In Silence, Only the Memory of You Remains. [Haikaveh]

CHAPTER FIVE

With the arrival of morning, Alhaitham was the first to wake up. His eyes fluttered open slowly, the soft glow of dawn filtering through the window casting a golden hue across the room. It was unusual for him to wake with such heaviness; the weight of an unusually peaceful sleep pressed him down, keeping him grounded. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he had slept soundly.

Once awake, His gaze drifted to Kaveh, whose form was still tucked beside him, breathing steadily. Alhaitham remained still for a moment longer, his eyes tracing the soft rise and fall of Kaveh's chest. The architect's golden hair spilled across the pillow in gentle waves, framing his face in a way that highlighted his delicate features—the faint curve of his lips, the peaceful crease of his brow. In the quiet of the morning, Kaveh looked fragile yet serene, as if the weight of his pain had lifted just for this fleeting moment.

The scribe stared at him longer, and allowed himself to linger in that thought, the warmth of Kaveh's body close to his making his chest tighten. The way Kaveh seemed to relax in his presence—it made something stir in him, something unfamiliar yet undeniably tender. His fingers, still resting on the bed, twitched, itching to brush against Kaveh's cheek, to confirm that this was real and not some fragile illusion crafted by his mind.

With a soft exhale, Alhaitham carefully shifted out of the bed, making sure not to disturb Kaveh's sleep. His movements were slow and deliberate, each step a quiet effort to preserve this tranquil scene. Once on his feet, he glanced at Kaveh one last time before quietly slipping out of the room.

In the kitchen, Alhaitham moved with purpose, though his mind remained occupied by the sight of Kaveh sleeping. He began preparing a simple breakfast—his version of pita pockets, a dish he had perfected for mornings like this.

As he worked, his eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, and a small frown creased his brow. It was already late—much later than he usually allowed himself to sleep in. Work would no doubt be waiting, the responsibilities piling up in his absence. But as he closed his eyes and exhaled, he found he couldn't bring himself to care. Lesser Lord Kusanali would understand, he reasoned. Today, this was more important.

When he finished, Alhaitham plated two portions of the pita pockets into bowls and carried them back to the room. The quiet air of the bedroom greeted him as he entered, Kaveh still sound asleep. He placed the bowls on the table before sitting back on the bed, watching Kaveh's gentle slumber for a moment longer. A rare softness tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Kaveh," he called softly, his voice a tender thread of sound in the stillness. He leaned closer, his fingers brushing through Kaveh's tousled hair as he gently gathered the golden strands away from his face. "Wake up."

The blonde stirred, a low groan escaping him as his face twisted in discomfort. His eyes fluttered open, and for a brief second, pain etched itself into his features. He winced, his body instinctively curling tighter, as though the memory of the previous night had returned to haunt him in his sleep.

Alhaitham's expression tightened. "Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

Kaveh nodded, his breath shallow as he pointed wordlessly to the nightstand where Alhaitham had left the headphones. Understanding instantly, Alhaitham reached over and placed them gently onto Kaveh's head. Once they were settled, Kaveh exhaled, the tension in his body loosening ever so slightly.

"These things are amazing," Kaveh murmured through the mental link, his voice clearer now, calmer. His lips curled into a faint, appreciative smile as the pain ebbed.

Alhaitham couldn't help but let a small smile cross his own lips. "I'd have to agree."

Kaveh shifted slightly, his eyes flickering over to the scribe, who was watching him with that ever-familiar analytical gaze. Yet, there was something softer beneath it now. "How do you feel?" Alhaitham asked, his voice as measured as ever, but the underlying warmth couldn't be ignored. "Can you move your legs yet?"