#[ but poor kaveh and his overthinking brain iM hsdjskjd ]

[aequitaes]

𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈?! "Don't be so absurd!" Brows knit furiously, refusing to look at his roommate. The situation was rapidly deteriorating, surely this would lead to no positive outcome. Kaveh usually took it on himself to express feelings of offense by Alhaitham's way of speaking his mind sometimes, as if he knew Kaveh better than he did. In truth, the scribe was right. But Kaveh would sooner swear off drinking than admit there was any fact behind his words - at least today.

"Do you thrive on my misery? I'm beginning to think you --" Then he sensed sudden contact - a touch - which interrupted his statement. Being accustomed to a daily routine, unlike this, he was all too aware of its atypical nature. His half-expectations were that some awful comment would be made or that the younger man would return the clip to him to correct himself, as his hair that day was clearly not his top priority given the conversation context.

His jaw dropped slightly as fingers combed through his hair; a shiver ran down his spine. (What is he doing?) He turns his head only marginally as Alhaitham's arm brushes against his own. Disappointment flashed through his mind - that his skin couldn't touch Kaveh's and that the barrier of his clothes prevented it. ( Is he helping?)  As his hand made a feeble attempt to reach for Alhaitham's favourite mug, defiant to let him have the satisfaction of being caught in the oblivious moment. Yet, it fell short, and his hand rested on the counter for a moment instead.

It was nice... he didn't hate it...

It was a quiet moment of appreciation to feel him braiding his hair like Kaveh usually does. Was the fond thought for Alhaitham himself, or was it the fact that he assisted him in the passive task? Taking a deep breath, he masked his eyes for a moment. Reflecting on this without allowing emotion to show. In submission to the scholar's actions, he folds his arms over his chest. ( Why does he act this way? ) In one breath, infuriating him, oh so adamant on his personal views and theories, sometimes assessing the architect. Almost all could be forgotten in the next, at least from the blond. - Almost.

"I am ... perfectly capable of ... " His voice softened, and he knew well what caused that effect. For now, he will wait for his roommate to finish with his hair. Although he didn't want it to end, in the quiet, he silently longed for it to continue. To think Alhaitham was considerate in such a manner - paying attention to these small details - he could have easily commented for him to fix. Cyno or Nilou would be improbable candidates to receive the same treatment, and that alone brought him a twitch of a smile. "... I never knew you had a secret talent for braiding hair."

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 ––– a safe haven they both had a tendency to gravitate toward whether it be first thing in the morning, or in the middle of the pitch black night. they each had a tendency for their schedules, and kaveh had a tendency to mess about with his by staying up until all random hours working on a project in the confines of his bedroom like a complete gremlin. it's times like this, as he leans back against the countertop, folds his arms over his chest, that he recognizes with complete, unforgiving clarity that this is the life he's chosen.

and, remarkably, that he wouldn't actually change it.

"you're deflecting," he notes, matter of fact and preceded by a click of his tongue. his hands flex over his bare biceps, and the book he'd been carrying with him is tucked between his arms and his chest. alhaitham is, admittedly, not entirely sure how they ended up on this age old argument again so early in the morning. other than the fact that kaveh told him he gave away the last of his spare money again last night. a beggar in need is a beggar indeed, and — evidently — makes kaveh a poor man. "and if suffering your own mistakes is the only thing that will help you learn, i see little to no other option." a wave of his hand, mirroring kaveh's own flick of the wrist.

eyes as green as glass track kaveh's movements with devoted intent out of pure habit. as he watches the familiar red clips tuck his hair back, he notices that kaveh is, for the time being, foregoing his usual braids. alhaitham's eyes narrow a fraction, his eyebrow twitching as if a tick. that shouldn't bother him as much as it does. it shouldn't bother him at all.

but it does.

setting the book aside — far from the sink, he's not making that mistake twice ( funny how some people learn from those ) — as kaveh steps up to the counter to start their usual morning brew, alhaitham pushes himself off the opposite counter. he steps in behind kaveh, reaches up with a sense of confidence he perhaps shouldn't have; but to say this would be the first time would be a blatant lie. his fingers are nimble as he removes one clip, holding it between his lips as he combs long fingers through blond hair. separating it into three strands, he begins to braid it. the clip wobbles between his lips as he speaks around it. "maybe i just want you to save even an ounce of mora to your name so you can stop acting so miserable," he says.