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There are a lot of things Kaveh notices about Alhaitham.
Alhaitham has a particular spot on the divan, and he always likes sitting or laying there. It’s always the left, and lies on his right, and holds his book with his left, while his hair obstructs his vision—Kaveh often wonders how he’s able to read with all that hair in front of his face. Maybe it’s because of all that hair that Alhaitham mistakenly takes his keys with him to the Akademiya…
His headphones are placed gently on the table when he’s lying, but on his ears when he’s sitting. Sometimes he lies on his back, and when he does, his legs are outstretched; but when he lies on his right, then he likes to curl up and read, sometimes he has a blanket draped over him, and sometimes he doesn’t.
Alhaitham is at his most peaceful when he’s reading on the divan, and somehow he’s also at his most annoying.
“Should I make something for dinner? Or should we go out? I heard Lambad’s has a new menu item,” Kaveh asks from the kitchen as he rummages through the pantry. He is fully aware Alhaitham does not have his headphones on, because he saw the headphones on the coffee table and because Alhaitham is lying on his right. He is fully aware that Alhaitham’s hearing is better than most, and he is also fully aware Alhaitham heard him loud and clear.
So when he doesn’t hear a reply, he pokes his head out from the pantry and huffs. “Alhaitham!”
“I heard you the first time.”
“Then you should’ve replied me the first time.”
“Do whatever you want, I don’t mind.” He can’t exactly see Alhaitham from where he stands in the kitchen, but he can hear the divan shifting as Alhaitham moves on it—likely shifting to lie on his back.
“I’m asking for your opinion!”
“And my opinion is that I don’t mind whatever you choose to do for dinner tonight.” Kaveh sighs, pinching his nose-bridge. Leave it to Alhaitham to make his everyday life harder.
Alhaitham often tells him he should make his own decisions, decisions which are not impacted or influenced by the wishes of others and by what he desires. Decisions for his own self-satisfying reasons, rather than self-sacrificing—he should stand firm in those decisions. While Kaveh admits there is some truth to what he says, not every decision should be his to make. Some decisions require the opinions of more than one person, like dinner for example!
Dinner is to be shared, to be enjoyed and to be a moment of conversation. It is to satiate the appetite, yes, but it is just as much of a social event as it is a basic human function.
“Then I’m going to make dinner,” Kaveh decides. He’s met with quiet again. “Alhaitham!” He walks out to the divan to see Alhaitham on his back with his headphones in and his book in front of his face. “Did you hear me?”
He moves to the back of the divan of where Alhaitham is lying. “Dinner will be at home.”
“And you don’t need me to validate your decision,” Alhaitham replies, pushing one ear of his headphones away to reply and to hear him. “I already told you I’m fine with anything, did you not hear me earlier?”
“I did, but I was merely informing you.”
“Well, I am now informed. Is there anything else you wish to inform me of? If not, then I’m going to get back to my book.”
“I’m making stew,” Kaveh decides, and Alhaitham gives him a look which he knows all too well what it means.
It is a look which Alhaitham always gives him whenever Kaveh does something on purpose to tick him off. It is a look which tells Kaveh he is both unimpressed, but also a little annoyed. But it is a look Kaveh takes joy in seeing when he’s annoyed with Alhaitham as well.
They are both the same.
“Fine.” Alhaitham adjusts the ear of his headphones again and just like that, music fills his environment and the words bloom into fully realised, vivid worlds of imagination where knowledge enriches the soil wisdom blooms from.
Kaveh lets out a puff of light annoyance, but leaves him alone anyway. He knows better than to pull Alhaitham out of his garden of curiosity. When Alhaitham gets his hands on a book he’s been anticipating or when there’s a book which has piqued his interest, he becomes what Kaveh imagines a younger version of him to act. Not even the version from when he knew him from the Akademiya, but a version that he’s never seen and a version which only one other person has ever seen him.
He becomes absorbed by the book, often spending days over it; meticulously reading each line and processing the paragraphs he’s just finished; he stares at the pages and reflects on what he’s read; the book doesn’t leave his hands and sometimes the book can be found next to him on his bed in the morning while he’s still asleep.
Kaveh finds it endearing. He likes seeing the way Alhaitham’s eyes react to each line, the way it widens when he finds something particularly interesting, the way narrows when he finds something he doesn’t necessarily agree with; the way his eyebrows scrunch when he’s deciphering something; the way his pupils subtly widen when he likes a specific line; the way a small smile creeps on his lips when he finds something amusing.
There is so much visual language that can communicate; there is so much which can tell a person something even without words—that is what Kaveh loves. Architecture tells a story visually; words only mean so much in the field of architecture—what you see is more important. The way it’s built tells you about its creator, what they value, what they like stylistically, what they have considered, and what they have not.
Colour tells a story without words; it signifies to the brain unconsciously and communicates meaning. Colours are associated with meaning, colours bring life, colours tell a bigger story—colours are important in the medium of art, because they tell a person much more than what they can ever realise. What those colours mean to certain people is up for debate, because colour is a language, and language is interpretive.
Where Kaveh speaks in what the eye can see, Alhaitham visualises in what the ear can hear.
Mehrak beeps as Kaveh is midway through preparing the ingredients for their dinner. It’s something simple for the stomach and easy for the hands; rice and stew.
The sounds of chopping fill the kitchen; green vegetables already sliced on a separate chopping board; red meat that’s still being cubed by experienced hands; rice that’s washed and ready to be steamed. Various spices sit neatly on their spice rack, their usual bowls and plates sit just outside the cabinet doors, pots sit on the stove ready to be used.
Alhaitham sees the world much differently than Kaveh does—or perhaps it’s better to say that he hears the world rather than sees it.
There is an old policy in the Haravatat Darshan that states that in order to graduate, students must study at least twenty languages. While that policy is no longer enforced, nor even applicable, Kaveh does not doubt that Alhaitham actually did study twenty languages. He had always been different, and no doubt, his intellect and curiosity would’ve manifested in those twenty languages.
Kaveh does not understand most of the languages Alhaitham knows, he knows some due to them being compulsory in several classes throughout his time as a student, but he does not need to know twenty languages to communicate with Alhaitham.
Well.
A long time ago, they couldn’t even communicate with one, and it took them years before they could even muster communicating altogether. Even now, they haven't mastered communicating, but they're miles better from where they had started.
Communicating is one thing, communication is another.
They speak the same language, but they can’t agree on a way to say that language; they share the same words, but they can’t agree on how those words are interpreted; they have the same understanding of what they mean, but they don’t have the same understanding either.
The rice steams away in the pot while the stew bubbles away. The smell of freshly cooked rice is fragrant, it’s distinct, it’s clean in a way. There’s a scent of turmeric in the air as the meat combines with the rest of the herb-infused mixture; it’s a little spicy, it’s recognisable, it’s home, and it fills the house.
Visually, Kaveh can tell the stew is almost done, but his nose tells him it just needs a little bit more time than what his eyes say. When he goes to stir the rice, he can tell it’s cooked, but it’s just not quite there yet texturally.
There is one form of communication that combines both visual and audio, and it is a form of communication which Alhaitham is still better than Kaveh at.
Lip reading.
Kaveh wonders if Alhaitham is much more proficient at it due to his nature of study, or if he just learnt to work with it after creating his headphones. He wonders if it’s because he’s spent his time studying syntax and structure, and twenty languages that seeing the way people’s lips move and change is how he eventually developed that skill of lip reading. He wonders if it could be because his headphones are noise cancelling, and thus eventually developed that skill to bypass having to actually listen to people.
Maybe it’s one or the other, or maybe it’s both. Either way, Alhaitham is a little too proficient at that skill.
He’s seen Alhaitham lip reading others from a great distance away, and he’s seen Alhaitham notice the slightest tell from people’s words just from reading the twitch in their face. He notices that Alhaitham often looks at people in the lips rather than their eyes; people tend to say that eyes are the window to the soul, but perhaps for Alhaitham, lips are the door to their hearts.
It makes Kaveh shudder just thinking about Alhaitham’s frightening ability, because more often than not, his dear partner has often been able to extrapolate his mood and true intentions just by listening or looking at him. He often thanks the Archons that Alhaitham uses this ability for “good” rather than for anything nefarious—if you could count annoying him as nefarious?
Mehrak flies out to inform Alhaitham of dinner while Kaveh brings out their dinner. As usual, with Kaveh, his plating is visually pleasing and also practical to the person who will be eating.
Rice is piled and pushed to one side of the plate while stew fills the other; it is efficient for Alhaitham who does not wish to clean two pieces of dishware, but it is also practical for Kaveh who doesn’t like mixing his food altogether.
“Beep boop,” Mehrak greets him with Alhaitham in tow. Alhaitham who is still reading the same book since that afternoon when Kaveh went to ask whether they should eat out or in.
He must really like that book, is what Kaveh notes as he notices Alhaitham’s rapt attention on it. His irises follow the line he reads, his hair is messy from him lying on the divan, his headphones are still on and over his ears and his expression is one of intrigue.
“Thanks for the food,” Alhaitham says as he sits down, his eyes momentarily leaving his garden of imagination to return to reality and scan the landscape before him. “Stew though…”
“If you had been a little more responsive, we’d be eating something else,” Kaveh ‘hmph’s as he begins to dig in.
“I’m not complaining about the food, I’m just merely pointing out that it’s unfavourable when reading,” Alhaitham replies, his turquoise eyes trailing back to the last line he left off. “I’m still thankful for the dinner.”
“You could just not read when having dinner,” Kaveh points out. “Ever thought of that?”
“Of course I have, but I’ve just started a new chapter and the introduction to it has already piqued me.”
“Urgh, fine,” Kaveh relents. “But you’re doing the dishes.” He receives a hum in reply and decides he’ll ramble to Mehrak instead.
Kaveh’s ramblings slowly blend into the background noise Alhaitham had always associated with when he still lived with his grandmother. He glances once and notes that Kaveh is talking to Mehrak about what he should paint next. Landscapes? Portraits? Abstract? The world is his oyster.
He notes how Kaveh’s hair is always pinned up, and never falls across his vision so as to not obscure his eyes when dealing with meticulous planning and intricate drawings. Kaveh eats with his left, but gestures with his right and sits relaxed in his chair. His earrings move with him and the pen tucked behind his ear is likely from the morning he had spent on a client’s blueprint.
Kaveh looks back at Alhaitham after rambling about perhaps starting a painting on a landscape, or maybe a portrait. Nothing much appears to have changed, with only that Alhaitham’s plate is a little more empty now and that his expression is now one of mild amusement—whatever Alhaitham was reading, he did not agree.
All good books are disagreeable in some ways.
That’s the kind of enjoyment Alhaitham gets from reading, Kaveh supposes it’s the same way all good art is ugly in some ways.
His plate is now empty and clean of food, leaving only marks of stew which his spoon couldn’t quite clean off and his glass of water is half empty. Kaveh rests his chin on his right hand and observes Alhaitham; he doubts Alhaitham notices, nor does he really care. His attention likely still on the book, and perhaps whatever music is filling his mind as he picks out what seeds of knowledge to sow in the garden he calls his mind.
He observes how those orange-ringed golden pupils are dilated as they follow the words on the page; how his lips are pursed as he contemplates the writer’s views and occasionally quietly mumble to himself about something; how his grey hair shines from the evening light that falls from the windows and has seeped into their dining room and onto their figures.
Alhaitham’s hands are somewhat well-kept, they are not hardened by hard work or weather, just natural wear from the occasional swordsmanship and penwork. There are writing callouses on both his hands; his thumb, index and middle fingers are noticeably tanner compared to the rest of his hand as a result of using his smudge guard.
Kaveh hums.
Alhaitham glances.
He notes how Kaveh’s expression is a little bored, but also a little expectant––just like a little puppy waiting for its owner to finish a task they were doing. Kaveh is not wearing any makeup, but he still takes good care of his skin and of himself in general. His lips are soft pink, and they are a little pouty, likely from the lack of attention Alhaitham had been giving him all day and had instead been directing at his new book.
His lips part just enough for Alhaitham to see the bottom and top of his teeth and his tongue, then it moves to almost close but not quite, it stretches almost into a line, but not quite. It’s like a smile, but not so.
He moves his mouth again, but it’s almost as though he’s throwing the words out. His tongue touches the back of the top line of teeth, then rolls down as he moves his mouth.
Then, his lips naturally move into a slight kiss-like motion.
Alhaitham puffs an air of fond amusement as he returns to his book.
Kaveh is caught off-guard.
He hadn’t expected Alhaitham to have heard him, let alone caught a glance.
“D-did you read my lips?!”
“How could I have not?” Alhaitham hums as he leaves a bookmark and closes his book. “You say those words the most often.” Kaveh sputters, still caught off-guard and slightly embarrassed. Of course Alhaitham had to glance at him the moment he decided to say something.
“I—you—!” Kaveh huffs, trying to control his flustered state while Alhaitham begins to collect the plates and clean up.
“What is there to be embarrassed about? You say it often, do you not?” Alhaitham points out as he walks to the kitchen and sure enough, Kaveh follows after him.
“Yes! But I didn’t think you saw or heard me!”
“Even if I didn’t see or hear you, you would’ve said it regardless,” Alhaitham points out as he turns on the tap. “So there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I just didn’t think you heard me! I was caught off-guard!” Kaveh defends, still blushing. “I was just saying something on my mind, and besides! I didn’t mean for you to hear it—not that I didn’t want you to hear it— I’m just saying that I just wanted to say it for myself and that I didn’t think you heard it—!”
“I love you too, Kaveh.”
Alhaitham’s lips always end with a smile when he says Kaveh’s name, as though it was habitual; as though it became part of his procedural memory rather than something conscious he did.
It is one of those things Kaveh only later noticed after they got together officially.
It is the one thing Kaveh can read from Alhaitham’s lips.
Kaveh can’t help but smile at those words and at Alhaitham’s expression. Alhaitham who never fails to let Kaveh know he’s always listening; that he’s always present; that he’s always a constant in his life despite all the turbulence that occurs and has occurred.
“I’m going out tomorrow, I need to get a few things.”
There are a lot of things Kaveh notices about Alhaitham.
“For your next painting?”
But there are also a lot of things Kaveh continues to notice about Alhaitham.
“I’m thinking of doing a portrait.”
Alhaitham never fails to see the way Kaveh loves him.
“Of who?”
Kaveh never fails to hear the way Alhaitham loves him.
“You.”