[ kaveh is waiting. alhaitham knows. it had been winter when that letter from fontaine had arrived by courier. that week, senior kaveh could not be found. not in the lecture halls, not in the kshahrewar studios, not in the study rooms, not in the house of daena. he was not in line for the terrible cafeteria coffee, he was not working by moonlight in his cramped dorm shared with three other people, he was not in the haravatat dormitories, making a sorry excuse out of alhaitham's bed while his hands gestured to life beauties the world still has yet to see. on the sixth day, alhaitham had sat down, and walked himself through the well-worn corridors of kaveh's mind. nowhere that reminds him of his mother's work. nowhere that prying eyes could see. what if they judge? what if they ask? nowhere that would get in the way of other's work, and nowhere that allows kaveh to slack, because even at the height of his grief, the guilt of inadequacy and inaction haunts him. somewhere where he feels free. somewhere where he can see the sky. alhaitham had risen, and walked. he walked from campus to the top of the divine tree. he had parted the leaves near the north-easten skyline. he had said: there you are.

and has it not always been this way? kaveh never hides well. an architect knows nooks and crannies, the hidden paths and the quiet, unnamed rooms never quite finished. if he did not want to be found, he would not be. but kaveh always hides in the way of someone waiting to be found. kaveh, lost in the depths of his own thoughts, spiraling towards an unnamed destination whose darkness even he cannot see. alhaitham, dragging him from his drafting table, a cool hand against the warmth of his temple, until his eyes refocused from a distant, terrifying future to the current, grounded present - there you are. kaveh, fifth day into what should have been a three-day trip, eleazar like spines along the curve of his legs and elbows, curled up in a shelter of stone and sand as he waits out the pain with delirious patience. alhaitham, tearing down the barrier of sand with dendro, prying past the guard runes to shed light into the alcove - there you are. kaveh, nine years old, and in a dream of a empty house, hiding in a cupboard from the hollow echo of that resounding silence. alhaitham, reaching into the nexus, pulling aside the curtains and tracing his footfalls, opening that cupboard with the careful tug of a hand -

there you are.

in no universe will kaveh hide somewhere that alhaitham cannot find. in no universe would alhaitham stop searching. and in no universe would kaveh stop waiting. this is alhaitham and kaveh - this is them. alhaitham's hand squeezes back; one, last pulse of warmth as this world sets. ]

Who are you to speak of other lifetimes, Kaveh? You have yet to live this one. [ we have yet to live this one. ] I will find you. Now - go.

[ the scent of padisarahs - and then, darkness, darkness, darkness. ]