a difference of opinion

by Anonymous

Summary:

Kaveh wakes up in Alhaitham's bed, but not for the reason he thinks. Chaos ensues.

Chapter 1: Discrepancy

There's a strange ringing sensation in Kaveh's head when he wakes up and realizes the sheets have the wrong thread count. 

How did he end up here? He wracks his brains, which feel like a pile of soggy mush in his skull. He went out drinking with Cyno, Tighnari, and his insufferable roommate –

Out of the corner of his eyes, half closed and bleared with sleep, he notices a swoop of thick, gray hair. 

His eyes fly open. He's suddenly very awake.

This wasn't his own bed. And Alhaitham was lying right next to him. 

Kaveh closes his eyes, reaching up to grasp his own head in despair. His memories are still foggy, but it's not hard to guess what happened. For the past month, Alhaitham has been coming home at odd hours due to his new role as the Acting Grand Sage. Kaveh choked on his coffee when he found out. Has the world gone mad? Were the rumours correct? Alhaitham of the minimum viable seriousness, who didn't lift a finger to do any housework, taking the time out of his day to devise a convoluted plan that helped other people more than it helped himself? Thinking about it made Kaveh's head boil. What's worse, Alhaitham put himself on the front lines of such a dangerous mission and didn't tell him.  

He had no intention to oppose this formally. The Dendro Archon herself decreed it; who was he to doubt her judgement? Alhaitham was exacting, fastidious and called himself impartial. With him as a sage, the Akademiya wouldn't collapse right away. But Kaveh couldn't stand Alhaitham– his arrogance, his lack of compassion, his air of complete detachment, the way his smirk made his cheekbones even sharper… He hated when that scribe was home, hated it even more when he didn't come back on time. They'd been fighting constantly as of late. Each conversation was an uphill struggle to defend his own points and find the infinitesimal seams in Alhaitham's. Long ago, Kaveh vowed to himself never to get involved with a personality like that again, and things had been going so well up until now…

Kaveh let the secret, buried things in the depth of his psyche get the better of him and gave into temptation. What broke his resolve? That little smile of his? The shifting colours of his eyes? Did he step too close to Alhaitham while arguing, and feel the heat of his lips on his lips, and instead of turning away, leaned in? What did he even–

The thought is too much to entertain so early in the morning. He scrambles out of bed (the wrong one), wobbling a little, and rushes to the bathroom to splash cool water on his face.

Raising his head, Kaveh takes a good long look at himself in the mirror. At least he seemed in intact, from the curling hair that faded to a light gray at the tips, the light green eyes, to the tight black fabric covering his sculpted chest–

He looks down at it. He pats his chest – or is it his? – and his half-gloved fingers meet solid, firm flesh. The facets of a green crystal glitter up at him. He touches it in a daze, as if to make sure it's real, then lets out the longest scream anyone in their neighbourhood ever heard.

---

Outside, the birds sing a song clear and sweet as meltwater, as if to compose an elegy for his lost dignity.

Kaveh tears out of the bathroom and runs into his body moving by itself in the hall. To see his own face looking back at him was both a relief and a terror. Seeing Alhaitham as himself is making his already woozy head spin.

"Why are you screaming at the top of your lungs at this hour?"

"You, me, what–" Alhaitham sounds … different. Of course he does, he's using my voice! But he didn't sound like Kaveh either – his tone is too clipped and too matter-of-fact. Kaveh gestures at the length of his body – no, Alhaitham's body– and splutters, "What did you do to me?"

Alhaitham pauses, then observes the scene coolly, and it's an unsettling thing to be studied so thoroughly through the lens of his gaze. It's doubly, triply, quintuply unsettling to be under Alhaitham's gaze modulated through your own eyes. It pierces you like a pin through a butterfly. "I should be asking you the same thing." 

"I didn't do anything! I just woke up like this!" 

His hand creeps up to his chest again. His heart is beating so unsteadily that he feels faint. He needs something – anything– to hold onto. 

"Do you mind?" Alhaitham says, eyeing his hand placement. 

Kaveh looks down, and lets his hand drop from his borrowed pecs. "Gah!" He paces around in circles. His shoulder is already aching from the uneven weight of the dark cloak, and he's trying his best not to look down. "I am not going out like this. I refuse. This is unacceptable."

"You're not going anywhere," Alhaitham says crisply, crossing his arms. "Today I was planning to complete some work at home. As long as you take your leave from the Akademiya as well, we can try to determine the cause of this anomaly and resolve it before anyone has to know."

Kaveh relaxes a fraction. "Right. We have to figure out why this happened. I suppose I'll have to report this to the matra in case this is some deliberate curse or a disturbance in the elemental energy…You should conduct an experiment and eliminate any possibilities–" His eyes widen. "Oh no. Don't tell me I'm going to start acting like you too!"

Alhaitham ignores him. "Did you buy another suspicious artifact?"

"Those keychains were for a good cause, which you would know if you had a heart to help people outside of your own tiny bubble. Have you ever done something without calculating how it benefits you?"

"What you call altruism is also based on what you find to be beneficial to yourself. Aren't you always saying that following your principles gives you happiness?" 

"W-Well, I better inform the matra about this!" Kaveh growls. He turns around, and feels a hand on his shoulder. His own, but not his own. The touch sends a sudden flood of warmth through him, calming the storm in his mind just a little.

"I'll dictate the message to you. It's best to match my writing style with the handwriting."  

He shrugs off the hand. There's a tingling sensation in his back, between the shoulder blades. "I've got it, alright?"

---

While Kaveh goes to deliver the message, Alhaitham picks up his soundproof earphones and affixes them to his head. He's pleasantly surprised that he doesn't feel too ungainly in a different body. It's well balanced between aerobic flexibility and strength. There is still a sense of disorientation, though. A slight unfamiliarity, and the unease that comes along with uncertainty. This is an unprecedented occurrence, after all.

He walks into the bathroom to perform his ablutions. There is a pressure around his waist that makes him wonder if Kaveh wears a corset of some kind under that seemingly loose white shirt. He supposes that he shouldn't be surprised. Back support is important to prevent strain from long hours hunched over a drafting table, after all. He stretches out the fingers of one hand. There's a callus on the thumb. Kaveh holds his instruments in a particular way as he sketches his architectural designs, and it puts too much strain on that area of the skin. 

In the mirror, he studies the soft blond tresses that fall onto the shoulders under his temporary control. Though they are dishevelled – Kaveh fell asleep without even changing last night – there is a faint scent of flowers. He turns his head, and the mirror-Kaveh follows, revealing red ties interlaced into the golden hair, holding back a delicate braid. If nothing else, Kaveh takes adequate care of his own appearance. 

Speaking of the devil…

There is a sudden eruption of noise as Kaveh bursts into the hall, crackling with nervous energy. "There you are. I've sent a message to Cyno. There's no telling if he'll be here anytime soon…" He halts on the doorstep and throws his hands into the air. "Stop staring at yourself as me, and do something! Do you have any ideas on how to fix this?"

"If you quiet down, I can try to think of a way." It's fascinating to see such a calculating, pensive expression in Kaveh's eyes. They gleam like rubies in the half light. He tests the elbow joint, curling his arm in and extending it again. "It is possible that our consciousness has changed positions, but we have to consider alternative hypotheses.  Perhaps this is an illusionary world of some kind, or magic that causes an apparent change to our external appearances." 

"Of course, of course– but how do we test for that?" Alhaitham watches his own face contort into a scowl in the mirror as Kaveh speaks. That's an interesting sight, too.

"We'll have to ask the matra to assist. To avoid confusion and panic, and to preserve the validity of any experiments, we should keep the details of this from the public until we are sure of the cause." Kaveh's nodding along so far, too on edge to retort with his usual fervour. "You'll have to pretend to be me, and I'll do my best to keep out of sight."

Kaveh grabs his head. His face flushes pink as a peach from consternation and embarrassment. "Oh no, this is a nightmare…" 

"Don't mess up my hair."

"How are you so calm about all of this?" Kaveh stabs a finger in his direction, knocking over a shampoo bottle with his cape. "Are you sure you had nothing to do with this? You wanted me to be more like you all along, didn't you?"

"I would appreciate it if you refrained from making specious accusations," he says, pulling on a pair of his own gloves. They slip, slightly too large for Kaveh's hands. "I have nothing to gain from this, as you pointed out. This may be inconvenient, but there's no point in getting upset. It won't solve the problem."

"Oh?" Kaveh narrows his eyes. "You didn't do this to… access any sensitive information, did you?"

He meets his gaze without flinching. "What could I possibly want from you?" 

This upsets Kaveh, for some unfathomable reason, and he storms out of the room in a huff.

Alhaitham has no choice but to abandon his examination to follow.

Chapter 2: Learning Curve

Summary:

Kaveh discovers the joys of introversion and Alhaitham discovers loneliness.

Alhaitham runs after his wayward tenant and blocks the way to the door with his roommate's body. 

…No, he still can't get used to that form of reference. He'll have to come up with a more efficient and accurate nomenclature system. 

Kaveh huffs, turning up his nose. "Move aside! I'm done talking with you."

It could be any number of things that could have set him off. Alhaitham neither knows what it was, nor cares. "Where are you going?"

"Outside for some fresh air and to check if Cyno's received our message!" Kaveh attempts to push past himself, but shudders as he catches a glimpse of himself in a metallic band. 

"We should reduce the public's exposure to this phenomenon. It could cause a disruption."

"Oh, what do you care?"

"Someone who happens to be piloting my body will be the cause. That would be inconvenient for me." He removes the headset and hands it over to Kaveh. "If we are to keep up this charade, you have to do a better job of approximating my behavioural patterns."

"Oh yeah? Well…Where's my feather?" Kaveh blusters, pointing towards the blond hair, indeed featherless in nature. "Hmm? You're doing a terrible job of being me!"

"You must have lost it at the cafe. 

"Go get it back, then!" Kaveh whirls around, then spins back on his heel. "No… not like that. You're not going anywhere looking like that."

---

Alhaitham uses a dualist shorthand and separates himself into two: the mirror, reflecting Kaveh, and his own mind. Mirror-Alhaitham fastens earrings to mirror-Kaveh's ear, his eyes squinting in concentration. Somehow, the image is more vivid in his mind than in life. As he watches his mirror-self do mirror Kaveh's hair, he can imagine taking control of those hands again, winding his fingers through those blond locks to affix a blue feather behind Kaveh's ear. Kaveh would no doubt complain that he put it in crooked. 

He frowns at himself. He's letting his mind wander– which is an excellent description of their situation. Mind-wandering. Perhaps that should be the new nomenclature.

His scalp prickles – and the sensation is, peculiarly, neither painful nor irritating, almost pleasant – as Kaveh undoes the braid, quick and skilful. He wonders. A sharp pain drowns out the pleasantness as Kaveh yanks a comb through the hair. 

"Don't tug." 

"I'm in a rush, I'm sorry!" His fingers pick up the strands, twisting them together. His mirror-self scrunches up his nose. "Alright, that's close enough."

Alhaitham is about to leave, when Kaveh takes his face in his hands. 

"Goodness, my skin looks terrible ... Yours is better than mine, and you only wash it once a day with soap."

Alhaitham glances at the mirror-Kaveh, and cannot see what is so terrible about it. His features are delicate, his skin smooth and well-hydrated. Kaveh is very consistent in the use of moisturizer. Alhaitham takes care of his own hygiene, of course, but he chooses to focus his attention elsewhere. 

Kaveh picks up a bottle of cleanser and spends another hour teaching him a new skincare routine. There's no sense of urgency in this man.

---

"Are we agreed on the terminology?" 

"Yes, assuming that this is an illusion, mirror-me has your mind, and mirror-you has my mind," Kaveh mutters, patting himself down and trying to find his keys. He's aware of the optics of the situation, but he doesn't have time to care. "Assuming this is a transfer of consciousness, we've wandered into each other's bodies. Do we have to put it that way?"

"Remember, you must pretend to be me if you run into anyone we know. If the scribe suddenly started speaking like you, people would become suspicious."

His first outing went well enough. At the Akademiya, no one bothered to try to greet him– the students, staff and faculty are used to Alhaitham ignoring them. "I know the kinds of arguments you make. Heartless logic over any hint of transcendental, emergent qualia…" He rolls his eyes. "My reputation is at stake too if you start submitting your designs to people. The things you make are unfit to be shown to another living being. Are you sure you're capable of pretending to be me?"

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow, and his whole posture changes, loosens, his weight shifting to one foot and his expression morphing into one of disbelief. "Hold on, you're doubting me?" He lets the frustration seep into his rising tone as he flings his arms out to either side. "That's rich! Who's the one who doesn't even know which side the cape goes on?" 

"Don't talk to me in my own voice like that!" It feels almost scandalous to see his body behaving like himself, knowing that Alhaitham was inside it. Before that thought could develop any further, Kaveh straightens his own posture and tries to adopt his roommate's demeanour, forcing his tone to even out. "I never knew you had a talent for theatrics. Pity you never use it."

Alhaitham smiles so suddenly that it stops Kaveh in his tracks. "Part marks. Keep your elbows in."

Is that all he has to say? Kaveh feels a little insulted. "Don't you worry, I won't embarrass you on purpose." He storms out of the house, heading for the Akademiya. He is so distracted that he takes a wrong turn into the Grand Bazaar.

---

The warm mid-morning air blankets Kaveh with the smell of fresh fruit and warm stone. Alhaitham's hearing is annoyingly sensitive. The sounds of the bazaar seem sharper and louder, painfully so, and he can pick out voices from hundreds of paces. Without the soundproof headphones, it's hard to hear his own thoughts. He adjusts the headset until some of the sound fades away. He frowns, and the frown deepens as he realizes what he's doing.

I'm following his instructions…

Alhaitham doesn't often smile, and lately he's been going around with a face even more neutral than usual. Now Kaveh knows why. His neck and shoulders are both stiff, and it's not just from one night of interrupted sleep. Those longer hours as the Acting Grand Sage…they must be weighing on him. And yet he didn't say anything! Just the other day, jealous rivals targeted him for elimination. How come he never tells Kaveh anything until it's over?

The Zubayr Theatre's latest show is in full swing, and Kaveh stops for a moment to view the performance. The main performer is a redheaded dancer, movements fluid and practiced, though not without a certain personal flair. As the dancer whirls across the stage, he closes his eyes for a brief moment to bask in the swell of the music. 

A touch of bitterness intrudes into his enjoyment as the weight of unfamiliar clothes remind him of his situation. There is no way that dull scribe would appreciate something like this. He tries to imagine Alhaitham dancing, and nearly bursts out laughing. Alhaitham isn't ungraceful, but to think of him infusing any sort of delight or joie de vivre into any motion he makes… well, you simply can't. It is unthinkable. 

The closest thing is when Alhaitham practices with his dual blades, whirling them like leaves in the wind. The way he strikes, dodges, leaps and weaves – there's a certain artistry there, too, though Kaveh would never tell him that. He's watched Alhaitham train a few times – his cloak discarded, panting from exertion, sweat gleaming on exposed skin and rippling muscle–

As the curtain falls to thunderous applause, Kaveh snaps out of his reverie. He must meet his contact at the Akademiya. He hurries away from the crowd, putting the headset back on. 

"Alhaitham?" someone calls in surprise.

The name is hard to hear through the thin droning sound playing through the headphones, but Kaveh picks up on it. There's something about the sound of that name that cuts through all noise to reach him. He almost doesn't respond to it. 

Right, they think I'm him…

"It is you!" The main dancer waves at him from backstage, and hops down the steps. "What a nice surprise! It's been a while since I've seen you around here."

'It's been a while'? So they met before? Is Alhaitham on friendly terms with such a talented young artist? When did this happen? She's acting a little more respectful than familiar, but she still appears to be on good terms with him. Did Alhaitham come here regularly?! 

She's giving him a curious look. 

"Oh." He assumes a cool, unconcerned expression. "Yes, I've been… busy." 

She nods in understanding. "Of course, I heard all about what's happened with the sages from Dehya and Dunyarzad. Is there anything we at the theatre can help with?" 

"No, no. No need. I'm not here on official business. Just… making sure things are running well."

"That's so kind of you," she says. Her stage makeup makes her eyes look wider and brighter. "Things are going great! Everyone seems to love our new show. Even Lesser Lord Kusanali came to see it the other day. Cyno says he'll come over once he gets a break. We're getting so many encores I can hardly keep track of how long the show is supposed to be..."

Kaveh is beginning to perspire. No one spoke to him earlier on the way to the Akademiya. Getting singled out at a theatre of all places caught him off guard. In the face of such an unexpected interaction, he finds that he has no idea how to act like Alhaitham. Is he supposed to be cold and distant to her? Belittle her work? He couldn't do that! It would be like slapping a puppy! 

(Again, Kaveh wonders what Alhaitham would look like as a dancer, with slips of cloth around his waist, blush contouring the edges of his cheekbones and dramatic eyeshadow making the hazel luminosity of his half-lidded eyes even more luminous…) 

"Is everything all right?" she says. "You don't look well."

"Oh, no, I'm fine. Just not used to such… a lively atmosphere. There's so many people here, and I live alone."

"Aren't you living with–"

He shakes his head as if ridding himself of dust. "Ooh, no, not so. Our principles do not align."

"So he moved out, huh…" The dancer casts a sad look at him. "I see. Loneliness is a tough thing to deal with."

Kaveh opens his mouth and closes it again. 

It's true. Alhaitham's absences have been eating at him. It should be nice to have the house to himself, but he's not used to it. With Alhaitham gone, it means no fights, but also no more of those quiet moments when Alhaitham is reading by the shelves that Kaveh tidied, an infinitesimal peaceful moment where there are no arguments, no complaints or barbed words, just… them, existing together. "It was just convenient. Nothing else." The words taste bitterer than any coffee. 

She shakes her head. "It sounds like it was very hard on you." 

"If you parted ways because you couldn't see eye to eye, I think that's a good thing," another dancer pipes up. "In my experience, it's best not to force yourself to live under a roof with people you can't get along with, no matter how close you are. You could get another roommate if you're lonely."

"Inayah!" she gasps. 

"Ah yes… Now that you mention it, that's a great idea. If you'll excuse me, I have to preside over…roommate interviews. See you." Kaveh all but flees the scene.

---

In an old notebook, Alhaitham records the actions of the previous day to determine if any of them caused the phenomenon. Nothing stands out from the last few weeks, besides the return of their archon. Either this consciousness swap can be induced by ordinary daily activities or the events of the previous weeks had something to do with it.

He examines the exterior of his house as well as the interior. As he works, he is distracted by a stray thought: will Kaveh be recognized?

Kaveh isn't the type of person to endanger anyone on purpose. But can he suppress his temper long enough to pass for Alhaitham?

He goes back to examining his surroundings. No anomalous readings. None of the keychain ornaments respond to the elemental energy detection measures – either elemental site or an external device. Since they both can control the same element, he does not feel any different.  This appearance does not seem to be an illusion. Most likely, they actually did switch consciousnesses.

Kaveh is taking longer than expected to return. They live only a few minutes from the Akademiya.

This might be his way of expressing discontent. The light of the Kshahrewar is a sensitive one, intolerant of any shade. He feels so much and so deeply. He's been throwing his petty tantrums more often, and complained endlessly about Alhaitham's late hours and how often he has to reheat the food. In truth, Alhaitham only comes home a few hours later than usual, but Kaveh treats each return as if he were coming home from a long and bitter odyssey. 

Having collected physical data, Alhaitham moves on to the literature search. He opens one of his newly acquired books on the effects of language on consciousness and peruses it in silence. He checks the time. Kaveh is still not home. 

Perhaps this has something to do with the incident. It was all right when they were both out of the house – Alhaitham travelling in the desert to rescue their archon; Kaveh out 'collecting inspiration' – but once they got back, Kaveh became more volatile than ever. The first thing he said to him was a long diatribe full of accusations.

You never tell me anything! Were you off doing something unspeakable?

It's tiring to keep up with him. Kaveh should have the same priority: ensuring that nothing disturbs the peace of their lives or the lives of other Sumeru denizens. Alhaitham doesn't like to involve other people in his troubles. It makes things complicated, so he keeps every danger he faces quiet until it passes. Kaveh would throw a fit if he knew every detail, and made a huge fuss as is.

In another life, he could have asked Kaveh to join in. One where the architect didn't sneak looks at him, half suspicious and half concerned, whenever he came back from completing a difficult mission. Alhaitham doesn't like the sight of those expressions on his face. He doesn't like to worry him. He thought...

Once, he thought Kaveh wouldn't care if he never came home again. 

Alhaitham waits. And waits. 

I wish you'd come home on time.

So that's why Kaveh always says that. 

Notes:

Sorry if the names get too confusing, I tried to keep it clear. I am open to any suggestions for improving any part of the story.

Chapter 3: Peer Review

Summary:

After walking a mile in each other's shoes, they still end up at the wrong destination.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock interrupt Alhaitham's ruminations and his own silhouette appears at the door.

He doesn't know why the sense of relief is so palpable. It seems to have gotten easier over time to miss his housemate. Mere exposure effect, maybe?

"Finally back?" Alhaitham is surprised at the sound of his (well, Kaveh's) voice. He spoke before thinking, which is unheard of for him. (Not unheard of for Kaveh, though. Perhaps they are rubbing off on each other …)

"Don't even start. You will not believe what just happened to me at the Grand Bazaar."

"I was wondering what kept you. Did you go spice shopping at a time like this?"

He threw his hands up in the air. "Of course I didn't! Let me ask you one thing. Are you friends with the Zubayr Theatre performers?"

Kaveh sounds so horrified that Alhaitham frowns. "Why do you ask that?"

He points an accusatory finger at him. "You have friends."

"That doesn't explain why you sound so upset."

"Friends in the art sector. Who are nice. And cheerful," he adds with a shudder. "One of them talked to me."

He strokes his chin. "Zubayr Theatre… ah. You must have met Nilou."

"You know her name?" 

"Is that so surprising?" 

"You actually pay attention to other people? You could've fooled me!"

He folds his arms. "Did you accomplish what you went out to do?"

"Get recognized on the street and have to save myself from total humiliation? Yes. But if you mean meeting with the messenger, yes, that too. Cyno is at Port Ormos on some urgent business. It might be easier for us to meet him there."

"Are there no other matra available?"

"Do you want them to know about it?"

He has a point. "Alright. Let's go."

"Together?"

"Yes, together. You've been having trouble navigating on your own." He strides to the door, retrieving his spare in-ear speakerphones and concealing them under a lock of blond hair.

"Hold on, I need to fix your appearance at least a little bit..." Kaveh grumbles, glancing at a minuscule speck of dust on his gloves. "I feel like I've aged ten years."

"Suit yourself." Alhaitham does have a few project proposals he planned to assess for approval today...most of them unpromising. This brief return to routine would be welcome. Something about Kaveh's absence disturbed him more than it should've.

---

The hassle of pretending to be the Scribe has knocked Kaveh out of balance. A dull ache still throbs in his head, and Nilou was right, he does look haggard and drawn. If he's going to make this convincing, he has to look more unaffected. Nothing can perturb his unflappable calm. Fill your head with nothing but phonotactic constraints and semantic drift, and the anxieties of life cannot touch you.

…Oh, who is he kidding? He can't do it. 

Apparently, there was nothing wrong with their house. If there was any evidence of suspicious activity, the two of them would not be able to find it using their own resources. Then what caused it?

On autopilot, he picks up his own cosmetic products and has to stop and remember that there are different tones in their complexions. He'll have to recreate his routine from scratch using Alhaitham's.

His hand hovers over the soap. The sight of another face in the tinted glass still sends a shiver through his body and a flutter through his chest. Every feature stands out in stark relief, and his mind sinks down toward those thoughts he spends so much effort to suppress. 

Why is it so hard to look him in the eye, even when the mind behind it no longer belongs to him? It isn't like he hasn't seen Alhaitham's face up close before. He just hasn't had a chance to see it up close without a frown creasing his brow and cutting words spilling from his lips. Those times, it was easy to let himself focus on those words and not on the mouth that formed them, how soft and inviting it looked, the sheer contrast of it. His eyes pick out more details, each more disconcerting than the last. His lashes are thicker than he expected, his skin smoother and more lustrous. 

Damn it. He does look good…

Something in him whispers for him to be gentle. He brings up a cloth up to his cheek, and hesitates. The fluttering drops into his stomach. He feels as he does before touching the swirling, iridescent surface of a bubble. Was this a dream like a drifting bubble, apt to disappear at a single touch? 

What is wrong with him? He can't even touch his own face!

Footsteps echo behind him. Alhaitham is carrying an armful of transcripts, textbooks and theses as thick as the Divine Tree with typical effortlessness, and he stops for a moment when he passes Kaveh, scanning him as if appraising a relic. The way he looks at the dual reflections – himself and Kaveh – is not the same way he looks at himself. It's softer, in a way, with none of that trenchant, dissecting kind of intensity. There are certain subtle expressions that only emerge when he has a day off, when he successfully implements a meticulous plan, or when he's leafing through books with a particularly intriguing premise, or…

Well, no matter. He's probably thinking how vain Kaveh is. He pats his face clean and scowls.

---

"I'm humiliated," Kaveh says for the fifth time, sinking into the seat beside his housemate.

Alhaitham ignores him, turning another page in the thick tome he's reading. 

"I swear, if you have anything to do with this–"

"I will remind you I don't benefit from this either. I would never do this on purpose." His tone is a few degrees cooler than usual. 

"I can't believe you're friends with a theatre troupe!"

"Do you object to the company I choose to keep? I thought you appreciated the arts."

"Who– I didn't mean anything bad against them," Kaveh grumbles. He gathers the shreds of pride he has left. "In fact, you should reflect on yourself and take some notes from them. They've got a good head on their shoulders and proper values. They know how to treat people."

"If you can acknowledge that, why are you humiliated?"

"They still thought I was you!" He tilts his head back to stare at the high ceiling, then levies a harsh glare at Alhaitham. "If you were there, you wouldn't question me. You know what they think of you? They think you're lonely."

For some reason, that makes Alhaitham's spine stiffen. 

"Yes, they thought that I got the good sense to leave at last, and that you were so desperate for companionship that you were going to get a bunch of new roommates…" He's stretching the truth a little.

Alhaitham clicks his tongue, and turns another page. "I have no idea how they came to that conclusion, but the process certainly lacks rigour."

"You're just in denial because they got you down pat. You hole yourself up in your house working on your projects day and night because that's the only thing people value about you and never talk to anyone about anything–"

The book snaps closed with a loud thunk. Alhaitham stands up and stalks out of the room. 

Kaveh is momentarily distracted from his rant. What's with Alhaitham today? His temper isn't the best, but he's always been irritatingly capable of keeping his cool. Kaveh even kept his voice down on the off chance that his hearing is still this sensitive in his body. Kaveh tries not to think of all their previous arguments. Did he cause actual distress because he spoke too loudly? Or was it only that bad with crowds? Alhaitham never told him that, either, but he still felt guilty.

Kaveh can't shake the sense that something is off. Was he offended by those accusations? Well, he's the one who keeps nation-saving schemes under wraps from people he shares a roof with. How could he possibly blame Kaveh for his suspicions? Who knows what kind of strange business he got up to in the dead of night? 

But no. Alhaitham is… stubborn, and infuriating – oh, so, so infuriating – but in his heart of hearts, he isn't a bad person. He's got a sense of ethics– in his own twisted way.

Maybe he went too far this time. Even Alhaitham has his limits. Kaveh only poked at his weak spots because he didn't believe they existed. As much as he hates to admit it, Alhaitham excels at one thing besides concealing important information, ignoring other opinions and annoying people to death: recognizing his own shortcomings. He's always been so self-assured, identifying and compensating for his flaws without either minimizing or dwelling too much on them. Maybe, deep, deep down, part of him really is self-conscious about them. Maybe… 

Kaveh slumps down further and covers his eyes. With painful clarity, he realizes he doesn't know his roommate half as well as he thought.

---

Alhaitham finds the book he's looking for – the one his grandmother left him. He runs his fingers over the cover, letting the familiar texture settle his thoughts. He always comes back to this text in times of uncertainty. 

The pricklings of embarrassment threaten to burst through his control. Kaveh's skin blushes easily, and he has no good way of preventing that physiological reaction. The heat glows in his face. 

He made a grave miscalculation. All this time, he thought that he was doing Kaveh a favour by keeping his distance. That architect complains constantly about his perceived faults, his choice of cutlery, the furnishings of his house. Their views, tastes, and ideologies do not match. He is unhappy when he is around; he's unhappy when he's gone. This seems like a logical contradiction. But human relationships are not closed systems with algorithmic inputs and predictable outputs, and syllogisms have no business explaining human nature. That unpredictability sometimes leads him to have trouble parsing the emotions and moods of others– and himself, it seems. 

As the scribe, many people were unaware he existed. More people take notice of him now, but most only know him by name and station. No one stops him in the halls to chat about the weather. No one tries to sell him strange materials on the street. He is aware that many people find him unpleasant, even off-putting, though he never thinks much of it. It's just the way he likes it: they avoid him of their own accord, leaving him to perform his duty in peace. Any attempts to sabotage him tend to be transparent and easy to fend off. 

His working hours are ordered and ordinary, filled with pleasant and regular solitude. He likes solitude– the kind he can close and put aside like a book, that ends the moment Kaveh steps through the doorway. 

He pauses before he lifts up the cover.

That is the crucial difference– a sense of control. Being alone is a choice. Being lonely is not. 

An unease stirs in him. While he disagrees with Kaveh's point of view more often than not, he appreciates how their exchanges allow the efflorescence of many uniquely wrongheaded lines of thought– picking them apart provides the kind of intellectual stimulation he can only obtain from someone as unlike him in thought as Kaveh. This is what first drew him to Kaveh all those years ago, when they were still students crushed under the weight of countless deadlines and bureaucratic exigencies. So many scholars let their beliefs be swayed by the theoretical zeitgeist, parroting the current line of thought without due diligence or consideration; they memorized more than they analyzed, only seeking confirmation of their biases and the acquiescence of equally unreflective students, and crumble at the slightest interrogation. Kaveh has convictions, if nothing else, and he holds fast to them, even if they burn those skilful hands of his. No matter how troublesome, their discussions are nothing short of exhilarating.

Time has been in short supply lately. It's been a while since he saw that fire in Kaveh's eyes, the way the proud tilt of his head accentuated the light in them. When Kaveh spoke of loneliness, the look in his eyes was more pained than resentful. He was speaking of himself. He did not feel valued. 

He lifts the cover. The gentle, neat penmanship of his grandmother inscribed her blessing into the book.

A tightness forms in his throat. Above everything, Alhaitham values structure, routine, and peace. Somehow, throughout the years, Kaveh has become part of his routine, part of his peace, a mirror of his soul. The reverse… did not seem to be true. 

Maybe… Alhaitham should say something to him. Encourage him to find better company, perhaps. But he never likes to hear what he says. 

It's time to go out to meet Cyno, anyway. He'll think of the right words later. Words are his specialty, after all.

---

The noonday sun beats down on the streets of Port Ormos. Boats cleave briskly through the green waters. Voices rise, mingling with the rich aroma of melting cheese, potatoes and frying mushrooms wafting through the air. The port is awash with activity, and there's no need to disguise the fact that they're travelling together – they simply melt into the chaos of moving carts and bodies and become part of the bustling flow of commerce. It's a miracle they're able to make their way through the crowd without much shoving. Alhaitham is pleased with his decision to wear his earphones. 

"A piping hot batch of fresh potato boats!" Jahangir calls. "They can't be missed!"

A couple of children run up to the stall, laughing. "We'll take three!" One hands over a fistful of coins. The other, in their haste, trips and falls hard on the cobblestone. The coins bounce down the street, and some sink into the river. 

"Aw…"

"Are you okay?"

The child's bottom lip trembles. "Yeah…" 

Before Alhaitham can so much as move, he feels a tug on his sleeve. Kaveh is making faces at him. When he raises an eyebrow, Kaveh coughs loudly, tilting his head toward the food stall. 

Ah, yes. Kaveh, seeing this minor misfortune, would help them retrieve the coins, or even give them just enough Mora to buy the treats. Alhaitham only planned to help the child stand and ensure no injuries were incurred – they look more than capable of retrieving their own coins.   

"Are you just going to walk past and do nothing for the poor kid? You're helping me pick those up," he says in his best imitation of Kaveh's voice. Kaveh gives him a look that is part mortified and part grudgingly impressed. 

He kneels at the river bank and plunges his arm in without hesitation. The white gauzy fabric blackens in the mud.

"Be more careful. You got m– your sleeves dirty." Kaveh's already gathering the coins glittering on the cobblestones.

"Aren't you doing the same with yours?" 

"Be quiet."

They return the coins to the children.

Alhaitham finds that receiving their thanks makes him smile involuntarily. It's a far cry from his preferred behaviour. He's not opposed to helping others, but standing around and being thanked for it … No, it's much preferable to lend assistance behind the scenes. Alas. If only all his contributions could be anonymous. 

Kaveh clears his throat, waving aside the thanks. He's clearly stifling a smile of his own. "Ah, it's not even worth mentioning. Run along now."

Alhaitham shakes his head wordlessly, and makes his way to the rendezvous point.

---

The Grand Mahamatra is easy to pick out of a crowd, with his striking headpiece and intimidating presence. He stands with his arms crossed, conversing with a few of his subordinates when they arrive at the refurbished restaurant that serves at their meeting place. Only a few tables are occupied with Corps of Thirty members and matra. As soon as the Mahamatra dismisses them, Kaveh steps forward. "Hello, Cyno. I trust you received my message?"

Cyno takes one look at him and narrows his eyes. "Hello, Kaveh."

He slaps his own face. "How did you know?"

Cyno smiles, just barely. "A hunch. You confirmed it yourself."

"Right…" he mutters.

"No one else knows about this," Cyno says, taking pity on him. "Your letter was well encoded."

"Good. Good…"

"Did you two fall into a puddle on the way here?" 

"It's a long story…" Kaveh sits down heavily at the nearest table, and realizes that he's starving. He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday. "Is it alright if we have lunch here, Cyno?"

"Get me a share, too," the scribe says, dabbing at his mud-soiled clothing with a cloth.

"Didn't you have breakfast?"

He doesn't look up. "There wasn't time."

That's nonsense. There was plenty of time. A strange, unwelcome pang of guilt strikes Kaveh right in the chest. Did he really upset Alhaitham that much?

He purchases some food from a nearby stall. Alhaitham shakes his head at Kaveh's selection. "I prefer simple, unornamented dishes. This … is not that."

"What's wrong with stew and zaytun peach juice?"

"It'll make a mess."

"Then I'll have yours, too!" He yanks the plate away, and Alhaitham scoffs lightly.

"This doesn't have much precedent," Cyno says, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Of course, the most massive upheaval of the Akademiya and the nation at large in the last few hundred years occurred only a few weeks ago, so I suppose we've seen a lot of things without precedent." He scatters some papers on the table. "I've done some investigations on my end. You two are currently the only ones affected. I didn't find any trace of either canned knowledge, curses, or elemental marks. It didn't look like a malicious attack."

"What is it, then?"

"Perhaps this is a consequence of the recent healing of the Irminsul and the shutdown of the Akasha," Alhaitham says, folding his arms. "In terms of deliberate transference of consciousness, only one in Sumeru is capable of anything like that… and the Dendro Archon is unlikely to be responsible."

Cyno nods. "She is only known to be able to enter consciousnesses, not exchange them, per se. It's unlikely that she'd choose this way to reveal another power. Of course, we could always ask her."

"How many people have to know about this?" Kaveh sounds mortified. 

"You could also let it resolve on its own," he says. "Once the energies settle and the tree is fully restored, these anomalies should disperse."

"I can't wait that long!" Kaveh wails. "I have drafts to submit, he has whatever it is that he has to do–"

"You need to calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" He scarfs down a few bites of food in defiance, then stops. This whole day has put him off his appetite.

---

The sight of Kaveh in Alhaitham's body mumbling about deadlines with his mouth full while Alhaitham in Kaveh sits quietly, arms folded, beside him seems to give Cyno pause. His attention is carefully trained on the papers he brought. 

Alhaitham picks them up and scans them. 

"That reminds me… the knowledge capsule you used. What was in it?" Cyno asks.

That's a hypothesis he discarded early on. "I did not use the capsule; I merely modified the Akasha terminal so it would appear I had." His gaze drops back to the marginal notes scribbled onto the pages. "According to these documents, the use of canned knowledge in general predisposes the consciousness to greater…malleability. Insofar as consciousness is indeed separable from the embodied form…" he trails off. "Assuming that consciousness can be extracted and transferred using these terminals, there may be a small chance that …"

"What is it?"

"The Akasha, a system sustained with divine power, allows consciousnesses to move from body to body depending on compatibility and proximity. If you modify a terminal, you make it more likely for… spontaneous transference to occur in the event of a disruption to the ley lines."

Kaveh goes quiet. The chatter from the busy streets is a low hum, only barely audible through the thick walls. Then he speaks. 

"That's the reason why we've switched bodies?

"I thought we agreed on the wandering terminology. It's equally true that our bodies have switched minds."

His eyes widen. "Are you serious– is that really important right now? You stole a Divine Knowledge Capsule and almost used it! You know the risks, don't you?"

It's always a headache to explain himself to Kaveh, especially when the latter has a point. "I never intended to use it. I weighed the risks against the circumstances, and that was the least dangerous course of action."

Kaveh raises his head. There is an unnamed horror written into his borrowed features. "I can't believe you."

"Could you explain what you object to? Unlike our god of wisdom, I can't read minds."

Silence falls again like a sudden rainstorm. 

"I suppose we'll have to speak to our archon."

---

Kaveh is silent all the way to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. For once, he has nothing to say. 

There's no putting it off. Alhaitham clears his throat. "This...wasn't in my calculations. I planned for this to affect as few people as possible, and only those who agreed to it. I never meant for you to be involved. For that, I apologize."

"I don't care about all that!" Kaveh snarls, not bothering to look at him.

"Then what is it? Aside from this incident, the operation went well, even without your input."

This seems to be the wrong thing to say, because Kaveh whirls around to face him. "You think I don't know that? But I can't... You went off and did something so dangerous it could have– you could have–"

"In that case, you would have the house to yourself for perpetuity. You should be happy."

"Don't joke about that!" Kaveh shouts. It drowns out the buzz of mingled voices. A few passersby turn their heads to give him a concerned look. "Don't you dare!"

Alhaitham opens his mouth to speak, and thinks better of it.

He lowers his head. His voice dips in volume, so low even Alhaitham has trouble hearing it. "I was afraid that you'd – I'd wake up one day and you wouldn't be there. You'd be dead or worse."

He has long since dismissed the possibility that Kaveh cares about him beyond the compassion he showed everything that so much as moved. He blinks. "Really. You're afraid I was in danger?" 

He freezes in place, his hands balled up into fists. Helplessly, he gazes at him, frustration welling up in his eyes. "Forget it!" He turns and disappears up one of the winding stone paths.

Alhaitham finds himself alone on the street.

This is not the kind of silence he likes. 

Notes:

I debated whether or not to mark this down as OOC because Alhaitham makes a mistake underestimating how compatible their minds are. Let's just pretend it's a weak spot unique to Kaveh-related affairs.

I realized I needed at least another chapter to finish up. The next one is a bit difficult to write, so might take longer. Sorry about that!

Chapter 4: Knowledge Gap

Summary:

So close, and yet so far.

Kaveh ducks inside the Akademiya side doors, and locates one of the guards on duty. "Excuse me. I must speak with the archon on an urgent matter."

"Ah, Lesser Lord Kusanali went to review the next Zubayr Theatre play," the guard said. "If you'd like, you can wait in the garden until her return."

"Oh, I see…"

He doesn't bother to hide his dejection as he slouches back down toward the white gazebos of Razan Garden. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots his body walking up toward the Sanctuary. Oh no, he doesn't want to run into Alhaitham now. Where can he hide? Not the bazaar. With how keen his senses are, that would just be unpleasant. Even here, he can hear the faint calls of merchant and customer, smell the overwhelming odor of fresh produce and perfumes. Everywhere he turns, there's more noise. 

At his wits' end, he crams the headphones tightly over his ears, sits down by the side of the road and puts his head in his hands. 

As the tension slowly fades, the fatigue and stress of the past day hits him all at once. 

He can't get used to it. He didn't mean to lose his temper and run off like a bratty child. Things just got too overwhelming. Plus, the things his housemate said– it's like he didn't care that Kaveh was trying to be sincere. He offered a real piece of vulnerability, and Alhaitham trampled all over it.

A slightly familiar voice interrupts his musings. "Um… is that you?"

He spares his interlocutor a glance. "Oh, Nilou. Is there something I can help you with?"

Nilou blinks worriedly at him. "Are you alright? You're sitting in the middle of the street."

He sighs, shoulders drooping. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she says. "Most people say that when they're not."

"Yes, well… My roommate is just… unbelievable. He thinks I would truly rather see him dead."

Her eyes widen. "Wow… the prospect of being replaced by a new housemate seems to bother him a lot. He must really miss you."

He buries his head in his arms again. "No, it's not that…"

"Did he say why?"

"No! I mean, I have no idea. I never gave him that impression." Did I? "It's just his personality. He's misunderstanding me on purpose."

"How do you know that?"

"How can't I? He interprets me in the least charitable way possible." 

"Ah, so it's a case of communication failure. Is it possible that he truly doesn't understand you?"

"With his brains? It has to be deliberate. Our relationship was never as important to him as it was to me." The line of questioning is making him doubt his own conclusions. "At least, I think so…" 

"Well, have you tried asking him if he feels the same?"

"Hmph. He'd say good riddance. He won't miss me when I'm gone. And I won't miss him, either. I don't care what he thinks."

"Strange… judging from your previous statements, you're very concerned about his opinion of you. It looks like I have more to discover about human emotions…"

At that moment, he finally notices that he's been responding to another voice, childlike yet full of untold sagacity. 

Slowly, he raises his head, and blanches. "Lesser Lord Kusanali!"

The archon of his nation is crouching beside him, head tilted curiously, with Nilou standing a respectful distance back. She smiles, hopping up. "Let's return to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. It'll be better to talk there."

---

When they reach the Sanctuary, the Dendro Archon leads the way inside, humming a little tune to herself that Kaveh recognizes as the soundtrack to the Zubayr play. Fading sunlight filters through the crystalline walls, bathing the meditation chamber in an ethereal array of colours. Whispered songs rise from the depths of the great tree itself. The sages used it unjustly as a prison, but now, it has returned to its former magnificence.

Kaveh pauses to admire the intricacy of the design: the shape of the interior dome recapitulated and mirrored in the smooth curve of the floor of the meditation chamber, and rootlike columns rising to cup it. It's a marvel of architecture, a fitting crown nestled on the top of the Akademiya.

Just beyond the door leaves, Alhaitham stands waiting. Kaveh pointedly turns to avoid looking at him, only to catch a reflection of himself in a pane of pale green glass. He jerks his head in another direction, to no avail. Wherever Kaveh looks, Alhaitham is there– mint hair glossy in the emeraldine glass, cloaked in the same interplay of blue and green as rainforest rivers. 

The little god turns around, clasping her hands behind her back. "Alhaitham, Kaveh, it's good to see you both. I heard from a little bird what happened to you." She pats the floor of the sanctuary. "Feel free to sit down. You both look very tired."

"Oh, we're alright standing."

"It's very comfortable, I promise." Their archon takes a cross-legged seat on the floor, her green eyes sparkling knowingly.

"I...Thank you." Kaveh sinks onto the floor. Cloth rustles as Alhaitham sits down next to him. Does he have no sense of shame? 

As Kaveh thinks resentful thoughts at him, Alhaitham describes the conclusions he drew from their combined research. 

"An unintended consequence of the Akasha being taken offline…" she says, tapping her chin. "Yes, I think that might be possible. With the Irminsul suffering so many shocks in such a short time, the leylines must have experienced just as many disruptions. I'm sorry. I should have been more prepared for this possibility."

"It's absolutely not your fault, Lesser Lord Kusanali."

"Oh, no need to be so formal. You can call me Nahida." She pats Kaveh absently on the head. "For certain reasons, I can't turn the Akasha back on. I'll use my power to try and change you back, but this might hurt a little."

"That's alright. Whatever you need to do, it'll be worth it."

The archon reaches out to gently touch each of their foreheads. A warm green glow, like sunlight through a leaf, rises and envelops his body. 

Kaveh closes his eyes…

…And opens them to find himself in the same spot, still wearing the wrong clothes and the wrong flesh. 

"Hmmm," Nahida says, narrowing her eyes. Kaveh feels cold sweat beading at the back of his neck. Is this a spell even the archons couldn't lift? "I don't know why, but your minds are resisting me. I don't want to cause any damage… Do you mind if I look into them to check for any issues?"

"Of course."

Nahida smiles, steps back and holds up her fingers to form the frame of a camera. "Everybody hold hands!"

Kaveh reaches for Alhaitham's hand automatically.

"Um… that won't be necessary…"

He drops it, scandalized. 

Nahida covers her mouth. Kaveh could just sink below the earth. Their own god, struggling not to laugh at him… can this get any worse? 

Alhaitham's expression is neutral, as always, but there's a hint of a smirk. 

The sight of mirror-Alhaitham fuming at mirror-Kaveh is too much for Nahida, and she laughs out loud. "Sorry, I don't mean to make light of your situation." The Lesser Lord gets ahold of herself, and seats herself on a chair of braided flowers. "I think I understand the problem. But… it's not something I can solve for you."

The tiny spark of hope he's clung onto withers in his chest. 

"As you know, this is the inflection point for all of Sumeru. Overnight, everyone was able to dream again, and some people even preferred those dreams to their waking life." 

"I see. Beynuni's work," Alhaitham murmurs.

She sighs. "He certainly played a big role, but his actions weren't the only factor. When there is a discrepancy between what people desire from reality and reality itself, they often try to find ways to escape, like work, academic studies, entertainment and leisure."

"And that's why you went to the Bazaar?" 

Her smile brightens. "Very astute of you, Kaveh. Nilou was a little nervous to let me see her new dance, but after I assured her that she could treat me like any other audience member there to take joy from her performance, she embraced the challenge. I've listened to the hearts of my citizens, and many feel as if there's something missing in their lives. The theatre has become a sanctuary for people like that. Art gives them something to look forward to in their waking life, and it's reached more people than I could have ever imagined. In that moment, I truly understood my people. Even if reality is painful, it's a truth we must acknowledge. Having a community to support us as we navigate that reality is more important than I could have known."

She gives them both meaningful looks. They meet her gaze, a little blankly. 

"I see. I believe that you're highlighting the practical function of social connection in our lives," Alhaitham says.

She puts her hands on her hips. "Alhaitham, you have an impressive body of knowledge and a keen eye. You can interpret a myriad of data and form accurate impressions from sparse information. However, you may overlook some conclusions due to personal bias. Cognitive empathy without emotional empathy can only offer you flawed understandings of people," she warns. "This next part might take a while to explain. Do either of you want something to drink?" 

"No, thank you."

"I'd like some," Kaveh says, just to be contrary.

"Alhaitham, I think your office is closest– would you mind fetching it?"

"I would–"

Kaveh would have kicked his own body in the shin if Alhaitham used it to talk back to a god who could solve their body swap problem, but Alhaitham only says, "But I don't keep any drinks in my office. I'll see if I can find anything from the common area."

Kaveh doesn't know whether he should relax or not as his housemate leaves for his office. "Oh, thank god, he's gone..."

"You're welcome."

Right. He should watch his words here...

Nahida gazes up at Kaveh, tapping her chin, as if pondering her next words.

"You're both very smart people," she says at last. "I often run into scholars who study the same topic for years. They stumble across an answer, but for one reason or another, they don't want it to be true. Or they'll find that their questions are more complicated than they initially thought, and they keep looking for a simpler answer. Sometimes, it's easy to miss what's right in front of you."

He senses that she's trying to guide him to some conclusion. He rubs his forehead. "Right… you mean, we've been staring at the answer the whole time?"

"Kaveh, you have an excellent grasp on the nature of wisdom. You have a strong sense of integrity and admirable compassion. But what you truly desire might not match what you consciously tell yourself. Your consciousness is wandering because something in its core conflicts with itself. It's like a flower that refuses to grow towards sunlight. It tries to hide away, but everything in its nature wants to embrace the warmth. Something in your heart doesn't feel at home, and it looks for another."

"Wait. Are you saying… it's my fault?"

"Hmm, fault is a strong word. You both provided one of the conditions necessary for this to happen. Perhaps this is what you truly wanted all along: to get into each other's heads."

A sense of despair washes over Kaveh. He did not want to confront those embarrassing, conflicting thoughts and feelings he had about his roommate. He repressed them for a reason, damn it... "So it is me. What do I do?"

Her face brightens. "You can try to take a d–"

"Lesser Lord Kusanali, the drinks," Alhaitham says, holding a tray of steaming cups. 

"Thank you!" She takes the tray from him and arranges the teacups in a neat circle. "What was I saying? Oh yes. You can try to take a deep look into yourselves and try to find the source of your conflict. Only then can you resolve this."

He nods. 

She claps her hands. "While you're here, I have something to discuss with you, Acting Grand Sage."

"Yes?" They speak simultaneously.

"You don't have to pretend in front of our archon," Alhaitham chides him. 

"I know that! It was a force of habit…"

Nahida clears her throat. "Given the importance of art to the people of Sumeru, I plan to start a small project assessing the contributions to the Kshahrewar Darshan to the aesthetic and academic development of the Akademiya and Sumeru writ large."

Alhaitham nods. "A reasonable proposal. It'll be useful in recalculating the budget as well. Should I consider this a formal application?"

"This is more for internal reference, so you can use your discretion."

"As it's in line with what I already have planned, I'll treat this as an administrative task. Did you have any specific questions in mind?"

She shakes her head. "Go with your research instincts. Study the architecture of the city and the surrounding points of interest, then create a report. You'll probably need the assistance of an expert from the corresponding Darshan."

Alhaitham pauses, the realization of what he has agreed to dawning on him. "You mean…"

"Good luck!" Nahida says cheerily.

---

Kaveh doesn't know what to think. Their archon is craftier than he expected. Tricking Alhaitham into taking on a project that Kaveh would join just so they have an excuse to talk? Divine knowledge did not come cheaply, it seems. 

He sighs. That's that, then. If he understood their god's cryptic remarks right…They need to work out their differences before they can return to their own bodies. He can't avoid his responsibilities any longer. The worst part of this whole debacle is that Alhaitham eventually will figure out the cause of their predicament, and it'll be messy.

"The sun's gone down. Let's grab a quick dinner," Kaveh says, attempting to sound brusque and unconcerned instead of what he really felt, which was a hefty case of dying inside.

Alhaitham nods. A nominal truce.

The nighttime cityline is beautiful, he thinks as he walks down toward the tavern, the harmony of sweeping curves and bulbous domes almost divine in its radiance. The choice of different features expressed each architect's unique design vision and character from a distance. Treasures Street shines under the glow of the rising moon. 

Lambad's Tavern is the least crowded at this time of day, when the dinner rush has passed and students cramming for exams haven't yet flooded the place in search of late-night calories. A few scattered patrons sit poring over menus or chatting with Lambad. They find an empty table without having to wait outside, and Kaveh places their usual order. 

Soft music spills in from the street performers' instruments. They sit at opposite ends of the table, wordlessly picking at their food when it arrives.

"You don't have anything to say for yourself?" Kaveh says at last. He can't stand the silence.

"I'm not aware of anything I need to defend."

There he goes again, speaking without any understanding of the truth. He doesn't get people at all. 

"I do have a question for you," Alhaitham says, eyeing his plate.

"What?"

"Why is it that you like starchy foods so much?" Alhaitham stares pensively at the dishes Kaveh ordered for him, all shortbread and root vegetables and glabrous beans. "They're very filling."

He didn't even have lunch. Kaveh is a little unsettled. Nothing disturbs his routine, sleep or appetite – not work, not the daily stresses of life, not anything. He squints at him. "Are you not hungry? You're not coming down with something, are you?"

"You confuse me," he says, even more plainly than he usually does. "One minute, you express censure of me, and the next concern."

"Of course you'd nitpick my goodwill. That's what I get for saying anything!"

"Why do you always take my words so personally? I didn't criticize you back there."

The silence goes on for a while longer. Then Alhaitham sighs, and asks, with a little frown that makes him look more uncertain, almost vulnerable, "Could you explain which of the things I said merited such offense?"

Kaveh huffs, and picks up a chunk of potato from Alhaitham's plate. There's no point in wasting breath on this, but he does so anyway. "If you actually used that capsule, the damn sages would've exiled you. It would've turned your whole life upside down. You'd hate that."

"They treat people well enough at Aaru Village."

"That's not the problem! They'd feed you soup all the time, and you won't have any of the books you like so much, and…"

Alhaitham's eyebrows pinched together. "Why do you care if I don't?"

His blood pressure shoots up. "Why– you wouldn't understand, would you?"

"I really don't. You would be happy if you didn't have to deal with me, right?"

"Yes!"

Alhaitham raises his head. There's a hint of frustration in his eyes, the kind that shows when he has to deal with a new student's puerile piece of flawed logic. "Then why aren't you happy?"

"Because… I…" He growls and jerks his head sharply away. 

Alhaitham waits for him to speak, taking a sip of his plain drink and wrinkling his nose at the taste. When Kaveh doesn't continue, he hesitates. "So you don't want to move out?"

"I do, but– it's complicated, alright?" 

He looks troubled. "What's complicated about it?"

"You're misreading me on purpose, aren't you?" Deep down, Kaveh knows it's not true. Alhaitham doesn't do this kind of thing on purpose. It's unusual for him, but Kaveh supposes that his confused feelings confused even Alhaitham. "First, you tell me why you keep me around if you think what I do is so useless. Isn't that the real contradiction?"

"I… have always appreciated what you offered to the world. You are diligent, intelligent, and fiercely passionate. I've never denied it. The fact that you can't see that…"

"Is my fault, I know."

He coughs. "… I have to take some responsibility for that. Communication requires the participation of more than one party. Regardless of my intentions, I've contributed to a miscommunication." He holds Kaveh's gaze. "I'm sorry."

The low din of the cafe roars in his ears. Alhaitham admitted he mishandled a situation, and that he was at fault, and apologized. Kaveh can't figure out if he misheard it or not.

Somehow, it's more believable that Alhaitham orchestrated this whole arrangement to torment Kaveh than the suggestion that he wanted to apologize for something he did.

"You're sorry?"

"I did say that, yes."

"You're apologizing?"

"Is there something you find objectionable about that?"

"No, I…" he blinks. I just didn't know what you were thinking.

Kaveh has tried all kinds of tricks to get Alhaitham off his mind. He painted his housemate in the worst possible light to avoid thinking about him in any other way, denying the qualities that drew them together and telling himself he was fine with the arrangement being temporary. He acted as if he wanted nothing more than to leave, but that was just his cowardice. He was too scared to admit he enjoyed it there, that he didn't want it to end, that he wanted more, because Alhaitham might want something different. That was something he could learn to accept, but…

They parted ways once. He didn't know if he could take the pain of doing it again.

Real life came with complications. Alhaitham is far from perfect. There's more things Kaveh can't stand about Alhaitham than he can count. They disagree on everything. Alhaitham's inconsiderate and stubborn and insufferable and Kaveh loves him for it. 

He blinks. His heart is racing so fast he can feel it in his throat.

He loves him, flaws and all. He admitted it to himself. And it feels… 

…Satisfying, in a profound way. Like a meal after a long fast. Or… like an underground plant seeking the sun for the first time. 

He sees his own face across the table, relaxed and unaware of the monumental shift that just occurred.

The brief flash of happiness dulls. Alhaitham might not want him the same way. 

Well, that's the risk he'd have to take.

"I suppose…" Kaveh begins reluctantly. "I suppose I'm sorry too."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"For misunderstanding."

---

As they make their way through their meal, they order a round of drinks, and another. Alhaitham watches as Kaveh eats the bits that Alhaitham discarded out of distaste. A mundane act, but in itself a meaningful exchange of information. 

If Alhaitham has reasoned correctly, he has identified what led to his mistake of interpretation – the faulty assumptions about the architect he once befriended. He assumed based on past knowledge that he knew the cause of Kaveh's behavioural inconsistency, but following set parameters to interpret it didn't pan out. Too much of the evidence contradicted the predictions of the old model, and he must devise a new theory. There's a reason Kaveh doesn't force Alhaitham to eat food he doesn't like, and gets so upset at the thought of losing him to exile. There is a reason he stays, even though he claims he loathes everything about Alhaitham, even if it doesn't make sense. Perhaps… he isn't unhappy. He's unsatisfied, but something else caused this, some unknown third variable.

Something has to change. They shouldn't miscommunicate like this. 

The reflective surface of his metal cup shows his housemate's face. Kaveh looks effortlessly pretty, somehow, despite the long day. Alhaitham never comments on the care he puts into his appearance, or the effect it has. There's no need to point out the obvious. But maybe he'd like to hear it?

"About the project… do you have any ideas on how to carry it out?" Kaveh says, chewing on a particularly tough piece of potato.

"Well, we must first define what we mean by art and aesthetics before we attempt to measure their contributions."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, don't you dare start on your commercialism."

"How will I define the role of art in our lives if not according to the material benefits?"

"Hmph. Our cells need carbohydrates for structural integrity. Our souls need spiritual carbohydrates for personal integrity. Art is like… spiritual carbohydrates," Kaveh says vaguely, waving his cup. "We take it in every day to sustain us."

"That analogy is terrible."

He narrows his eyes at him. "Does your soul lack the spiritual carbohydrates it needs to not make my life difficult?"

"Can you define what art is?"

"It exists in its definition. I don't think of art as an intangible pure aesthetic, or an ideal. It's not a product, either. Art doesn't need to be efficient or beautiful. Sometimes it produces the ugliest vistas, but still stirs up a recognition in the audience of overlooked feelings, things beyond the sublime..."

Kaveh smiles when he talks about the things he likes, and Alhaitham feels his own lips pull into a smile at the sight of it. He likes to see him smile like that, even if it isn't in his own body. He so rarely does it in front of him. 

"Without an audience, a play is nothing but a few props and lines put to paper, but when it is embodied and witnessed, it becomes art."

"So you're saying art is an emergent property of these lines and props and actors?"

"Nothing so crude as that. Only that art needs an audience." Kaveh sets his cup down with a satisfied sigh. "What's your definition of art?"

He rests his chin in his hand. "You."

Notes:

The combined power of Alhaitham's + Kaveh's tsunderism can surpass an archon's might

Thank you for your patience. Very sorry for adding another chapter, I was super unsatisfied with how some of the scenes turned out and I'll need to polish them more. It will not take as long, I think.

Chapter 5: Normal Distribution

Summary:

They do some joint research.

Kaveh flushes pink. This colour is strange to see on his own face. "Hmph. You..." he folds his arms, peering at him out of the corner of one eye. "You mean it?"

"I do."

"Oh?" he says, clearly clinging onto his composure. "So you're calling me an ugly vista?"

"Take it how you wish."

"Wait a second…" Kaveh snatches up Alhaitham's glass and gives it a sniff. He tastes a sip. "Have you been drinking this?" 

"Yes?"

"Oh, god. Hold on. Let me settle our tab first. Don't embarrass me in public."

"What's the problem?"

"I– I mean you can't handle hard drinks after 7 pm."

"I feel fine. I've always been able to hold my liquor."

"Well, I disagree," he hisses. Kaveh hoists Alhaitham up by the arms. "Come on, let's go home before it kicks in."

He really did feel fine up until Kaveh forced him to stand. Alhaitham stumbles, holding onto Kaveh's shoulder for balance.

"You see? You're already drunk!"

"It's your body that's drunk, not mine."

"Don't say that where other people can hear you!" 

As the night wears on, Alhaitham gives up on staying upright, leans against Kaveh. The feeling of his own cloak against his skin is almost like having his own body back. He closes his eyes. "Hmm… this street seems… unusually… blurry today…"

He hears Kaveh's exasperated sigh as he wraps an arm around his shoulders and nudges him onto the right path.

This way of walking is nice, he thinks hazily. Kaveh's clothes smell like him, like fresh sap and clean soap. His arm is warm and steady. Even if it isn't strictly Kaveh's arm, it's the thought that counts. 

"Why are you such a lightweight?" he asks. His voice sounds clear to his own ears, but Kaveh rolls his eyes and tells him to stop mumbling and get on with it. 

A key clinks in a lock, and Alhaitham makes his unsteady way to his bedroom before pausing. 

"...This…is the wrong one, isn't it…?" He tugs at the feather in his hair. "I don't match it."

"It doesn't matter. Just get changed. Can you still do that yourself, or do you need help?"

Alhaitham swings his head from side to side, chooses not to bother with undressing, and collapses into his bed.

---

Kaveh watches himself flop onto Alhaitham's bed with horror. 

"Oh– you're wrinkling my clothes! Who do you think will be stuck with the laundry? At least take the boots off!"

Instead of doing anything sensible, Alhaitham curls up and presses his wine-flushed face into his pillow, already dozing off. The drinks must've kicked in at last.

His body looks comfortable lying there, at least. Kaveh tries, and mostly fails, not to think about how he must look to Alhaitham when he's inebriated. Does he act like this, too? Did Alhaitham ever– Oh, please no… 

Well, it's time to return the favour. He fills a glass with cool water and sets it by Alhaitham's head. Then, he removes his boots as gingerly as possible. He glances toward the window. It's a warm night, but the wind might pick up. He pulls a light blanket over Alhaitham's shoulders. Alhaitham's nose twitches, and his mouth curves into a smile in his sleep. If this weren't his own body, it would be almost… cute. As it is, Kaveh has to flee before the strange flips in his chest become full-fledged palpitations.

Kaveh retires to his own room and sits on his own bed. The day's been so eventful, he feels utterly exhausted and yet so full of nervous energy he's unable to sleep. He's mostly come to terms with the initial shock of switching bodies, but he hasn't yet processed the evening's later developments. 

First, Alhaitham's apology. 

He let that sink in. 

Alhaitham apologized. Sincerely, and for the correct things. Kaveh thought that was a logical impossibility, an occurrence so rare it has to coincide with the syzygy of a dozen distant stars. The apology itself was honest and understated, much like Alhaitham itself. With that one small exchange, they took their first step toward truly understanding each other, and mending the bridges they'd taken down. Alhaitham… understood him, at least an iota more than before. And… if he isn't fooling himself…

What's your definition of art? 

You. 

Kaveh feels his face warm up, and when he falls asleep, it's also with a smile.

---

Alhaitham wakes up the next morning without a hangover, much to Kaveh's surprise. That glass of water must have done him some good.

After breakfast, he sets himself to work on an itinerary around Sumeru to capture most of the important viewpoints. 

Kaveh tags along, of course. It doubles as an excuse to push back the submission of his latest drafts. Even his clients have to accept the word of the Dendro Archon.

Kaveh fixes himself breakfast as well. He would've had a cup of coffee, but Alhaitham's distaste for messy foods seems to have transferred to him; he settles for water as well. 

The itinerary raises every hackle on his back.

"How in the world do you have Caravan Rivat's main street on your list and not the bridges of Port Ormos?"

"I don't see the appeal. They're functional enough."

"That's because you lack taste. And how come Pardis Dhyai isn't on the top of the list?"

"It's ordered by distance."

"Oh. Right. Well, let me see what else you have." He swipes the paper from him and scans it. "This isn't even half of the most important works! As I expected, I'll have to start over…"

As Kaveh wracks his brains for his darshan's representative oeuvres, Alhaitham fetches a book on the basics of architectural philosophy and design from a pile on the shelf. 

"Hey! That's one of my books! Are you taking a reading break now, of all times?"

"I'm merely familiarizing myself with the terminology you use. It'll enhance my ability to pretend I'm you."

"Well, that's only a primer. If you want a seminal work, you'll have to go with this one…"

He ends up spending the entire morning coaching Alhaitham on how to speak about architecture like him. He won't say it to aloud, but he enjoyed this.

---

Over the next while, Alhaitham studies the Kshahrewar Darshan's operations. With Kaveh at his side, he visits each location that they jointly designated as aesthetically significant. Kaveh seems happier about this than he expected.

The first location is the Akademiya itself, which strikes Alhaitham as self-congratulatory. As previously discussed, they both pretend to be each other in public. Or at least they try. Kaveh keeps his arms crossed and fakes a distant expression until he spots a structure sporting a pet peeve in his design philosophy. Then his facade of stony disinterest shatters, he grabs Alhaitham's arm and gestures to point out some historical tidbit or explain the process of construction. 

Alhaitham overhears a number of Kshahrewar students whispering about them when they think he isn't listening.

"Do you see that? Kaveh and the Acting Grand Sage are evaluating our project!" 

"Oh, no, are they going to notice that we substituted brightwood with an imitation?"

"I never knew the Acting Grand Sage was so knowledgeable about our Darshan. He truly lives up to his reputation as a walking encyclopedia…"

"I'd love to see the Palace of Alcazarzaray one day…"

"Me too! It's such a brilliantly designed structure!"

Alhaitham finishes his notes and moves on before Kaveh's ego can be puffed up any more. He's already nearly strutting his way to the next stop.

"Which major point of interest would you say is the next most significant in this city?"

"The Zubayr Theatre definitely qualifies," Kaveh says, eyes alight with interest.

So they pass by the Grand Bazaar. The same show is on. The artistry is unmatched, as usual, despite the roughness of the production.

"Incredible, is it not?" a bystander in Amurta student garb murmurs. 

"It's… not bad," he says. The theatre has become more popular with Akademiya students as of late, an unintended result of Nilou's participation in the rescue of their archon. As Alhaitham surveys the audience, he finds more students all engrossed in the performance, transfixed in wonder or attempts to analyze what they see critically. 

The other theatre-goers are no less engaged. In the crowd, the glint of gold armour and long, flamelike hair alert him to Dehya's presence. She and Dunyarzad whoop and cheer as Nilou takes the stage.

After the show, the audience clamours to shower Nilou with gifts. She beams over the bouquets of flowers spilling out of her arms. 

"Wow, Dehya, Dunyarzad! I can't believe you both came all this way just for this!"

"I couldn't miss this!" Dehya laughs, an unrestrained, boisterous guffaw, her hands on her hips. "Your show's got the whole city abuzz, and we heard the good press all the way at the port. I told myself, gotta see that for myself before I head off."

Dunyarzad nods excitedly, the jewellery in her hair clinking at the movement. "Your dance was magnificent. Your movements flowed like water, and you captured the emotions I felt when I first dreamed again." 

"Aw…" Nilou blushes. "You're making me embarrassed!"

"My lady means the compliment. Just take it," Dehya says. 

"Dehya… I told you, call me Dunyarzad."

"Oops. Sorry, my lady."

Nilou spots Alhaitham and Kaveh, and lights up. "Oh! I'm glad to see that you're in better spirits today, Alhaitham! And you brought someone with you!"

Kaveh coughs. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Dehya glances over at him, and waves. "Hey! I don't think we've met," she says, glancing at Alhaitham. "The name's Dehya. I'm a merc by trade."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Kaveh, an architect."

She narrows her eyes at the sound of his greeting. "Nice to meet you, too." She glances at Kaveh, who is doing a passable job at pretending to know her. "How are things at the Akademiya going? Heard you've been working like dogs over there."

"... The administrative tasks have increased, but… nothing insurmountable."

Dehya is clever, perceptive – two necessary traits of a good mercenary. She can no doubt sense an incongruence the way Kaveh holds himself in Alhaitham's body, some discordance of tone, posture or demeanour. 

"As wonderful as it is to meet you," Alhaitham says, "we unfortunately are here on official business, much as I'd like to say otherwise."

"Yes, this theatre is a key location for one of our core projects," Kaveh says. "Please excuse us."

"Oh, no worries! Feel free to come backstage!" Nilou says. 

"Yes. You're not trying to shut us down for once. It's a good change of pace," Zubayr agrees. 

As Dehya and Dunyarzad catch up with Nilou, Alhaitham and Kaveh speak with Najia, the props engineer, about the logistics of each production, as well as Zubayr himself about his vision for each of the productions. While "Kaveh" writes notes on Najia's insights on the staging of plays, Zubayr and "Alhaitham" get into a deep conversation about the use of padisarahs as props, with Khasani, an observer, weighing in with his own opinions. 

"There are such rich metaphorical resonances with the play itself – even when extinct, these flowers find life again in human imagination, just as the dancers have encoded bygone times in a novel performance," Kaveh raves. 

Zubayr nods. "Interesting perspective. I myself intended for them to serve as a symbolic reference to the goddess, of course, as well as the nature of dreams and desire– perceptions can be pliant, allowing you to see what you wish to see..."

"I'm more of the opinion that you cannot limit the meanings these flowers can have, both in the play and in the eyes of the audience," Khasani interjects. 

Somehow, they manage to finish their investigation before the next production is due to start. As the two scholars take their leave, Dehya turns to Nilou. "Is there something different about Alhaitham today, or is it just me?"

"Oh, it's not my place to say," Nilou says, the picture of discretion.

---

Pardis Dhyai is next. Tighnari crouches next to Karkata in the greenhouse, recording the condition of the padisarahs. Sunlight streams through glass, illuminating each blade of grass and gleaming off Karkata's carapace. 

Alhaitham gives Kaveh a look. Kaveh returns it anxiously.

"Cyno wouldn't have told him, would he?" 

"He wouldn't, but he'd be able to tell."

"Do we risk it?" 

They decide to visit another day. Tighnari's incisive comments will have to wait.

---

The final destination is the Palace of Alcazarzaray. Kaveh refuses to step foot on the grounds of the palace, but the lush gardens, clear foundation, and the green slopes of the palace's roofs are visible from afar. 

Kaveh grumbles under his breath the entire trip to the Palace, either nitpicking Alhaitham's vocabulary or complaining about the difficulty of incorporating some obscure design feature without ruining the lines of symmetry. 

As they walk through the forest path, Kaveh sheds more of his disdainful attitude. Though the construction of the palace did ruin Kaveh, he still exhibits a parental sort of pride toward his magnum opus. He comes alive as his passion overcomes his bitterness, explaining the process of designing the structure from initial concept to execution. 

"...and I know you don't appreciate this kind of thing, but I wanted to balance the floral and manmade components, open space and intricate enclosures, like you see in the city… and you see, the alternating elevations make it easier to appreciate that juxtaposition…" He trails off. "It's boring you, isn't it?" 

"It's beautiful," he says.

---

The morning after, Kaveh wakes up in his own bed. He yawns, rubbing his face, and freezes. His own blond hair dangles in his eyes.

He rushes to the mirror, and sees –

Himself.

---

"Finally, it's over…" Kaveh breathes, melting into a blissful heap on the couch. "Sweet, sweet release…"

Alhaitham sets his headset over his ears. "Yes, this is better."

"Good riddance," Kaveh declares, stretching luxuriantly. "You know, I should thank whoever invented headphones. I never would've survived your body if they didn't exist."

"I've always extolled the virtues of a good pair of earphones."

"I am going for a walk, with my own legs. Then, I'll work on my designs at my desk. It'll be wonderful."

"I'm sure it will be."

"What do you want to do next?"

"I've been working on the first draft of the report. Would you like to look it over?"

"Of course. You probably left out everything important." He reaches for the nearest pen on the table at the same time as Alhaitham does. Their knuckles bump into one another, and Kaveh jumps back, as if stung.

A moment passes. Alhaitham clears his throat to break the tension, picks up the pen and hands it to Kaveh, who accepts it. 

"Thank you," Alhaitham says. 

"For what?" 

"For understanding."

Kaveh scoffs. "It's nothing, really. Who would hold such a silly misunderstanding over your head?"

They gaze at one another over the pages of the report, their hands brushing. Kaveh's hair is still mussed from sleep; he hasn't yet combed it.

In a rare moment of perfect, tacit agreement, they both closed the distance. 

Their lips met. It's a perfunctory gesture, neither of them willing to be the first to go further than a peck. 

"Hmm…" Alhaitham says, tapping his fingers on the table. It's not unpleasant, but he feels unsatisfied. His housemate appears to concur. 

"What was that?" Kaveh says, breathless with indignation.

"That was a test."

"And what did you find?"

"An experiment must be replicated to support its conclusions," he says diplomatically.

Kaveh rolls his eyes. "Just kiss me again, you jerk."

He closes his eyes and leans in, slipping his fingers through Kaveh's silky blond locks and pressing his mouth against his. His lips are warm and dry and inviting, and the warmth seeps into his chest, filling in a hollow space he didn't know was there. This is pleasant in a way he finds it hard to articulate – so he doesn't try. Even words have their limits. 

He breaks it off as slowly as he can, and Kaveh lets out a light gasp of surprise at the sensation. 

"Better?"

Kaveh's eyes are wide, and a pinkish blush tints his cheeks. "I think you'd better test me again."

---

Alhaitham has become much more … silvertongued these past few weeks. It's not doing Kaveh's nerves any good at all. 

The scholars drops his arm around Kaveh's waist to pull him against his chest. His movements are somewhat stiff, and Kaveh realizes that he's not used to this, but he adapts; the way his eyelids flutter shut on their own when Kaveh reciprocates shows that Kaveh's not the only one enjoying this. 

For once, they're on the same page. There is no misunderstanding this. Kaveh's heart is beating so fast he thinks it might burst. This is everything he secretly hoped for and more. He could kiss him like this through a hundred samsara, and never tire of it.

He cradles Alhaitham's face, and whispers, "Am I dreaming?"

"Do you want this to be one?"

"No."

"Then don't overthink it."

For once, Kaveh doesn't argue. 

Notes:

Thank you all for reading this silly concept <3 Really enjoyed writing for these two, and I might add an epilogue if I can put together the ideas.

Then again, maybe it's better not to do that... It'll probably balloon into its own series...