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Kaveh's mind at that moment was like his desk: messy. Filled with wrinkled and crumpled papers. All around the elbows he was pinning to the table. All over the floor, too. Some balls of paper had practically reached his living room. He dug his nails into one of them hard, giving it an irregular shape, and threw it backwards.


His puffy, reddish eyes matched the colour of his irises, as did the colour of his nose, now flushed. He didn't know how many hours he had been crying. He didn't know what time of the morning it was. An art block had consumed all his time and emotions.


What would become of an architect who couldn't draw anything? Was it the end of his career? He had been throwing out ideas for weeks, and his client deadlines were getting closer and closer. He was convinced he wouldn't make it. And hand in hand went the very destruction of his self-esteem.


A sigh escaped his lips with a few last tears. Tomorrow would be a new day. In those moments, he could not go on any longer. Exhaustion and tiredness were taking over his senses. Perhaps the distant aftertaste of alcohol on his taste buds added to it. He rose from his chair and shuffled out of the office. Once he turned off the light, he walked stealthily to his bed.


Or, at least, he thought it was his bed. They were pretty much the same, and Kaveh didn't feel like setting himself to differentiate between them in the gloom. His blurred vision and throbbing headache contributed to it as if it were an excuse.


Maybe it had been his body playing a trick on him, bringing out his true needs: Comfort. But Alhaitham didn't usually offer that, just a dose of reality. So why had he ended up lying next to him?


When Kaveh saw that he was awake, he pursed his lips. In those moments, he felt he would deserve any reprimand he was willing to throw in his face. Now that he looked closer, he wasn't even wearing his noise-cancelling headphones. That fact filled him with frustration. His greenish eyes watched them sleepily and neutrally. Judging him, he was certain of that.


"Go ahead, laugh at me. Or better yet, throw art careers under the bus now that you've surely heard me while I was whining about my failed projects."


Alhaitham did not laugh. Nor did he immediately complain. Instead, a long sigh escaped his lips before he wrapped his strong arms around him. Kaveh frowned and felt his lower lip quiver. His eyes watered again as he rested his head on his chest and hugged him properly.


"I heard you only because my headphones stopped working, I have to repair them." He explained solemnly, resting his head on top of his. "I've listened, along with your grunts, and seen several paper balls being stamped and thrown in different places. Also, you usually work yourself to sleep. It is, to say the least, unusual that you came here on your own. Do you have a creative block again, Kaveh?"


"Yes, I do." He grumbled immediately, slurring his words. "I'm an architect with an artist's block, ergo I'm nothing. Drawing is all I have to do, and I'm not even capable of that. I have five fucking assignments due by Sunday, and I haven't been able to finish even one of them. It's pathetic."


"Yeah." Kaveh frowned at his hurtful monosyllable. "Accepting five projects already indicates a greater degree of commitment than you can offer. Therefore, it adds pressure on your shoulders, and with it, goes hand in hand with staggering your perfectionism."

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