[ there's a budding feeling in his chest that, kaveh finds, is suffocating. he does not know what to name it, but knows why it's there at all.
the normalcy is sickening, as though his body is allergic to it. the requests are unusual. kaveh does not make tea, nor does he have a tendency to order food for delivery. those, he finds, are luxuries. this is not a stage he belongs in.
and so, kaveh does not partake in it. ]
... You're aware what I'm here for, right? When they told you I could offer you my services, ordering food for you wasn't exactly included.
[ because, at the end of the day, it's still not against their terms and conditions. but what is kaveh to do with this nauseating feeling, if not push it away? is that not, after all, how he treats each and every inconvenience in his life? ]
If you just wanted company, I'm sure there are other services that do the job better, and for far cheaper. Or you could, I don't know, get yourself a housekeeper?
[ kaveh stops. the hush goes with him. into the silent din comes three questions - two said, one unsaid. two regarding the clarification of task and presence. one in a way of a wayward child: who am i, to you? what am i? alhaitham is fluent in all three. it has him look up at last into the murk to the spotlight of kaveh at the kitchen counter, peering past it with eyes the colour of a titian sunset. kaveh takes a stand. alhaitham thinks - good.
no self-respecting individual wouldn't.
in turn, alhaitham puts down his chess piece. the click of the piece reverberates throughout the enclosed space of the apartment. it bridges a gap between him and kaveh, a single sound meant both as bridge and entendre. ]
I do not have a housekeeper because I do not need one. [ alhaitham says, in the verbal form of a shrug. and then: ] Are you saying no?
kaveh takes a stand, not because he has an ounce of self-respect. it is exactly because he does not that he voices his concerns. it is because he would much rather be used the way he is meant to be that he speaks up. the normalcy is sickening. this is not a life he is meant to be part of.
still. still. the words make him recoil. it shows on his body, the way kaveh nearly cowers, the way he takes a step back, the way he lowers his head. what an embarrassing situation to be in. that a client could bring such a reaction out of him is repugnant. it eats at him, and kaveh feels himself bleed. saying no means defiance, and a want for autonomy. kaveh neither wants, nor has known independence in twenty years.
[ and the folding of a house of cards. it begins like this: the backwards step that reverberates along the hardwood floors of alhaitham's apartment. in chess, the pieces cannot go backwards. it is a rule as ironclad as the game is old, more law than regulation; for all that you can discuss and prod and pry answers from era-defining plays and the psychology of players involved, there are certain things that are immutable. kaveh takes a single step back in the face of an advancing pawn, and alhaitham thinks -
that the walls of this apartment are not large enough to encompass the both of them. it would be the last time he thinks this, but the realisation comes first. there is always a first. a child saying yes to a stranger with a lifeline had his first. every other assent that comes after, then, are merely stones that follow the first, each laid down through relentless hands. kaveh looks away, and alhaitham looks - first at the line of his neck in the hallway light, and then, once again, back down to his board. ]
Order two portions from wherever that seems will deliver the soonest. [ in the shadows of the living room, alhaitham pulls out his credit card. he places it on the other side of the chessboard.
the sound is a soft rasp of plastic against wood. alhaitham's head lowers. ] Use my card.
establishing kvh's outfit to be this: https://twitter.com/iluvecstasy/status/1677230302186336258
[ good, kaveh thinks. there is, at least, an unspoken mercy at his behavior not being brought to light, or questioned, or acknowledged. there would have been clients before that would use it against him. exposing his weaknesses to them would be a death-sentence. here, there is no gratitude to be felt. instead, it comes in bouts of relief, and kaveh finds composure again. it has been a while since he has been this afraid. trauma, after all, doesn't go as easily. it settles its roots deep inside his skin, and feed off his existence.
it's always easier to relent and give in. that, kaveh has learned many, many years ago. life is kinder when one does not say no. he has scars, unseen, to back-up that belief. he takes one, then two, then three steps forward, and relents. what kaveh considers: the tea, the price, how long it would take to be prepared, and then, how long to be delivered.
They'll be here in fifteen minutes, [ is what he says, eventually, as he composes himself enough to approach the table again. he takes a look at the card, but does not take it yet. ] Anything else?
[ kaveh places the order. alhaitham listens to the cadence of his voice, not to the substance of it. it's deeper, but of course it is. the intervening years has filled out kaveh in ways that leave his younger self a mere figment of a shadow - the length of his hair, the shape of his face, the long line of his body and the way his fingers curve along the length of the phone. but he is still there, alhaitham thinks, that kaveh of years ago. that kaveh has never left him. it is in the steeped silence. it is in the gold of kaveh's hair and the red of his eyes. it's in the fear.
across the room, alhaitham continues to set the board. the pieces line themselves in orderly rows, the careful arrangement of which alhaitham knows in waking sleep. these are the pieces that have fought the battle most needed to be won. they now sit, prickled, in the gap between the act and the motion. the phone clicks off. kaveh speaks. and alhaitham, he lifts his head to look.
kaveh, like a polished mirror, looks back. he does not take alhaitham's card. ]
Come. [ alhaitham says. he gestures with the tip of his head. there is a seat across from him. the angle of his head says thus: sit with me. ]
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no subject
the normalcy is sickening, as though his body is allergic to it. the requests are unusual. kaveh does not make tea, nor does he have a tendency to order food for delivery. those, he finds, are luxuries. this is not a stage he belongs in.
and so, kaveh does not partake in it. ]
... You're aware what I'm here for, right? When they told you I could offer you my services, ordering food for you wasn't exactly included.
[ because, at the end of the day, it's still not against their terms and conditions. but what is kaveh to do with this nauseating feeling, if not push it away? is that not, after all, how he treats each and every inconvenience in his life? ]
If you just wanted company, I'm sure there are other services that do the job better, and for far cheaper. Or you could, I don't know, get yourself a housekeeper?
no subject
no self-respecting individual wouldn't.
in turn, alhaitham puts down his chess piece. the click of the piece reverberates throughout the enclosed space of the apartment. it bridges a gap between him and kaveh, a single sound meant both as bridge and entendre. ]
I do not have a housekeeper because I do not need one. [ alhaitham says, in the verbal form of a shrug. and then: ] Are you saying no?
no subject
kaveh takes a stand, not because he has an ounce of self-respect. it is exactly because he does not that he voices his concerns. it is because he would much rather be used the way he is meant to be that he speaks up. the normalcy is sickening. this is not a life he is meant to be part of.
still. still. the words make him recoil. it shows on his body, the way kaveh nearly cowers, the way he takes a step back, the way he lowers his head. what an embarrassing situation to be in. that a client could bring such a reaction out of him is repugnant. it eats at him, and kaveh feels himself bleed. saying no means defiance, and a want for autonomy. kaveh neither wants, nor has known independence in twenty years.
he looks away, and accepts defeat. ]
... What do you want to eat?
no subject
that the walls of this apartment are not large enough to encompass the both of them. it would be the last time he thinks this, but the realisation comes first. there is always a first. a child saying yes to a stranger with a lifeline had his first. every other assent that comes after, then, are merely stones that follow the first, each laid down through relentless hands. kaveh looks away, and alhaitham looks - first at the line of his neck in the hallway light, and then, once again, back down to his board. ]
Order two portions from wherever that seems will deliver the soonest. [ in the shadows of the living room, alhaitham pulls out his credit card. he places it on the other side of the chessboard.
the sound is a soft rasp of plastic against wood. alhaitham's head lowers. ] Use my card.
establishing kvh's outfit to be this: https://twitter.com/iluvecstasy/status/1677230302186336258
it's always easier to relent and give in. that, kaveh has learned many, many years ago. life is kinder when one does not say no. he has scars, unseen, to back-up that belief. he takes one, then two, then three steps forward, and relents. what kaveh considers: the tea, the price, how long it would take to be prepared, and then, how long to be delivered.
the café nearby that sells pita pockets is his choice, and he places the order with the voice of a man who does not have the job that he does, that has not lived the life that he has, who is not nearly as broken as he is. to wear a well-polished mask is a necessity if he is to survive in this field of work. this much, kaveh has learned long ago. ]
They'll be here in fifteen minutes, [ is what he says, eventually, as he composes himself enough to approach the table again. he takes a look at the card, but does not take it yet. ] Anything else?
no subject
across the room, alhaitham continues to set the board. the pieces line themselves in orderly rows, the careful arrangement of which alhaitham knows in waking sleep. these are the pieces that have fought the battle most needed to be won. they now sit, prickled, in the gap between the act and the motion. the phone clicks off. kaveh speaks. and alhaitham, he lifts his head to look.
kaveh, like a polished mirror, looks back. he does not take alhaitham's card. ]
Come. [ alhaitham says. he gestures with the tip of his head. there is a seat across from him. the angle of his head says thus: sit with me. ]