#there’s a reason why kaveh went into architecture instead of writing papers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soulsbleedink · 4 months ago

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𝙏𝙊𝙎𝙆𝘼 | 𝘼𝙇𝙃𝘼𝙄𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙈 𝙓 𝙆𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙃

Prompt: Kaveh's been drowning himself in his designs, and he just can't seem to make them perfect. Alhaitham forces him out of his room, and in the minutes that follow; he unravels, but his roommate is right there to hold him together.

Warning[s]: Mentions of doubt

Pairing: Alhaitham x Kaveh

Word count: 2.7k

masterlist

written after the release of writing on the wall [alhaitham's version]. i have been inconsolable since, and plan to write a version where kaveh comforts alhaitham instead. have fun. i also found out i kin both of them. it was not great, still grieving. have fun reading.

Kaveh’s concept of time had long gone blurred, his sketches a mess of circles and lines that all seemed to lead to nothing worth looking at. He didn’t know how long he’d been buried in these papers, but it had been a few hours, surely. Actually, that didn’t make it any better. The fact that he had so many crumpled papers scattered across his room and he was nowhere near done, was terrible. And the fact that a few hours had passed only proved that he was doing terribly. Ink splotches decorated his fingers, drying in the crevices of his hand as they shook in front of him, on the desk, on the paper. They no longer had the dance to them that they did, each line was a crooked representation of the exhaustion that he found was dragging itself deeper into his mind. His consciousness was slithering into darkness, into corners of his mind that knew nothing better than scratching away at the paint on his walls as sobs wrecked him to his bones.

Now was not the time to linger on that. The Akademiya had known him as ambitious, as a student with fervour, with this passion for creation. For architecture that caught the eye. He had dreamt of creating that. He had the chance now, yet why was his resolve faltering? And why was he sat at his desk, wallowing in his incompetence in the art that he chose for himself? In a job—No, a passion he’d longed to spend all his time doing. In creating beauty that draped city streets and lined cities and turned them into artwork brought to life.

A sound of frustration left his lips, the pout on his face going unnoticed by him and the ink bottles lining his desk. Lips trembling, he stood up. His whole world tilted. A hand went flying for support, the desk. A thud echoed against the silence of the room, only ever punctured by the rushed scratching of his pen, and or his frustration vocalised. Water, he just needed some water and he ought to be fine. His eyes darted over his walls, plastered with sketches, with concepts, with strings connecting them all, and his eyes landed on a jug of water, a cup placed next to it. He sighed in relief, stumbling over as he shakily reached down for the cup, pouring himself a cup of what would hopefully restore his sanity, at least momentarily.

As the water hit the back of his throat, he could swear stars flashed in his vision, muscles relaxing, but just not enough. He groaned as he set the cup down, eyeing his desk with resentment. When had he reached the point of losing his love for architecture? Oh, he was pitiful. Disgustingly so. He made his way over to the desk splayed with plans, and endless plans. Albeit, he did it slowly. He sat back down, composing himself to the best of his ability. Focus, you just need to finish this—No, he had to put his all in. It had to catch eyes, not just stand there, be a lifeless block. With a plain sigh, he picked up the pen, dragging one of his many discarded plans. Maybe if he looked at it again, he could redraw it…?

Actually, no. It looked terrible. That would be sure to fall over from just one gust of wind. Well—He was an architect for a reason, he should’ve been able to fix that. He unfurled the paper, running his fingertips over the crooked folds of the paper. Instinctively his hand reached for his sketchbook, taking out another page. He got to work, redrawing, rebuilding the concept he’d been working on, but just couldn’t figure out. And of course he didn’t ask. Quite frankly, he didn’t remember the last time he left the room for anything that wasn’t urgently needing the bathroom, or a shower. Meals were a perhaps, and he knew that Alhaitham would scold him for it. Oh, he also had to pay rent. His roommate either conveniently forgot, or remembered, and he didn’t know why.

Now was not the time to waste, and get lost in thoughts that only hindered his progress. As he reached for another bottle of ink, his hand stopped mid-movement. Soft knocks sounded from behind him. He would’ve opted to ignore them, but they seemed rather hurried. Even for someone like Alhaitham. Kaveh knew it was his roommate. He lifted himself from his chair, ignoring the uncomfortable pain that slid down his spine. He shivered from the feeling as he walked to the door, letting it swing open. Alhaitham was standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame. His usual impassive expression was playing on his face, but even in his state of exhaustion, Kaveh didn’t miss the sliver of relief that seemed to flash in Alhaitham’s eyes.

“Yes, Haitham?” Kaveh asked, doing his best to ignore the tremble in his voice. He drummed his fingers on the wall beside him.

“It’s way past dinner, Tighnari and Cyno were searching for you, they mentioned something about going to the inn with them?” Alhaitham recounted, raising an eyebrow at him.

Kaveh wanted to ignore the fact that he was asked at all, or the fact that it was past dinner, so much past eight, or probably nine. If he'd guessed. “And they didn't ask you?”

“They did,” Alhaitham said, refusing to elaborate any further—Well, he never did actually. Kaveh shouldn’t have been surprised, he wasn’t; even in the state that he currently was in.

“Then, why’d you not go?” Kaveh asked, he knew well that if his roomate wished, only then would he elaborate, if not… he would probably just force him to get something down his throat, or clean the room. Or hopefully ask him to pay rent. Kaveh did think he could use some time looking at anything that wasn’t his god awful sketches.

“I’m sure you know well that I don’t like going to crowded places like inns often,” Alhaitham said, rather matter of factly. Kaveh raised an eyebrow at him, surprised that he elaborated anyway. And then he moved to the side, gesturing with his head to the rest of the house. “Dinner, remember?”

“Right… I’ll cook something for myself—” Kaveh scratched the back of his neck, stepping out of the thick air of his room. He inhaled deeply, ignoring the way Alhaitham looked at him, as if he was concerned. If he was, he probably shouldn’t have been. Architects had to lock in on their projects a lot, at least Kaveh thought so.

“No need, I’ve already cooked, and I left some for you,” Alhaitham said, leading them into their kitchen.

Kaveh’s senses were assaulted with the sweet smell of honey and grilled meat. He could cry from the realisation that he was starving. He whispered a thanks to his roommate, finding himself a spot at the table already. Wordlessly, Alhaitham passed him utensils and the nicely wrapped food, even though the scent was escaping anyway. So as to seem less impolite, Kaveh made a show out of unwrapping it slowly, although he actually couldn’t care less. Alhaitham didn’t seem to care too much, he just sat opposite him, his book glued to his hand, as Kaveh would always say.

When Kaveh went to dig in, his hands shook, but his vigour didn’t seem to go away too much. Even if he felt slightly sick from eating after two or three days of near starvation, he forced the nutrients down his throat with gusto that wasn’t much like him, but he needed to pretend that he wasn’t worried about wasting time that he could be spending on perfecting his designs. He just needed to get this over with—A hand reached forward, fingers snapping in front of his face.

He looked up to meet Alhaitham’s eyes. “You are trembling, your hands namely,” He stated. He actually looked concerned. And Kaveh felt guilt pile up in his gut. Again, his roommate stood up and made his short way over to the other side of the table, taking the utensils from Kaveh’s hands and placing them firmly onto the table. He leaned down, holding the architect’s hands in his.

“I’m fine,” Kaveh didn’t sound too convincing even when the words left his mouth. Just convince him—

“You are unwell,” Alhaitham said, sitting down beside him, facing him. “Here.” With one hand he passed Kaveh a bottle of cold water. Kaveh shivered when it met his fingertips, but accepted it graciously nonetheless.

When Kaveh pulled the bottle away from his lips, Alhaitham had a nicely sliced bit of meat held up to his mouth. He flushed, tried to shake his head, Alhaitham’s hand did not move. Kaveh accepted it.

Many silent minutes passed where they did that, Alhaitham practically fed him, and he burnt up under his roommate’s gaze, just wanting it to be over. Partly because this was embarrassing, the other because goddamn, this felt like being six and his mother feeding him stew when he got sick from staying up and studying for a test.

“Kaveh, you’re in your head.” Alhaitham snapped him right back to his senses. The fork was on the plate, and it was.. Empty. It did work, he supposed. Kaveh tried to look away, but Alhaitham placed two hands on his shoulders, and he resorted to staring at his lap instead. “What troubles you?”

What didn’t trouble him, at this point? He just seemed to always be struggling away with something, wallowing in his doubt and letting self pity make a fool out of him. “I don’t know,” He said, he just wanted to get back to working, to drawing.

“There’s a lot going on in that head, I can tell.” Alhaitham’s hands didn’t move. “If it’s about rent, don’t worry.”

It wasn’t, but Kaveh was glad Alhaitham brought it up, he could focus on something else. “I’ll get it sorted out, I promise.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Alhaitham smiled, squeezing his shoulder.

Kaveh’s breath hitched in his throat, and this sick heavy weight buried itself into his stomach. His father used to do that to him, as reassurance. And he didn’t remember if he did, he probably did—He probably mentioned to Alhaitham at some point about his father, all the mannerisms, everything. Probably spilt his guts and came clean. He just didn’t expect his roommate to remember.

“Thank you,” He said with a shaky voice. “I need to get back, though.” He stood up, his vision wavered, but he ignored it.

“You should take a break,” Alhaitham reasoned with him, holding out his hands for Kaveh, just in case he lost his balance. Kaveh had been thinking it wasn’t obvious. Or at least, not that obvious. He sighed, shaking his head. “You need it.” He frowned softly at the architect.

“Not until I finish this, at least one plan,” Kaveh muttered, to himself or to Alhaitham, he didn’t know; his line between rationality and the need to prove himself had blurred itself a while ago.

“No, Kaveh. You can continue afterwards.” Alhaitham placed a hand on Kaveh’s forearm.

Kaveh would be the biggest liar known to Tevyat if he said he didn’t want to hear those words. He desperately wanted to hear that, wanted someone to tell him that it’s okay to take a break. That maybe, he needed it. The tears pricked at his eyes, and he just wanted to turn away, make a run for his room like a fool. With every piling thought now clawing its way up his throat, he stood there instead. Alhaitham reached forward, and when Kaveh didn’t fight, his warm face hit a warmer chest, heartbeat steady beneath his ears. With as much force as he could muster, even in his state of wanting to tear away and lock himself away until he tired himself to fainting, he let himself bask in his roommate’s arms. The tears won their way down his face, warm and a sign of his incompetence. Of his inability to deal with basic stress.

“Design can wait.” Alhaitham traced shapes on Kaveh’s back, holding him together as he threatened to unravel completely, to break more as dry sobs shook his frame.

“I just can’t seem to figure it out anymore, it always ends up being wrong,” Kaveh whispered through his sobs, the tears blurring his vision. His breaths came out in short gasps as he drove himself into full blown panic, tears streaming down consistently, eyes stinging from the sheer force of it all.

Alhaitham’s frame rocked them back and forth. “You are not a machine, Kaveh. Perfect even then, can’t be expected. Man, and its creations are bound to fallibility, and that is what makes them what they are. And have you ever looked closely at the buildings that for so long have inspired yours? Have you noticed those crooked corners? The small differences just show that something of that magnitude was created by someone just as human as you are.”

Kaveh wrapped his arms around Alhaitham even more, placing his chin on his shoulder, gulping in as much air as he could, he felt breathless, chest constricting on itself. He heard his roommate’s words, they were ringing in his head. He nodded faintly. He didn’t know when but at some point Haitham’s fingers were carding themselves through his hair, gently unclipping all of his hair pins, placing them on the table next to them. Then Alhaitham’s arms back around his torso, pulling him closer.

“Can you hear my heartbeat?” He asked. Kaveh nodded against the crook of his neck, “take deep breaths with me, alright?” Kaveh nodded again, the last of the tears drying up on his face and clinging onto his eyelashes.

Alhaitham inhaled slowly, Kaveh followed, and then he exhaled. Kaveh did the same.

“Don’t overwork yourself, beauty won’t be created if you force it to. The world wasn’t always like this, it took millenia, and probably much longer to end up even remotely similar to what we see it is. Remember all the praise you have gotten for your designs, it took you months for some of them, remember?” Alhaitham said, squeezing Kaveh’s frame in his arms as the latter took a deep breath, stabilising himself once more.

“I shouldn’t overwork,” He whispered.

Alhaitham shook his head.

“And I’m just human, my designs won’t be perfect,” He said next.

“No, they can, within human capabilities, Cyno, Tighnari and… I find them so at least, but within the imperfections of our beings, is inlaid the perfect you seek.”

“That makes no sense.” Kaveh laughed, wiping at his face. Alhaitham huffed, a slight smile gracing his lips as he reached in his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, handing it to Kaveh. Who smiled bright, accepting it with a quiet thanks. He felt a bit embarrassed about how his face must’ve been incredibly red, but his roommate didn’t even mention anything related to it.

“To you, perhaps.” Alhaitham shrugged, his arms dropping from around Kaveh’s frame, whose vision finally stopped faltering, and he could stand up quite straight. And was smiling softly. “It’s… getting late, you should—”

“Head to bed? Yeah, I’m about to,” Kaveh said, “oh and, I promise you’ll have the rent by tomorrow.” Alhaitham blinked, smiling softly.

“As you wish.”

They fell into silence again, this time much more comfortable. Kaveh put away his dishes, finding his hands shaking a lot less, and his step much less lousy. Alhaitham put away the utensils, nudging Kaveh towards his bedroom when his feet instinctively started carrying him towards his workspace. He stopped, scratching the back of his head as he left for his bedroom instead, smiling at Haitham once before slipping through the door.

He glanced at the clock hung at his wall, it was midnight. And now the ache in his muscles was really settling in. He sighed, dropping onto his bed. Architecture could wait, and he could have his first ounce of sleep after a few tiring days where he worked tirelessly towards a goal that didn’t feel like his anymore. But he could, as soon as his mind cleared up. His body relaxed into the mattress of his bed, eyes fluttering close. Sleep rolled over him like a soft breeze on warm summer nights.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #alhaitham #kaveh #alhaitham x kaveh #haikaveh #kavetham #al haitham #writing #writeblr #writer

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