Work Text:
Not one person in all of the Akadamiya was surprised when the empty-pocketed, resident tortured architect ended up bumming off of the housing of a seemingly victimized underclassman.
They saw all things typical of a relationship between two young men who roomed together: prodding and provoking (mostly on Alhaitham’s end, though one would not assume his cool tone carried pseudo-malicious intent), agitation (nine times out of ten, due to Alhaitham’s demeanor), and an unspoken level of understanding between them right before, during, and after squabbles (most commonly found in newlyweds).
The few professors who found themselves teaching a class with the two men bore witness to their cycle of harsh whispers during individual work time, the way Kaveh would stumble over his words during menial disputes; the way Alhaitham would zero in on every word and micro expression that came from the other. And each time they argued, not one would ever seem to be able to get enough of speaking with the other.
Not a single professor found themselves dwelling on what reason the men could have to argue without end.
In quite a similar fashion, any student who gathered at the library (whether it be to work, research, or study) typically found themselves in some sort of proximity to one or both men. In fact, a small group of idling students reported at the start of the term that they had witnessed Kaveh walking up to Alhaitham while he read just to scold him on the placement of a landscape painting hung within their residence.
A large handful of students found themselves wondering why it was that they so adamantly stuck together when they argued so much. After all, it seemed as though Alhaitham had quite the knack for placing his words meticulously so that he may egg on Kaveh’s short temper while seeming to be stating a simple fact or an entirely unoffensive, largely accepted statement. So, how come Alhaitham never refused Kaveh a place to reside? How come Kaveh never stormed out on the other during their disputes? It wasn’t like Kaveh didn’t have willing friends, given that he had always stretched himself thin helping his peers as opposed to being like his roommate, who had a habit of ignoring others if whatever they needed help with was not on his radar as something worthwhile or up to his level of intelligence and prowess (after all, if someone has a grunt-level request, why not take it to a grunt? (not like anyone had ever seen him say no to Kaveh’s requests)).
The humble, who set up market or tent for profit, would see the two meandering about, conversing on what to buy; what was a want or a need. Though these conversations may, on occasion, escalate to bitter words and casual insults at intelligence, there was no denying they still held connotations of respect: respect in both opinion and experience. While their insults may hold meaning through word, there seemed to be something unspoken stirring beneath, its waters swelling and growing rowdier. The shopkeepers the two frequented together for routine groceries knew the look Kaveh had given Alhaitham at the beginning of the term when he needed the other to pay, and they also had quickly come to learn the way Alhaitham would step up and automatically pay for groceries (and occasionally random trinkets or décor) for the entire household (being only himself and Kaveh). The shopkeepers and employees found themselves questioning it for only a short few months.
The bartenders down in Lambad’s Tavern saw them quite often, but more importantly, they saw it quite often. The hushed conversations. The silent exchange of looks. The occasional debate over which one of them would be able to cover the tab for the night, shared over the last few sips of their drinks, flushed cheeks, and heavy, slurred words as each stumbled for their wallet. Alhaitham would still usually pay, since Kaveh had a tendency to indulge while drinking, and would have slower, sloppier movements during their race. Though neither one seemed to truly mind.
The shift happened slowly. While many were able to easily acknowledge the presence of some sort of tension buzzing between the two, it took a while for them to notice the subtle ways in which their dynamic changed over and after the span of the first few months.
The professors were able to see it from their desks or from the front, where they stood to lecture. Alhaitham and Kaveh collaborated some, brainstormed more, and argued the most. Though, to their seasoned minds, the exchange of unfiltered information and knowledge shared between the two was abundant and abundantly clear.
Their peers heard the way they argued and proverbially pushed each other around, but they saw the emotions (or presumed emotions in Alhaitham’s case (how are they supposed to understand him? It’s not like he’s eager to interact with them)) in the men’s gazes, the men’s micro expressions. If they managed to look even closer, they may have even noticed the subtle ways in which their fingers and hands twitch toward the other during hushed conversations held in close proximity and slightly away from other people.
The shopkeepers became accustomed to the two walking side-by-side, shoulders occasionally brushing. Any bored worker or nosy customer would be able to gaze upon the cliché sight of both men reaching for the same object at the same time, then letting their skin lay in contact for a breadth longer than necessary.
The bartenders, however, didn’t need the few months to see the shift. After all, drunk words are sober thoughts, so can the same not apply to emotions? The way in which they would hold gazes and remain silent for extended periods of time was not quite typical for mere roommates, as other young men usually don’t find some form of extreme entertainment in holding deep eye contact with their friends.
So, during one of Tighnari’s visits to Sumeru city, when the jovial group of four had cleared schedules for a few charged rounds of TCG, it was not all too surprising when Cyno casually brought up their atypical dynamic, leaving a stiffened Alhaitham and a flushed Kaveh in his wake.
It was only another month or so after that when the two made an announcement.
The people of Sumeru were not surprised. Instead, they found themselves confused. If the two had only just started, then what would one call the situation they had before?