[Alhaitham x Kaveh: One Shots(?)] Through The Torn Pages And Crumbled Buildings

When Paint Runs Dry

Summary:
When fresh paint first makes contact with a bland canvas, it colors and creates. Kaveh was the paint, and Alhaitham was the canvas.

The canvas wanted to be painted to the fullest, but paint doesn't last that long. All will have to end one day.

Warning ⚠️:
Mentioned Character Death

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Alhaitham treasured his life. He had a stable job, a lovely house, books he bought with his own Mora to keep him occupied, what more could he ask for? The life he held was like a blank canvas- untouched and simple. The Scribe's daily routine was fixed; there was no room for intrusions in his peace. And so, he lived in perfect bliss for years after his graduation from the Akademiya.

Well, until he took in Kaveh. Alhaitham swore it was only pity that led him to that decision. Something foreign tugged his heart in retort.

Kaveh, in all ways, was the complete opposite of the Scribe. He had an outgoing and overall cheerful personality- a stark contrast to the Scribe's own. He followed his heart rather than rationality. He dared to brave the critical comments for his decision on the artistic path. He built a magnificent palace admired by those who sought the beauty of art. He was the Light Of Kshahrewar. He was the bright paint that splattered every dull surface with color. He was everything Alhaitham was not.

And so they clashed. It was expected, of course. Alhaitham knew that the moment they fought over a project during their Akademiya days when they were still considered friends. Their frequent arguments tore them apart, leaving the two to pursue their own path without the other. Alhaitham could not lie that he didn't miss the past.

So when he found Kaveh in a drunken stupor in Lambad's Tavern years after their last encounter, having no Mora to his name after being scammed by the Lord Sangemah Bay, Alhaitham offered the architect a room in his house- with the proper payment. The blonde scrunched his face, possibly contemplating whether to accept or reject. Alhaitham stood in front of him, arms crossed, awaiting a response. The mumbles and side glances told the Scribe the answer. He hauled a drunkard back to his house that night with the Scribe's thumping heart trailing behind.

It was that single decision that made his blank canvas of a life finally have a touch of color.

Alhaitham's schedule fell swiftly apart upon Kaveh's arrival. No longer was his house a quiet sanctuary. To when the sun rose and fell, there would be at least a single argument happening. They would argue from the decor to their rather personal life. The Scribe was sure Kaveh was the initiator of their daily bickering. If anything brought the architect even the slightest of inconveniences, he would storm up to Alhaitham demanding his help or to simply complain.

Friendly interactions were scarce between them, but not none. Sometimes it was shown through Kaveh's daily pestering. He would insist on cooking for the both of them, even if it did leave a mess. He would yell at Alhaitham to clean himself and have dinner after a full day's work. Sometimes it was shown through the silence that was rarely in their walls. The continuous tapping of a pen, the ruffling of a blueprint, the stroking of a brush, the pages on a book flipping. There was no noise, no yells, no arguments.

There was just them, and the heartbeats that rang in Alhaitham's own pair of ears as he stared at the busy blonde a few steps away from him. His lips turned to a small smile- one that is unrecognizable from afar. When was the last time they were like this? Right, it was when they were the junior and the senior in the Akademiya. They were in the House Of Daena, studying for the upcoming exam. They were still friends back then. And Alhaitham was a lovesick fool who fell for his senior.

That past Alhaitham still existed. It was neatly tucked away by the layers of heartbreak from Kaveh's departure and the quiet he endured for the years after. Now that the architect had returned to his bland life, he dared to brave the thought of love and emotions once more. The colors of paint had already begun to splatter against the empty canvas, he was just indulging in their presence.