Chapter Text
It is not uncommon knowledge to Al-Haitham that sleep and Kaveh do not go hand in hand. Al-Haitham knew Kaveh both inside and out — he knew his strengths, his weaknesses, his goals and his ideals. His habits and routine. His anxiety and guilt. His happiness and motivation. His pride and love. He knew it all like the back of his hand. As if he were a book he could read repeatedly until he could recall every last word of it.
Al-Haitham knew Kaveh. So he knew, like a moth, rich in dull colours, that Kaveh would flutter around their home constantly, tinkering and fussing over his work into the wee hours of the night when the moon shone down brightly in the sky, leaving Al-Haitham to deal with the loud racket created by his roommate. And then, if lucky, Al-Haitham would also be presented with a scene of a seemingly half awake Kaveh drinking yet another cup of coffee, clearly having pulled another all-nighter yet again, for a piece that he deemed unfit, while Al-Haitham would consider it already defined.
But if it wasn’t work for his client or one of his own personal projects, then Al-Haitham would often wake up to the sound of Kaveh coming home from a night out at the tavern. It would seem that even without the budget to fund his alcohol addiction and bad habits, Kaveh would still head to Lambad’s after a stressful day of impossible clients or mental walls preventing another ‘artistic breakthrough’.
‘Alcohol helps me wind down and clear my mind,’ Kaveh would often say. Al-Haitham thinks that’s just a poor excuse to excessively drown in wine.
During these nights, he’d wake up to sounds of scratching and thuds at the front door, finding his roommate struggling to insert his key or swaying on his feet, face red as a cherry and eyes drooping as if he’d fallen asleep standing. These nights were just as troublesome, but it was mildly entertaining to watch his senior stumble and almost trip over himself. While Al-Haitham was never an aesthete, he had to admit there was an odd, unconventional beauty to Kaveh when he was a drunken blubbering fool.
And if Al-Haitham enjoyed catching the drunken man in his arms when he inevitably stumbled, well, that’s only something he and himself needed to know.
However, Al-Haitham had noticed a new development in Kaveh’s unfortunate and unhealthy relationship with sleep.
It began on a rare night where Kaveh, rather than substituting sleep for more caffeine and stress levels, had chosen to turn in early for the night. Al-Haitham raised an eyebrow at this. The last few nights had been hectic for the two — with Al-Haitham threatening to raise the rent due to the loud hammering and Kaveh telling him to piss off. But now, it would seem as though an oasis has formed within the dry desert.
The dry desert being Al-Haitham’s poor sleep quality. A by-product of Kaveh’s poor sleep schedule.
“Oh? Have you finally taken my words into consideration?” he teased, leaning back against the divan and sipping on his tea.
“Oh, don't be so full of yourself,” Kaveh scoffed, stacking up their dishes from tonight’s dinner. “I need a good night's rest for tomorrow’s meeting with my client,” he explained, walking off to place the dishes in the kitchen, before heading to the bathroom to wash up.
“And it’s your turn to do the dishes,” Kaveh yelled, closing the door.
It didn’t take long for Al-Haitham to discover that his promise of a restful night was nothing but a lie. A loud thud echoed through the house, abruptly ending his dreamless sleep and rudely pulling him back into reality. It was a clear indication that Kaveh had lied, gone back on his words and was likely fretting over his ‘final’ draft. An exasperated sigh left Al-Haitham as he laid on his back, stretching his limbs a little and staring at the ceiling for a moment.
It was late into the night and Kaveh was creating a racket. It was late into the night and Al-Haitham had work in the morning. It was late into the night and Al-Haitham was tired.
Unlike Kaveh, Al-Haitham valued sleep. In fact, he enjoyed it as a form of leisure on his days off. But more importantly, Al-Haitham has work tomorrow. His job required him to be present early, so sleep was essential for a Mahamata such as himself to operate and execute his job in a low effort yet efficient manner. But lately, the lack of sleep has caused him to stumble during work, clocking in late and being much more disagreeable than usual. And sure, Al-Haitham was never known for having a bright attitude and caring nature, but that did not mean he was deliberately rude when it was uncalled for.
Thud.
Frustration seeped into his skin as he pushed himself off from the bed and promptly made his way to the door. Al-Haitham made a resolve to drag Kaveh back to bed by any means necessary.
He swept through the dark lit living room, marching towards the study where a sliver of light peaked through the gaps of the doors. He didn’t bother knocking, instead shoving the doors open without delay and stepped inside. A soft candle light illuminated the study, allowing Al-Haitham to scan the room for a moment. There was a pile of books toppled over on the floor, and the small desk had seemingly moved away from its original place. His eyes moved towards the large desk where Kaveh sat in front of his blueprint, back straight and eyes focused. He moved the pencil with confident strokes. He would have seemed like a hard working and respectable man, had it not been for the fact that one, it was past midnight and two, his appearance was unkempt and messy. The soft candlelight highlighted the knots and tangles in his hair and his comically oversized sleep shirt slipped off his shoulder. It seemed as if he had just stumbled out of bed with severe urgency.
“Kaveh,” Al-Haitham called out, voice still rough from waking up not too long ago.
Al-Haitham glared as Kaveh refused to acknowledge him, eyes trained towards his blueprints instead as his hands didn’t stop for a second. He stepped towards the desk, irked from being promptly ignored by his inconsiderate roommate. This wasn’t the first time Kaveh ignored Al-Haitham. Usually, he wouldn’t be too bothered by it. Maybe amused or concerned if it was a prolonged silence treatment. But tonight, Al-Haitham lacks the patience to entertain his stubbornness. If he was any less frustrated, perhaps he would’ve taken the time to admire Kaveh’s candlelit form and the way it framed his golden locks and soft skin.
Al-Haitham placed a hand on top of Kaveh’s work. “Kaveh,” he tried again and watched as his roommate’s tireless hand came to a stop. “Didn’t you say you would be sleeping early tonight?”
A moment of silence lingers, and just before Al-Haitham could try to taunt him, Kaveh finally speaks up. Or rather, he attempted to.
“The client said ‘make the sky go high and fly the roof off’,”
“What?” Al-Haitham stilled, dumbfounded, trying to process what was uttered by his roommate. His prior frustration was substituted with utter perplexity. Confusion. Bafflement. Had the lack of sleep finally fried Kaveh’s brain? Had his once good friend and equal reached a level of hysteria only experienced by mad scholars? Was this the end of the Great Light of Kasharewar?
“He said ‘make the sky go high and turn blue.’” a slurred voice melting in exhaustion pulled Al-Haitham back into reality. He stared at Kaveh for a moment. Something was clearly wrong. He hadn’t moved since Al-Haitham placed his hand on his blueprint. Nor has he even acknowledged Al-Haitham at all.
With gentle movements, Al-Haitham placed his hand on Kaveh’s chin, pulling his head up to face him. He inspected Kaveh for a moment, noting the lack of response to Al-Haitham’s sudden manhandling of his face. He knew how much Kaveh hated it. His lips were slightly parted and his usual fierce gaze was glazed over and unfocused, as if clouded and hazed. Al-Haitham had never seen this look on Kaveh. It felt foreign and slightly unnerving, as if he was on autopilot or brain dead. Then Al-Haitham realised that Kaveh wasn’t even looking at him, but rather through him.
That’s when a new hypothesis developed.
“Kaveh,” he tried once more, leaning closer to observe. “Are you awake?”
“No, the- the client’s away right now,” Kaveh mumbled back. That seemed to confirm it.
Kaveh was sleepwalking. This explains the pile of books on the ground and the sudden rearrangement of a singular piece of furniture.
“The client is away,” Al-Haitham agrees, lips stretching into a smile, “and the client wants you to go to bed,” he walks around the desk, placing his hands on Kaveh’s form and coercing him to stand.
“To bed…?” he heard Kaveh question, as he followed along, allowing Al-Haitham to pull him away from the desk with little resistance. He felt a silent sense of appreciation for this new complicity. As much as he enjoyed watching Kaveh’s display of absolute confidence, resolute attitude and need for full autonomy, he isn’t sure how well he could handle Kaveh’s stubbornness at this moment. Not when he’s still feeling sleep deprived himself.
The two leave the study with Al-Haitham placing a hand on Kaveh’s back and holding his hand in a firm grip to ensure he does not wander elsewhere. Kaveh allows Al-Haitham to guide him back through the hallways and to his room. Once inside, Al-Haitham let go, expecting Kaveh to wander back into bed himself. He moves to leave and return to his own room, but gives a final glance at Kaveh’s dishevelled form where he stood. A moment passed and he soon realised Kaveh was still not budging. Instead, he was motionless, staring at Al-Haitham, as if disoriented from the change of environment and unsure of what to do next. As if he was waiting for Al-Haitham’s guidance.
Al-Haitham sighed and began to direct Kaveh back into bed himself, going as far as to tuck him in. “Now, I want you to sleep, like the client said,” he instructed, still following Kaveh’s earlier words. He smiled when Kaveh nodded before closing his eyes.
A feeling of relief washed over Al-Haitham. Without delay, he headed towards his room, careful to not rouse Kaveh from his sleeping state, and finally, finally dived back into the comfort of his own bed. With Kaveh safely tucked away, Al-Haitham’s mind drifted off.
And he decided he would inform Kaveh of his new and peculiar sleep habit tomorrow.
— — —
Mornings shared together were rarely enjoyable for the two: often too cranky and tired to stop themselves from bickering over meaningless and petty things. But on some mornings, they would complete their routine without uttering a single word to each other. Instead, communicating through their actions like making the other breakfast or preparing two cups of coffee.
“Al-Haitham!”
Clearly today was not one of those mornings.
An angry Kaveh appeared at the Kitchen’s doorway, brows furrowed and face flushed with a blueprint gripped tightly in his hand. He stormed his way to Al-Haitham who stood at the counter, waiting for his coffee to finish brewing.
“What on earth is this?” He shoved the paper in Al-Haitham’s face, shaking it aggressively, not paying any mind to the crinkles and damage. Al-Haitham leaned away.
“Your blueprint.” he deadpanned.
“You-” Kaveh gritted his teeth, pulling the paper away. He looked as if he'd burst at any moment. “Don’t you play smart with me!”
Al-Haitham watched as Kaveh pushed the coffee mugs aside and placed his work down on the kitchen counter, ushering him to come closer.
“Here. Here. And there,” he pointed, his index finger running across the surface. “All marks and scribbles that weren’t here last night. Especially whatever this is,” He guided Al-Haitham’s focus to a large, scruffy sketch of what appeared to be a shakily drawn dome, floating in the sky.
“And what exactly are you implying?” He leaned back, raising a brow and crossing his arms. Al-Haitham knew exactly what Kaveh was implying. “You cannot possibly think that I would vandalise your work?”
“Who else if not you?” Kaveh scoffed, eyeing Al-Haitham for a split moment. He crossed his arms, “We’re the only ones in this house. And while I don’t know what motive you could’ve possibly had, other than to make my life miserable, it’s reasonable to accuse you. So unless someone snuck in or there’s a ghost haunting us - which I doubt - the only explanation is that you did it!”
“A sound theory,” Al-Haitham acknowledged. “However, have you considered the alternative?”
“Alternative? What? An actual ghost?” Kaveh questioned, narrowing his eyes in disbelief.
Al-Haitham shook his head, “I’m saying it was you.”
“Me?!” Kaveh’s jaw dropped at the accusation. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said! Why would I ruin my own blueprint?”
“There’s a simple explanation.”
“Enlighten me then,” he urged, face full of doubt.
“You were sleepwalking last night. I caught you working on your blueprint in the study last night.”
“You- what- I-” Kaveh sputtered. His eyes widened in confusion and shock. Al-Haitham smirked, amusement bubbling at the sight of his bafflement. He turned to the coffee machine.
“It would seem the excessive indulgence in wine has finally caught up to you,” he teased while moving Kaveh’s blueprint aside for his mug.
“Well now you’re just making fun of me,” He caught Kaveh pouting from the corner of his eye. “How can I trust a word you say?”
“What reason would I have to lie?” he began pouring himself a cup. The coffee was long overdue by this point.
“Oh, I don't know,” Kaveh feigned contemplation and marched closer. “Maybe you're just trying to get on my nerves. Or blame me for your ‘additions’ to my work,” his finger jabbed into Al-Haitham’s arm.
“Believe what you like. You have a copy of the blueprint stored in Mehrak, don’t you?”
“Yes, but that isn’t the point-”
“Then I see no issue.” Al-Haitham cuts in, grabbing his coffee and leaving Kaveh behind.
“Al-Haitham!”
Looks like he should start getting ready for work.
— — —
Since the incident, Kaveh’s nightly habits have returned to normal: either sleeping soundly in his bed or working into the late hours of the night, much to Al-Haitham’s dismay. He may have also checked up on Kaveh whenever the thumping and scratches began, expecting to find him in a stupor. Regrettably, all he earned was an earful from his sleep deprived roommate.
It happened again a few nights later.
This time, Al-Haitham was wide awake and sat back in bed with a book in hand. He had a day off work tomorrow, leaving room for a few extra hours of reading before turning in for the night. He was mumbling to himself and writing a few annotations down in a new book he found while scanning through the House of Daena for information on sleepwalking. His nightly read was cut short, however, when a harsh scraping sound bled through the door. He ignored it, assuming it was just Kaveh. A minute goes by and a series of loud thumps echoes through. Al-Haitham sighed, finally giving in and checking up on Kaveh.
Al-Haitham was dumbfounded. The once orderly and organised living room was now in complete disarray. The floors which were mopped and brushed by Kaveh were now covered with books and papers scattered throughout. The table, once placed at the centre, had been haphazardly shoved against the wall, while the divans were rearranged, creating a bizarre layout. If Al-Haitham stared long enough, it would look like an unfinished puzzle.
And there the culprit was, staggering his way through the clutter and carrying a pile of books. Al-Haitham attempted to grab his attention but Kaveh walked on, mumbling incoherent words to himself. But that’s to be expected, he supposed. Luckily, he was much more prepared compared to last time, having researched the topic of sleepwalking during the last few days as a precaution. Al-Haitham began to walk over, reaching to take the books when Kaveh suddenly stumbled forward, slipping on a piece of paper. A rush of panic shot through Al-Haitham. He rushed forward, stretching an arm across Kaveh’s chest and another around his hips. The books slipped from Kaveh’s grasp, landing with a loud thud. Al-Haitham pulled Kaveh up, holding him closer to his chest.
“Kaveh-” a sudden push forced Al-Haitham to pause.
“Al-Haitham!” Kaveh shouted, eyes glazed yet still seething with rage as he glared in Al-Haitham’s direction. “What have you done to this place? It’s abysmal, absolutely abysmal!”
Al-Haitham was taken aback, speechless at the sudden outburst.
“Now I’ll need to sort it out,” Kaveh turned away from him, walking towards the displaced furniture. Al-Haitham followed closely as Kaveh pondered on how he’d ‘redecorate’ Al-Haitham’s poor interior design. “The divans should look nice next to the chandeliers.” Al-Haitham watched as Kaveh paced around the room, swaying with each step.
“Kaveh wait-”
“And these curtains!” He grabbed a soft green blanket from the divan. “Why did you buy red curtains when I specifically instructed you to buy a yellow one?” Kaveh turned back to him, waving the blanket around like a mad man.
Al-Haitham ignored his question, not wanting to humour Kaveh’s unconscious antics. He folded his arms. “Let’s go back to-”
Kaveh interrupted him once more, tossing the blanket to the side and pointing at Al-Haitham.
“I never should’ve trusted you to buy furniture on your own. Next time, take me with you,” he demanded, brows furrowed. Al-Haitham sighed. At this rate, they won’t get anywhere. He approached Kaveh again, gently grabbing his wrists and lowering Kaveh’s hands.
“I apologise for not buying the right colour,” he spoke in an uncharacteristically soft tone, observing how Kaveh’s agitated form relaxed in response. “Why don’t we rest for now and buy a new set tomorrow?”
“Rest? No, no it needs to be done today.” Despite his resistance, Kaveh’s volume dropped dramatically.
“It can wait,” Al-Haitham noted how Kaveh’s shoulder dropped and eyes drooped. He nodded, finally agreeing. A hint of a smile made its way to Al-Haitham’s lips. He led Kaveh back to his room for the night.
Kaveh can clean the living room tomorrow.
— — —
“Well do you believe me now?”
The living room hadn’t changed since last night: books still scattered and furniture in disarray. And there Al-Haitham sat, amongst the chaos of it all, reading.
“I- what-” Kaveh struggled to string along a single sentence. His jaw dropped, the utter confusion and shock clear as day. A smug smile branded itself on Al-Haitham’s face.
“You were sleepwalking last night,” Al-Haitham informed him, lowering his book. He was aware of what Kaveh wanted to ask. That seemed to snap Kaveh out of it as he marched over. He leaned over Al-Haitham’s form, glaring down. Al-Haitham stared back.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
Kaveh lingered for a few moments, eyeing Al-Haitham’s blank face for a hint of a lie. Frowning, he pulled away.
“There’s no way I managed to do this in my sleep,” hands on his hips, Kaveh looked around and inspected the damage.
“I’m curious on how you managed to do so as well,” Al-Haitham agreed. “But there’s no doubt you were sleepwalking when you did,”
“No doubt?!” Eyes wide, Kaveh snapped his head at him, staring as if he grew ten heads. “There is plenty of doubt. What proof do you have that I did this? And how do I know that you weren’t the one behind this?”
Al-Haitham raised a brow. He didn’t bother verbalising the lack of intelligence within those baseless accusations. Instead, he gave Kaveh time to think it through himself. He’s smart enough.
As expected, a sense of realisation dawned on Kaveh. He sighed in defeat, his form deflating like a popped balloon. “Well are you at least going to help me clean this mess up?”
Al-Haitham hummed, placing his hand on his chin. He feigned thinking, as if he was truly pondering Kaveh’s request. Amusement bubbled up as Kaveh urged him to make a decision.
“Oh come on Al-Haitham-”
“Sure.” He placed the book aside and stood up. While last night, he planned to take no part in the cleaning up, he decided it’d be far more efficient for both him and Kaveh to clean together.
Thus, the two spent the afternoon rearranging the room back to its former glory. As they cleaned the floor, placing the book into one area to be sorted through later, Kaveh asked for more details from last night. Naturally, Al-Haitham spared no detail, smirking at Kaveh’s flushed face when he relayed the rant about the ‘curtains’.
Three hours later, the two had finished putting their home back together.
Kaveh collapsed onto the divan with a groan, laying back and stretching his taut muscles. He stared at the ceiling blankly. Al-Haitham sat opposite to him, pulling out the book he set aside earlier.
Kaveh turned his head towards him “What book are you reading this time?”
“A book explaining the cause and symptoms of sleepwalking,” Al-Haitham explained. “Its content will be useful to us.”
Kaveh merely hummed, letting the brief conversation die. He looked back at the ceiling and seemed deep in thought.
“Have I really been sleepwalking?”
“And do I really look like a parrot to you?” Kaveh scoffed at him.
“I just mean,” he started, hesitant. “Last time I slept walked was years ago,”
“Oh?” Al-Haitham looked up from his book, the new information catching his interest. “You never told me you experienced this before. Why keep it from me?”
“Don’t make it seem as if I’ve intentionally kept you in the dark,” Kaveh retorted. “It just never came up in conversation and hasn’t happened since. Why bring up something completely irrelevant?”
Al-Haitham hummed. That's true.
“It’s just odd,” Kaveh draped an arm over his eyes, “I thought I grew out of it but here I am,”
“According to the Birmarstan’s research, sleepwalking could be triggered by a variety of things, such as alcohol,”
“Surely you’re not suggesting I quit drinking?” Kaveh lets out a humourless laugh.
“Then how do you intend to cure your condition?”
“I suppose you have a point,” Kaveh admitted. “Maybe I’ll just sleep as little as possible.”
Al-Haitham hummed and returned to his book. He didn’t take Kaveh’s musing seriously, believing it was a sarcastic joke. How wrong he was.