[ kaveh gestures for alhaitham to sit. alhaitham, who cannot deny kaveh, joins him. the two of them squeeze in along the water's edge. the lily pads float aloft. the lotuses, alhaitham knows, bloom only at night, when the edgeless slant of moonlight bathes their petals to their core. there is a time and a season for everything in sumeru. the natural order is something meant to be studied, to be lived alongside, and to allow and let live. the rules and regulations that govern their world creates a box in which creativity is allowed to flourish, for without restriction, there cannot be creation.
this, alhaitham knows. but the rules and regulations of the world have never been accused of being kind, nor fair. nor, in a court of law, could they be judged as such. mankind has never signed a contract with nature. the rules that they follow are their own. and alhaitham has never been good at following the rules of others. ]
You do. Up until you disagree. [ but there's a secret joke there between two people who have argued long enough that the mere notion of right or wrong no longer apply. alhaitham cants his head, acquiescence in a moment of grace as he considers his words. ] My answer has never changed, not when it comes to the matter of mattering. One must always have something they hold onto to the very end, lest the vicissitudes of life lead you astray. If one has made the decision to value something, whether weal nor woe, one must hold it to the higher standard in decision-making.
For example, if you were to value fun above all else, then your choice today to hide from the eyes of the common people runs against that value; your instinct is to minimise your embarrassment, rather than to maximise amusement. I have no critique for one whose views are congruent with one's actions. However, living in contradiction only ensures that each choice you make takes you further from your ideal.
[ alhaitham slowly shakes his head. the motion is like that of ripples upon water, the barest shadow of which cants towards the depths. ] Therefore, my position is thus: that what is important is congruence between choice and action. There is nothing more to it.
[ and so, in spite of it all, alhaitham talks, and kaveh listens.
in a distant reality where kaveh is not born with a shortened lifespan, he would have seen fit to disagree. he would have frowned, the wrinkles on his forehead taking shape, and said that no, fun is something highly personal, that whether one is at the heart of a festival does not mean they are enjoying themselves. away from the hustle and bustle of the celebration of a god's birth, it is easily feasible that here, by the water's edge, kaveh is having fun.
a kaveh who has his days counted does not exert himself in the same way. it is criticism, and he knows alhaitham does not say words to hurt him. hurt is, after all, rather subjective. it is something a person must allow into their heart, and permit it to fester. kaveh does not. there is plenty that his body does not feel already. he would not want hurt to be something it does.
his fingers dance in the water, and he does not feel its temperature. it's wet, and kaveh finds that to be enough. ]
Quite a lot of words to say you value people who are true to themselves. [ a smile begins to form on his lips. it is neither hollow nor weak. ] So according to you, I'm not having fun right now? Then, what do you suppose I'm feeling right now?
[ as if the very veil of kaveh's thoughts were not lifted before alhaitham's eyes. alhaitham does not need to look. his hands join kaveh's as he skims the water, and then, because he can, he gathers dendro. green flits across his fingertips. three small mirrors appear, vanish with the angle of light, and then elongate into something long, lean and with a barbed hook curved into its end. ]
Now, you are.
[ is what alhaitham says. he reaches with his refracted hook. the dendro blends in deceptively with the green of the nearby lilypad, right up until alhaitham begins to pull. the kalpalata lotus has petals the colour of a midday sky. he gently cups the flower in his hand, and staps the stem with the other.
alhaitham lifts the flower from its pond. it weighs heavy with lakewater; he allows it to drain into the grass. ]
You have allowed yourself to become congruent with your actions, but it's an easy decision to make. It is only us. [ and then, in that self-same tone: ] Hold the flower still.
[ it is, indeed, only them. that, kaveh finds, is enough for him to have fun.
a kaveh of days past would have found room to argue that alhaitham, who would not have been seen at the heart of the festival, was missing out on true fun. a kaveh who is not cursed with eleazar would have thought the same. the current kaveh, detached from all his other selves, prefers the quiet. has learned to prioritize it. it is much easier on his decaying body to enjoy the company of someone who does not see him for his illness than a crowd who just might.
that, too, kaveh does not allow in his heart. at the very least, he has learned to pick and choose which poison he will drink each day. ]
Then wouldn't you say I've been 'congruent with my actions' from the beginning? I claimed that fun is what matters, and asked you to whisk me away. [ kaveh holds his hands out, side by side, to welcome the flower. kalpalata lotuses are much prettier come nightfall, when they bask in moonlight, and bloom to their full potential.
he has always found them much different from him. ] I knew that no matter where you took me, I would have fun. Because you would be there with me.
[ the light playful debate of an eddying breeze. alhaitham gently arranges the flower in kaveh's palm. the lakewater is cool, and free. the stem sits slotted between kaveh's fingers. its petals splay, as if breathing out in the way of a sigh. blue, and the gentle gradient of a budding purple, with the golden yellow of a clustered stamen. objectively speaking, the lotus is beautiful. it becomes something else in kaveh's hands.
in turn, alhaitham reaches into his pouch. the vial that he takes out is empty. he begins to gently press its open lip to the flower's stamen. pollen gathers, tumbling into the glass vial like golden motes of light. ]
You would have fun, so long as the two of us were not walking down the hill in plain sight of the world.
[ because it had been kaveh who had wished to be carried anywhere. through process of elimination, it implies that it, too, had been kaveh, who had been dissatisfied with being where he was. alhaitham thinks, there truly is no-one comfortable in the mere guise of their own skin. but people as a whole would live happier lives if they were.
alhaitham shakes his head. ]
Your premise, as usual, forgets the limitations of your own comfort.
[ anywhere, kaveh had said. anywhere that it is only us.
the truth of the matter is that he never hates being seen with alhaitham. they are, impossibly so, friends. they are what each other has left. to hate being seen alongside another person is to insult their person, to claim unspoken embarrassment not for being seen, but for being with them. none of those are true. that he would ever be seen with alhaitham is as logical as claiming the sun and the moon cohabit the same sky.
what kaveh hates is himself. it is being known for something he has not asked for. it is attributing his identity to something out of his grasp. something he was never given a chance to control.
yes, he thinks. it's far easier to live if kaveh forgets himself in his entirety.
his fingers twitch under the lotus. it is subtle, but it is telling. ]
Exactly as you had. You simply should not have allowed yourself to feel shame.
[ the vial collects pollen. alhaitham takes its measure, and then, watching the little bottle of the vial fill with motes of gold, nods before he caps it. the flower bloom profusely in kaveh's hand. he leaves it there, signaling the completion of his task with the dip of his head, before the vial disappears into a pocket.
kaveh asks alhaitham what he should have done. alhaitham's answer has always been the same. congruency is only achieved by what you can control. and alhaitham's response is always, as always, from alhaitham's point of view. but that does not mean that alhaitham is unaware of the spiral that has taken ahold of kaveh. kaveh's emotions are the one thing he cannot, will not, cede.
so instead: ]
You are yourself when you are with me. [ alhaitham says, with clarity. ] You do not need to be anything or anyone else. If you choose to want something, you should choose not to want to be someone else.
Instead, you should choose to merely want.
tell my brain to stop hyperfocusing on the wrong thing i cant tag u like this...
[ it is, he thinks, far easier said than done. regret, guilt, shame. those have all been the three things closest to kaveh for a long, long time. guilt for ruining his family. regret for lying to his mother. at the very least, shame is always something that is there while also not. it is only when kaveh is at his worst that he allows himself to be ashamed of himself. he is, and has always been, far too prideful. there had easily been some, back in their akademiya days, that dared gossip about how kaveh of kshahrewar was so impossibly arrogant. bouts of inspiration would turn the red of his eyes into the most rare jewels, and no matter where he would be, he would have a piece of chalk between his fingers and scribble away his ideas, right there, right then, for the world to see.
he has argued with classmates. he has disagreed with mentors. he has certainly been arrogant quite a few times, but if he is not— if he's not proud of his craft, of his creations, of the work he pours blood and sweat and love into, who would? if he himself is not his biggest fan, who would?
(kaveh knows well the answer to such questions. if he trips and falls, someone would catch him, without fail. if he trips, he would not ever fall, for that same someone would prevent the fall from ever happening. he knows. he knows.)
it is, of course, as alhaitham said. kaveh is himself when he's with alhaitham. it is an undeniable, unquestionable truth. ]
You are a terrible enabler. Do you do this to everyone else? [ the question is rhetorical. they're both more than aware of the answer.
kaveh lays the lotus down on the water. he gives it a gentle nudge, and watches it stream down the river. ]
And how much, exactly, should I want? At the cost of greed? Wanting is human nature. Don't you think the problem lies elsewhere?
[ not for his lack of want, no. it is, instead, his inability of judging himself worth of selfishness. ]
i will if u tell my brain to stop being depressed, because this week's killin me hahaaaah
[ there had been a time in the akademiya where you could walk down the halls of the kshahrewar and step into a world of another's making. the chalk drawings had paved the flagstones of myths and dreams into stolid stone halls. geometric wonders competed with the spirals of golden proportions, glinting with the unearthly touch of a wayward sun. not even the rtawahists dared step into the intangible for fear of invoking the shift of something very tangible beneath their feet; it was the kshahrewar that murmured with the kind of fear one only gained standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking a world emobodying a mysterium tremendum et fascinans. it was as if you looked into the face of your archon. you couldn't accept it, you couldn't look away, and moreover, you couldn't help but see yourself reflected: it wasn't you, this wasn't you, this couldn't be you, and why?
kaveh did that to people. one could never see their own inadequacy without looking into the eyes of something greater. it was only alhaitham who stopped at the foot of the drawing and looked to its spires without flinching; it was only alhaitham, the sashay of his black robes around the still-thin lines of his legs, who bent down and moved a piece of chalk away from kaveh's encroaching feet.
today's alhaitham observes the drift of the lotus down the river. he turns back to kaveh. the curve of his eyes hide the brittle of red there; for a moment, alhaitham seems almost tired. ]
As always, you ask questions to which you already know the answers. [ it doesn't suit you, is alhaitham's silent rejoinder, said across time and universes with the same confidence one might indicate the rising of the sun or the migration of birds south for the winter - it doesn't suit kaveh because kaveh ought not diminish his flame for anyone. not kaveh, never kaveh. ] If you can identify the problem to my premise, then you are also able to work your way through the selfsame logic to another. You do not want me to provide you an answer; you merely need it.
But this is not an answer you need me to voice for you. [ alhaitham looks. ] Only you understand your guilt. It is beyond me.
prayin so hard this new week treats u better otherwise i'll have to kick its ass?
[ no, it is not. it is not an answer kaveh would want voiced at all, to begin with. he knows where the problem lies. he has known for a long, long time. he has known since the first lie escaped his tongue: i'll be fine, mother.
the thing with kaveh is that he has always been aware of himself. it is there where the root of the problem lies, as though he is a growing tree whose roots have settled on poisoned soil. he knows. he knows, he knows, he knows. it is why he wishes he did not. it is why he drinks, it is why he does so just enough to forget. escapism is not inherently a toxic, irresponsible way to cope. it is when done in abundance. it is when kaveh had formed an unhealthy dependency on it.
alhaitham has always ground him to that familiar, despicable soil. the weight of self-awareness is crushing. it's so much easier to live wearing a mask, a protective shield that allows no one in. if he covers his ears, there will be no sound. if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it is not there.
his reflection on the water is not one kaveh wishes to look at. there are times, rare, that even mirrors he comes to avoid. they always make him aware of himself. alhaitham, most of all. ]
If you know the answer, then you would know it's not so easy for me to do what you want me to do. What does it matter, anyways? Haven't I been living just fine until now?
[ it is not, he knows, as though kaveh has room to continuously sacrifice himself for others. as though he has any room to do anything at his own expense. were he to try, wouldn't most people stop him? wouldn't the public eye target him as pitiful?
isn't, then, the problem solved, without his consent? ]
I know enough greed to hog your time during a holiday. Isn't it enough that I'm familiar with wanting without burning myself into dust when I'm with you?
thank u friend... i'm sure the week will be scared into compliance 🙏
[ just fine, kaveh says. just fine is a day where kaveh's joints ache to the extent that he can't quite climb out of bed, and must be fed by hand. just fine is a day where kaveh opens the window, and the fresh air makes him ill. just fine is a day where kaveh sleeps, and alhaitham does not know when or where he will wake as the nexus of dreams takes, and takes, and takes. just fine, kaveh says, and alhaitham says, in turn: ]
No.
[ because the kaveh that had put himself onto alhaitham's mindmap had been the one to draw it. the world of delicate spires, of golden ratios and harrowing foundations and vectors to take monuments to glory and engineering and bring them down to their crying knees. kaveh had drawn that day a cityscape that sumeru would never see. he had humbled a blind land down to its very marrow. it was kaveh who first held the world in his hand and said, in more than just words, that he would go beyond what has already existed.
alhaitham says, with the knowledge of a man gazing unto a shadow: ]
Because I am not the world.
[ and the kaveh that ought to exist is not kaveh the goddess or kaveh the ill - but the kaveh who once looked at the world, and said - i will rebuild you. ]
[ looking is always the one thing kaveh always has. the eleazar takes, but this, at the very least, is something he has always been able to retain. when his arms do not work the intended way, kaveh looks, and watches, and observes. when his legs do not move, he reads a book or plans out a world or two onto several scattered papers all over his room. when it is just kaveh and alhaitham, he continues to look, as though the vermillion of his eyes could see the unseen.
alhaitham, he knows, is a man that begs observation. so many judge him a riddle without a solution, but kaveh, whose wits are ever only equal to one other person, whose reflection is always, solely, and exclusively on green-red eyes; kaveh thinks, instead, that alhaitham has never been a riddle, and has never needed a solution. he's a book as open as kaveh, and one only need look.
kaveh shakes his head. ]
Of course not. You wouldn't be so condescending to think so. But,
[ his arms meet his knees, and his head is laid to rest. such a weak, fragile body, that so little it has done, yet finds itself tired. kaveh doesn't think much of it. at the very least, he still has the strength to smile — here, it is small, but it does not lack sincerity. ]
Is it so bad of me to think you are? Doesn't it ground me, and isn't that what matters to you?
[ that's the thing, alhaitham thinks. there is no entity in this world who can cast a moral judgment on the feelings of mankind. not god, nor devil, nor archon, nor abyss-sent, not celestia herself - not a single entity in this world who has the right to judge if alhaitham and kaveh are right or wrong. the only ones that alhaitham has ever allowed such judgment is from themselves. alhaitham, who is to judge himself by the actions he has chosen to take; kaveh, who is to judge himself by the choices he has not. but that is alhaitham and kaveh, that is their own, and theirs. greater lord rukkhadevata and lesser lord kusanali both could stand between the scales. it had always been there own.
is it bad, kaveh asks. and alhaitham thinks - it is bad, that alhaitham does not know. for it does not please alhaitham to be needed by kaveh. not really. because it does not please alhaitham to be needed by anyone. because kaveh needs alhaitham, but kaveh does not want alhaitham. because kaveh cannot allow himself to want, not as kaveh is the way he is now, curled along the riverbank with a smile like the waning sun.
alhaitham looks. of course he does. ]
You will think as you will, just as I will think as I will. [ alhaitham's hand reaches for kaveh. gently, he pushes back the unruly fringe of his hair. he pulls a spare clip from his pocket so that he can pin it back.
instead, what he says is the truth, and no more: ] You matter to me.
[ alhaitham shakes his head. ] What also matters to me is that you will attempt to draw the lotus of today once more tonight. Will you not like to see if your attempt is worse or better than mine?
[ this, kaveh recognizes as a different answer. alhaitham speaks, and what he hears is simply an answer without one. alhaitham is, after all, hardly all-knowing, for what reason is there to live once one obtains all the knowledge in the world? not even their archons, embodiments of wisdom, are. alhaitham speaks, and relents, and kaveh smiles for it. he may not feel the texture of calloused fingers that brush so lightly against his skin, but at least the shape he recognizes. kaveh clings to it, and finds it soothing. ]
It will be worse, [ he begins, then, smile still on his face. a kaveh of the past would've flaunted his confidence, for which man who has dedicated his life to drawing would do worse than another who has just recently picked a pencil?
that, here, is not the case, for kaveh continues: ] My body is tired and I won't be able to draw straight lines. It will be worse, and you will use that as ammunition to have me try again tomorrow. You never ask when I'm well-rested.
[ it's about the routine, he knows. the consistency and the ambition to keep on trying, and keep on living, for what else motivates someone if not a hope to cling onto and a dream to chase? kaveh is, and has long been, a withering flower. to be fed sunlight and watered consistently only delay the inevitable, but at the very least, it makes him feel alive. that, he finds, is enough. ]
You know the routine is comforting. That's how you keep me grounded. I've had enough change in my life, after all.
[ i've had enough change in my life, after all, kaveh says. alhaitham thinks - that change becoming the only constant is a fact made through omission. it omits the lives where change only happens in little increments. it omits lives where change lilts towards an end where those who have the privilege to embrace it are rewarded with their fortune. it omits lives where change doesn't much happen at all. change being the only constant is a lie that one tells themselves so that they sleep better at night. alhaitham chose kaveh, a long time ago. if he were to be asked, he can pinpoint the exact hour, the exact minute, the exact second that decision had occurred. kaveh is change. alhaitham, too, has lived with change. but he is not a man who forgives omission, nor is he a man who forgives failure.
kaveh says this with the lightness of a man who knows the measure of his own fingers. in turn, alhaitham breathes out. the breath comes out not in the way of a sigh, but in the way of a scroll of a letter, the beginning of a paragraph, a bullet point of a chapter. his fingers fall from kaveh's face. the clip remains. it holds back the flaxen gold of his hair. it does nothing for the fatigue along the long lines of kaveh's face. it gathers, like rainwater, beneath the curve of his eyes and in the lilt of his lips.
what alhaitham does not say: that alhaitiham cannot be the world, because kaveh is not alhaitham. ]
If so, then shall I ask you to draw every day from now on? If the routine comforts you, then routine can be created. Though keep in mind: I have never asked you when you are well-rested, Kaveh, because you are never well-rested.
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no subject
this, alhaitham knows. but the rules and regulations of the world have never been accused of being kind, nor fair. nor, in a court of law, could they be judged as such. mankind has never signed a contract with nature. the rules that they follow are their own. and alhaitham has never been good at following the rules of others. ]
You do. Up until you disagree. [ but there's a secret joke there between two people who have argued long enough that the mere notion of right or wrong no longer apply. alhaitham cants his head, acquiescence in a moment of grace as he considers his words. ] My answer has never changed, not when it comes to the matter of mattering. One must always have something they hold onto to the very end, lest the vicissitudes of life lead you astray. If one has made the decision to value something, whether weal nor woe, one must hold it to the higher standard in decision-making.
For example, if you were to value fun above all else, then your choice today to hide from the eyes of the common people runs against that value; your instinct is to minimise your embarrassment, rather than to maximise amusement. I have no critique for one whose views are congruent with one's actions. However, living in contradiction only ensures that each choice you make takes you further from your ideal.
[ alhaitham slowly shakes his head. the motion is like that of ripples upon water, the barest shadow of which cants towards the depths. ] Therefore, my position is thus: that what is important is congruence between choice and action. There is nothing more to it.
no subject
in a distant reality where kaveh is not born with a shortened lifespan, he would have seen fit to disagree. he would have frowned, the wrinkles on his forehead taking shape, and said that no, fun is something highly personal, that whether one is at the heart of a festival does not mean they are enjoying themselves. away from the hustle and bustle of the celebration of a god's birth, it is easily feasible that here, by the water's edge, kaveh is having fun.
a kaveh who has his days counted does not exert himself in the same way. it is criticism, and he knows alhaitham does not say words to hurt him. hurt is, after all, rather subjective. it is something a person must allow into their heart, and permit it to fester. kaveh does not. there is plenty that his body does not feel already. he would not want hurt to be something it does.
his fingers dance in the water, and he does not feel its temperature. it's wet, and kaveh finds that to be enough. ]
Quite a lot of words to say you value people who are true to themselves. [ a smile begins to form on his lips. it is neither hollow nor weak. ] So according to you, I'm not having fun right now? Then, what do you suppose I'm feeling right now?
no subject
Now, you are.
[ is what alhaitham says. he reaches with his refracted hook. the dendro blends in deceptively with the green of the nearby lilypad, right up until alhaitham begins to pull. the kalpalata lotus has petals the colour of a midday sky. he gently cups the flower in his hand, and staps the stem with the other.
alhaitham lifts the flower from its pond. it weighs heavy with lakewater; he allows it to drain into the grass. ]
You have allowed yourself to become congruent with your actions, but it's an easy decision to make. It is only us. [ and then, in that self-same tone: ] Hold the flower still.
no subject
a kaveh of days past would have found room to argue that alhaitham, who would not have been seen at the heart of the festival, was missing out on true fun. a kaveh who is not cursed with eleazar would have thought the same. the current kaveh, detached from all his other selves, prefers the quiet. has learned to prioritize it. it is much easier on his decaying body to enjoy the company of someone who does not see him for his illness than a crowd who just might.
that, too, kaveh does not allow in his heart. at the very least, he has learned to pick and choose which poison he will drink each day. ]
Then wouldn't you say I've been 'congruent with my actions' from the beginning? I claimed that fun is what matters, and asked you to whisk me away. [ kaveh holds his hands out, side by side, to welcome the flower. kalpalata lotuses are much prettier come nightfall, when they bask in moonlight, and bloom to their full potential.
he has always found them much different from him. ] I knew that no matter where you took me, I would have fun. Because you would be there with me.
no subject
in turn, alhaitham reaches into his pouch. the vial that he takes out is empty. he begins to gently press its open lip to the flower's stamen. pollen gathers, tumbling into the glass vial like golden motes of light. ]
You would have fun, so long as the two of us were not walking down the hill in plain sight of the world.
[ because it had been kaveh who had wished to be carried anywhere. through process of elimination, it implies that it, too, had been kaveh, who had been dissatisfied with being where he was. alhaitham thinks, there truly is no-one comfortable in the mere guise of their own skin. but people as a whole would live happier lives if they were.
alhaitham shakes his head. ]
Your premise, as usual, forgets the limitations of your own comfort.
no subject
[ anywhere, kaveh had said. anywhere that it is only us.
the truth of the matter is that he never hates being seen with alhaitham. they are, impossibly so, friends. they are what each other has left. to hate being seen alongside another person is to insult their person, to claim unspoken embarrassment not for being seen, but for being with them. none of those are true. that he would ever be seen with alhaitham is as logical as claiming the sun and the moon cohabit the same sky.
what kaveh hates is himself. it is being known for something he has not asked for. it is attributing his identity to something out of his grasp. something he was never given a chance to control.
yes, he thinks. it's far easier to live if kaveh forgets himself in his entirety.
his fingers twitch under the lotus. it is subtle, but it is telling. ]
What do you think I should have done, then?
no subject
[ the vial collects pollen. alhaitham takes its measure, and then, watching the little bottle of the vial fill with motes of gold, nods before he caps it. the flower bloom profusely in kaveh's hand. he leaves it there, signaling the completion of his task with the dip of his head, before the vial disappears into a pocket.
kaveh asks alhaitham what he should have done. alhaitham's answer has always been the same. congruency is only achieved by what you can control. and alhaitham's response is always, as always, from alhaitham's point of view. but that does not mean that alhaitham is unaware of the spiral that has taken ahold of kaveh. kaveh's emotions are the one thing he cannot, will not, cede.
so instead: ]
You are yourself when you are with me. [ alhaitham says, with clarity. ] You do not need to be anything or anyone else. If you choose to want something, you should choose not to want to be someone else.
Instead, you should choose to merely want.
tell my brain to stop hyperfocusing on the wrong thing i cant tag u like this...
he has argued with classmates. he has disagreed with mentors. he has certainly been arrogant quite a few times, but if he is not— if he's not proud of his craft, of his creations, of the work he pours blood and sweat and love into, who would? if he himself is not his biggest fan, who would?
(kaveh knows well the answer to such questions. if he trips and falls, someone would catch him, without fail. if he trips, he would not ever fall, for that same someone would prevent the fall from ever happening. he knows. he knows.)
it is, of course, as alhaitham said. kaveh is himself when he's with alhaitham. it is an undeniable, unquestionable truth. ]
You are a terrible enabler. Do you do this to everyone else? [ the question is rhetorical. they're both more than aware of the answer.
kaveh lays the lotus down on the water. he gives it a gentle nudge, and watches it stream down the river. ]
And how much, exactly, should I want? At the cost of greed? Wanting is human nature. Don't you think the problem lies elsewhere?
[ not for his lack of want, no. it is, instead, his inability of judging himself worth of selfishness. ]
i will if u tell my brain to stop being depressed, because this week's killin me hahaaaah
kaveh did that to people. one could never see their own inadequacy without looking into the eyes of something greater. it was only alhaitham who stopped at the foot of the drawing and looked to its spires without flinching; it was only alhaitham, the sashay of his black robes around the still-thin lines of his legs, who bent down and moved a piece of chalk away from kaveh's encroaching feet.
today's alhaitham observes the drift of the lotus down the river. he turns back to kaveh. the curve of his eyes hide the brittle of red there; for a moment, alhaitham seems almost tired. ]
As always, you ask questions to which you already know the answers. [ it doesn't suit you, is alhaitham's silent rejoinder, said across time and universes with the same confidence one might indicate the rising of the sun or the migration of birds south for the winter - it doesn't suit kaveh because kaveh ought not diminish his flame for anyone. not kaveh, never kaveh. ] If you can identify the problem to my premise, then you are also able to work your way through the selfsame logic to another. You do not want me to provide you an answer; you merely need it.
But this is not an answer you need me to voice for you. [ alhaitham looks. ] Only you understand your guilt. It is beyond me.
prayin so hard this new week treats u better otherwise i'll have to kick its ass?
the thing with kaveh is that he has always been aware of himself. it is there where the root of the problem lies, as though he is a growing tree whose roots have settled on poisoned soil. he knows. he knows, he knows, he knows. it is why he wishes he did not. it is why he drinks, it is why he does so just enough to forget. escapism is not inherently a toxic, irresponsible way to cope. it is when done in abundance. it is when kaveh had formed an unhealthy dependency on it.
alhaitham has always ground him to that familiar, despicable soil. the weight of self-awareness is crushing. it's so much easier to live wearing a mask, a protective shield that allows no one in. if he covers his ears, there will be no sound. if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it is not there.
his reflection on the water is not one kaveh wishes to look at. there are times, rare, that even mirrors he comes to avoid. they always make him aware of himself. alhaitham, most of all. ]
If you know the answer, then you would know it's not so easy for me to do what you want me to do. What does it matter, anyways? Haven't I been living just fine until now?
[ it is not, he knows, as though kaveh has room to continuously sacrifice himself for others. as though he has any room to do anything at his own expense. were he to try, wouldn't most people stop him? wouldn't the public eye target him as pitiful?
isn't, then, the problem solved, without his consent? ]
I know enough greed to hog your time during a holiday. Isn't it enough that I'm familiar with wanting without burning myself into dust when I'm with you?
thank u friend... i'm sure the week will be scared into compliance 🙏
No.
[ because the kaveh that had put himself onto alhaitham's mindmap had been the one to draw it. the world of delicate spires, of golden ratios and harrowing foundations and vectors to take monuments to glory and engineering and bring them down to their crying knees. kaveh had drawn that day a cityscape that sumeru would never see. he had humbled a blind land down to its very marrow. it was kaveh who first held the world in his hand and said, in more than just words, that he would go beyond what has already existed.
alhaitham says, with the knowledge of a man gazing unto a shadow: ]
Because I am not the world.
[ and the kaveh that ought to exist is not kaveh the goddess or kaveh the ill - but the kaveh who once looked at the world, and said - i will rebuild you. ]
no subject
alhaitham, he knows, is a man that begs observation. so many judge him a riddle without a solution, but kaveh, whose wits are ever only equal to one other person, whose reflection is always, solely, and exclusively on green-red eyes; kaveh thinks, instead, that alhaitham has never been a riddle, and has never needed a solution. he's a book as open as kaveh, and one only need look.
kaveh shakes his head. ]
Of course not. You wouldn't be so condescending to think so. But,
[ his arms meet his knees, and his head is laid to rest. such a weak, fragile body, that so little it has done, yet finds itself tired. kaveh doesn't think much of it. at the very least, he still has the strength to smile — here, it is small, but it does not lack sincerity. ]
Is it so bad of me to think you are? Doesn't it ground me, and isn't that what matters to you?
no subject
is it bad, kaveh asks. and alhaitham thinks - it is bad, that alhaitham does not know. for it does not please alhaitham to be needed by kaveh. not really. because it does not please alhaitham to be needed by anyone. because kaveh needs alhaitham, but kaveh does not want alhaitham. because kaveh cannot allow himself to want, not as kaveh is the way he is now, curled along the riverbank with a smile like the waning sun.
alhaitham looks. of course he does. ]
You will think as you will, just as I will think as I will. [ alhaitham's hand reaches for kaveh. gently, he pushes back the unruly fringe of his hair. he pulls a spare clip from his pocket so that he can pin it back.
instead, what he says is the truth, and no more: ] You matter to me.
[ alhaitham shakes his head. ] What also matters to me is that you will attempt to draw the lotus of today once more tonight. Will you not like to see if your attempt is worse or better than mine?
no subject
It will be worse, [ he begins, then, smile still on his face. a kaveh of the past would've flaunted his confidence, for which man who has dedicated his life to drawing would do worse than another who has just recently picked a pencil?
that, here, is not the case, for kaveh continues: ] My body is tired and I won't be able to draw straight lines. It will be worse, and you will use that as ammunition to have me try again tomorrow. You never ask when I'm well-rested.
[ it's about the routine, he knows. the consistency and the ambition to keep on trying, and keep on living, for what else motivates someone if not a hope to cling onto and a dream to chase? kaveh is, and has long been, a withering flower. to be fed sunlight and watered consistently only delay the inevitable, but at the very least, it makes him feel alive. that, he finds, is enough. ]
You know the routine is comforting. That's how you keep me grounded. I've had enough change in my life, after all.
no subject
kaveh says this with the lightness of a man who knows the measure of his own fingers. in turn, alhaitham breathes out. the breath comes out not in the way of a sigh, but in the way of a scroll of a letter, the beginning of a paragraph, a bullet point of a chapter. his fingers fall from kaveh's face. the clip remains. it holds back the flaxen gold of his hair. it does nothing for the fatigue along the long lines of kaveh's face. it gathers, like rainwater, beneath the curve of his eyes and in the lilt of his lips.
what alhaitham does not say: that alhaitiham cannot be the world, because kaveh is not alhaitham. ]
If so, then shall I ask you to draw every day from now on? If the routine comforts you, then routine can be created. Though keep in mind: I have never asked you when you are well-rested, Kaveh, because you are never well-rested.