They start as friends, become estranged acquaintances, and are forced into being roommates, only to dissolve into whatever this is.
Opposites attract, is something that Kaveh's mother used to joke about when he'd curled into her lap and she'd read him bedtime stories. There is no rhyme or reason to love, she'd say whilst petting his hair, a book cracked open on her knee. It just is.
Just as they are.
Kaveh is not sure when it happened but over time they just naturally gravitated toward each other. They wax and wane, sure. It's taken years to get to this point but now that they're here it's stupidly easy to give into the temptation.
Alhaitham only smiles at him, soft little quirks of his mouth that he doesn't bother to hide. And Kaveh—well. He draws him. Alhaitham fills his sketchbooks, the backs of his blueprints, spare napkins and loose-leaf paper, and even crumpled menus in the bars he spends time in. Together they share in gentle acts of kindness, little things that to most are likely just basic parts of a relationship.
For them, these are steps forward, sideways, and then backward because both of them are awkward to deny that they want this, or confirm that they need it. And so— It just is.
His mother's words haunt him every time Alhaitham catches him staring. Alhaitham haunts him too with his sharp eyes that seem to peer right into Kaveh's soul. It's unfair. Alhaitham is supposed to be smart in everything except this, because that is hard the trope goes, isn't it?
Instead, they drift closer, a constant game of push and pull until they thrive in each other's presence. Kaveh's work is smoother if Alhaitham sits near, reading a book. They save on coffee if they brew it together, and Alhaitham is a decent enough cook if Kaveh looks past the way he tends to burn the bread.
Easy and effortless, yet complicated. They pine and pine but say nothing, which makes everything seem more like a sordid affair.
Kaveh wants him, of course. Fully. Wholeheartedly. Love is surprisingly easy when it's gilded in gold and has green accents, the only colors that are found in his pencil tin nowadays. And he isn't stupid. Kaveh has eyes and knows Alhaitham like the back of his hand, and though it may not be love for him, Alhaitham isn't an entire bastard.
Hugs, lingering touches, and gentle laughs. They still bark at each other but their snide remarks are softened by the lack of heat behind them. Then kisses—soft pecks against foreheads, and fingers combing through each other's hair. Two men can share these things without it spiraling into something deeper. But, but—
Kaveh wishes he could say those damn words. He wishes Alhaitham would say them too because Gods forbid, he will not be the one to break the silence.
There is an understanding, of a sort. They fuck each other, they cuddle in bed, they do dumb little things like cook and fold each other's laundry, horrifically domestic things that only make Kaveh's heart beat faster.
"What are you thinking about?"
Kaveh lays in Alhaitham's bed because he's too lazy to go back to his own, and Alhaitham is too tired post coitus to kick him out. He turns to Alhaitham, his cheek cradled by a pillow that smells like pine. "My mother used to read to me when I was a child, you know."
Alhaitham quirks an eyebrow. "A stimulating experience that no other child has ever experienced."
"Shove it."
"I do think that I've already done that tonight, albeit in a far pleasing manner."
Kaveh's face burns red as he pushes against Alhaitham's chest. "Gods, you're—I was trying to be—" Be what? Romantic? They may be laying there in sex-stained sheets but this is hardly the moment for baring himself.
Still.
"She'd read me romance. Now that I'm older I know it's because those are the only books she had, but as a kid, I loved them."
Alhaitham is quiet for a moment as he ponders this. The room is dark and his face is shadowed, but Kaveh can still make the furrow that creases his brow in the dwindling candlelight. Eventually, he asks, "Is that what you want? A grandiose romance?"
A loaded question, one that Kaveh knows he should answer carefully. He does not. "Grandiose? No. Something normal, something…" Like what they have. He catches himself before he says it, giving himself away. "I am not picky," he finishes.
"Kaveh, you are the pickiest man that I know."
"And yet, I've chosen to debase myself with you."
Kaveh expects Alhaitham to find offense in his words. He looks fond, his eyes creased with laugh lines as he chuckles, ducking close. "The worst sort of curse."
"Am I cursed? Or are you just persistent?"
Alhaitham's mouth has just latched onto the soft line of Kaveh's throat when he pauses. Whatever necking he had in mid winds up as a sweet kiss to Kaveh's pulse instead. "The habit of persistence is the habit of victory."
Kaveh snorts. "Where'd you pick up that terrible drivel?" Alhaitham shifts until he's hanging over Kaveh with a too warm gaze for their friendly relationship. "And what are you trying to win?"
He can dream. Alhaitham probably dreams too, and Kaveh's wish is that it might be his flaxen hair spread over Alhaitham's pillow.
"Do you want to fuck again?"
"Romantic, aren't you?" Alhaitham rolls away, tugging Kaveh with him until they're tangled together. He presses his face into Kaveh's nape, inhaling deeply. "I like this, actually," he hums, his warm breath fanning over Kaveh's collarbone. "Just laying here, with you."
Kaveh's heart flip-flops. They gravitate toward each other so easily, like the moon circles the earth, always in each other's orbit. Kaveh swallows thickly, throat bobbing against Alhaitham's nose, which makes him chuckle softly and kiss it.
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