𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐘 -★彡[ᴋᴀᴠᴇʜ​]★彡

𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦 - 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴

Kaveh hadn't slept in forty hours. His quill etched across the page without stopping—no, it couldn't stop. He had always been one to take particular care in his craft, wanting to ensure that he delivered the best possible product that he could muster. For this house, he had to make sure that it was perfect. He was running on a limited time period which only meant that he had to spend every waking hour working tirelessly to complete the constructions before (Y/n)'s passing. Entering the apartment, Alhaitham let out a sigh.

    "You're still working? You've been at it for forty hours, you should take a rest." Although his tone was harsh, he seemed relatively well-meaning which simply caused Kaveh to feel even more irritated than he was before.

    "I'm fine," he replied, "I need to get this done."

    Alhaitham stared at his roommate, who had grown so negligent of his own health that he had begun to lose weight. Dark circles hung under his normally shrewd gaze, and his hand trembled every once in a while to show his exhaustion. He figured that surely Kaveh, with the amount of rigorous education he received in his craft, would come to the realization that the feat he was attempting to pull off was stretching beyond the realm of human capability.

    Almost a week had passed since Kaveh had returned from visiting his childhood friend, in which afterwards he had gotten so drunk that the hangover he had the next morning induced multiple bouts of vomit. The air of despair that swarmed around his entire existence reminded Alhaitham of how he had been back when the issues in his family had threatened to take over his life.

    "You can't be serious," he leaned on the doorframe and glared at Kaveh, "what good will this do? You and I both know that it's impossible to create a fully embellished functioning living space within the span of a few weeks, potentially even less than that."

    "Shut up."

    "The more you try to run away from the truth, the worse it will come back to bite you in the end," Alhaitham continued. "Shouldn't you be spending time with her instead of trying to strive for a construction that is theoretically something that you're incapable of doing?"

    "How do you know what's best?" Kaveh's grip on the quill tightened so much that it snapped, feebly hanging down whilst broken in the middle. "You don't know her at all. You don't know how she feels, so stop acting like some sort of messiah. You didn't hear the words she said on that day—you didn't see the look in her eyes!" He was shaking now, his eyes focused on the messy sketch in front of him. "She's given up on life and accepted her fate. How can I face her when I so desperately want her to live? The look in her eyes...it's the same as my father's."

    Kaveh didn't want to remember those eyes—the soulless, half-hearted glint that showed a complete submission to your life's end—it was as if the person was waiting for their own demise. Don't leave me behind. He found that his conscious mind had been brought back to his father all over again, the memories of their childhood washing through his senses and filling him once more with guilt and despair. Don't go. I beg of you, I will do everything you ask, and I will sacrifice everything I have, just don't go somewhere beyond my reach.