#I BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPY ENOUGH

[thomine]

the duet of one heart : alhaitham

pair: alhaitham x reader info: general audiences, controlling parents, rivals to friends (but still rivals)

summary: when alhaitham parted ways for good, it should have been the end of all things. still, he finds you among thousands of faces.

word count: 1.4k words series: day 7 of au august 2023 / prompt: musician links: work tag

Alhaitham doesn’t scan the crowd when he’s performing. There’s no need for him to capture the amazed faces of his audience. It doesn’t teach him anything he already knows about himself. However, he will give the audience a humbling glance before he leaves them breathless. He’s tried to unlearn this ritual since it also doesn’t change what he painfully accepted, but his body has ingrained this practice as it did with every note of his musical pieces.

He lifts the violin, positioning the chinrest where it belongs. His right arm raises his trusted bow as the spotlight shines on him. In that split second before he rips a note across the theatre, his eyes sweep across every face.

He hesitates from playing the violin—paralysed by a millisecond of confusion—before his instincts take over.

You should be miles away, yet you were sitting at the back.

When his performance ends, he bows, and he tries to find you through the gaps of his fringe.

It’s not the trick of the light.

When the curtains close, he is ushered backstage. Being bombarded with compliments by his manager has never been an issue with Alhaitham who had no where to go after his splendid performance. In fact, he likes to linger on stage hidden from the purview of his adoring fans and read a book to let the crowd wane before showing himself again.

This time, he finds himself pushing through the crew that circles him. He must find you again because only a fool makes the same mistake twice.

Cameras follow him the moment he steps out of the theatre hall. Periodic flashes of light disorient him enough to be annoyed, but his determination is stronger than that of the paparazzi acquiring their best shot. A couple of turns deeper into the city’s maze-like alleys is enough to get them off his tail.

When the coast is clear, he walks back to the theatre in hopes you might still be around, except you catch him before he does. You pull your hood down and call out to him as you did years ago. Time has touched your features but the admiration you reserved specially for him remains in the pools of your eyes, and Alhaitham finds it tiring to put the effort to maintain his neutral expression.

He says your name, perfectly as always.

“You look at me as if I’m not supposed to be here,” you comment after exhaling what he thinks is supposed to be a laugh. “Is it that hard to believe I’m standing right in front of you?”

Does he really look that way? He is too busy staring. There was a strong reason why he walked through the departure gate without looking back. He never would have thought he’d find you among his crowd again.

“I reckon your parents are well,” he says as he takes the sight of you one last time before he accepts that the truth of the matter is this: you’ve done the impossible. You nod, lips pressed into a thin line. You dislike it when he begins the conversation with such a sensitive topic, but he couldn’t help himself. They are the corner pieces for the puzzle of you and him. “Do they know you’re here?”

“It depends...” You press your back against the wall opposite him. If you are trying to hide the tiny tension in your eyebrows, the squeezy alleyways does not help. “I was part of a concert in Fontaine, and Sumeru is a train away so… my parents don’t need to know.”

Alhaitham reaches into his pockets and fiddle with his keys. This is not a good place to talk if you’re meant to be hiding from cameras, but he isn’t sure he can sneak you into his house comfortably.

He checks his phone, and his manager sent a few texts. Although perturbed by his strange behaviour, the manger states he left the backstage keys under the flowerpot nearest to the door if he ever returns for his cozy corner.

“Come,” he instructs as he turns and resumes his journey back to the theatre. He takes a quick glance at you still stuck to the alley’s wall.

“It’s too risky,” you note and look at him. “If they find out, who knows what rumours they’ll start spreading about you in the media—”

“I know,” he states as he gives his hand.

“The other time you almost lost your contract with Sumeru Symphany. I can’t bear being the reason for your downfall. I have to go. It’s the best for both of us.”

He holds onto your shoulder before you can slip away from him again. It amazes him how one minute you defy all he knows and the next you revert to a scared mouse, as if you did not experience the hell of the surgical table and lived to tell the tale.

“It would have been a loss for the group so I knew they wouldn’t break the contract over trivial matters.”

“Trivial?” you push his warmth away. “Alhaitham, my parents framed you for being a criminal. You were about to go to jail.”

“Have you forgotten how I do not care? Their evidence might have swayed the views of the public as expected of those that do not think for themselves, but no matter how much dirt they use to hide, a treasure is still a treasure.”

You chuckle meekly.

“That confidence of yours…” you mutter, eyes downcast. “It boils my blood sometimes.”

“Because you know I’m right.”

You shake your head in surrender. “Fine. Where should we go?”

He grabs your hands, fingers gently slipping through the gaps of your hand. When he clasps his digits around yours, he makes a tiny promise that he won’t let you leave so easily. Back then, he resigned to the fate that there was no other choice, but now that you’ve appeared in front of him again, be it through your wits or by fate that was once so cruel, he’s willing to give it another shot.

Guiding you through the theatre, your tiny wows cause a small smile to ease up his lips. This building finished renovations last week and he’s proud to be the first performer. If the news reached you, then he achieved his goal.

When both of you are finally backstage, he introduces you to his corner. It’s minimal: towers of book surrounding a single chair. He offers you to sit on it as he gets another for himself, but when he returns, you’re more interested in the stage.

“It looks so different from this angle,” you observe as you scan the empty seats. You point in the direction you sat, eyes sparkling as you look at him. “I was behind a pillar, and you saw me from here?” You gawk.

Alhaitham swallows, a wave of embarrassment threatening to pull him under. “You’re too recognisable.”

You smile, seemingly aware of what he’s implying. “That’s good I suppose. All these years I thought I was crazy to try, but I’m glad I’m not alone.”

You bounce over to the edge of the stage, something having caught your eye. It’s the storage room. When he’s beside you, you ask if there are any violins.

“They’re discarded instruments,” he states, crossing his arms. “Use my violin instead if you insist on trying this stage.”

“The violin of my arch-nemesis? You must be crazier than I thought,” you joke before resorting to your serious mien. “I have other plans.” You open the storeroom and swat away the dust that flies up. Picking a random violine that still has its strings intact, you pull Alhaitham to the centre of the stage.

He gets the hint and prepares his instrument while you tune your temporary one.

It takes a while before you lock eyes with him, brimming with excitement.

“Just like the old days,” you say before playing a single note.

Alhaitham—the perfect prodigy of the century—hears the violin squeak. The sound falls flat at times and does not reverberate as clearly as it should. It sends his mind in a flurry, but your intimate understanding of melodies crafts a dream like song that calms his nerves, enough for him to prompt himself and continue. He blends his own improv with your steady lead, and before he knows it, he can’t tell what is played by him or you.

All there exists in this theatre is one heart. It sings.

author's note: my friend jokingly said i should write more happy endings so i tried!! hope this makes whoever is reading this smile although i wouldn't say it's a true good ending… lol. the issue between them is still not resolved… hahahaha…

[keferon]

Did you think I was done? Ahahahaha no, I have more.

Because chapter 70 of MOMU gave me the very dynamic between them that I missed so much, I just blacked out and started drawing uncontrollably lmao

Also. ALSO. I noticed a while ago that Prowl has the habit of..like…constantly frowning. So. I did a bit of research and made this graph.

In 70 chapters, Prowl frowns rougly 104 times. And the intensity of this gesture is very clearly correlated with the development of his relationship with Jazz, as you can see ahahahahah It might be wrong tho don’t take me seriously I’m not good with graphs

[juniemunie]

This post wouldn't leave my mind.

Error and Ink meeting before they completely become themselves is so....

ლ(ಥ益ಥლ) HHHHHHH

[tinynerdycthulu]

tbh i dunno why so many sj apologists are anti-yqy. because like????? he is your mascot. he was the originator. the head honcho of excusing sj's levels of unmitigated villainy. look into my eyes and tell me that qi ge wouldn't blush and kick his feet if he saw xiao jiu commit murder. actually we don't NEED to imagine bc jiumei did just that and yue qi just grabbed his hand and ran, no thoughts head empty. arson? child abuse?? yue qi doesn't care. whatever makes xiao jiu happy <3

[soinlovewith]

WE WILL FIGHT FOR THIS SHOW 🩶

[arttsuka]

Some past fiddlestan? (Like Ford just went through the portal. He gone now. Past. Yk?)

The mystery misery yaoi

[existingonthisplane]

Happy black history month to the siblings ever

[art-is-kayos]

Everlasting A5

[granteddrop]

And I, I thought I was a scholar Withdrawn from love Why would I even bother?

@spottedenchants

[image description in alt text]

[arielluva]

tried my best to draw in the official art style :33

little progress gif under the cut

[mastersprogram]

Happy 1 Year Anniversary to beetlejuice closing :)

[alienssstufff]

On the topic of Jaiden recently being confirmed to have left Qsmp, I’m definitely not alone in being sad we’ll never get to see q!Jaiden again. I also realized I haven’t seen a lot of your Jaiden design, so if you’re willing(or if you even take requests), could you draw q!Jaiden being happy with any other Qsmp character of your choosing? /nf

old lineart of the best egg parents everrrrr

q!parrotduo meeting in the afterlife i believeeee

[aquanutart]

[cheruib]

i think you’re doing ur best actually and i m v proud of u *kiss on the forehead*

[moeblob]

Look, I rewatched all of Bravern to try and make more sense of it now that I know plot twists and stuff and honestly how does Lewis never ask anything about the cockpit that he was in for four seconds. I think he should mention it. I think he's allowed to talk about it.

[gonkaccino]

Season 4 hope/prediction: Deb's show is solid, zero issues, runs flawlessly with great ratings, but her personal life is completely eroding. We start with her discovering Marcus is leaving, and it culminates in DJ going into labor right before a taping. Deb chooses the show. When it's over, and she finally flies to Vegas, it's too late -- Aiden's not letting her in because he loves his wife too much to let DJ get into a shouting match with her mom right after giving birth, and instead takes the brunt of Deb's wrath, with her making excuses and talking about how they used her money for IVF, and anyway, DJ's fine, so who cares if she wasn't there? Kathy's in the room with DJ and the baby (DJ's the closest she has to a daughter, after all) and Deb leaves too furious to think about how badly she's hurt her family.

She heads back to her Vegas mansion -- empty, obviously, Josefina and the dogs would be in LA -- and pops open a bottle of wine. Alone. Completely alone. Can't call Marty, she has no friends, the closest she's got would be Kiki and wouldn't that be embarrassing, calling your poker dealer to talk about your feelings --

and then Ava's there. She got the news about DJ's labor, she got the story from Aiden (who was distraught, by the way, man's too much of a sweetheart for Vance drama), a spare key from Damian (happy to pawn that off on her, though if it isn't returned promptly he's taking legal action) and has arrived just in time to see the Deborah Vance having a breakdown the likes of which no one thought physically possible. Crying gives you wrinkles, you know. But Ava has to be here. She's the physical embodiment of a lesson Deb never truly learned: you don't have to like someone to love them.

In my imaginary fantasy land that I am concocting this would then subsequently lead into them fucking nasty but I understand that this may be a step too far for the surprisingly large number of very normal people who watch this show and would forgive JPL for not taking it that far. However I do believe they should fuck about it and let Ava take the reigns in their relationship while they see how many of Deb's bridges they can un-burn.