Kaveh has Hanahaki. He’s gone and fallen in love with his devastating hot frustrating, annoying junior. No problem. Alhaitham loves him back.
No, the problem is that Kaveh doesn’t believe him.
(Or, Alhaitham would burn down Irminsul if it meant he could erase the doubt from Kaveh’s eyes.)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
It's a lovely peaceful morning and Alhaitham wakes up in dread.
The bed is cold and the spot next to him is empty. Despair wells up in Alhaitham’s heart. It lingers for a few brief seconds before Alhaitham swallows it whole and accepts.
Before, spring used to be one of Alhaitham's favorite seasons. The temperatures are mild, not too hot, not too cold. The humidity is bearable, not sticky hot like it is in the summer. Spring brought forth new beginnings, a new year.
Now spring fills Alhaitham with grief.
Alhaitham takes a deep breath as he sits up in bed. He centers himself. A hope burns in his chest, unwanted and unrealistic but burns regardless.
He gets out of bed and quietly pads down the hallway. The sound of running water and hacking grow louder as he pushes open the door.
Kaveh is hunched over the sink. His chest heaves, deep raspy breaths as he struggles for air. The water swirls in the basin, pink instead of clear. The coppery scent of blood fills the room. And there on the counter edge, a single red petal of a mourning flower sits, blood pooling beneath it.
The tiny light of hope that Alhaitham always keeps burning in his heart every year extinguishes.
The water turns off and Kaveh’s chest heaves and heaves but slowly relaxes.
Kaveh turns and in the morning light, Alhaitham can see the unshed tears in his eyes. He can see the guilt, the shame, and worse, the fear.
Alhaitham hates seeing Kaveh like this.
“Sorry,” Kaveh croaks out, throat rubbed raw.
