Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Can you tell me what the hell this is, Alhaitham ?!"

Alhaitham reluctantly looks up from his book, vaguely annoyed. Kaveh's voice is so piercing it cuts through his headphones like a knife through butter. 

He narrows his visual analysis to answer his roommate's rhetorical inquiry. First, the roommate in question, standing in the doorway. Kaveh is wearing a bathrobe in the least possible Kaveh way : a hastily tied knot, plushy fabric revealing way too much shoulder and poorly cuffed sleeves. His usually well-kept blonde hair falls flat and wet on his shoulders and drips on their carpeted floor. His cheeks are flushed red, his eyes glinting, his mouth distorted into a grimace, teeth showing, his whole demeanor frantic and overall form disheveled. 

Then the environmental clues. The bathroom door wide open behind Kaveh, the hallway filled with hot steam pouring into the living-room and slowly raising the previously optimal temperature. And… yes, a puddle of soapy water slowly creeping its way onto the floorboards.

Finally, the object of Kaveh's yelling and disgusted expression, held between two fingers. A messy thread of humid, entangled hair, so light it's almost translucid. 

With all that taken into account, It isn't hard to guess that Kaveh has barged out of the bathroom, barely dressed, to show Alhaitham the traitorous object clogging the shower siphon. And now the dirty bathwater filled with those weird-smelling products that Kaveh likes so much is spilling onto the very delicate wooden floor.

Not only that, Kaveh is evidently holding Alhaitam responsible for this disaster. Or more accurately, what he thinks to be one.

This apparently useless and painfully long reasoning actually took Alhaitham about half a second. 

"I don't know, Kaveh," he sighs. "Why don't you tell me ?

"Oh, don't you get smart with me ! This is obviously your hair, have you seen how light it is ?!"

Alhaitham rests his arm on the upper part of the couch and tilts his head to squint at said light hair. Three options are laid out in front of him : Either he needs glasses, or Kaveh possesses some kind of ability that enables him to detect pigments, or he's just not willing to admit that the hair is actually his. Alhaitam is more inclined to believe the latter.

This is honestly such a trivial and repetitive matter it feels like a mere play to him. This is just water, just some hair and some interrupted shower. It's annoying, sure, but not that big of a deal.

He could tell Kaveh that he is making a fuss about hair clogging the shower on a sunday morning when most people try to sleep in, that the neighbors will complain about the noise, that while he's hellbent on trying to pinpoint whose hair this is the overflowing water is probably leaking through their floor and into the apartment below, that he should drop it and go put some actual clothes on because does he not have anything better to do with his time ?

But Alhaitham doesn't tell Kaveh any of that.

When you always get the villain's part, you tend to know your lines by heart. 

"We both have light hair, Kaveh. Except mine are short and yours aren't. Now, I don't think short hair would tangle around itself and provoke such a result," he sighs while gesturing to the growing puddle of water that Kaveh has yet to notice.

Judging by the way his voice goes at least an octave higher, this is clearly not what Kaveh wanted to hear. 

"I swear to the Sevens, the day when you take accountability for something is the day the world ends!" he shouts, angrily waving his index finger around.

"Kaveh…"

"You can never admit you're wrong, but you become a lot less knowledgeable when it comes to whose hair clogged the shower, or whose turn it was to wash the fucking dishes, or who leaves their dirty laundry on the couch for weeks on end –"

"Kaveh –"

"– or who forgot to get the package waiting at the post office ! And then mister Scribe of the Akademiya, best of Haravatat and best of men and walking encyclopedia suddenly goes I don't know, Kaveh, I don't know, why don't you guess, Kaveh –"

"Kaveh, the water."

Kaveh doesn't even get the time to turn around before the water reaches his heels. His mouth gapes open, forming a perfect 'o' shape and when he's going to emit the most awful, most inelegant curse –

Alhaitham turns off his headphones in one swift movement, just in time to bask in the most pleasant, perfect, uninterrupted silence he's ever experienced.

Well. Almost uninterrupted.

There are several seemingly futile facts behind this almost.

One, being deaf does not mean living in a state of perpetual and eternal silence the second your hearing aids are turned off. You can be mildly, moderately, moderately-severe, severely or profoundly deaf. Alhaitham is moderately to moderately-severe deaf. Without his hearing aids, he won't hear the TV, the cars roaring outside or the shower running – just like he didn't today. He barely notices people talking around him or to him, unless they raise their voice. 

Two, being deaf comes with its lot of sensory issues. Alhaitham doesn't hear people screaming in the apartment down the hall, but he hears when a fork and a knife clash against each other. Or the larsen caused by a wrong manipulation on an amplifier. Or long, nonhuman screeching like nails on a chalkboard. He always has. Apparently, it was so distressing for him as a small child that he'd sometimes cry for an entire day despite his grandmother's best attempts at soothing him. 

(Picturing Alhaitham as a child feels wrong and so does picturing him as a teary-eyed, snotty, bawling mess. Try to mix both and you get an unsettling, rat-like midget that you want to hold in your arms and kick as far as humanly possible.)

His grandmother was indeed unsettled ; worried, even. How could she help her sweet grandchild out ? Soon enough he would reach his sixth birthday, which meant elementary school was just around the corner and so would be the incessant rattling of cutlery, the screaming of other children, the squeaking of newly-bought shoes on the floor. And whether or not he turned his hearing aids on, Alhaitham would hear all of it. That wouldn't do at all. 

But she was a smart woman, a respected scholar whose whole life revolved around finding solutions. So she called a few acquaintances from the Akademiya, and soon Alhaitham's simple and plain hearing aids were both that and noise canceling headphones. His hearing was enhanced, but the noise could be muffled. Up to a certain extent.

Which leads to number three : Kaveh is loud. Always has been.

That and he always managed to find a way to be loud without even talking. 

Back when both of them were still Akademiya students, Kaveh's voice went extinct for a whole week after a particularly windy day. Right before that very important, very solemn speech he was asked to give to the Kshahrewar first years with all six Sages present. Anyone else would have taken the opportunity to put the responsibility on someone else's shoulders, but this was Kaveh. Kaveh, soon-to-be Master Architect, Representative and Light of the Kshahrewar, Kaveh who would rather travel naked to Snezhnaya than going back on his word. So he locked himself in his dorm room with honeyed infusions, tissues, cold soup and a bunch of books until the fated day arrived. 

Alhaitham, standing in a corner of the room crowded with squirming first years barely out of adolescence, watched Kaveh climb the podium with a well-crafted smile, feverish eyes and a red nose. His senior disappearing for several days was enough to stir his already well-developed curiosity. 

So he came, and he watched.

He watched as the Sages exchanged worried whispers. Would he make it ? He didn't look well. It would be troublesome if he fainted in front of all those fresh new recruits. The other Darshans would be right at their throats for neglecting a student's health, and Kaveh wasn't just any student. 

They fell completely silent as soon as Kaveh started signing. 

Sumerian sign language was not included in common courses, so Kaveh's first gesture was to compell any student who could interpret fluently to join him on stage. A small girl raised a shaky hand, which Kaveh grabbed enthusiastically to help her up. And there it was. A hundred of gawking freshmen, wide eyes hooked to Kaveh's flying hands, the girl's voice growing more and more confident as the speech went on, dumbfounded Sages and Alhaitham watching it all unfold from the sidelines. 

He remembers admiring Kaveh's dedication at proving people wrong. Most people wouldn't spend their sick days learning sign language for a ten-minute speech. Most people wouldn't wait for the applause to sink in and die out before heading backstage. Most people wouldn't have been able to get out of sight before collapsing there. Kaveh was certainly not like most people. Alhaitam wondered what it was that drove him on. His sense of duty ? The reluctance to break an oath ? Spite ? This one particular question he never found an answer to.

The point is, Kaveh's body can sometimes be louder than his words. Alhaitham doesn't see him rush to the kitchen, but he feels every hurried step through the floor's vibrations. Every uselessly large movement sparks a change in air circulation. Every tissue he grabs to absorb the leaking water flaps wildly in the corner of Alhaitham's vision. He feels him cursing too, but that is more of a safe guess. Voluntarily or not, Kaveh makes himself impossible to ignore.

So yes, almost uninterrupted silence. 

Alhaitham is only moderately deaf, but at times like this he nearly wished he could expose himself to an unhealthy amount of decibels just so he'd never have to hear Kaveh's voice again. 

Having this kind of thoughts means his patience is running thin, and his rationality along with it.

Patience is a virtue, they say, a natural quality you're either lucky enough to possess from birth or that you accommodate to living without. Alhaitham thinks that this particular saying is an insult to the years of work he put into his own, slowly built and calcified patience. He does not pride himself into saying he's a wonderfully patient, benevolent man – because that would be a bold-faced lie – but still, anyone can recognize his aptitude to put up with things that most would quickly frustrate upon. Like long meetings with Darshans professors too running out of their wit for them to be interesting, or archiving manuscripts in the house of Daena for an entire day, or the spreading of baseless and stupid rumors all around the Akademiya.

Or Kaveh.

But dealing with Kaveh throws him out of the 'patience' circle and right onto the slippery slope of 'self-control'.

And there's a line Alhaitham would rather not cross.

So he lets go of his book and puts on his shoes and coat, absent-mindedly patting his pockets to make sure his library card and ID are still where he left them. The House of Daena will be empty at this hour and time of week, which is exactly what he needs right now. He still has papers and archives to sort through anyway. Even Scribe duties seem more appealing than dealing with his grumpy roommate.

Said roommate only looks up when he hears the characteristic clang of keys being grabbed.

"Where are you going?!"

Alhaitham can't quite make out the words, but there's not a lot of questions Kaveh would ask in such a context.

"Somewhere quiet." He can feel Kaveh bounce up to his feet with an unnatural speed that only angry people seem to be blessed with. Well, it's not actually a blessing, but a compilation of adrenaline and various other brain chemicals than enhances physical abilities.

"Wha- The nerve of you !! May I remind you who it is who decided to –"

The door closes shut behind Alhaitham. 

He relishes in the silence filling the hallway for a few seconds before making his way to the elevator. The floor will have dried by the time he's home, and Kaveh will throw a dry remark or two at his face, but that's all there is gonna be to it. This has become their routine, anyway. Nothing to dwell upon. 

None of them can remember how long it has been – or they just don't want to.

Another day, another fight. Always going in circles around each other, always going through the same rehearsed choreography. Pushing each other away. Thoroughly incompatible.

Kaveh yells, groans, roars, shouts, cries, laughs, exclaims, interrupts, rages.

Alhaitham says, tells, sighs, informs, chuckles (rarely), points out, nuances, considers, reasons. 

What Alhaitham lacks in natural presence, he compensates with charisma and wits.

What Kaveh lacks in authority, he makes up for with loudness. Taking space. The element of surprise.

The Haravatat Grand Scribe in the shadows of the library and the Kshahrewar Master Architect flying towards the sun, never to be stopped.

Yet they are not opposites. 

Yet they're not fire to water. No, they are fire alike. Never far yet never touching. 

Because for all their brains and smarts, neither of them knows what would happen once both their pyres meet. Perhaps there will be a devastating explosion. Perhaps there will be fireworks. Perhaps they will extinguish their light trying to keep up with the other. Or perhaps there will be nothing at all. 

Neither of them know, and even if they did know their answers would diverge, as they always do.

They never seem to agree on anything.

Yet they were once friends.

How disappointing, that friendship can shrink on itself in such a way, and shrink, and shrink –

– Until there is nothing left to return to.

Chapter Text

It's been eighteen days.

______

Cyno got home late, as usual. It was dark and brisk outside, the air dry as it is half of the year in Sumeru. But within the six-stories apartment complex, everything stops all at once. The air is still, mild. The noise dies out.

The floor in the hallway was squeaky clean when Cyno arrived, meaning the janitor already came by. That's how he knew he was late, because she didn't clean before 8 in the evening. Being the General Mahamatra on a sunday usually meant taking care of longer jobs that he couldn't afford to pay attention to the rest of the week, and therefore giving up all hope of a relaxing weekend. He took his sandals off, careful to spill as little sand as he could while doing so. It would be a shame to ruin the poor woman's work, and cleaning was already enough of an ungrateful job without him adding to the pile.

Then – footseps. Familiar. Boots. Heels. There were three apartments on their floor: the first one down the hall occupied by four foreign students from Liyue, the second in which Cyno lived, and a third one. Kaveh rarely wore heels and when he did they were much higher than the ones tapping on the floor at that moment. So this could only be–

"General Mahamatra." Alhaitham was not even looking at him as he fiddled with his keys.

"Scribe Alhaitham," Cyno replied dryly and almost ironically. "I'm off work, as you can see. No need for formalities."

Alhaitham turned around and studied him with inquisitive eyes. Their sharpness would get at least a shiver out of most people, but Cyno had yet to feel intimidated by that man.

"Am I not allowed to greet a colleague using his well-deserved title ?"

"It is but a title, as you put it," Cyno answered with a scowl that could roughly be translated as I am not in the mood for your teasing but I'm even less in the mood for arguing about whatever it is that makes you so eager to address me tonight.

Alhaitham seemed to get the hint, but chose to ignore it anyway in pure Alhaitham fashion. He leaned in towards Cyno, who didn't move an inch, despite his frowning getting more pronounced.

"You'll see soon enough, General, that it is much more than a title." He paused, eyes drifting somewhere between Cyno's eyes and forehead. "But it is late, and I assume you'd rather go home."

Cyno swallowed back the sour reply that threatened to escape his lips. You don't say. 

Alhaitham took a step back and paused like he wanted to say something. But after what seemed like a quick mental debate between him and himself, he simply nodded. 

"I'll see you later."

The door closed before Cyno had any chance to press him for more information, which was probably for the best. He pushed down the doorknob et stepped over the threshold of the apartment.

Walls painted of sky and gold. A traditional sumerian rug, heavy with embroideries but soft under his bare feet soles. A bright yellow hammock hanging here, a paper lampshade over there. An incense baton and a candle flickering side to side on top of a wooden shelf. A few drawings drawn with a child's hands.

Plants everywhere. Cacti, aloe, ivy, sunsettias, hyacinths, sunflowers, a bunch of other tropical flora Cyno couldn't put a name on, even a banana tree and tomato plants on the balcony. A myriad of shades from green to yellow to red to pink brightened the place, carrying the smell of fresh soil and grass. The scent of the forest. He counted all of them, almost impatiently waiting for the arrival of a new potted inhabitant and what it meant.

It meant he was home. 

And yes, there he was, sitting back on the sofa that was drowning under fluffy covers and flower patterned cushions, the light from the lampshade covering his features in a soft glow.

One hand held up his book while the other lay gently upon a sleeping girl's head, combing almost absent-mindedly through her green locks. Her face, despite being half-buried into his lap, still bore the traces of a content smile. 

Cyno took a second to bask in the sight before the man's impressive fennec ears perked up. His attention placidly shifted from the book to Cyno, green eyes visibly softening at the sight of him. His gloved hand gently pushed away stray strands of dark and green hair from his vision and a smile spread across his face just as warmth did across Cyno's chest. 

"Welcome home," Tighnari greeted with a soft whisper. "Collei fell asleep waiting for you, but we did save you some dinner."

Cyno felt part of the stiffness in his shoulders loosen a little. He didn't even realize that he was that tense before he closed the door on the outside world.

Right. It was their apartment. Home.

"Yes. I'm home," Cyno replied as he slowly took off his whole matra attire, his thin smile mirroring Tighnari's. "However, I'm not that hungry."

He hadn't eaten anything other than rations since noon, but he didn't want to have dinner just yet. Tighnari's cooking was excellent and Collei could hold her own quite well in the kitchen too, so he always ate too much when they made him dinner, which made him drowsy. It was still too early to go to sleep and staying awake meant he could recharge in their presence and stock enough energy for his next day of work.

Tighnari didn't push further – he never did – and instead lightly tapped the empty space next to him.

"Come sit, then. You look exhausted."

Just as those words came out, Cyno felt a sudden wave of fatigue crush over his whole body, along with soreness and the pain of the blisters he got during his long walks in the sand. Perhaps the strained rhythm of the recent days had finally caught up to him, or perhaps it was the tightness over his ribcage finally letting him breathe now that Tighnari was home after a week's absence.

Either way, he readily sat down next to his best friend, and rested his head atop of his shoulder. Tighnari put his book down so he could keep a hand in Collei's hair and slip the other in Cyno's. A handful of sand plummeted on the general's shoulders like snow, and his friend let out a sigh.

"Archons, do they ever let you shower at the Akademiya? I swear, after the number of times I had to vacuum after you I should charge them for our electricity bill."

Cyno closed his eyes. For all of his discontentment, Tighnari did not stop moving his hand. It felt warm, and automatically adapted itself into the shape of Cyno's skull. Years of practice.

"I finished late, so I went straight home."

"Tough guys?"

"Tough road."

A comfortable silence fell between them, as it usually did. Except this time, Tighnari broke it after a few minutes, green eyes wandering pensively into space.

"I heard it all, you know. Your little exchange with Alhaitham."

Cyno's eyes snapped open.

He felt himself stiffen again, and Tighnari must have noticed because his hand slid off his head to caress his back.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but…"

"There's no escaping your ears, I know," Cyno sighed. No matter how soundproof the walls were and whether Tighnari wanted it or not, his hearing was just too sharp.

"It was nothing interesting really, just Alhaitham being needlessly complicated, as usual." 

Tighnari looked at Cyno, then back into space. He hesitated before speaking again, carefully.

"I'm… not too sure about that."

Cyno raised an eyebrow and lifted his head to get a better look at his friend. 

"What do you mean ?"

"Alhaitham does like to mess around with you, but I don't think that's what he was doing earlier. Did you notice anything during your discussion ?"

Cyno, because he always took what Tighnari said seriously, tried his best to recall what Alhaitham said. Luckily, the conversation was abnormally fresh in his mind.

Something vague about his title being more than just a title, and… 

"It's not about what he told me, but about what he didn't. He wanted to add something, before he left. But he didn't." Cyno frowned. "Why ? That's not like him."

And he would know, they were classmates for several years. If Alhaitham ever hesitated or if an unanswered question was bugging him, he would say it. If he didn't know, he'd just ask. Comprehension before pride. In almost ten years, Cyno had never seen Alhaitham leave any question hanging in the air.  

What was different this time? What had Cyno missed? His eyelids pressed over his eyes as he played the whole scene in his mind again.

Alhaitham was wearing boots with heels. Pants. A black turtleneck. A long trench-coat. An old watch on his left wrist. Fingerless gloves. His golden earpieces, too, but there was something else. Something Cyno remembered recoiling at the sight of. Something familiar but unwanted.

Something that cast a faint green light over Alhaitham's features and made his eyes look colder.

Something Cyno had to wear too but took off as soon as he left the Akademiya grounds.

His eyes opened, slightly more widened than before. 

Alhaitham was wearing his Akasha Terminal.

He almost always did, but today was different. Today, it meant something. Today, Alhaitham tried to tell Cyno something. He left it for him to guess. And he must have been aware that Tighnari was home and able to hear them, too. There's no way Alhaitham wouldn't have known that.

Looking back on it, it felt like…

It felt like a warning.

"Cyno ? Do you have an idea in mind ?"

Cyno blinked himself back into reality. He was out of the hallway and out of Alhaitham's cold gaze, back on the sofa and feeling the heat radiating from the two people at his side. Tighnari watched him intently, studying his face for any trace of a revelation. 

"Did you find something ?" he insisted.

"I…"

No. 

He was most likely overthinking this. Since when was the Akasha able to listen in on conversations ? Sure, the device made him incredibly uncomfortable, but it wasn't dangerous per se. It couldn't have been the cause of Alhaitham's hesitation. Because if it was…

The mere thought of what that entailed caused a dull pain to rise in the bridge of Cyno's nose.

Alhaitham was good at mostly everything and that included giving people headaches. He should have pursued that degree instead of graduating from the Haravatat, Cyno bitterly thought to himself. Would have saved them both the trouble.

He wasn't getting anywhere with his reflexion, so he decided to conclude that Alhaitham was indeed messing with him and that he would not let him have his way tonight. Not when Tighnari was there.

"... It's nothing," he huffed while running a hand through his hair. "You were right, I'm really tired."

Tighnari looked utterly unconvinced but didn't make any further comment. Instead, he simply smiled.

"Let's go to bed, then, hm? I'll carry Collei to her room, and you go take a shower."

Cyno opened his mouth in an attempt to protest, but Tighnari's index was faster and booped his nose.

"Tt-tt-tt, no buts, mister. You are going to scrub all that filth and sand off of you or you're sleeping on the carpet tonight."

His voice tried to sound firm, but his eyes were smiling.

"Now what are you waiting for? Come on! Chop chop!"

Cyno obediently rose from the sofa with a defeated grin, and proceeded to occupy the bathroom for the next thirty minutes. 

It did feel nice to have his hair back to their usual color and to put on an oversized but comfortable cotton t-shirt. Though judging by the red lily print on the front, that shirt did not belong to him or Tighnari or even Collei. The smell wasn't theirs, either. Cyno made a mental note to himself to ask Tighnari where they got it.

The latter was sitting in bed when Cyno entered their bedroom. Their apartment only had two, and Collei had already lacked privacy enough when she was young for Tighnari or Cyno to sleep with her. So it was natural for them to share the other room – Tighnari would have let Cyno sleep on the sofa over his dead body. They'd had plenty of sleepovers at the Akademiya before, when they used to sneak into each other's dorm room to study or read until unreasonable hours of the morning. So it wasn't that big of a deal.

Tighnari had resumed the reading of his book, but he put it down as soon as his friend came in.

"You smell way better all of a sudden."

Cyno just smirked at that remark and Tighnari squinted as he sat on his side of the bed.

"Is that Kaveh's shirt?"

Cyno went completely still.

"I'm sorry?"

"That is Kaveh's shirt," Tighnari repeated with more certainty. "He must have left it last time we played cards, he had way too much to drink. Oh well, I'd rather it be a shirt than a puddle of vomit. Plus…" His smile became somewhat teasing. "It looks nice on you. That kind of red. Compliments your eyes."

It must have complimented his cheeks too because Cyno suddenly felt a lot of blood rush to his face despite his best efforts to keep it down. It was embarrassing enough to be wearing his neighbor's shirt, Tighnari did not have to add random compliments into the situation. 

"Right," he muttered while hastily slipping under the covers.

Tighnari was not his husband. He wasn't even his boyfriend. Some people asked, so Cyno answered. Tighnari needed a place to stay when he wasn't upholding his Forest Watcher duties in Gandharva Ville, Collei needed somewhere quiet to rest when her flare-ups got in the way of her training and Cyno simply wanted a place he could come back to. Their desires aligned so they gathered their funds and rented this apartment together of a common accord. That's all there was to it. Cyno was Collei's savior and Tighnari's best friend and they were fine this way. 

Whether or not he wanted Tighnari and him to be something else hardly mattered, or so he told himself. 

"Now wait a minute. You are not sleeping with your hair down! What would people say if the General Mahamatra came to work with unkempt hair, hm? Come here."

And there he was, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed while Tighnari braid his hair with slow and gentle gestures. And his heart filled to the brim with warmth, spilled out of his chest to color the world soft and bright and welcoming and peaceful in a way he never thought possible. 

Now that he found it, he couldn't bear the thought of losing it. So whatever feelings he carried with him, they would have to stay hidden for the time being. He did not try to bury them, instead he tucked them away safely, deep inside his chest, so he could come back to them someday. 

Someday.

Perhaps then he could tell Tighnari that he wouldn't mind if his hands lingered a bit more on his hair even after he was done braiding them. That he'd be okay with Tighnari snuggling closer to him when they turned the lights off. That maybe he wouldn't mind calling him both his best friend and his… whatever relationship label Tighnari would like to be called, one day.

But Cyno didn't tell Tighnari any of that.

Instead, Cyno lied on his back and watched the phosphorescent stars on the ceiling, and listened as Tighnari opened his mouth again.

"I know I said we were going to sleep, but… Wanna hear about how Kaveh clogged his shower this morning?"

Cyno grinned to himself.

"Sure."

They were fine as they were.

______

It's been eighteen days.

Tighnari, standing barefoot in the kitchen, pours himself some tea in the mug Collei bought him for his previous birthday.

He shouldn't worry.

He watches as Sumeru City slowly arises from its dreamless slumber beyond the window. He rubs his eyes, takes a sip from his mug, winces as the drink burns his tongue but swallows nonetheless.

He shouldn't worry.

Collei has been feeling better recently. Maybe he'll send her off to Gandharva Ville tomorrow. She's been waiting to get back to training for a while now and the other Rangers could use her assistance before he comes back.

He shouldn't worry.

There's a discarded Akasha Terminal on the coffee table. It comes with a note he couldn't throw away. He feels like it's taunting him.

Tighnari shouldn't worry, except he does.

The clock strikes six.

He looks up and sighs.

It's been nineteen days.

Nineteen days since Cyno left for work at six o'clock sharp.

Nineteen days since Tighnari last saw him.

It's been nineteen days.

Chapter Text

Kaveh stretches his arms towards the sky and lets out a completely unrestrained yawn. The meeting with his client lasted longer than expected, and honestly, it could have been an email. At least it's over and it's still early in the afternoon, which means he has at least a few hours before Alhaitam comes home to work on his many unfinished projects. It's not like Alhaitham is particularly noisy or agitated, but Kaveh struggles to be at his full focus abilities when he's around.

Once in front of his building's door, he enters the security code and arrives in the lobby. Everything is quiet, most people are at work at this time of day. Alhaitham must be stuck in whatever meeting his Scribe duties force him to attend, Kaveh muses. 

Since he's here, he might as well check their mailbox. Alhaitham keeps complaining that he leaves the mail to pile up until it looks like the poor thing is about to burst open. Kaveh usually bites back with Well, maybe if you were more discreet about where you live we wouldn't get useless letters from your superiors, but today he's decided to be the bigger person and prevent any complaints.

As he reaches out with his small key, his hand bumps into something. Another hand, aiming for the mailbox next to his. His eyes look down as the man before him lifts his up. Kaveh knows that face, for he sees it quite often in the hallway or during long game nights at the closest bar. He smiles happily.

"Hi, Nari! No work today? I saw Collei leave earlier so I thought you were at Gandharva Ville."

Tighnari takes a while to answer, and when he smiles at Kaveh it looks thin and tired. Lacking in any form of happiness, barely a strain of the lips.

"Not exactly. I sent her off on her own. I've got a few consultations in the city this week, so I'll be sticking around for a while."

Silence falls between them and Kaveh's smile falters. That's unusual. Tighnari usually never sticks to mere platitudes, each thought or words sparking another until it ends up with the both of them talking for at least half an hour before realizing that crap, they're both late, and hurriedly waving each other off. But today, there is something unspoken lingering in the air, heavy and awkward. Something that weighs on Tighnari's ears and shoulders, creases purplish circles under his eyes, makes him grip the strap of his pouch like a lifeline. Kaveh thinks he knows what it is.

"... Cyno still hasn't returned."

It's not a question but Tighnari shakes his head anyway, a slight clench in his jaw. Kaveh can't help but feel sorry for him.

"How long has it been?"

"Nineteen days," Tighnari replies almost too fast. He's been counting, Kaveh realizes. The Forest Watcher opens his mailbox with something like hope in his eyes, which flickers out when all he finds is emptiness. "But it's alright. He's been away for longer than this after all."

Kaveh's eyes shift between his friend and the empty mailbox. Somehow, he knows Cyno is not out on a mission. Something is off.

"But it's the first time he's left you without any news, isn't it? The Akademiya even came to your place the other day. Was it to–"

"To interrogate me about his whereabouts, yes," Tighnari sighs. "And I couldn't even tell them anything."

Kaveh scratches his neck, his whole body shifting uncomfortably. If even the Akademiya cannot find Cyno despite looking all over for him, then no one will. He glances at Tighnari, who tries smiling to himself – and kind of fails. It makes him look like he's about to cry. 

"I'm not that worried really. And he left me a note saying he'd be back and that I shouldn't worry. So I'm not." He fidgets with his earring, pulls at it. For a second, Kaveh is worried that he's going to rip it off. "If the Akademiya didn't find him, that must at least mean he's alive and well somewhere."

Not that worried? Kaveh has heard more convincing lies from children caught with their hands in a candy jar. Never in his life has he seen Tighnari so bummed, and he's known him for several years now. Thinking about him alone in his apartment with his only two options being for Cyno to return in a body bag or to not return at all makes Kaveh's throat tighten. 

Oh, Archons. Collei left this morning. Which means starting from tonight, Tighnari will actually be alone. He can't just leave him be. What kind of a senior and friend would he be if he did?

"Actually… I'm hosting a small party tonight," Kaveh blurts out.

Tighnari's ears perk up in surprise, and he shoots his friend an intrigued look.

It's a lie. It's a lie and Tighnari took the bait and now Kaveh needs to play along so he stays hooked. 

"It's just gonna be me and a few friends, and I thought maybe you'd like to come? It's not gonna be noisy, it's just to chill out and hum… It could help you take your mind off things, and I made sure no guest would be the kind that asks you to examine their mole once you say you're a doctor, so…" Kaveh gulps, feeling his courage drain out with each passing second. Tighnari's face is unreadable. "Well, I mean, there's no obligation, it's fine if you don't-"

"Sure. Why not?"

He blinks at Tighnari, who is actually smiling back at him. That was surprisingly easy.

"Wait, really? You're not just saying yes just to be polite, are you?"

Tighnari sighs again, but this time it sounds amused.

"Kaveh, I've rejected a post in the Akademiya without giving it a second thought. Multiple times. Do I seem like the type to accept any proposal out of the goodness of my heart?"

Kaveh lets a semi-embarrassed, semi-relieved smile take possession of his face.

"No. Of course not." It evolves into a wider grin. "My apologies, o Tighnari, for not trusting your words, but a party seems to me less of a life-changing decision than a post in the Akademiya."

Tighnari lets out a chuckle.

"Oh, come on. Do you always have to make everything into a dramatic line?" His gaze softens, just a little, enough for Kaveh to notice. "Thank you for the invite. I appreciate it. I don't think Cyno would want me to sulk over his absence."

Kaveh feels a slight unease in his chest. He wishes he could do more, so Tighnari can be back to his normal, happy, slightly sassy self. But what more can he do? He can't bring Cyno back. He can only try and take care of Tighnari while he's away. His hand hovers hesitantly above his friend's ears.

"May I?"

Tighnari nods, eyes drifting into space. Kaveh gently pats him on the head, right between his ears, and Tighnari's whole face seems like it's about to fall apart.

"I'm sure he'll return soon," he says softly. "He better be or I'll kick his ass myself." This is merely an attempt at humor. Cyno would absolutely destroy him in three seconds if he wanted to.

"Leave some for me." Tighnari's voice tones down to a trembling whisper. He's on the verge of tears again. 

Kaveh inhales deeply, puts on his best smile, leans in and ruffles Tighnari's hair more roughly, which gets a surprised yelp out of the latter.

"Get yourself out there tonight, okay? Who knows, maybe we can put an actual smile on that cute face."  

Tighnari swats his hand away, but his mildly annoyed look can't hide the amusement he's trying to repress.

"... Thank you."

He has straightened up, looking more relaxed. Kaveh internally deems his mission a sucess.

"Anytime, Nari. Anytime."

"Thanks for the chat too, but I have to go back to work now." Tighnari walks up to the exit, then turns around with his hand on the doorknob. "See you very soon, then."

And just like that, he's gone. Kaveh stands here for a few seconds before he snaps out of the moment and hurries off to the elevator. Well, now he has a last-minute party to plan, people to invite, drinks to buy, a fridge to fill and a whole apartment to clean. So much for a productive day, but that slight draft of a smile on Tighnari's face is definitely worth the trouble. Cyno will owe him one.

… Cyno. 

Where could you have gone off to, and why? Was it so important, that you left Tighnari – and me – without a proper explanation? Kaveh has never been so frustrated over unanswered questions. 

The truth is, he misses Cyno too. He misses their ridiculous arguments over the rules of Uno or TCG or Monopoly, he misses the lectures they give each other over staying in shape or the semantics of a good hair routine, he misses his presence. Abyss strike him, he even misses Cyno's awful jokes. 

Truth be told, Kaveh is not sure if the party is for Tighnari or for himself. He wishes he could have offered that out of pure generosity, but he knows deep down that's not the case. 

Because deep down, he's terrified Cyno won't return. Or worse, that he'll turn up as a body half-eaten by scorpions in the desert. That's why this party is a more-than-welcome distraction. He'd rather worry over having enough wine in stock for several people and sanitizing the carpet and doing the dishes than over the agonizing thoughts of Cyno's uncertain fate.

So he does. He goes shopping, cleans like a madman, spends a whole hour making a playlist, waters his plants to make sure they're looking great for Tighnari, and thus the afternoon flies by.

Only when he hears Alhaitham's key turning in the lock does Kaveh realize that he completely forgot the mail.

________

Comfortably seated in a red armchair with a glass of iced tea in hand, Tighnari looks around the room. It hasn't changed much since the last time he dropped by. It's much less cluttered than his own place, probably because Alhaitham always cleans up after Kaveh. The living room's furnitures are sparse but well-chosen: a big leather couch, two armchairs, a mahogany coffee table matching a cabinet full of books, a TV on the wall, a few paintings of what he assumes to be modern art and framed photographs. The floor was not carpeted last time, though, but he understood why they made that choice when Alhaitham rose from his chair to get ice cubes and basically stomped all the way from the living-room to the kitchen, looking completely unaware that he was making so much noise while walking. It got a small snort out of Tighnari, that such a distinguished and proper man could walk like that. 

But Alhaitham is back in his seat now, and he's having an argument with Kaveh. Tighnari looks at the clock hanging on the wall and marvels at the fact that it's their very first argument in an hour and a half. That's the longest they've ever held back in his presence. 

"Stop saying I'm drunk," Kaveh slurs at his roommate. "I'm not drunk."

"You've downed four glasses of wine in an hour without eating anything prior, so allow me to doubt your claim," Alhaitham replies right back, taking a sip from his own drink. "Even I would not be sober in this situation."

"Yeah. Cause you suck," Kaveh snarls, weirdly insisting on the 's' sound. 

"So eloquent. Maybe you should apply for a position at the local recycling center so they can confirm that your drunken arguments are simply trash."

"Yeah right… Well, I'm pretty sure Tighnari agrees with me anyway!" The thus-nominated blinks. "Nari, tell him he sucks."

Tighnari isn't sure how or why he was suddenly brought into the argument, but one thing he is sure of is that he doesn't want to. His unease must show on his face, because Alhaitham turns to look at him.

"Don't feel compelled to answer."

"Haitham, you asshole, stop trying to influence him!" 

Tighnari does feel very pressured into answering, actually, because if he doesn't he's afraid that one of their fists – he couldn't say whose – will end up in the other's face.

"I don't know Alhaitham enough to emit such a harsh judgment on his character," is how he circles around the issue. Then immediately after, to the both of them, "No offense."

Kaveh pouts and reaches out for the only glass left on the table, filled to the brim with beer, but Alhaitham swats his hand without even looking at him. Kaveh throws him a vicious glare and tries again, and this time Alhaitham firmly grasps his hand like you would do with a turbulent child.

"Do you have any manners or do I need to spell it out for you? No drinking in the guests' glass."

"Oh, so we are expecting someone else," Tighnari says out loud as Kaveh mutters something while pulling away from the Scribe's grip.

"We are. But her line of work is… peculiar, so Kaveh invited her knowing that she'd come by late." 

Right after that, Alhaitham seems to sense something in the floor vibrations, because he immediately puts both of his feet on the carpet to check. Tighnari can hear something too, the sound of high heels meeting with tiles. He raises an eyebrow in surprise when Alhaitham goes up to him to cover his fox ears with both his hands.

"Hum, Alhaitham, why are you-"

The door swings open so violently it slams loudly against the wall, getting a startle and a high-pitched yell out of Kaveh.

"That's why," Alhaitham sighs.

A tall woman with long dark hair evolving into feline ears and the bluest eyes Tighnari has ever seen barges in with a huge grin full of teeth on her face. Archons, that's an awful lot of teeth.

"Here I am! Hope I didn't keep you boys waiting for too long?"

Her voice is almost booming and Tighnari suddenly feels very thankful for Alhaitham's hands on his ears.

"Dehya, we've been over this. Please refrain from kicking the door," he sighs. 

"Heyyy, Dehyaaa!" Kaveh lets out a happy giggle as he stands up. Or tries to, at least, because he stumbles and immediately falls into the woman's arms. She's not thrown the slightest bit off balance – which is impressive considering how huge her heels are.

"Wow, easy there, Kav," she laughs, fumbling with her backpack with one hand while straightening up Kaveh with the other. She pulls out a huge bag of sweet cashew nuts and holds it up in front of Kaveh's nose. "Look what I got you!"

The entirety of Sumeru's stars might as well shine in the Architect's eyes right now. He motions to snatch the bag, but Dehya is faster (and sober) and lifts it higher, out of his reach.

"What's the magic word?"

Tighnari stifles a laugh. He doesn't know this Dehya, but he thinks he's going to like her. Kaveh looks up at her, almost transfixed.

"Marry me."

"I'm gay," is her immediate reply as she moves aside. "Try again."

Kaveh nearly falls face flat on the floor when Dehya slips from under him, and it takes all of Tighnari's willpower to not burst out laughing right here and now.

"Come on, Dehya… Please?" Kaveh pleads as he tries to balance himself with his armchair.

Dehya ends up taking pity on the man and tosses the highly-coveted bag at him before she lands smoothly on the couch.

"Oh, you saved me a glass! Sweet. Even if I see you started without me," she sneers, side-eyeing Kaveh who is now peacefully eating his cashew nuts in his chair.

"I had to relentlessly stop a certain someone from drinking it all in one go, so thank you for noticing," Alhaitham huffs. 

Dehya snorts.

"Thank you for your service. Well, down my throat it goes then!"

She stops right before the drink reaches her lips when her eyes meet with Tighnari's over the edge of her glass.

"Wait, I don't know you."

"I was wondering when you'd notice," Tighnari chuckles.

Dehya downs her glass so quickly Tighnari's afraid she might choke, but she looks perfectly fine when she slams it down on the table.

"Well, onto introductions then! I'm Dehya, nice to meet you. Did you study at the Akademiya too? You look like the type. The good type, I mean," she adds hastily. "The type that is actually smart."

"I did, actually. I graduated from the Amurta Darshan. It means I studied botany," he specifies when he notices Dehya staring at him in confusion. "I am both a doctor and a Forest Watcher."

She laughs heartily and pours herself another glass of beer. One side glance tells Tighnari Alhaitham has started scrolling on his phone.

"You do look like a plant guy."

Tighnari raises an eyebrow, grinning at her. Her good mood is contagious.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Seriously? Have you seen yourself? You're like the greenest person I've ever met."

Tighnari instinctively raises his hand to fiddle with the green streaks in his hair. She's not wrong, but her way of phrasing it is… Well. It is, he supposes that's enough.

"Alright, my turn. What do you do for a living?" he asks.

"Oh, I get paid to beat people up. I'm a mercenary," she explains as Tighnari's eyes get wider. "See how that feels?"

Dehya tells him he looks like the smart type, but clearly she could give any scholar a run for their money, Tighnari thinks. The Sages would be so angry all the time with someone like her around, just the thought of it makes him smile.

"Nah, but seriously, I'm not paid just to fight. I'm on bodyguard duty for a few months at the Homayani estate at the moment." She chugs down half of her beer. "It's not exactly eventful, but hey. The lady I'm protecting is the sweetest, and they pay me loads so I'm not complaining. It's mostly following her around, and well… She's pretty sick, so she stays home most of the time."

Tighnari feels something like professional instinct taking control of his whole body, and the words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

"She's sick? If you don't mind me asking, what illness does she suffer from?"

"Nothing you can cure, I'm afraid." Dehya suddenly looks more grim as she gazes down at the bottom of her glass. "Ever heard of Eleazar?" 

Collei.

He sees Collei.

She's got black scales creeping up her arms that she's desperately trying to hide.

I'm fine, master Tighnari! I can go on patrol, I swear!

She's lying in bed, crying herself to sleep, her body shaking with spasms and eyelids heavy with fatigue.

I'm sorry… I just can't seem to be of any use…

She's holding a cup with shaking hands. 

I brought… I brought you tea.

It shatters on the ground.

Why can't I ever do anything right?! Even the simplest of things, I…!

She's still a little girl, so frail, looking so lost in her huge bed. Her tiny fist, covered in bandages, grabs his clothes. She's been in Gandharva Ville for two days at most. She's had a nightmare.

He's gonna be back, he's going to take me! I can be useful, I swear, even if I'm sick, please…

Please, please, please don't leave me.

Tighnari swallows hard. His throat feels parched all of a sudden.

Eleazar… as a doctor, it's his greatest mystery.

And his greatest failure.

"I've encountered it firsthand."

Dehya's eyes pierce through his soul. Maybe he took too long to answer. Alhaitham has stopped brushing his thumb accross his screen.

"Right, I should've guessed." She's still staring right at him, looking unsure now. "You okay? You, uh… You look really pale."

"I'm fine," Tighnari replies a little too fast.

But before Dehya can press him further, Kaveh opens his mouth and lets out a small whine. If Dehya thinks Tighnari is the greenest person she's ever seen, she'll probably change her mind when she looks at Kaveh's face.

"Guys… I don't feel too good."

Everything that follows happens so fast that Tighnari barely has any time to process it. Alhaitham and Dehya whip out their fists and start banging them in the air.

"Rock, paper, scissors –"

Alhaitham's hand stretches out flat.

Dehya's stays curled into a fist.

He shoots her a smug look and she growls.

"Oh, screw you."

"You made the rules as much as I did."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, smarty pants."

Before Tighnari can ask what on earth they are talking about, Dehya goes right to Kaveh and swings his arm over her shoulders.

"You boys have fun while I take Princess Puke right here for a little stomach purge trip." Kaveh hunches over with a weird sound coming from his throat and she immediately glares at him. "Don't you dare throw up on me, you bastard, or I'll give you something else to throw up about!"

She drags away a whimpering Kaveh ("I'm going to diiiie") and mutters angrily to herself ("If you keep running your fucking mouth I'll personally see to it") while closing the door to the hallway behind her. 

Tighnari blinks slowly, once. Twice.

"... What just happened?"

"We had an argument once over which one of us should take him to the bathroom and he threw up all over the floor before we were even done," Alhaitham explains like it's the most normal thing in all of Teyvat. "And scrubbing a carpet is a real hassle. So we made up that system. It's more efficient that way. It's no use having arguments over things that can only be settled with quick and concrete solutions, after all."

"I… see," Tighnari manages to say, still stunned by how unreal the whole ordeal was.

He sits in silence with Alhaitham for what feels like forever, with only the muffled sound of Dehya's scolding and the ticking of the clock.

"I don't think Cyno was forced to leave."

Something icy pierces Tighnari's chest. He slowly lifts up his head to look at Alhaitham. 

"What?"

"Don't you think it's strange? That the Akademiya cannot find him?"

Why? 

"Perhaps they don't want to."

Why are you bringing this up now?

"Perhaps he doesn't want to be found either."

Something inside Tighnari keeps screaming, Finally. Finally, someone who isn't acting like this is something I need to get over with and just be patient about.

He's not blaming Kaveh, of course. But as Alhaitham spoke, he realized just how badly he needed to talk about Cyno with someone. Anyone.

"Get to the point." His voice comes out weak, like he's been strangled. He swallows again. "Please."

Alhaitham's eyes briefly meet his as he answers.

"My point is, I think Cyno left of his own violition to get away from the Akademiya."

Tighnari blinks again. The ache in his throat is suffocating.

"Why would he do this? He's always been loyal to the Akademiya, to its principles. It's not just about his work, it's his whole life…"

He thinks for a few seconds, and something resurfaces at the back of his mind.

"… Is it related to what you told him? About his title? Is that why he left his Akasha Terminal?"

He doesn't blame Alhaitham for Cyno's disappearance, no. But if there is any lead, any direction he can follow, he'll take it.

Alhaitham places his hand under his chin, looking deep in thought.

"So he did, huh." A faint shadow of a smile is cast upon his face. "He understood, as expected. But I didn't expect him to go this far."

"Understood what? Alhaitham, what is it that you are not telling me?"

Alhaitham finally shifts in his chair to face Tighnari completely.

"I can't explain it to you yet. But I think I can find out where Cyno is hiding, and maybe I can go and talk to him."

Tighnari's face lits up so fast, it's almost blinding. He grips the armrest of his chair, and Alhaitham notices the slow wagging of his tail.

"You'd do that?" 

"I'm going to," Alhaitham nods. "There's no guarantee that I'll find him for sure, but if I do, is there anything you'd like to tell him?

Tighnari suddenly finds himself at a loss for words. Something to say to Cyno? He does have many questions, but that's not what he wants to tell him. As for the scolding, he'll get to it when they meet again face to face. No, the real message he wants Alhaitham to pass on is much simpler than that.

"Tell him to stay safe. And that I'm alright. Tell him that, will you?"

Alhaitham pauses for a while.

"I will."

Even if that's a lie, he thinks as he watches Tighnari. Because Tighnari is definitely not alright. That's not what alright is.

"Thank you, Alhaitham. That's the most hopeful I've felt since he's left."

If Tighnari was alright, he wouldn't say that. He wouldn't look at him with such tired eyes and such a faded smile.

So maybe Alhaitham lied, too, for the first time in a long while. Maybe he won't tell Cyno that Tighnari is alright. But he won't tell him that he's unwell, either.

He won't tell Cyno anything, unless he asks.

______

When Dehya finally comes back to the living room, Tighnari has already crossed the hall back to his own place. There's only Alhaitham, gazing absently at something on the wall. Dehya clears her throat.

"Sorry, it took longer than expected. Man started crying and apologizing all over my shoulder and I had to tuck him in his bed. He kept asking if Tighnari was okay. He also said that you're, and I quote, an ass."

"Thank you," Alhaitham says with a vague nod of acknowledgement, not even addressing any the other things she's said. Dehya doesn't think he heard her at all. Maybe his hearing aids are off? She can never tell what goes on inside his head when he's like this, and it's bugging her.

She gets closer, to see what exactly on that plain old wall could capture Alhaitham's attention like that.

It's a graduation picture.

Six groups of students in long Akademiya robes, lined up in several rows. They're not as formal as you'd expect Akademiya students to be, instead all looking relaxed for their last days. All except Alhaitham and his resting bitch face in the bottom left of the picture. His face is rounder, less sculpted than it is nowadays. He doesn't seem to share in the excitement, instead standing completely straight with his diploma in hand. 

To his immediate right, there's a student wearing a black outer robe over his Akademiya uniform and looking extremely uncomfortable. He's clearly trying to hide behind his long, white hair, but seeing as he still completely stands out from the rest, he failed miserably. Probably the one they call Cyno, the current General Mahamatra.

Cyno's arm is locked with someone else's, a guy with fox ears, black hair tied into a messy ponytail and smiling from ear to ear. Tighnari. Younger and looking way more energetic than he did tonight, of course. He's also clearly meddling with another Darshan than his because some other students are giving him weird side glances.

So they're all from the same promotion except for Kaveh, huh. Talk about a bunch of smarties.

Dehya looks back at present Alhaitham, whose eyes are still fixed on their little trio.

That's when she notices it.

In the picture, younger Alhaitham looks like he's trying his hardest to not look down. At what?

At the hand of younger Cyno, tugging nervously and perhaps subconsciously at his sleeve.

So when Alhaitham turns to her, she already knows what he's going to say.

"Dehya, I have a favor to ask."

Chapter Text

"I'll be away for a few days."

Kaveh stops mid-yawn, his hand in the air, and turns to look at Alhaitham. The Scribe is sitting at the breakfast table with a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He already looks all fresh and rested despite being slightly heavy-lidded, whereas Kaveh feels like he got ran over by a truck and then plunged into a basin full of oil after last night. At least that's what his breath smells like.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Kaveh gently massages his temple while raising his palm to face Alhaitham.

"Hold on a second. Where are going exactly? Why so sudden?"

Alhaitham must get tired of reading both Kaveh's lips and his book, because he closes the latter and gently sets it down on the table.

"I thought you'd be happy to have the place all to yourself. Or are you not capable of taking care of yourself without me around?" He asks, his face as stern as ever but his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"That's not- Stop avoiding the question!"

Kaveh lands very disgracefully on the chair next to Alhaitham, grunting as he squeezes his eyes shut. Drinking so much last night was a mistake, and Alhaitham being his headache-inducing self is certainly not helping.

"I'm serious, Alhaitham," is what he says.

Is it dangerous and should I expect you to be back soon or never is what he means.

"So am I."

Kaveh lets off an exasperated huff and turns around to grab a plate of scrambled eggs. Trying to get through to Alhaitham using implications is like trying to explain quantum physics to a cat, but then again Kaveh will never admit that he's worried out loud. So he has resigned himself to live with a brick wall.

So his surprise when Alhaitham speaks again is completely unconcealed.

"I'm going to look for Cyno."

Kaveh nearly chokes on his eggs.

"You what ?! "

"I talked the matter through with Dehya last night. Since we were finally between reasonable adults, we managed to find a lead."

Kaveh doesn't even have the energy to get pissed over his snarky remark.

"What lead?"

"Aaru Village. You know how Cyno is. If he's hiding because of the Akademiya…"

"Then he'd still want to watch their movements. The back and forth of Mad Scholars is perfect for that," Kaveh continued with a sigh. "How can you be so sure that he went away on his own?"

"Because they haven't found any corpse yet," is Alhaitham's blunt answer. "If he was in any danger or dead, we'd know."

Kaveh drags his hand across his face, grimacing at how greasy his skin feels.

"Ever the tactful sort, huh." He tries to sound annoyed, but his reply lacks his usual bite. "And Dehya didn't ask for anything in return?"

"She did, but it's nothing I can't manage. One of her friends, a Traveler, wants to head to Aaru Village as well. Except they don't have any means of locomotion, so I'll drive them here."

Kaveh makes a face.

"You're going to drive?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

"You're a terrible driver," Kaveh deadpans.

Alhaitham shoots him an unimpressed look.

"And you say I am the untactful one."

Kaveh restrains himself from saying that yes, he is a hurtful and arrogant prick to actually get to his point.

"Remember when you drove Ms Faruzan home because she couldn't start her car? How she clung to you crying until you accepted just so she'd finally shut up?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I accepted out of respect. She is a famous senior in my Darshan, after all."

Kaveh rolls his eyes so hard they almost pop out of their sockets.

"Like you have any respect for your seniors… Anyway, I crossed paths with her the next morning and she said that she'd rather go home on foot than ever setting one in your car again."

Alhaitham finishes his cup of coffee and rises from his chair to put it in the sink. It's full. Well, if Kaveh stays home today, maybe he will do the dishes for once. The cup ends up on the kitchen counter.

"It's not my fault that she's of a fragile constitution."

"Now you're being of bad faith. She spent a whole century trapped in ruins and survived, so I don't think her constitution is the issue here! Excuse me for being concerned about the torture you're gonna inflict on that poor traveler!"

"I drive efficiently."

"I didn't know efficiency meant going way beyond the speed limits! And please don't start lecturing me about how they drive in Mondstadt. I don't care. What if you get into an accident?"

Alhaitham checks his travel bag, closes it and motions to put his shoes on. Kaveh follows along, his steps heavy.

"Don't worry about me. I may drive fast, but I drive carefully."

"So you're admitting that you drive like a madman!" Kaveh raises his voice to make sure Alhaitham can hear him with his back turned. "And I'm not worried about you , I'm worried for your passenger." 

"If they don't like it, they can always go on foot." His roommate finally replies. “I’m only doing this to return the favor to Dehya. A small price to pay to find Cyno, isn’t it?”

With a faint hint of hope, Kaveh’s heart briefly throbs in his chest at the mention of Cyno’s name. He tries to ignore the bitterness in his mouth, in his mind, that wants him to say Since when do you care about Cyno?

“You can’t find him if you’re dead.”

The silence following his remark is so long that Kaveh starts to wonder if Alhaitham heard him. 

“I won’t be, Kaveh,” The Scribe finally says he puts a jacket on and lightly taps his temple with two fingers. “I have this.”

Somehow, Kaveh doesn’t feel reassured at all. Sure, Alhaitham’s observation, thinking and anticipation skills are phenomenal and his brain might place as one of the best in Sumeru: but a car crash is not the primary danger one could encounter in the Desert. Rogue mercenaries attacks are less of a legend to frighten little kids and more of a common occurrence. 

So when he sees Alhaitham’s vision’s faint glow on his left shoulder, he can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Weapons such as guns or large swords or even stun guns are strictly forbidden in Sumeru: the only way one can defend oneself is by acquiring a Vision and pulling a random bow or claymore out of it or enrolling in the Matra, whose members obtain licensed weapons from the Akademiya if not already owners of a Vision. If Alhaitham has his, then he can fight. And Kaveh knows that behind that “feeble scholar” acts he puts on, his muscles and brains are not just for show. It makes the guy more infuriating if anything: being a nightmare at the steering wheel might be his only flaw and he still never got into an accident.

“Kaveh, before I go.”

Alhaitham turned around to face him. His expression, despite being stoic by default, bears an unusual gravity.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if you need to call me, do not use the Akasha.” 

Kaveh blinks in confusion. Sure, they have perfectly functioning smartphones, but they are entertainment devices if anything. They’ve always used the Akasha before.  

“Why?”

“The less you know, the better. Oh, and don’t accept any requests from the Akademiya or the Sages. If they send you a letter, don’t reply. If they knock at the door, pretend you’re not here. If they ever try to send you out of the city, refuse. Do we have an understanding?”

Irritation flashes across Kaveh’s face. Who does Alhaitham thinks he is, to order him around like that when he's clearly withholding information? If the Sages make a request of him, it’s his entire Darshan’s reputation at stake and Archons know that it is not at its best. If he was stripped of his title… The mere thought sends a shiver down his spine.

“And why, pray tell, would I risk my whole career for you?”

Alhaitham stands and moves closer, almost towering over Kaveh. There’s not much of a height difference between them, but Alhaitham is larger and his heels grant him some precious centimeters. His eyes are staring directly into Kaveh’s soul yet not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll intercede in your favor. For once in your life, Kaveh, I need you to stop being stubborn and listen to me. For your own good, don’t answer them. Don’t use your Akasha. That is all I ask.”

Kaveh laughs incredulously, growing more nervous at the sudden proximity. Him? Stubborn? Sure, he can’t deny it. Stubbornness is what carried him through his studies, through his multiple failures, through the construction of the Palace of Alcazarzaray, through his cohabitation with Alhaitham. But his roommate is probably the only man that can outmatch him in terms of obstination. His request would be incredibly funny if not for how serious his eyes actually look. Kaveh catches himself wondering if Alhaitham’s pupils were always circled with that undefinable shade of crimson or if he just never noticed. He shakes his head to ground himself back into the situation at hand.

“Again, why should I give credit to any of your gibberish?”

Alhaitham’s voice is barely a whisper when he leans forward, “Because I am the only one you can afford to trust.”

Kaveh is almost rendered speechless. Almost. He takes a step back to get away from Alhaitham’s smell, of ink and wood and sun and soap. It’s distracting. 

“You almost sound like you’re the one who’s worried,” he sneers.

Alhaitham’s answer is immediate.

“I am.” 

It sounds unreal. And yet Kaveh looks at Alhaitham’s face and it’s not any different from the second before he dropped that verbal bomb.

He sounds sincere.

He sounds like he cares.

It makes Kaveh’s blood boil.

“The Akademiya is plotting something, Kaveh. And if you fall into their hands, there is nothing I can do for you. You’d have to sort it out on your own. And usually I’d let you. Just like I’d let Cyno do his thing.” He slowly steps away and throws his travel bag over his shoulder. “But this is much bigger than him, or you, or even me.”

The worst part is, Kaveh is naturally cautious. If it were anyone else warning him, maybe he’d heed them while also not fully trusting them. But Alhaitham? He doesn’t want to heed Alhaitham’s words. Yet he knows that he will. And Alhaitham does, too. That man is more frustrating than any blueprint Kaveh ever worked on.

Lost in thought, he startles when the door closes.

“Wha- Hey! Alhaitham!”

He hastily reaches for the doorknob and stumbles barefoot into the hallway, still in his wrinkled nightgown, and his eyes set on Alhaitham’s back, marching further and further away from him. The Scribe looks over his shoulder as he feels Kaveh’s steps behind him. His fingers start moving.

“What is it?”

Kaveh swallows. His saliva feels acid in his throat and it’s not because of his hangover. His fingers quickly recall the familiar reflexes of sign language. It’s been so long since they last communicated that way, but his body didn’t forget.

“Tell Cyno that if he doesn’t bring his ass home quickly, I’ll go and fetch him myself.”

Alhaitham looks at him expectantly.

“Is that all?”

Kaveh scoffs. Of course he sees right through him. 

“No. Tell him that Tighnari is not well. That he misses him.”

Alhaitham remains silent, a slight hint of frustration nagging at his brain. How can he grant both Tighnari’s wish not to worry Cyno and Kaveh’s wish to tell him the truth? This is needlessly complicated. Why does he even bother to play the messenger?

“I’ll do my best,” is his half-hearted reply.

He resumes walking away when Kaveh’s foot stomps on the floor, demanding his attention again. He sighs loudly and turns around once more.

“What now?”

Kaveh looks conflicted, searching for his words despite being the one who asked him to listen. He fidgets with one specific strand of hair, like he always does when he’s nervous. The hair at the tip of the strand have become thin from being rolled around and martyrized all the time.

“If you’re not home in three days, I’ll go into the desert myself and get both you and Cyno back here so Tighnari and I can give you the scolding of your life.” His hands pause in the air. “You know I’m not bluffing. I will go.”

Oh yes, Alhaitham knows he will. Because no matter how hard he tries, no one can tell Kaveh what to do. No one can stop him, especially when he is dead set on an objective. It’s no use arguing, so he’ll have to make do.

“I’ll just have to be home within three days, then.”

Kaveh stands in the hallway with his headache and sore shoulders as Alhaitham presses the elevator button and disappears inside. The truth is, he wished he had that kind of resolve. That kind of self-confidence that could make him just go Hey, I’m going on a trip to the desert to find your friend that’s been missing for three weeks, see ya. He doesn’t wish to be like Alhaitham because that would make him insufferable and insensitive, but in some aspects he can’t help but feel jealous. But what is there to be jealous about? His overinflated ego? His arrogance? His pretentious demeanor, his eyes that say “I-know-everything-better-than-you”? No, there is nothing to be jealous about.

Except maybe the fact that Alhaitham does what he wants without feeling any guilt about it. 

Kaveh thinks that the Archons must have a very twisted sense of humor to have thrown that man in his way ten years ago.

________

When Alhaitham went to bed the night before after his discussion with Dehya, he was expecting to hear snoring from Kaveh’s room. It always went down like this: drinking too much, throwing up with either Dehya or Alhaitham holding up his hair, going on and on about everything that turned out wrong in his life and then collapsing on his bed for the next twelve hours. He was currently in the last stage.

So Alhaitham did not expect to hear sobbing at that point.

At first, he thought he was mistaken. His hearing aids could only do so much, so maybe Kaveh was merely sleep talking. And even if he was actually crying, how was that any of Alhaitham’s business? He was not the one drowning his problems in alcohol.

The door to Kaveh’s room was slightly ajar, and Alhaitham stood there contemplating what to do. The sobs seemed to get louder, more frequent. More painful. But that couldn’t be a dream of any sort. They were grown adults, and even if Kaveh was a late bloomer – his last dream occurred right before his twentieth birthday, he recounted – eventually he stopped dreaming too.

Which meant he was either awake or suffering from some trick of his subconscious. Only one way to find out. 

Alhaitham gently pushed the door open, and the ray of light coming from the hallway stretched upon the floor, onto the red bedsheet, and finally onto Kaveh’s shaking body, curled around itself. Alhaitham closed the door, allowing only moonlight in the room, and circled around the bed to get a closer look at Kaveh’s face. 

It was a mess. Entangled hair and lingering alcohol smell aside, dried marks trailed the length of his face from when he’d cried on Dehya’s shoulder earlier. His forehead was humid with sweat and his face with tears, mouth wide open and eyelids pressed firmly against his eyes. Saliva stained his pillowcase, and he clutched tight to his sheets. Truly a sorry sight. 

It occurred to Alhaitham that he had never seen him cry like this before, even when he was drunk. This was different. This looked painful. This looked like something no one but Kaveh was supposed to see. 

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham called out in the softest way he could – which wasn’t a lot, because at some point he couldn’t hear his own voice.

When the Architect’s eyes opened, they were bleary and unfocused. So he was at least half-awake. Whether he was conscious or not was another issue. He was still sobbing like a little kid, even as he slowly rose up on his elbows to see who had awoken him. Alhaitham sat at his side.

“Kaveh –”

His sentence was cut short as a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer, almost causing him to fall face flat on the bed. Only his exceptional reflex to put his hand against the mattress below to stop his fall saved Kaveh from being crushed under his weight. 

Great. Now he was in a precarious balance with his roommate – who smelled awful, mind you – clinging onto him like a lifeline in a very much unwanted physical contact. That’s what he got for being considerate. He internally swore on both the Greater and the Lesser Lord that next time, he’d let Kaveh drown in his own tears and choke on them.

“Let go,” he ordered, trying to shift their position to a more comfortable one.

But Kaveh tightened his grip instead, sobbing louder and louder into Alhaitham’s shoulder. The latter felt what little sympathy he had running thinner by the minute. First the surprise embrace, then the smell and now the crying. This was a sensory nightmare. And Kaveh clinging harder meant more weight on Alhaitham’s shoulders and a very narrowly avoided fall. 

“Kaveh…” He tried to sound menacing between gritted teeth while steadying the both of them by placing his other hand on Kaveh’s back. “I told you to let go. You're still drunk, and you smell.”

Kaveh was having none of it. It didn’t look like he was going to calm down anytime soon. Alhaitham opened his mouth to say something really nasty that would wake him up for good, but then –

“Cyno…”

Alhaitham froze.

It was barely a whisper, plaintive and full of longing, but it was said right into his ear.

And if he thought that he’d heard wrong, Kaveh’s mouth opening again as his arms tightened around him was enough to chase all doubts from his mind.

“Cyno…”

He repeated it again, and again, and again. 

Alhaitham was at a completely new level of uncomfortable.

What could be worse than your drunk, crying roommate pulling you into a surprise hug in the dead of night? 

Your drunk, crying roommate pulling you into a surprise hug in the dead of night while repeating the name of his missing friend, probably.

But then the name changed into something longer.

“I’m sorry, Cyno… I’m sorry I can’t… Tighnari… I failed… Tighnari.”

That did it. Alhaitham straightened up, grabbed both of Kaveh’s shoulders and pushed him away. The Architect's grip suddenly loosened and he blinked at the void in confusion, tears still running down his cheeks. At least the brutal movement seemed to have knocked all sobs out of his ribcage.

“I am not Cyno,” Alhaitham said firmly, hands still squeezing Kaveh's shoulders. “Spare me your apologies. I don’t want them, nor are they destined for me.”

Jealousy was the least of his preoccupations at the time. Why would he feel any? It was hardly a surprise that Cyno was Kaveh’s closest friend. No, what he hated was that he felt powerless. Cyno was not here. Kaveh would not get any comfort from Alhaitham, because despite everything, Alhaitham was iredeemably himself.

“Do you understand?” He insisted upon seeing Kaveh’s confused expression. “I am not Cyno.”

He wanted to sound angry, but it came out almost apologetic. 

He was fine being himself. Why did he sound sorry to not be Cyno?

Feelings got in the way of his thinking. Unpleasant. Uncomfortable. Unwanted.

He needed to get away.

Luckily, Kaveh finally seemed to get the hint in his half-asleep delirium and lied back down. All that was left of his crying fit were small, tired hiccups. His eyes closed again. 

Alhaitham did not get away.

He watched to make sure that Kaveh was falling asleep for good. He almost reached out to get his hair out of his face, but pulled away at the last minute. He didn’t touch him. He just.. waited.

When Kaveh’s breathing finally hinted that he was sleeping soundly, Alhaitham slowly left his place on the bed and exited the room, taking a sharp breath in as he closed the door. 

That was by far the most unsettling experience of his life. And he didn’t want it to happen again. 

There was only one thing he could do about it.

And that was accelerating his plans.

He’d leave to find Cyno first thing the next day. That was a concrete course of action, and a concrete course of action is the best path to problem-solving.

Maybe that would make the unease he felt go away.

Chapter Text

Alhaitham should have known that driving someone to a village in the middle of the desert was not his brightest move. Because what do you know, deserts are made of sand. Alhaitham dislikes sand but not as much as his car engine does, apparently. 

The someone, the Traveler – as Dehya called them –, is a medium-height blonde with golden eyes dressed in ocre, white and gold. They'd look quite ordinary if not for the foreign, otherworldly look in their eyes. And the floating child following them everywhere they go.

"You're Alhaitham, I assume?" The Traveler had asked when they first saw him at the foot of his building. "Dehya told me that you were, I quote, 'a tall dude with pecs you could cook eggs on, a fancy glowing headset and a resting bitch face'. So? Did I guess right?"

Alhaitham simply nodded, making a mental note to himself to describe Dehya in the most flattering way possible the next time someone asked. No stooping down to her level – even if it would have been amusing.

"You did. And you are the traveler. I don't believe Dehya told me your name."

They shook their head.

"I… don't really go by any name. Just the Traveler is fine. My reputation precedes me anyway."

Their reputation… Ah. Of course. Alhaitham had a hunch, when he laid eyes upon their face, that this was the blonde traveler Azar told him to investigate. He never intended to, but he might as well stick to that person and understand what made them so interesting… and bothersome. After all, someone who scared the Grand Sage that much could only be fascinating to study.

"Oh, and this is Paimon," the Traveler added, pointing to the floating creature at their side.

"Just to be clear, Paimon is not edible, no matter what the Traveler says!"

Alhaitham imperceptibly winced at Paimon's high pitched timber. Higher frequencies were always his biggest sensory pet peeve, but well. At least it was a voice and not a cell phone ringing, he supposed that was better. 

"Paimon! Maybe say hi first?"

"Oh! Sorry! Hi, Alhaitham!"

"Yes, hello," Alhaitham waved them off quickly as he unlocked his car. "Sit anywhere you'd like. The ride should last two hours at best."

And what torturous two hours they were.

If this was only about the road getting increasingly irregular as soon as they got out of the city, it would have been fine. Annoying, but fine. Except Paimon could not stop talking, as if silence was some kind of dangerous desert creature that could jump on them if left to roam freely, and Alhaitham's noise cancelling device could only do so much. He didn't even realize that he had started to drive faster, until he noticed that the engine was coughing. They were almost to Aaru Village and the Traveler was looking very green, so he pulled over to the side. He could tolerate some sand damage to his brakes but he drew the line at vomit on his leather seats.

So there they are, under the desert sun, Alhaitham bent over his broken-down engine with the Traveler grimacing beside him and Paimon flying around in a fit of panic like a wasp before a thunderstorm.

"Oh no, oh no, what are we gonna do?! Maybe we're lost, and no one will find us, and-"

"Will you be quiet?" Alhaitham cuts her off without looking up. "I need to assess the damage." 

The engine is not smoking. That's something, at least. But there's no need to be a skilled mechanic to see that sand has gripped everything it could, filled every interstice, every gap. That car will not be budging anytime soon. Alhaitham is not exactly mad at himself for not preparing adequately. This is only a minor change in plan. But who is he fooling? The whole ordeal already got more bothersome than he planned it to be, and they're not even at the village yet.

"It's no use trying to clean it," he concludes out loud. "The sand would fill every gap we manage to clean out in mere seconds. Since we're almost there, we'll continue on foot."

The Traveler sighs and runs their hand through their sweat-soaked hair.

"Figures. At least we're close… Let me get our things in the trunk, then."

"But what about the car?" Paimon asks. "Are we just gonna… leave it there?"

"She's got a point," the Traveler adds while handing out Alhaitham's travel bag to him. "This is a really expensive model. Are you fine with just giving it up?"

Alhaitham closes the car hood and shrugs.

"Yes. I'll call a team of mechanics later. And if it's definitely out of order, I can simply buy a new one."

The Traveler and Paimon stare at him with a dumbfounded look, before the former sighs loudly.

"Right. I forgot that some people never had to scrap for Mora in their lives, silly me."

"While it is true that I'm not from a modest socioeconomic background, I've ensured through my hard work that I wouldn't have to rely on my inheritance. I can afford a new car."

The Traveler doesn't seem any more pleased by his answer, but that's hardly any of his concern.

"Shall we go, then? It should be a fifteen minute walk."

The Traveler nods, Paimon utters a complaint or two, and they're off again.

It doesn't take long for Alhaitham's skin to start itching. 

Sand is sneaking everywhere. In his boots, his hair, the hem of his pants, the fabric of his turtleneck, his eyes. He can feel every irritating grain against his skin, now painfully sensitive as sand mingles with sweat. It obstructs his thinking with intrusive thoughts of wanting to rip it all off. There it is, the reason why he took his car in the desert at the risk of breaking down. At least the car windows guaranteed a sand-free trip. When they arrive at the village, the first thing he will do is ask for a bath.

"Hey, look! We're almost there!" Paimon chimes as they walk past a few rocky cliffs, frantically pointing her finger at small houses huddled together past a hanging bridge in the distance.

"It does look like a village gate," the Traveler smiles. "We really weren't that far away."

Their voices seem to have gotten louder than before. Alhaitham tries to reason himself: this is just his body's reaction to noise being amplified by the sensory overstimulation caused by the sand. He knows how his brain can cause this phenomenon. There isn't any actual threat.

Wait.

There is.

He lifts his head just in time to see something – someone – dive in from above at an unnatural speed and thunderbolts crackle in its wake.

"Watch out !!" 

The Traveler whips out a blade out of nowhere – how ? They don't seem to have a Vision on their person – and parries a blow that, had it been left to land, would have sent them flying into the nearby cliff wall. Alhaitham swiftly draws his weapon as their attacker jumps several meters back, but now it is him he lunges towards.

A flash of white hair, the burn of a red glare on his skin, electricity prickling every inch of air, all of those only confirm Alhaitham's guess as his dendro-infused blade clashes with a polearm buzzing with electro, sending clouds of dust flying into the air.

Had it been any other day, at any other place, Alhaitham would have settled this with words and spared his energy for something more productive than a ridiculous spar where neither party gives it their all. But today, Alhaitham doesn't quite feel like his usual self. Kaveh's drunken words, the unexpected car breakdown, traveling with strangers including a very annoying child, the sweat, the sand, the weariness of walking under the sun, the heat, his dry throat and sore neck, and now this surprise ambush by the man he put all of those efforts to find, all of this pooled itself together and swirled and twisted and struggled until there was nothing but a familiar yet hateful feeling that he couldn't recognize-

Ah. This is frustration, Alhaitham realizes.

And that frustration, it begs to be let out.

Alhaitham feels something like a fissure rip through his stomach.

Cyno wants a fight? 

It'll be his pleasure to give him one.

He doesn't let Cyno land another blow and strikes first, blade aiming for the side of his left knee, but the General Mahamatra has not usurped his title. He doesn't even let the slightest hint of surprise show on his face, instead jumping right above the blade and using it as a platform to rise higher above Alhaitham's head until he lands right behind him and swiftly turns around with his polearm rapidly cutting through the air. Alhaitham leans back just in time to dodge the estoc by a hair's length, but he is no fool: he managed to avoid that one only because Cyno let him. If he wasn't restraining himself, Alhaitham would currently have a hole in place of a heart.

But the Akademiya Scribe is not exactly someone you can easily outmatch, and the General Mahamatra is no exception.

Chisel mirrors flicker behind Cyno, casting a green light on his hardened features. He dodges with a groan, quickly sprints around the attacks, lunges at Alhaitham, the polearm's tip aiming at his legs. 

His eyes briefly widen as Alhaitham uses the exact same technique as he did a few seconds prior. Feet on his weapon, a jump right above his head, a lunge forward. Except the Scribe's attack is brimming with dendro and the emerald mirrors send the blazing sunlight right into Cyno's eyes. He is forced to counterattack by infusing a similar amount of electro in his weapon as it clashes with Alhaitham's in a firework of green sparks and purple lightning. Alhaitham smirks as Cyno looks up at him with gritted teeth.

"Didn't I tell you before? Every attack you throw at me, I will reproduce and add my own improvements."

Green and purple flames dance in the crimson of Cyno's eyes, his bangs brushed aside by the sudden rush of air and elemental energy they produced.

"I see you still lack the imagination to come up with your own attacks while fighting me," he spits out.

Alhaitham's attention briefly wavers as Cyno's voice tugs at something inside his brain. He hasn't heard it in twenty days. It sounds different. Low, hoarse, almost painful. His eyes, too, are glinting with something else. Alhaitham never liked locking eyes with people, but he can't turn away from Cyno's.

He never could.

______

After searching in every direction, looking around for signs where there should have been some and only ending up even farther than where he originally started, there wasn't any more doubt about it.

Alhaitham was well and truly lost.

The Akademiya's gardens were a fairly ergonomic and well-thought facility. Trees cast just enough shade at the brightest time of day, wooden picnic tables were scattered around a vast space, pebbled paths winded their way through well-arranged flower bushes planted by Amurta students themselves. 

It would have been perfect if not for the fact that it was connected to a small forest that they didn't think useful to trim and where you could easily get lost. It was a labyrinth, especially for a first-year student who had just started his second semester and never really had the time to explore before like Alhaitham. 

That being said, he wasn't one to panic easily. After all, that was an opportunity to discover what lied beyond those trees. If he kept going, surely he'd find something, be it his original path or another way out. 

He found neither of those. Instead, as he cautiously pushed branches out of his way, he stumbled upon a small clearing, bright with the sun that poured through the tree leaves above. 

In the middle of that clearing stood a boy.

He was about Alhaitham's age, lean, of small stature, but well-built and clearly accustomed to combat. Alhaitham could tell, because the outer robes of his Akademiya uniform were neatly folded in a pile in a corner of the clearing, the mandatory hat lying on top of them. That left less than enough room to speculate about the body underneath. The skin that showed was dark, freckled with scars and the hands looked calloused. A desert-dweller, if Alhaitham's guess was correct. The boy did have a peculiar hair color for someone who came from the land of sun and sand: never before had Alhaitham seen such a shade of white on such a young head, even among the townspeople. As for the rest, he couldn't tell. The boy's back was turned.

He was busy training. Fighting. Except, to Alhaitham, it almost looked like he was dancing. He'd never been one to take much interest in artistry, but he was not stubborn enough to pretend it wasn't worthy of respect. What the other student was doing certainly was, at least.

His polearm gracefully cut through the air, contrasting with the violent decapitation of a wooden mannequin as a direct consequence. He jumped in the air as one would dive into water, and stayed there, before slamming his whole weight on the ground and tearing another combat dummy to shreds.

Alhaitham, as if transfixed, kept watching as the boy wiped the sweat that beaded his forehead and continued on with his deadly dance. There was something fascinating in his movements. Something worth studying. No, something worth learning. 

Unable to control the emotion growing inside him – was it excitement? Perhaps it was –, Alhaitham mechanically took a small step forward. A twig snapped under his foot with a noise that seemed louder than the most shrilling scream in the silence of the forest, which prompted the other boy to turn around.

Their eyes met. And then they locked and didn't let go.

That was a surprise, Alhaitham thought as he looked into the bright red of the mysterious student's eyes. Maintaining eye contact for a prolonged period of time had never been his forte, so why couldn't he look away? Those eyes were aesthetically pleasing, sure, but that didn't explain why he felt as if they held him firmly in place. He had seen pretty eyes before and they did not turn him into a statue.

Maybe it was because he felt as if they were talking to him. Asking him questions. The boy did not utter a word, but his eyes carried all of the words that anyone else would have already said out loud in such a situation. Who are you? What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here. All of those unspoken words, they swirled together in those red eyes. But they did not make Alhaitham feel trapped. The silence was strangely comfortable. 

It did not last. Well, it did last longer than a meeting of the eyes was supposed to, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before Alhaitham heard someone calling his name in the distance. They must have been screaming very loud or very high for him to hear them.

He tore himself away from the boy's gaze, almost reluctantly, and went back the way he came into the forest. He felt their weight on his back until he disappeared out of their sight.

A hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, and he was pulled out of the bushes and back onto the pebbled path. Standing in front of him, panting like he had run for miles, stood Kaveh. Kaveh with longer hair, a slightly rounder face and hands missing half the scars and callouses they would bear nine years later, but still Kaveh. He seemed relieved, but that relief was quickly replaced by annoyance.

"Archons, Alhaitham, I can't believe you! How did you manage to get lost in there?! Aren't you the smartest in your Darshan? Abyss, aren't you the smartest in your entire grade?! Because I'm having trouble believing that!! And now we're both late to class, I hope you're proud of yourself!"

Alhaitham said nothing. That did not call for an answer. Kaveh had been worrying and now that worry spilled out in the form of anger. He'd tire his throat out eventually. When he did, he sighed and gently ruffled his junior's hair with the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

"Well, at least I found you."

… Right. They were still friends back then.

"Let's go, shall we? I'll be fine, but we don't want you ending up in detention."

Alhaitham quietly followed Kaveh on the path back to the Akademiya buildings. His feet marched away from the luxuriant forest, from its branches that looked like prison bars, from that boy, but part of his head remained there.

He'd have to come back eventually.

"You're awfully quiet. Have you met a beast in there?" Kaveh asked in sign language, hiding his concern under a sarcastic smirk.

A beast… Alhaitham thought about the polearm that seemed riddled with iron teeth, about the boy's pupils that narrowed as he turned to him. Maybe that was a beast. Or a dream. But he hadn't dreamt in four years, so that was unlikely. That was real, he was sure of it. But how could that student perform such movements at such speed? The scholars were not exactly known for their fighting skills.

He needed to learn more. The boy seemed like he was using the entire clearing to land each blow, which meant he was familiar with the place, therefore he was coming here regularly. 

If Alhaitham wanted to learn more, then he'd have to do the same, without getting lost this time.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't pay any attention to Kaveh's question or rambling. His senior's sigh remained completely unbeknownst to him, and so did his next words. It didn't matter. They were just stating the obvious.

"You're not listening."

_____

"You never listen," Cyno spits as he wipes the blood from his cheek with a tightly-clenched fist. "How many times did I tell you to leave me alone? Ten times? A hundred? A thousand, perhaps?"

Alhaitham huffs, one hand holding onto his blade and the other inspecting his ribcage. It's not broken, but it'll hurt for a while, leave a bruise or two, but that's fine. He heals fast.

The wound bleeding red in Cyno's glare, however, does not seem like it's going to heal any time soon. 

"That's quite ironic, coming from someone who ambushed me without letting me get a word in," Alhaitham croaks, annoyed at how raspy his voice feels. There is sand in his throat, the wind is howling, and he knows it's only a matter of time until the upcoming sandstorm hits them. He doesn't see the Traveler or Paimon anywhere, which is good. They must have found shelter somewhere, and that way he doesn't have to worry about hitting them by accident. 

He can go all out, he thinks, but the thought doesn't make him feel anything other than a bleak, dull pain in his chest. Or maybe that's just his ribs.

Either way, time is running out. He needs to engage the discussion instead of fighting aimlessly.

"I was not expecting you to take my warning this seriously."

Cyno grits his teeth. He doesn't attack, but his stance still suggests that he's ready to lunge towards Alhaitham at any time.

"Don't flatter yourself. I did not leave because of you."

"Then why?"

There is a long silence, only filled by the wind picking up pace and the flapping of their clothes. Alhaitham waits for an answer that never comes, met only with another question instead.

"Why should I tell you? It's not like you care about me."

It's not like you care about anyone.

Alhaitham can almost hear the words that Cyno doesn't say. He can see them in his eyes before they lower, hiding from his own.

"Yet here I am. Why do you think that is?"

Once again, Cyno remains silent. Alhaitham sees this as an authorization to keep going.

"I'll tell you. I'm here because of both Kaveh and Tighnari."

Cyno's eyes snap back up, widened in shock and something that resembles anger but isn't. Something raw, pained, violent. Something that's threatening to spill and to rage on. But if it's not anger, then what is it?

"... What about them?"

The wind grows stronger, impatient, urging them to hurry it up. Alhaitham recalls what he thought to himself the night before, that he was not going to tell Cyno anything unless he asked. Well. He technically did ask just now, didn't he?

"Tighnari seems pretty affected, no matter how hard he pretends, and Kaveh…"

"Cyno"

"I'm sorry"

"I failed Tighnari"

"... Kaveh is worried as well. If I'm being completely honest, they both look miserable. It's quite the pitiful sight, really."

That one, unnecessary line might have been on purpose. Cyno's grip tightens around his polearm as he bites down on his lip. When his jaw finally loosens and he sucks in a breath, the skin is all bloody and torn.

"It was for the best that I left."

"For the best," Alhaitham slowly repeats. "How is it for the best ?"

"You have no right to judge me –"

"I do," Alhaitham cuts him off. "How, pray tell, is it for the best? Tighnari looks like he hasn't been getting any sleep since you left and Kaveh has ended up drunk a lot more than usual these days. The Matra is in chaos. Is that truly what "the best" is supposed to be?"

Cyno stiffens, his shoulders tensing up in his usual defensive manner.

"Stop talking."

Is it a plea? Is it an order? It doesn't matter.

Alhaitham doesn't stop.

He needs to get that raw thing that isn't anger out of Cyno's eyes.

"You hurt Tighnari. You hurt Kaveh. You made me come all this way, just for us to fight. Is that what you wanted?"

He does not know if it's the mention of Kaveh, or Tighnari, or himself, but something in Cyno's demeanor switches from tense to icy.

"... You think you know everything, don't you."

"I don't. I merely acknowledge the facts that lie in front of me. And the facts are that you exiling yourself did more harm than good to the situation at hand." 

The silence spreads between them like oil, thick and suffocating.

"Is leaving Tighnari and Kaveh without any answers your idea of just-"

Alhaitham realizes too late that he crossed a line. 

As a matter of fact, he doesn't until he sees Cyno's narrowed pupil.

He's gone in a flash, and reappears right in front of Alhaitham, his magical clawed hand at his throat.

Alhaitham's back slams against the ground, his breath is knocked out of his lungs and black spots start clouding his vision as the rising sands cover the sky.

He shouldn't have lowered his guard, he thinks before everything goes dark.

______

He shouldn't have lowered his guard. One blow, and suddenly the world turned upside down and he was laying on the grass of the clearing. His back would most certainly bruise.

Cyno's eyes spoke for him as he extended a hand to help Alhaitham up, You're doing it wrong, and Alhaitham's own gaze asked, Then how should I do it?

It was the sixth time he came to the clearing, he knew the way well enough by now, but that was the first time that he actually approached the student from the desert.

He learned from the scoring boards that his name was Cyno, and that he was a Spantamad student minoring in Haravatat. Alhaitham had probably been too focused on his notes and on his debates with the teachers to pay attention to him in class.

That quickly changed. He noticed how Cyno always sat in the back at each module they had in common, quietly listening and taking notes, never asking any questions to his professor or seatmates. Actually, the only two people he saw Cyno talk to were a renowned senior named Lisa Minci – who was the Spantamad equivalent of Kaveh – and professor Cyrus, with whom he seemed quite close. He slept in the student dormitories like most of them did. Otherwise, not much was known about him.

Well, not exactly. Those were all facts, easy to get your hands and verify, but Cyno was the object of many rumors. His secretive demeanor, the mystery surrounding his background and his status as a desert-dweller fed the wild imagination of bored students in dire need of any form of entertainment. 

Some claimed he was cursed by some ancient god, others affirmed he was mute because of a traumatic event he went through before his arrival. More whispered that he had spawned into the desert one day and professor Cyrus was the one who found and rescued him. Those rumors went to ridiculous lengths, like when someone spread the word that he was the Grand Sage's illegitimate son. The most reasonable of Alhaitham's classmates usually hit their colleagues on the head with a book and scolded them back to work.

That being said, one of those rumors piqued Alhaitham's interest. Apparently, Cyno was planning on joining the Matra in the future. That would have explained his diligent training in the forest, that Alhaitham watched every month. He had established that Cyno trained there every day, but coming to watch him each time would negatively impact his studies as he'd have to cancel several modules he was taking part in. 

Summer break had arrived, and Alhaitham had gathered enough information to try and reproduce Cyno's stances and movements on his own dummies, then on Kaveh who was an excellent fighter. Although after several lukewarm attempts at sparring, he had to concede: he wouldn't get anywhere if he couldn't get advice from Cyno himself. But how to ask? Most people did not take lightly to the fact that someone watched their every move for months, even if Alhaitham was quite sure Cyno was aware of his presence. 

His second year at the Akademiya began with that situation for him to figure out, but he didn't even have to. When he got to the clearing two weeks after the entrance ceremony, Cyno had not started training. Instead, he looked over to Alhaitham, and simply gestured for him to step forward, which he did. He simply pointed at one of the wooden mannequins, and shoved a training blade into Alhaitham's hands with inquisitive eyes.

Show me what you can do.

Alhaitham quickly made fertilizer shreds out of the dummy, only to feel a finger tapping on his shoulder.

"Your stance is wrong."

This was the first time he heard Cyno's voice. Muted, barely out of the changes caused by puberty, but going pretty far in the lows. It felt strange to Alhaitham's ears, but not unpleasant. He had a preference for low frequencies.

Cyno did not speak another word after that, simply tapping each part of Alhaitham's body that needed to straighten, or to lock, or to be more flexible, or turned a bit more inward. He repeated this for the next mannequin, then the next, until he looked satisfied and ordered Alhaitham to turn around with a simple nod to the side.

He was way stronger that Alhaitham imagined. He'd watched him train before, of course, but feeling it was different. Not only was Cyno strong, but he was also extraordinarily fast and nimble, and excelled at making his opponent believe what he wanted them to. Which is how Alhaitham ended up on the ground despite being larger and taller, which was actually quite a disadvantage against someone like Cyno. He moved swiftly, without a sound or any unnecessary movements, which made his next moves hard to anticipate. Alhaitham tried his hardest to imitate him, but what good is imitation when you can't figure out the structure of what you imitate?

With all that said, he wasn't one to give up. He tried again, and again, and each time Cyno found a way to defeat him. He called it a day when the sun started to set, even as Alhaitham asked for one more try. At dinner, Kaveh pointed out the bruises on his junior's wrists, for which said junior did not give any explanations.

He started to come back more often, and the more they sparred the harder it became for Cyno to defeat his classmate. They barely said a word to each other. They didn't need to.

The leaves of the forest trees started to shiver as the temperatures grew chiller. It was pretty much summer all year in Sumeru, but winter still left its print on the air. 

The day before winter break was the day Alhaitham won for the first time.

He stared at Cyno, pinned to the ground beneath him and blinking in disbelief. The look on his face was one of prideful annoyance, but also of something else. He seemed almost pleased.

Alhaitham got off of Cyno and rolled on his side to lie next to him. They gazed at the sky for a while, slowly catching their breaths and letting the rush of adrenaline pass by. 

"Alhaitham."

Cyno had never spoken his name before. Alhaitham took it in, the sound of it, how it felt in his chest. Then he turned his face to the side, eyes meeting the other's once more.

"Yes?"

Something unexpected happened once again. Cyno's lips slowly curled upwards, turning into a smile for the first time in three months. There were lots of first times today, Alhaitham thought. Cyno really was hard to predict. 

Red eyes looked up at the sky once again. Cyno mouthed words, three little words that would begin and end everything all at once. 

But neither of them knew that yet.

"Come back again."

______

"Why do you always come back?"

Cyno's words are nearly inaudible, but Alhaitham's eyes are open again. He just needs to read his opponent's bloodied lips. They seem to move slower than usual. Everything seems slower, actually. Alhaitham feels dizzy, he must have lost consciousness for a few seconds. No nausea, no particular headache. A concussion is unlikely. Nonetheless, it's difficult to move. Not only is he sore, but Cyno is sitting on his waist and firmly pinning his hips to the floor with his thighs. His clawed hand is no longer around his neck, Alhaitham notices. The sharp tip of his polearm, however, is a mere inch away from Alhaitham's throat. That could be a problem, but Cyno looks almost frozen in place.

"Answer me," he whispers, Alhaitham can barely make out the words. "Why do you keep coming back?"

Alhaitham sighs. He can't move a muscle and there is no possibility for escape. In other words, there is no getting out of this conversation.

"You are not going to like the answer."

"I don't care," Cyno almost hisses. "Tell me. Why. Do you keep. Coming back?"

Alhaitham closes his eyes. He wishes it did not come to this, but he's exhausted. At this point, his life is the only thing he cares to lose. His pride has already been sacrificed many times, so what difference does one more make?

"Because you asked me to."

He doesn't open his eyes. They're burning from the sand. The wind is the only sound he can make out, despite his seemingly undamaged headset. Maybe taking a nap here wouldn't be so bad.

Something lands on his cheek. It's wet and warm, but it's not rain. It can't be rain.

Alhaitham opens his eyes to the tears falling from Cyno's. 

His polearm ended up planted in the sand, he grips onto it like a lifeline. His teeth are gritted, his shoulders suddenly seem too frail, his chest too small to be holding back his sobs. They don't come out, but Alhaitham can feel them, all of them, each time Cyno shivers.

"You can't say that," he whispers.

Alhaitham remains silent. Cyno lets out a broken chuckle.

"Who am I kidding? Of course you can. Because you are Alhaitham, and there is nothing you can't say."

He arches his back, as if the weight of whatever he bears on his shoulders has suddenly become too heavy to stand straight. Long strands of white hair rendered a dirty grey by the desert sand fall around Alhaitham's face like curtains, separating them from the outside. More tears trickle down the General's cheeks and onto the Scribe's face. They run down his skin until they reach his neck. A whisper echoes in the small space between their faces.

"Must I always lose to you?"

A memory emerges slowly among the waves of Alhaitham's mind.

Him coming home to his grandmother after his first and only day of elementary school. He'd had an argument with another kid. It was painfully long, it was a waste of time, it kept going in circles. His grandmother put down her book and listened until he was done telling her the story, then asked him how did you both feel afterwards?

He stopped to think about it and answered after a few seconds, the other looked upset and I felt frustrated, like it drained me instead of making me think about it.

His grandmother smiled gently and said something he'd never forget. Something that, when he looks at Cyno's face, seems both true and painful, as the truth often is.

He closes his eyes once more.

"I think we both lost."