Stuck In Time

by WorldsBestScarameow

Summary:

It didn't matter what he did. Kaveh was gone and never coming back.

Notes:

Everything flops but here.

Inspired by life and life and life and the writing on the fucking wall.

It didn't matter how many times he threw his body up against the door. Or how he carved a hole in the wood with his sword. It didn't matter how tightly he held Kaveh in his arms as blood poured from an open, sopping wound in his skull. 

 

Didn't matter how he stormed out of their home with the architect limp in his embrace. Or how he ran to find a doctor as quick as his legs could carry. 

 

Kaveh never moved once. Not an inch. Those eyes, once tired and endlessly amber, were left permanently open. Crimson painted his delicate face and stained his clothes. 

 

Did you know that elemental energy from your vision can shoot through your flesh and bone like a bullet? Apparently, all one must do is aim their weapon and turn their back to the person desperately calling their name. 

 

Alhaitham never forgot. Not once. Especially he sat at a familiar desk years later. Crusted blood still lay perfectly scattered on papers populated with unfinished sketches. Pencils lay untouched along with a certain modified suitcase with a name long unsaid. 

 

Every inch of Kaveh's room remained the same. Alhaitham sat to read, flicking through pages without really processing the words on every dusty page. Each time he read he could only get so far as the journal entries stopped halfway through. 

 

‘Today I think I'll finally stop this stupid charade. I don't think I can do this anymore. It hurts. My mind hurts. I'm tired. I can't do this anymore even though I know damn well I have no right to complain. Hey, at least Alhaitham gets the house to himself when I'm gone. That'll make him happy.’