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

Mortality [Chp. 4/?]

Apologies for being gone for so long (2 Months+). Exams are again coming next month and I'm quite stressed these days. Also I think I broke my leg, but eh. Take this 5k chapter as an apology. ;v;

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The mixed and churned fragrance from the jars of exquisite wine, the freshly baked loaves of bread and sweetened treats, and the flowers of which hang onto the roof of florists' stalls, is an indulgent delight. In its wake, it drapes the city's agora, flooding the streets with their alluring scent.

Then there is the vulgar stench of raw meat being perched by waste-dwelling flies, the glass-shattering calls of mortals that pound his head as they try to sell their wares, and the occasional nudges at the shoulders by passing mortals. It is enough to drive Alhaitham into the consideration of leaving the mortal realm until all souls are residing in the Underworld, but he does not. The blond man beside Alhaitham gives him a suffice reason. It is he who restrains Alhaitham's unusual irrational decisions without acknowledgment.

Kaveh is smiling. It is not the smile of lips glued shut, but one where his teeth show to brace the brutality of ever-fleeting life and the essence of mortality. It is not the smile of hidden inner torment, nor is it a show for hidden mockery; it is simply one that spells his contempt with the Fates' decisions. But what is the architect smiling for? Is it for the people who wave their hands at the blond? Is it because of the weak butterfly that rested on Kaveh's head when he was still? It fluttered its wings and swiftly flew away the moment the architect sneezed abruptly, but the small creature leaves a fragment for the temporarily incomplete glass pane of memory.

In the end, the divine knows why. The glimpse of an escaping gaze from Kaveh himself, the small brush on the back of their palms as they are standing beside the other, and the attempt at a muffled laugh is enough to prove his claims. Alhaitham confesses: he is not the most proficient at emotions despite the many amounts of time his fingers have traced words invoked with passion which were littered across each engraved sentence. However, the Goddess of The Hunt knows of emotion as much as the bounty on an infamous mortal outlaw's head. Dehya's ego would have made the entirety of Greece into an animal empire if she were to hear that.

The god knows that it is the presence of companionship's comfort that leads the man to stretch the edges of his lips upwards. Alhaitham simply knows. Rationality plays only a part in the puzzle for a complex answer. The rest is decided by the heart; no matter how absurd it sounds. Though still an unconfirmed answer to the architect's actions, it brings the ever-benevolent spring's warmth to his chest.

"Hey! Haitham, stop ignoring me. When will you pay attention?! Did your ears fall off? As I said, there's..." The rest of Kaveh's words leaves the realm of the god's mind. And Ah. Had he been enamored by his thoughts for such a long time that it was enough to be noticed? "Alhaitham," drawls the blond, patience slowly thinning like a small harp's strings when fingers weave through and paint it with the illusion of transparency to the eyes of the unfocused.

"My ears fell off the moment you repeated yourself," Alhaitham retorts. The God of Literature folds his arms as the blond beside him shoots repeating glares at him with those bloody-red eyes of his. It brings the impression of taking a finely forged blade, still stinging hot from the blacksmith's furnace, and impaling it into through one's heart. If this was Kaveh's murder plan, it would be considered absolutely futile. He is immortal; death does not dare to touch even a single strand of his moon-silver hair.

" You- Argh. Come here; I need your help," says Kaveh. Without warning, the architect grabs Alhaitham's hand and tugs at it, attempting to pull him away. The god stands stiffly, not once moving from his position. Clearly, the architect's strength alone is not enough, as he ends up purposely stepping on Alhaitham's feet in defeat with might comparable to that of a canine's soft paws. It is quite humorous witnessing the architect's failure to tow him away to an unknown destination. Kaveh frowns at his wasted effort before taking slow-paced steps deeper into the crowd. A wordless invitation.