There were words left unsaid. Each party at the end of the day had felt guilty for never saying them aloud to the other and now it was far past too late – everything had already gone up in smoke.
They had gone up in smoke.
Alibaba likes to think that deep down, buried in molten gold, that his unspoken whispers were understood when there was still time. Likes to think that someday when he doesn't lay awake at night feeling like he's being set on fire, he'll see his brother and friend again. At least feel the flutter of the rukh that once made Cassim whole.
The young prince never hesitates to shed a few tears when he wakes up and still feels a cold loneliness. The weight atop him never lifting – even a little – in the face of what he had done despite being forgiven and Cassim's anger pacified.
Still, the feel of holding ashes never washes out of Alibaba's skin.
To the song of 'Burning House' by Cam. This was meant to be either platonic or romantic - it's all up to how y'all wanna interpret it.