Chapter Text
Kaveh could never know that Alhaitham was sick.
This was by all means specific to this scenario. The two had a mutual understanding, a silent one, but still an understanding, that they would put their differences aside when one (or sometimes both) were ill; it was stupid to keep up their usual debates when one of them was under the weather. And usually, the healthy roommate would end up caring for the sick one. They never spoke of this expectation, but it was there. Therefore, if Kaveh learned of Alhaitham’s current sickness, he would insist on taking care of him, and Alhaitham didn’t want that.
The hanahaki disease was one native to Inazuma. The name was derived from an ancient Inazuman language, and was very literal, with “hana” (or 花 in the original script) roughly translating to “flower” and “haki” derived from “haku” (or 吐く), translating to “vomit”. Throughout the years the disease had spread past the collection of islands and into the Teyvatian mainland, including Sumeru.
The fact that the disease only affected those who fell in love, only to find it unrequited, had always made Alhaitham feel confident he would never be afflicted; in his opinion, love and romance were wastes of time, and he had never been particularly attracted to anyone.
Except now there were always bloody calla lilies to be disposed of. Calla lilies, which represented beauty and magnificence, as Tighnari had told him - two words that very much described Kaveh.
Maybe Alhaitham had fallen for his roommate - maybe there was no denying it anymore, not ever since his lungs forced up that first lily petal, not since Alhaitham recognised his symptoms as one of a disease he’d heard Tighnari speak of months ago. And yet maybe he would still refuse to do anything about it. The cure was right there, right in front of him, and yet he refused to take it.
There were two possible cures to the hanahaki disease. Firstly, if the afflicted’s feelings turned out to be requited after all, the disease would vanish, and secondly a surgery that not only removes the disease, but also the afflicted’s romantic feelings for the other party. The surgery tended to be the more popular option, and yet Alhaitham didn’t want to get it, nor did he want to confess to Kaveh; they both had significant drawbacks.
Firstly, confessing his love to Kaveh would most likely result in rejection; his roommate could never possibly love someone like Alhaitham. It was irrational and illogical, and Kaveh may be both of those things, but not the extent where he could fall for Alhaitham. The surgery would, as previously mentioned, remove his feelings for Kaveh at the same time. Alhaitham never wanted to fall out of love. No matter how much it hurt to carry such feelings knowing they would never be returned, Kaveh made his life better, and Alhaitham didn’t want to lose his positive outlook on the other. He wasn’t sure exactly where the romantic part began, and he didn’t know how much he would lose; would he stop enjoying Kaveh’s smiles? Stop feeling angry when his clients treated him unfairly? Stop having to prevent himself from kissing Kaveh when the light fell on him in a certain way that made his eyes glow like the embers of the warmest fire Alhaitham had ever-
-well, that last one would almost certainly vanish, and Alhaitham wasn’t fond of losing that.
For all they argued, the two had learned to coexist in a sort of symbiosis. They would debate and argue, and yet Kaveh would always be standing the kitchen to cook their meals; Alhaitham would always knock on Kaveh’s door late at night and remind him to go to sleep before midnight; Kaveh would swear up and down that he couldn't stand Alhaitham, and yet he never moved out when he got the chance to. Alhaitham didn’t want to lose that, and he knew he would if he confessed his feelings. He had a very limited knowledge on romance and emotions, but Kaveh’ rants about whatever romance novel he was reading as of late had given Alhaitham enough insight to know that rejections were usually followed by intense awkwardness. Which made sense, but was still irritating to have to consider.
Emotions were complex, and difficult to predict; which meant that the results of the different paths Alhaitham could take were difficult to predict, and so he would prefer to choose the most easily predictable. Don’t confess to Kaveh, and die knowing he loves him.
Logically the surgery would be the best option - romance was at best a hindrance, and yet Alhaitham didn’t want to let go of the light, the color that Kaveh brought into his life.
His title of “The Light of Kshahrewar” was a well-earned one, in Alhaitham’s opinion, because Kaveh truly brought light into everyone’s lives; even if that meant hurting himself for the sake of others.
Alhaitham did not want to lose that. He was very sure his opinion of Kaveh was influenced by his feelings for the architect; change was not Alhaitham’s favorite thing, and he certainly did not want his opinion of Kaveh to change, because that would lead to a change in their dynamic.
Put shortly, he saw less benefits to losing his feelings for Kaveh than he did death.
As such, he made an effort to hide his sickness, knowing that Kaveh’s stubborn personality and chronic need to help people would only lead to him forcing a confession out of Alhaitham so that he could find whoever the scribe loved and insist on them returning his feelings.
Alhaitham would not be selfish and make Kaveh do that to himself.
Regardless of how much it ached to breathe after the first months, of how many times he had to find excuses as to why there were bloodstains on the floor of his room and calla lily petals in the bin, he would not tell Kaveh. It would hurt Kaveh more than it hurt Alhaitham.
Alhaitham would never be able to forgive himself if he hurt Kaveh.
Kaveh made it obvious he was worried for Alhaitham, always commenting on how pale he looked, how much he was wheezing rather than breathing, even the tiny winces when he took a breath too deep. Alhaitham never answered his interrogations honestly.
“Why are you breathing funny?” Kaveh would ask the moment Alhaitham got home from work.
“I am out of breath,” Alhaitham would answer simply, and ignore Kaveh’s follow-up questions.
“You’re worrying me, Haitham,” Kaveh would finally say, annoyance overtaking his tone. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong,” Alhaitham would state. “You have no reason to be worried. Everything will be fine.”
“Don’t I?” Kaveh folded his arms, and this is where it became different every day. “Calla lilies are native to Mondstadt. They are exceedingly difficult to find in Sumeru and even then, you would never have the taste to seek them out. So why are there calla lily petals everywhere ?”
“‘Everywhere’ is an overstatement.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“I am answering the more pressing issue; your chronic need to overstate anything and everything.”
“Archons!” Kaveh exclaimed, looking more annoyed by the minute. “Fine! Don’t tell me what’s wrong! You’re so stubborn , for Celestia’s sake, see if I care when your inability to be honest with yourself ends up biting you in the ass!”
And with that, he stormed off into his room, slamming the door behind him.
Alhaitham sat down on his bed. He told himself again that it was better this way; Kaveh would be better off not knowing.
Then his sore throat from earlier returned with a vengeance, and he coughed, coughed, coughed, forcing up the petals. They felt grossly ticklish in his throat, and then, very alarmingly, they began to hurt, feel like they were scratching his throat open, and then a full calla lily flower fell from his lips, with uncharacteristic thorns adorning the stem.
Alhaitham inhaled sharply, causing himself a great deal of pain in the process.
Kaveh would be furious if he knew Alhaitham was standing before death’s door and refusing to even look back over his shoulder.
Luckily, Kaveh would never know, Alhaitham thought to himself, opening the window and throwing the flower outside.