#also i know portia is sterlings OG and i wanted to give a nod to that bc im love they together

[atypicalacademic]

I Can't Go Back To Sleep

(A/N: For Haider's birthday, the first vignette for the "Heartlines" collection, which follows his apprentice-timeline, more or less linear retellings of my favorite moments from Asra's route. The boy woke up and chose angst for his birthday, so this is a little rewrite of the dream sequence from the Prologue. )

Title from and best paired with

Words: 2k

Warnings: None

Relationship(s): Asra Alnazar x Haider Wazim (and featuring Sterling Everstone from @greyvvardenfell )

*

It was summer. Asra was home for the night.

*

It was dark, though Haider knew these paths, knew the hand in his that pulled him from the cold wind to the warmth and the light- or was it he who did that? He knew the fabric of the magenta scarf that billowed against his face, knew the sound of the breath that caught against his chest, the heartbeat- one-to-one, racing, then slowing, familiar like the lines on his own palm like he had always been meant to hold it.

Why had he ventured so far in the first place? This much he knew. He had to take Asra home.

He was hanging up the laundry to dry, wringing out the wet clothes beneath the sun. The light fell into his eyes, and he squinted, Asra’s form a blur at the doorway before he came into focus. His satchel was full to bursting, and he swept his curly, snow-white hair away from his eyes. “Haidi?” He crossed the distance between them, plopping down, cross-legged between potted tomato plants. “Look what the woods have for you today!”

He opened the satchel to spill its bounty to his lap- ripe berries of every color, clumps of seasoning and healing herbs and mushrooms still damp with earth. Haider could feel the energy of the deep woods when he touched them, strong and washed by the summer’s first rain. He smiled. He could make mushroom curry later. The tomatoes were ripe for the picking. It was summer. Asra was home for the night.

Haider gently wiped the dark soil of the woods from Asra’s henna-stained fingernails. The pads of his fingers were rough from some old injury, tiny, healed-over lacerations like he’d once buried something with his bare hands.

“I’ll think of you on the road.” The golden berry he slipped into Haider’s mouth was bittersweet.

The road.

He would be gone in the morning.

Haider was a creature of habit, but habit did not erase the sting of waking up at dawn with Asra not beside him. Neither did it erase the anguished joy of when he would wake up beside him, holding back the need to press a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his lips-

He looked away, blushing.

The truth, he knew, was written all over his face, and he was losing the will to hide it.

“You won’t have to think of me if you take me along.” Haider got to his feet.

He expected the usual dallying, the tangential equivocations, but Asra was beside him in an instant, his hand a pleading touch against Haider’s cheek. “I’d love to have you along-“ his voice tilted, trembled. Haider raised an eyebrow. “But?”

“But I-“ Asra drew a stuttered breath. “I can’t risk it. It’s too far away, too- too dangerous.”

Everywhere he went was too far, it seemed, too far, too fast, too fearsome.

“One slip could separate us both and I can’t-“ Asra’s eyes watered, and Haider laced his fingers through his. Their mehendi flowed into each other- flowers from the same vine. He squeezed Haider’s hand in apology. “I’ll get you- whatever you want, okay, habibi? Anything.”

But he didn’t want trinkets or souvenirs. He didn’t want promises or apologies. He wanted to know why Asra looked so tired, so torn, so sad. He wanted to wrap his arms around him and hold him to his chest. He wanted to take everything lost and lonely in him and bring him home.

“But I’d rather have you here.” He whispered, his voice lost in anxiety. He didn’t want it to be a demand. “What do you want, Asra?” He was gentle, prying open the knot in his chest with careful hands. “Do you want to stay?”

Haider felt the answer before he could hear Asra say it, yes- in the shiver that ran through him, yes- in the way his palms slid down to settle against the small of his back, yes, as frantic hands bunched the fabric of Haider’s kurta, terrified of letting go- Yes, yes, yes, yes-.”

Asra’s eyes were overbright, lit up with a fire he could no longer hide- his grip against Haider tightened almost painfully, hope twisting in the air between them-

But then Asra laughed, damp, small, desperate. “I can’t argue with you like this. What can I say when we both want the same thing? I don’t want to leave you behind, and you don’t want me to go.”

It was gone, fading and wilting in the instant that it came.

Asra’s hands trembled when he let go, and he leaned against the doorway, wreathed in sunlight.

Haider felt the loss of his touch- ached, and ached, and ached.

“We-“ Asra ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing as he muttered something in Zadithi to himself, his other hand pressed to his chest. When he caught his breath, he sighed, his gaze drifting wistfully to the horizon beyond them. “But we can’t have always have what we want, can we? No matter how right it feels.”

He met Haider’s eyes with a small smile - amethyst to mahogany “You’re more honest in dreams.”

In dreams?

He was dreaming. This was a dream.

There was a dream before this, and there would be one after this- and all his dreams of late had been of Asra.

In some of them they spoke, in some others, he reached out to Asra through the winding, twisting roads with the call of his voice, in others, they sprawled beside each other, younger and more joyful- in some, they danced until the morning washed them away like a wave does a name on the sand.

But if this was a dream- he could say anything he wanted to.

He could say anything he wanted to.

Haider staggered forward, but Asra was gone.

No, no-

He raced down the stairs- this was the shop- the dream of it- at the bottom of the stairs he would still be there and smiling, or at the kitchens, or in the kitchens, or the counter, or the backroom, reading his cards, or one of his books, he was here, and Haider still had time-

His surroundings shifted, ephemeral and featherlight, fog and smoke. Empty.

The words lodged in his chest beat their wings like frantic birds- don’t go don’t go stay with me stay with me stay till the sun sets stay till everything goes dark and after I could hold you forever if you asked me to

Stay with me till I love you like I know I will.

He flung the door open, stumbling past the front steps, The streets were all made of light, cotton in his limbs- Asra was nowhere to be found.

Haider called out to him, again and again- why couldn’t he just say it when it mattered- when his voice wasn’t drowning- when Asra was beside him- when he could have had him in a dream until the morning- and now he couldn’t- he couldn’t-

Haider awoke with a gasp, shaking, a hand over his pained, racing heart. The silk sheets around him were in a state of disarray, rumpled between his restless limbs. He dropped his face into his hands, his toes curling as they hit the ground.

The palace. He was at the palace. The Countess, the job. And Asra- Asra had left the day before, walked into the night as he always did, with Faust over his shoulders, the lingering look in his eyes cut short when the knock at the door had called Haider back.

“Alright there, buddy?”

The familiar voice made him jump, and he whipped around.

He must be dreaming still. He’s got to be dreaming still.

But this light was the summer’s- the color of straw, washing over the walls solid to his touch.

Haider blinked. “Sterling?”

“Welcome to the land of the waking!” She threw her legs over the windowsill without a care in the world, swinging up to land on the carpet with a blinding grin.

“How the hell did you-“

She shrugged, examining the fresh fruit basket laid out on the end table. “The ivy, duh.”

“The-“ Haider slumped weakly against the headboard. “You- you climbed the Palace wall?”

“Yep.” She plucked a strawberry from the basket. “Mm, nice.”

“Sterling, that could get you arrested!”

She laughed. “Not if I don’t let them catch me.”

Despite himself, Haider was impressed. The grounds were just about crawling with guards. It was no mean feat of stealth that she’d managed to evade all of them.

“And it’s not the first time I’ve done it, either.”

Haider rolled his eyes. “Or, you know, you could’ve just asked at the gates for me. Like a normal person.”

“Boring.” She wrinkled her nose. “But hey, I came to give you this.” She fished around in her pocket for a moment, emerging with a carefully wrapped package. The sweet aroma of pumpkin bread made Haider sit up again, catching the treat when she tossed it to him. “Since you’re cooped up here in this tower” She looked around at the lavish surroundings with evident distaste. “Thought it’d cheer you up. I even paid for it, and everything.”

He broke the bread in half, the dear, familiar taste of Selasi’s baking washing over him, easing the heaviness in his heart, the lingering panic and the strange grief at the dream’s aftermath. But it was Sterling too, with her Flooded-District Vesuvian and her cropped magenta hair and all her half a dozen piercings, who would scale the palace walls for a friend and turn pumpkin bread into an adventure.

“Thank you, Stelli.” Hand over heart, he made space for her to settle down beside him, and she did, not bothering to take off her shoes as she sprawled comfortably over the plush bed. “Don’t mention it.” She mumbled through a mouthful of pumpkin bread. “Heard you had dinner with the Countess.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s been- kind.”

Sterling snorted. “Isn’t she out to hang that guy?”

“I- Yeah, I was hoping I could change that.” Haider winced. “Somehow. It seems cruel. I just- I don’t know, Sterling. I’m no detective.”

“Look at you though. Can’t be me.” She nudged him. “Changing the world, and all.”

“Not the world, just. I don’t- want to do the wrong thing.”

“Changing the world.” She singsonged, and straightened, scooting closer to put a hand on his shoulder. “You looked like you were having another dream.”

“Watching me while I sleep?” He quipped. “Creep.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She pursed her lips. “Was it a bad one?”

“I-“

He could still taste the berry, feel Asra’s touch against his cheek. The lurch of the light and the blood rushing to his ears- the rush of emotion like a waterfall- bittersweet.

“Good- and bad- I can’t tell. I can never tell with them. I don’t think I can-“

Three quick knocks against the door, and Portia’s cheerful voice asked him if he was ready for breakfast.

“Sounds like my cue. Give Portia my love, though. I owe her a drink.” Sterling gathered herself up, wiping the breadcrumbs with the back of her hand. “I’ll come back when I can, but hey-“ She pulled him into a quick hug, squeezing tight. “If you wanna paint it out, door’s always open.” Her lips twitched, and she winked. “Window, more like.”

His hand hovered in the air, before he let it fall down to his side. A gust of wind rustled the velvet drapes. Sick of the empty room, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and hurried towards the door.