[ alhaitham's touch is deadly, he finds. so gentle they feel like a dream in itself, and with each kiss, his skin burns, as though the eleazar rejects it by inflicting pain. as though that kindness is something kaveh is not allowed, because after all, why would he? the illness is, by itself, karma. that he loses all he holds dear is karma. a perfectly crafted nightmare for himself. that is why, he thinks, this still cannot be his dream.
and kaveh, once light of kshahrewar, does not cry for himself. if they were characters in a fictional book, this would be his cue to cry. shed tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears that would serve as windows to his heart. but he does not cry. the desire is there, to cry at last, to unbottle his feelings and let them all out.
even in this dream, kaveh does not cry. ]
I know. I know. [ because when is alhaitham not? ever since they met, one faithful day in the house of daena, when has his life been without alhaitham?
they would come together, time and time again. find each other even when they did not wish for it. find each other when they did. in the real world, in dreams. alhaitham is there. warm, kind. ] I don't want to wake up.
no subject
and kaveh, once light of kshahrewar, does not cry for himself. if they were characters in a fictional book, this would be his cue to cry. shed tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears that would serve as windows to his heart. but he does not cry. the desire is there, to cry at last, to unbottle his feelings and let them all out.
even in this dream, kaveh does not cry. ]
I know. I know. [ because when is alhaitham not? ever since they met, one faithful day in the house of daena, when has his life been without alhaitham?
they would come together, time and time again. find each other even when they did not wish for it. find each other when they did. in the real world, in dreams. alhaitham is there. warm, kind. ] I don't want to wake up.