhaitham has never been that proactively helpful towards Kaveh. If he had really left Mehrak behind (not that he ever would) Alhaitham would simply wait for him to come home before laughing at him for it.
The pair converse for a while longer. It seems the walking somehow tired him out, because Kaveh tunes out most of their conversation. How Alhaitham managed such a strenuous journey out of the blue is beyond him.
“Thank you, Miss Zahra,” Alhaitham says when they finish. She nods, and wishes him good luck, none the wiser. They return to their inn, and Kaveh watches as Alhaitham prepares to retire to bed.
Kaveh can’t help but feel somewhat deflated. His client knows nothing, and has no reason to be suspicious. They’ve gained no clues. Alhaitham might go snooping, but he probably won’t voice his reasoning aloud. Besides, he has work the day after tomorrow, and Kaveh doubts he’d take leave for a situation that he hasn’t deemed critical.
Half-heartedly, Kaveh decides to go outside. Even though he can’t feel it, the prospect of getting fresh air right now seems more helpful than stewing in his own misery indoors.
Before he leaves, he glances back. Alhaitham is dozing off in bed, sleeping rigidly on his back as he always does. When he’s near sleep like this, the lines on his face smooth out a little. He looks more boyish. Softer.
Kaveh sighs. “I wish I could help you,” he admits. “Funny as it is watching you flounder for once, the benefits hardly outweigh the costs.”
Alhaitham snores on. Kaveh ducks outside, and slumps onto the nearby bench.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” says a familiar, smug voice to his right.
Kaveh whips around, and comes face to face with—
“You!” he screeches.
The girl from the desert waves at him from her perch on the nearby wall. She cackles like an imp, mouth stretched in a mocking grin, and Kaveh is suddenly wide awake.
“You—Put me back to how I was right this instant—!”
His hand, pointing at her, is quivering with rage. She seems to take this as a joke, because she laughs again.
“Absolutely not,” she cries gleefully. Kaveh feels his face grow hot. “Serves you right for destroying my potion. I spent months on that, only for you to come blundering along and knock it all over!”
What sort of equivalent exchange is this? Kaveh seethes, and tries to snatch her collar. She smartly hops off the wall, and he ends up spinning wildly and only grasping air.
“I—” Kaveh grits his teeth. He forces himself to calm down. The first step is negotiation; after that, he can speak about her manners. “I really am sorry for that. It wasn’t my intention.” He forces a smile—the one he knows wins him drinks at the tavern. “I will try to make it up to you—if you could please turn me back to the way I was?”
She turns her nose up at Kaveh. “And why would I do that?”
Kaveh wills himself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale.
“I’ve said I’m sorry!” he snaps, instead. Oops. “And—I’m an architect. I also have friends who know this desert better than you or I. I could help you.” Nevermind that Cyno probably will try to arrest her on the spot, but he can omit that information—probably. “And this is causing problems far beyond me. Please.”
Something in his little speech seems to mollify her, because she looks less like a puffed up hissing cat now. More hesitant. “You’re… an architect? You’re the one building the schools?”
He nods. An emotion flits across her face. Shame—or guilt?
“Ugh, fine ,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “I was joking, you know. You should actually be returning to normal any day now. To be honest, I’m surprised that you haven’t already.”
“What does that mean,” Kaveh says, exasperated. “Can’t you just turn me back?”
“Er. No,” the girl says, more sheepish now. “I would need your body for that, and I have no idea where it is.”
Kaveh throws his hands up.
“But out of the goodness of my heart,” she says quickly, and okay, she really does seem a bit guilty now, serve her right , “I will tell you all you need to know about what you can do.” She sits down on the bench, and raises one finger. “One! You do need your body. But that’s all you need. And two!” She raises another finger, looking far more triumphant than Kaveh feels. “This is the factor that makes this cure infinitely easier than the first. No seeping dried petals for months under the full moon! Or slaving away scouring the desert for pure minerals.”
She shoots him a pointed look, but Kaveh only feels a rising headache coming on.
“What is it,” he says tiredly. How Alhaitham hasn’t woken up from the racket she’s making is beyond him.
She spreads her arms, triumphant. “A kiss!”
Kaveh looks at her. Crickets chirp in the background. A tumbleweed possibly rolls by. The wind howls.
The girl huffs. “What’s that look for?” she demands. “It is quite possibly the easiest cure to a curse in the history of curses.”
“A kiss,” Kaveh repeats. He rubs his eyes. “Alright. What’s the alternative?”
“You cannot be serious,” she scowls. “Surely someone out there would kiss you out of pity and admiration upon gazing at your limp, weak form—”
Kaveh feels like crying. “I have no romantic partner!”
“And when did I say the kiss had to be romantic?” the girl demands. “All types of love should be celebrated, and this curse is a kind one. Any kiss will do. It celebrates love in its purest form; a selfless commitment to the care of another.” She squints at him. “You said you have people who care about you, so what’s the problem, exactly?”
“Not enough to kiss me!”
“What about your mother?”
“I have no familial attachments.”
“Friends?”
“None that would think to kiss me!” Kaveh hisses. “If they can even find my body first!”
At that, she coughs at that. “Ah. Hm.” A pause, and then she’s raring again. “Surely there is someone out there who would kiss you? You shouldn’t sell yourself short!” She peers behind him, and brightens. “What about him?”
Kaveh follows the line of her pointing finger to see it trained on Alhaitham’s sleeping form through the window.
“Him?” Kaveh scoffs. “What we have can hardly be called ‘love’. It’s something infinitely worse.” He makes a face. “Maybe even a third thing. I’m not sure how to categorise it.”
She stares at him. “What?”
“Never mind that,” Kaveh dismisses. “The point is, it seems unlikely that there is somewhere out there to kiss me awake.” He gives her a meaningful look. “So what are we going to do?”
“Never doubt,” she says, wilting. “...I suppose I could try and explain a few things to someone else.”
Kaveh shakes his head. “Not try! Do! Come to the Akademiya. Ask for Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham. He’ll know what to do.” He gets up, beginning to pace. “And worse comes to worst, you can just—I don’t know. Kiss my forehead?”
She looks disgruntled at the prospect. Kaveh doesn’t know whether to feel offended or not. “Yes, that would work,” she sighs. “Provided that your body has been retrieved by the time I get there.”
“It will be,” Kaveh says firmly. If Cyno can’t find him, no one can.
She groans, and Kaveh almost feels sorry for her. She looks fairly young, and he’s always been weak to children. Even the ones that curse him, apparently.
“Why did you do it?” he prods. “This seems a bit far.”
She looks away, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “... I was angry that you ruined my experiment,” she mutters. “And… I really thought you would have been found and kissed by now.”
“What a ridiculous curse…” Kaveh sighs. “Who tries to kiss a body?”
She stamps her foot. “Plenty of people!” she huffs. “Wouldn’t you do it if your friend was sick? Or family?”
Kaveh tries imagining kissing a sick Alhaitham. The man would probably throw him off immediately, citing germs transfer and general disgust and whatever else.
He rubs his temple. This is so much more hassle than he had expected. “Please don’t do this to anyone else,” Kaveh sighs. “You're sure there isn't any other cure? Some kind of—oral medicine, perhaps?”
“Positive. This curse is quite harmless, anyway, so relax!”
He grits his teeth. Relax, she says. He has deadlines and a roommate he’s stuck to like glue, and she tells him to relax?!
On that note— “Why am I stuck with him?” Kaveh demands, gesturing in the direction of the inn. “It’s infuriating having to follow him around, you know!”
She opens her mouth presumably to explain, but pauses. Her eyes widen in panic, fixed on a point just past Kaveh’s head.
“I have to go!” the girl gasps.
“Wait—” Kaveh tries, but it’s too late. The girl slips into the night as easily as she appears. Kaveh opens his mouth to shout after her, but stops once he hears rustling behind him.
Alhaitham’s standing in the doorway, blearily rubbing his eyes.
“Kaveh?” he mumbles, hiding his yawn behind one hand.
Kaveh’s heart leaps. He rushes to the inn.
“Can you see me?” he demands. His voice sounds frantic, even to his own ears.
Alhaitham blinks. His bangs fall messily across his forehead, and Kaveh feels the sudden urge to sweep his hair out of his face.
“No,” Alhaitham says to himself. “A trick.”
He promptly goes back to bed. The girl doesn’t return, either, and Kaveh feels infinitely more tired.
Alhaitham returns to their house by the end of the next day, seemingly unaffected by his little trip. Kaveh can’t do much but follow him around and mull over the new information he’s received.
Now that Kaveh at least knows that there is a cure to this whole thing, the situation is no longer as dismal as it was. The prospect of acquiring said cure, however, makes him want to bash his head against the nearest wall.
“Please kiss me when you wake up,” Kaveh tells Alhaitham at his office desk, feeling incredibly stupid doing so. “Even if you don’t have a single romantic bone in your body, please feel a shred of sympathy when you see my malnourished body, and feel the urge to give me a kiss. Out of pity, even. I would accept that!”
Kaveh hopes his body is recovered. It’s been a week or so, at this point, and Cyno’s notorious for his ruthless hunts. It usually doesn’t take him this long to track someone down.
Alhaitham, on the other hand, seems unaffected. Kaveh can’t help but wonder what it would be like if their positions were reversed. Surely he would show a modicum of worry if Alhaitham suddenly went missing? Kaveh feels slightly disgruntled that his disappearance incites such a lack of anything in Alhaitham, but he supposes that with Cyno on the case, there isn’t much left for Alhaitham to do except to return to his meticulous daily routine.
Kaveh’s prayers are answered when Alhaitham receives another letter. It’s barely a scrap of paper, but it has an address on the back of it, and a hasty scrawl underneath. He peers over Alhaitham’s shoulder to see Cyno’s familiar handwriting, and his heart leaps to his throat.
Bimarstan, it says, with a list of short instructions underneath. The note ends there, but it’s enough to spur Alhaitham into action. He gives it a quick scan, before stowing it back in his pocket and striding out of the door, Kaveh following close behind.
Bimarstan. That can’t bode well.