Love Language - mangi_writes - 原神 (2024)

Chapter 1: meet cute

Chapter Text

It’s a brisk, March afternoon when your thesis advisor calls you into her office.

Since you started studying literature all those years ago at the Akademiya—the world-renowned post-secondary institution for only the best and brightest scholars—Lisa Minci has always kept you on your toes. Always Lisa, never Dr. Minci, the woman has a strange talent for making you question every day if this degree you’ve signed your soul away to pay for is really worth it.

Since starting your master's and taking her on as your thesis advisor, that feeling has only multiplied. It’s been…less than a traditional experience. Namely, because she hasn’t really let you settle on a thesis at all. It’s just been strange research experiment after strange research experiment.

“Come in, cutie!” she calls when you knock on the door.

You step inside, biting back a comment on the highly inappropriate nickname that she refuses to relinquish. Her office is a library in its own right, barely enough room for a desk and chairs with how many bookshelves cram the small space.

Lisa lifts her head from her computer and gives you a dazzling smile as you enter. You’ve never been quite able to piece together her age. She’s been at the Akademiya for years, but her lovely face looks barely older than yours. Not to mention her…less than traditional way of dressing. That’s simply the best way to describe her, you’ve quickly realized—less than traditional.

“I got your email,” you say, approaching the desk. “I’m actually glad you had time to meet today. I’ve been brainstorming for thesis ideas, and—”

You pause when you realize the two of you aren’t alone in the office. Two chairs are pulled up in front of Lisa’s desk, and one of them is occupied by a tall man with ash-coloured hair and a permanently bored expression. He doesn’t even deign to look at you as you approach, keeping his head propped against his fist and staring out the window like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Alhaitham,” you say stiffly. “What a pleasant surprise.”

You’ve perhaps never uttered a bigger lie in your life. Alhaitham is Lisa’s other advisee, a linguistics student who’s on the cusp of graduating. He’s also—

“I’m surprised you actually made it a priority to show up to one of these meetings on time,” he says in a degrading tone you've begun to hear in your nightmares. “Let me guess—the coffee shop was closed?”

Your jaw locks. He’s also the most arrogant, insufferable know-it-all you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. And, lucky for you, Lisa believes in the merit of collaborative work, so you’ve been forced to see entirely too much of him since taking her on as your advisor.

“This is mymeeting,” you say, dropping your bag into the vacant chair with an angry flourish. You cross your arms and glare at him. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

“I invited him,” says Lisa calmly, her emerald eyes twinkling as always. “Please, Y/N. Have a seat.”

Warning bells are ringing in your head, but you do as she says, pulling your bag into your lap and clutching it to your ribcage like a bulletproof vest.

Lisa folds her hands beneath her chin and looks at you. “I understand this program hasn’t been quite what you’ve expected. Most thesis advisors would have had you settle on a topic last year, before you even began the program. Nearing the end of your first year in the program, I’m sure you’re wondering where this is all leading.”

“A little,” you admit, trying to sound polite. But it’s true—the constant chaos of your coursework is beginning to fray on your nerves.

Lisa pivots to Alhaitham now. “And Alhaitham. It’s been brought to my attention that you’re being considered for the vacant archivist position upon graduating. Is that correct?”

“Respectfully, you know very well it is,” he replies. “Considering the fact that they refuse to give me a concrete acceptance until my thesis advisor puts forth her recommendation.”

“About that…” She frowns and begins toying with a brown curl. “I’m not so certain I can do that.”

His eyes flash. “Why not? Have I not put forth exceptional work in every single aspect?”

“Show off,” you mutter. Alhaitham rolls his eyes in response.

“That may be true, but…” Lisa’s frown deepens. “Well, I suppose I’ll be frank. I don’t have very much faith in your ability to work well with others, Alhaitham.”

You can’t help but snort at that. “You’re just realizing that now?”

“I fail to see how that’s relevant to this position,” Alhaitham begins, but Lisa cuts him off.

“I understand it’s largely a solitary role, but the fact remains that there will be times when you’ll be forced to observe meetings and arrange various trades and sales of texts for the Akademiya’s collection. I need to know you’ll be able to act as a proper representative of the Akademiya, and so far…”

“It was one project, Lisa,” Alhaitham replies. His calm persona hasn’t cracked, but you can’t help but note the veins in his hand as he tightly clutches the arm of his chair. “And I’ll have you know that Kaveh was just as much to blame, if not more—”

“That’s enough,” says Lisa, holding up her hand. “I know. It’s not fair to judge you based on that one, rather catastrophic instance. Which is why I’m willing to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself.”

He lets out a long breath. “Very well. I’m listening.”

Lisa’s gaze flicks to you yet again, and you have the sudden, very tempting urge to stand and bolt from the office. You already know where this is going, and the refusal is already forming on your tongue.

“It’s why I’ve brought you both here today,” she says. “Y/N, I’ve come up with a rather…unconventional project, for the two of you. But should you succeed, you’ll have my full support in whichever topic you decide to focus your studies on. And, to make up for the time lost, I’ll offer you full access to my personal resources and connections to assist you in your efforts. How does that sound?”

You eye her warily. “It sounds…very generous, I suppose. But I’m not so sure I like the sound of whatever this ‘project’ is.”

“It’s simple, really.” She leans back in her chair and smiles. “I would like you to combine your skills—literature and linguistics—and create your own language. It doesn’t have to be advanced, but it should be detailed enough for you to then use it to translate whichever text you desire.”

“Create our own language?” you say doubtfully. It would be suspiciously in line with one of the thesis suggestions you have written in your notebook, which is a deep dive into world-building in fantasy literature and the subsequent blending of real-life cultures that tends to occur. In fact, it would serve as a great building block for such a research project.

Lisa gives you a knowing smile.

“That’s it?” says Alhaitham, sounding just as wary. You can tell he’s torn between flat-out refusing what he likely considers to be a pointless endeavour, and not wanting to seem incapable of rising to the task. “We complete this project, and you’ll recommend me for the position?”

“It’s that simple.”

He lets the idea roll around his head for a moment before finally twisting in his chair to give you an appraising look.

“Well, it shouldn’t pose much of a difficulty to me, but I can’t say the same for Y/N. Still, I’ll do my best to ensure she pulls her weight as well.”

“I’m personally thrilled to start this project,” you say, stuffing as much fake sunshine into your voice as you can manage. “What a joy it will be to get a close look at the baffling machinations that make Alhaitham’s brain the way it is.”

“Excellent.” Lisa’s smile doesn’t waver at your obvious hostility towards each other. “In that case, I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

𖧷𖧷𖧷

The good news is, after two weeks of meeting to work on this project, you and Alhaitham have doubled your progress.

The bad news is, zero times two is still zero.

“I already told you that isn’t feasible,” Alhaitham sighs.

The two of you sit across from each other in what has now become your usual coffee shop. Sun pours in through the tall windows, glistening against the melting snow outside. Alhaitham is drinking his coffee black. Yours is sweeter than most could stomach. His lunch consists of a protein bar. Yours is a cinnamon roll dripping with icing. He’s dressed in his usual attire that looks like something plucked straight from a dark academia Pinterest board. You’re in a pastel cardigan and jeans. You’ve written down countless suggestions in your notebook, and crossed out just as many. He’s been staring at a blank laptop screen this whole time.

You wonder if Lisa could have put two less compatible people together on the same project.

“And I’ve already told you it’s not that deep,” you retort. “We’re not going to be translating the damn Iliad. What’s wrong with what I suggested? It’s nice and simple, not too many words with multiple meanings. It should be straightforward enough.”

“That’s the problem. It’s too juvenile.”

“Why? Because you don’t need a PhD to understand it?”

“Lisa isn’t going to be satisfied with something this simplistic. We have to go a little more complex if we want this to be worth anything.”

You curse under your breath and tear the page out of your notebook. Crumpling the paper into as tight a ball as you can manage takes the edge off your annoyance a bit.

“This is going nowhere,” you say. “We don’t even have a lexicon established and we’re arguing about what we’re going to translate? How about we start with the basics?”

It’s such a reasonable suggestion that there’s no way he could argue against it. Except it’s Alhaitham, so you can practically see the steam curling out of his ears as he winds up a rebuttal.

“Oh, wow! Y/N? Is that you?”

Alhaitham’s mouth snaps shut at the interruption. A cold chill sweeps through you, your posture pulling ramrod straight in an instant. Alhaitham doesn’t seem to notice your panic. His eyes narrow, first at the tall, lanky newcomer weaving your way, then at you, as if irritated you’d have the nerve to have friends.

You resist the urge to slump in your seat. “Put a bullet in me,” you mutter.

“Pass this assignment,” he says coldly, “and I’ll consider granting your request.”

All you have time to respond with is a withering glare before the bane of your existence is standing at your table, wearing a grin that rivals the sun. His coppery hair is just as stylishly dishevelled as always, and the gray, oversized sweater he’s wearing hangs loosely on his thin frame, disguising the secretly toned muscle that youknowis hiding beneath.

You lift your head to him, amazed at how quickly you’re able to force your glare into a dazzling smile. Alhaitham seems amazed too—or slightly unnerved.

“Childe!” you exclaim, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as strained as it feels. “What a surprise!”

You mean to leave it at that but he sets his to-go cup on your table and practically tugs you out of your seat and into a sweeping hug with an ecstatic laugh. Your face burns with humiliation, while your chest feels like it’s going cave in. This is the most awkward moment of your entire miserable life, and of course, Alhaitham is here to witness it.

“Oh, sorry!” Childe pulls away, keeping you at arm’s length with his hands on your shoulders. “That’s probably too much, isn’t it? I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“It’s fine.” But you shrug out of his grip and drop back into the safety of your seat. Your bruised, bleeding heart feels like it might burst from your chest. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought work kept you pretty busy these days.”

“I’m between seasons,” he says with a shrug. “And with the wedding coming up next month, I thought it was the perfect time to pay a visit back home!”

You pale. “Wedding?”

“Yeah—you know, Beidou and Ningguang? I would have thought they’d invited you.”

The chatter of the cafe around you fades to a dull roar. No, you think faintly. Absolutely no f*cking way.

“Of course they did.” You don’t try to hide the stiffness in your tone this time. “I’m just having trouble understanding why you are invited.” While Childe managed to swindle his way into staying in most of your friends’ good graces after everything went down, Beidou was too hard-headed to forgive him fully. And yet…

He finally has the nerve to look sheepish. “Well…I guess I’m not technically invited. I’m, uh…I’m Lumine’s plus one.”

It would have hurt less if he’d pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the heart. You try to find something else to focus your stinging eyes on, but the only real option is Alhaitham, who’s been watching this whole mortifying exchange with a mixture of boredom and impatience.

“Her ‘plus one’,” you whisper, because it’s all you’re capable of. “Right.”

His smile dims. “Y/N, listen—”

You wave a hand. “It’s fine. It’s not like I didn’t know the two of you were dating.” Or that he’d been head-over-heels in love with her even while the two of you…

You shake the thought away. Nope. Not opening that old wound again. Even though Childe seems to have obliviously done that already with minimal effort.

Alhaitham clears his throat.

You blink, sucking in a quiet breath to steady yourself.

“Sorry,” you say, cringing. “Alhaitham, this is—”

“I don’t particularly care,” he says in that blunt tone of his that normally makes you bristle. But for the way it makes Childe blink, his ego clearly in danger of bruising, you think it might be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

“You’re in the middle of something,” says Childe, and you know the apologetic wince he gives is entirely forced. He's always been shameless in the damage he causes. “My apologies. I shouldn’t keep you.”

“It’s—”

“It was good running into you,” he interrupts. He looks like he might go for another hug, but mercifully decides against it. “Look, about the wedding. I know you probably don’t have a date—”

“Excuse me?” You jerk back like he slapped you.

“I mean, don’t kill her, but Ganyu told me you didn’t. I have this friend who—”

“It’s none of your business,” you snap, forced civility evaporating in an instant. You are so going to kill Ganyu. “And I don’t need you doing me any ‘favours’ just because you feel guilty.”

He has the nerve to look wounded, blue eyes flashing. That spikes your temper even more. He’s doing this on purpose. He’s making you look like a poor sob story in need of saving because he knows it’ll embarrass you in front of Alhaitham. You wish you could find the words to tell him that Alhaitham is the farthest thing from a threat imaginable.

“I just want to help," Childe insists.

“You don’t need to bother. I have a date.”

As soon as the words are out, it’s all you can do not to slap a hand across your mouth to take them back.

Why?

Why the hell would you say that?

Childe blinks. “Y-You do?”

“I…”

You certainly do not. And that didn’t matter so much when this wedding was just a chance to see two of your closest friends finally tie the knot and an excuse to get black-out drunk with friends you never get to see anymore. But now, knowing that Childe is going to be there on the arm of the girl he practically left you for? Now that he’s going to draw all the attention from the room like a damn magnet and leave you miserable and moping in the shadows? You can’t think of anything more humiliating.

Especially now that you’ve put your foot in your mouth—as usual, when it comes to him.

“Who is it?” he presses. He looks caught between amusem*nt and annoyance. He doesn’t even believe you. His ego, his need to be the one thing on your mind despite leaving you, means he doesn’t want to believe you.

Your words remain locked in your throat. It’s not like you’re going to be able to find a suitable date, one that would really make him eat his words, which means you’re going to have no choice but to come clean. And the thought of having to grovel like that in front of Alhaitham? He already thought you were a mess and was likely regretting every bit of his involvement in this project, but now he’s getting a front-row view of just how pathetic your life is.

Childe gives you a pitying smile. “I know this is an uncomfortable situation, Y/N, but it’s really fine if you don’t have one. I promise. Look, why don’t I give you Wriothesley’s number—“

“It’s me.”

All air whooshes from the room. You turn, caught in slow motion like your limbs are encased in ice, to give your research partner a horrified look. Because there’s no way you heard that right. There’s no way those words came out of Alhaitham’s mouth, of all people.

“You?” says Childe, and it’s like this is the first time he’s really seeing Alhaitham. He squares his posture, folding his arms across his chest as he sizes the gruff scholar up. That familiar competitive gleam is in his eyes, the one that was usually an omen for him getting you two kicked out of whatever bar you’d been drinking in for the night after someone looked at you the wrong way.

“You?” you echo, feeling faint.

Alhaitham, too, looks like he wants nothing more than to take the words back, his green eyes briefly shuttering. His jaw locks in a way that tells you he’s going to verbally tear your face off the moment you two are alone.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

“What?” he’s quick to smooth his expression and gives you a blank, oblivious look. “Was it supposed to be a secret? Everyone would have found out when we showed up together anyway.”

His tone is as calm and collected as ever, but you know him well enough at this point to sense the undercurrent of ire. As if you can read his mind, you realize that the only reason he said anything was to put an end to the train wreck you’d forced him to bear witness to. He’d probably just been trying to put both of you out of your collective miseries.

Oh god, you think, dread slicing through you like a cold knife. What sort of f*cked up blood debt am I going to owe him after this?

“R-Right…” It’s all you can manage to say.

“Alhaitham, was it?” says Childe. He holds out a hand. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Childe. Y/N and I are…old friends.”

The words are like a punch to the ribs, and judging by the eyebrow he raises at you, Alhaitham knows it. He eyes the hand like he might refuse it, but in the end, he surprises you by giving it a firm shake.

“Old friends,” he says, fixing Childe with an assessing stare. “Right.”

Childe glances between the two of you. “So you’re…?”

“Research partners,” you begin to say, but Alhaitham is quick to cut you off:

“We’re a couple.”

You’d taken a sip of your coffee in an effort to calm your rattling nerves, and at this, it slips down the wrong half of your throat and you start coughing. Alhaitham slides you an exasperated look. You don’t care. You wish the floor would open up to swallow you then and there. What the hell is he thinking? A couple?

“A couple?” Childe echoes your thoughts, eyebrows flying into the mess of his copper curls. “Why haven’t I heard about this? Considering Ganyu didn’t even think you had a date, let alone a boyfriend.”

“I…” Your face burns, both from coughing and humiliation. You clear your throat a few more times, eyes stinging. “Well, it’s—”

“New,” Alhaitham finishes for you. He kicks you— hard— under the table, and it tells you enough. Let him do the talking. Anything to put an end to this agonizing encounter. “We didn’t want to tell many people yet until it was clear we were compatible together, but things are looking promising.”

You bite back a groan. Such a cold, clinical response, like this so-called “relationship” is nothing more than a research experiment. Which, you suppose, is technically the truth of things.

But Childe—loud, vivacious Childe, who’s always been about fervent declarations of affection—doesn’t look convinced. No surprise there. He crosses his arms again, looking between the two of you as though peeling back the shoddy lie layer by layer.

“Well, good,” he says finally, though that pitying thread hasn’t left his voice. “In that case, I’m thrilled for you, Y/N. Look, I should run, but I’m sure we’ll have lots of time to catch up at the wedding. I can’t wait to hear every detail of your little love story.”

You bite your tongue at the jab, at the patronizing smile that goes along with it. He doesn’t believe you, and now he thinks you’re a pathetic liar. With a final wave, he grabs his takeout coffee from the table and heads out the door.

The moment he’s gone, you drop your head to the table with a loud thud.

“What the hell was that?” you groan.

A hand fists in your hair as Alhaitham lifts your head and forces you to meet his glare, those striking eyes of his filled with ice and venom.

“Can you please collect yourself? We have a project to work on.”

You slap his hand away, straightening in your seat. “Hello? You’re seriously not going to acknowledge…” You wave your hands dramatically as you fight for the words. “Any of that?”

“You mean where I saved us all from the most mind-numbingly melodramatic scene I’ve ever had the displeasure to witness?” His calmness is as infuriating as ever.

“Saved us? You made the situation a million times worse!”

“I fail to see how you were planning on doing something more productive.”

“I would have handled it.” A total lie. You’d been totally drowning, and instead of pulling you out of the water like he seems to think he did, Alhaitham just held your head under like the sad*st he is. “In case your oh-so-observant eyes missed it, he didn’t even believe you.”

“That’s not really my problem. I was only concerned with getting rid of him. The aftermath of this encounter is of no consequence to me.”

“Okay, sure. So now, not only do I not have a date for this wedding, but he’s going to tell everyone that I lied to make myself look better. That, or on the minuscule chance he actually did believe you, he’s just going to think you dumped me before the wedding, and instead of ridicule, it’s everyone’s pity I’ll be receiving and—”

He holds up a hand to cut off your rant. “Like I said, it’s not my problem. I don’t care one way or another what happens at this irrelevant wedding of yours. This project is my only priority.”

You cross your arms. “Are you serious? You’ve just dropped a giant, humiliating grenade on my entire life and that’s all you care about?”

“That’s a rather dramatic way of looking at things,” he says drily. “You can’t honestly tell me that you’re so concerned with what that guy thinks of you. I thought the pride you take in your studies would have at least translated more properly into your dating life.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you try to decide if that was a compliment or not. With Alhaitham, it’s never quite clear. Everything has that same air of condescension.

“He’s not what you think,” you begin, then pause. What’s the point of defending Childe? In the end, he was exactly what Alhaitham likely thinks.

Sure enough, Alhaitham scoffs, “Let me guess. Star athlete on whatever tragic sports team your high school was known for? Center of attention at every party? You couldn’t believe he’d ever give someone like you the time of day, and he milked that insecurity for all it was worth, so you spent your entire relationship waiting for the other shoe to drop, until it inevitably did in the form of…what did he say her name was? Lumine?”

His tone isn’t cruel, just cold and detached as ever, as though he’s analyzing a collection of data instead of sifting through your heartbreak and insecurities. Your eyes burn at the accuracy of it all.

“Then he’s exactly what you think,” you mumble, voicing your earlier thoughts. “And it’s not even like he’s one of those jocks who peaked in high school and is like…miserable and jobless now. He’s a pro MMA fighter and makes like a billion mora and gets to travel all around the world. Everyone knows who he is. Everyone loves him.”

“I’m sure they do,” he says, but his eyes are already back to scouring his laptop again—tuning you out.

“And here I am,” you continue, draining the rest of your coffee and setting the cup down with a forceful rattle. “Slaving away over this stupid master's that’s going to take me a lifetime to pay off, and for what? What kind of job am I going to get with a literature master's?”

He shrugs. “I could name at least twenty.”

“And now, I have to go to this stupid wedding with everyone we went to high school with and watch him parade around his stupid girlfriend—who I can’t even hate, by the way, because she’s so sweet and lovely it would make your teeth rot.” She’s more put together than you in every single sense, you refrain from adding. She was the one person in your high school who was friends with literally everybody. Sunshine in human form. Why wouldn’t he choose her?

“Can I be frank with you?” says Alhaitham finally, tearing his eyes away from his laptop screen. You’re not sure why he bothered asking. He’s never needed permission to make you feel microscopically small before.

“Please, by all means.”

“You and I are not friends. I could not possibly care less about your inane relationship drama, especially with how it’s impeding our work right now. Now tell me, what the hell is it going to take for you to go back to suffering in silence so we can do what we came here to do?”

You’re not friends, so the words shouldn’t sting as much as they do.

“You could be a little nicer,” you hiss. “Especially considering you made that situation so much worse. I mean, a ‘couple’, Alhaitham? You couldn’t have just let him think I was bringing a friend? I know that word is a foreign concept to you—”

He drums his long fingers on his keyboard. “What. Is it going. To take?”

“I don’t know, Alhaitham,” you say, fully exasperated. “Can you somehow magic us into a world where I have a date to this wedding and my insufferable ex doesn’t get the last word like he always does?”

He sighs. “Fine.”

You huff a humourless laugh at his sarcasm. If only it were that easy.

He seems to follow your train of thought because he rolls his eyes and clarifies, “No, I mean, fine, I’ll be your date to this accursed wedding.”

The laugh dies on your lips. “Very funny.”

“I’m quite serious. Hell, if it will get you to focus on the matter at hand so neither of us fail this assignment, I’ll marry you myself.”

Oh god. He’s actually being serious. Colour floods your cheeks before you can fight it and you begin toying with your pen.

“You’re…you’re being ridiculous.” God, why are you so flustered all of a sudden? You fight with every scrap of dignity you have left to keep your composure in check. “I know you’re full of yourself, but what the hell makes you think I’d actually want you as my wedding date?”

“Because I’m the person your hotshot ex now thinks you’re in a budding relationship with,” he calmly explains. “It's as you said: if you show up with someone else he’ll either know you lied, or he’ll think you got dumped. Tell me, which of those pathetic outcomes would you prefer?”

“That’s beside the point,” you argue. “I was under the impression that you ‘couldn’t care less’ about this.” There’s no way he’s offering this out of compassion, or even pity. That would require human emotion, something you’re not so sure Alhaitham is capable of.

“I don’t,” he says bluntly, “but as much as it pains me to admit it, I am not going to pass this course without your cooperation. Suffice it to say, if your inability to pull yourself together is what costs me the archivist position, then you’ll have much bigger problems to worry yourself over.”

There it is. You shiver at the pure malice in his tone. “Oh, so you’re threatening me?”

“I’m offering you a deal. One that benefits us both. Considering the fact that you are also receiving a grade on this project, I would argue this deal benefits you far more than it does me, so I can’t see a reason for you to refuse.”

“Just what is this deal?”

“I will attend this wedding as your date and…partner.” He tongues his cheek at the word like it’s bile in his mouth. “In exchange, you will promise to put a hundred percent of your capabilities into this project. Am I clear?”

You stare him down, heart pounding angrily in your chest. Alhaitham is rather handsome, when his infuriating arrogance isn’t ruining it. He’s tall and trim, and from the few times you’ve seen him without a blazer or sweater over top of his dress shirts, you know he takes impeccable care of his body. Plus, he’s the smartest person in the Akademiya. They don’t just offer faculty positions to anyone. If you really did show up at that wedding with such a catch on your arm, Childe would be eating his heart out.

God, but is that really something you care about? Isn’t it pathetic to worry about what your ex thinks, especially one who’s clearly moved on from you in every sense of the word? Not to mention that it would mean spending a night with Alhaitham by choice and not ripping his throat out. And besides…

“It’s just not realistic,” you say. “What am I supposed to tell our friends?” Because that’s what they are. Any friend you have in that group, Childe has charmed his way into being their friend as well. Even now, he’s probably hounding whoever he can for information.

“Do you have to tell them anything?”

As if on cue, your phone lights up with a text. You check it and immediately cringe.

Beidou: What the hell is this I hear about you having a boyfriend? Is he coming to the wedding?

Another.

Ganyu: Childe tells me he ran into you. Sorry I spilled the beans on the whole date situation. He really seemed like he wanted to help. But is what he told me true?

And another.

Navia: You’re dating someone?!?!?!

“Christ,” you groan, slamming down your cell. “Did he send out a f*cking newsletter?” Childe doesn’t even know Navia. How did she even find out? You bite out, “Yes. Evidently, I do have to tell them something.”

“Then we’ll tell them what we told Childe,” he says matter-of-factly. “It will explain why they haven’t heard anything until now. We’re going to have to spend a lot of time together to complete this project anyway, so it will be a suitable and convenient cover.”

We, we, we. It’s starting to feel less like you’re research colleagues and more like you’re partners in crime.

“This is going to be a huge pain,” you say. “You know that, right? This isn’t just a stupid wedding date. Because you felt the need to open your big mouth, we now have to pretend we’re an actual couple until then. ”

“I fail to see the issue.”

“The ‘issue’ is that you don’t have a romantic bone in your body. Nobody is going to buy it.”

He cuts you a wry look. “I can be romantic.”

“And watching paint dry can be fun.”

He reaches across the table and plucks the pen you’ve been fidgeting with out of your hand. Then he wraps his long fingers around your hand and gently strokes your knuckles with his thumb. When you gape at him in shock, you find him fixing you with soft, heavy-lidded eyes.

“I,” he murmurs, and the skin of your neck raises as though he’s whispering in your ear, “can be very romantic. And with a woman like you, it won’t be difficult to pretend.”

You clear your throat and wrench your hand away, hoping it masks the angry flutter that rises in your chest.

“That’s creepy as hell,” you say. “Like an alien took over your body. Don’t do that again; no one will buy it.”

“Hm.” He sits back in his chair and watches you carefully. “Very well. I’ll make sure the real thing is more…convincing.”

The threat in his words sends another chill dancing up your spine. You lift your coffee cup, if only for something to do with your hands, then remember you’ve already drained it.

“This seems like a lot of hassle for a project,” you say. “You really have such little faith in me that you’re willing to go to such lengths?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “And it’s a very important project. Our result needs to be no less than exceptional if I’m to secure my place on the faculty. I’m not about to let anything jeopardize that, least of all you. So if keeping you from walking off a bridge due to embarrassment is what it takes, then yes.” He gives you a smug twitch of his lips that’s perhaps the closest thing you’ve ever seen to a smile from him. “I can be romantic.”

“Fine,” you say, blood boiling at just how adept he is at making you feel inadequate. This is the dumbest, most reckless plan you’ve ever agreed to in your life. It’s going to blow up in both your faces and make you look like an even bigger fool than if you’d just swallowed your pride and gone to the wedding alone.

But at the same time, there’s a tiny spark of excitement stirring in your chest. If you can really pull it off…if you can prove to Childe that your life hasn’t stood still since the day he tore your heart open…

“It’s a deal.” You hold your trembling hand out to shake on it.

The bastard takes it and brushes his lips across your knuckles.

“It’s a date.”

And all of a sudden, that bridge he mentioned is starting to sound awfully tempting.

Chapter 2: groundwork

Chapter Text

Despite the very crux of your agreement hinging on the success of this project, you make zero progress for the rest of the afternoon. Alhaitham graciously offers to buy you a refill on your coffee, and then you both turn to fresh pages in your notebooks—digital or otherwise—to draft a plan. Because if you’re going to fool people into thinking there’s an ounce of chemistry between you, it’s going to have to be a good plan.

“Yae is too shrewd for her own good,” you tell him, your roommate’s feline smile flashing through your mind. “If we’re going to fool anyone, it’s going to have to be her.

“She interns at the publishing house, right?”

“That’s right,” you say in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“Just because I don’t bother myself with expanding my social circles, that doesn’t mean I’m not observant of my surroundings.”

“Point taken.” You begin doodling in the margins of your notebook. “Okay, so what’s our story? How did we meet?”

“Simple is best,” he replies. “It will be easier to keep our story straight if we stay as close to the truth as possible. We were partnered together on a research project and realized that our excellent compatibility would make for a successful relationship.”

You drop your pen and bury your face in your hands. This is hopeless.

Alhaitham sighs, as though disappointed you didn’t pick up on his rare attempt at humour. “Then how about this? I was disarmed by your stunning smile and sharp wit. I thought it was refreshing to meet someone I could discuss academics with as an equal.”

“Oh my god.” You lift your head and tap your fluttering heart. “That almost sounded genuine. I nearly swooned.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

You touch your face. “Do I really have a stunning smile?”

His own answering smile is dripping with mockery. “It lights up your whole face.”

“Jerk,” you say with a scowl. “Okay, well then I—”

“You thought it was refreshing to find someone you could discuss academics with at all,” he interrupts. Of course, he’s not even going to let you fabricate your own side of the story. “Let alone someone you’re sexually compatible with.”

You feel your face turn beet red in an instant. “ God. Do you have to phrase it like that?”

“How would you like me to phrase it?”

“I don’t know…less bluntly?” As if that’s a setting available to Alhaitham.

“The topic is going to come up one way or another.”

“We’re supposed to be a new couple right? Who’s to say we’ve even—”

“I wouldn’t have wasted much time,” he admits. “I’m the type to be straightforward with my desires. If two people are attracted to each other, and there are no extenuating circ*mstances, I see little reason not to act on it.”

The word desire does not mesh with the name Alhaitham in your brain. It’s much too human an urge for someone you secretly suspect powers down instead of sleeping at night. Still, now that the thought is in your head, you can’t quite shake it out. Just what sort of person is Alhaitham attracted to? Exactlyhowdoes he act on those desires? Oh, god. Is Alhaitham secretly some sort of suave sex god beneath that unfeeling asshole persona?

Did it just get slightly warmer in here?

You flick your eyes to the ceiling. “Okay. Why don’t we put a pin in that for now and make a slightly relevant pivot? Since we’re doing this to prove a point to my ex, do you have one you’re looking to get back at as well?”

“None to really speak of,” he replies. “At this phase in our lives, dating outside of casual physical relationships is nothing more than a distraction.” He then gives you a look that seems to silently add, Clearly.

“Okay,” you repeat, jaw locking. “Well, what about friends? You do know what those are, right?”

“I have friends,” he says drily.

You shrug. “Could have fooled me. Are you going to tell them about this little arrangement?”

“Only if it comes up. It’s not unusual for me to keep my personal matters private.”

That doesn’t surprise you.

“Though,” he goes on, looking thoughtful now, “my roommate, Kaveh, is a bit of a busybody. The moment he hears the gossip through the grapevine, I’ll likely never hear the end of it.”

You tap your notebook purposefully. “All the more reason to get our story straight. But Kaveh—you mentioned that name before. Something about an ill-fated project?"

"Let's not talk about that," he says, rolling his eyes. "It's only going to piss me off."

You can't say you're not curious, but you decide to show some restraint and not push it.

“Anyway...” He motions towards you. “Do you have roommates?”

You nod. “I’ve mentioned Yae before, but there’s four of us in total. Layla is studying astronomy—”

Alhaitham scoffs at that. You’re not surprised he looks down upon such a specialized program. The nice thing about the Akademiya is that due to its sheer size and government funding, there are extensive programs offered for pretty much every niche interest under the sun. For the most part, the love of learning is what binds every student at the Akademiya, so elitism is a rare phenomenon until you get into the top echelon of academic performers.

Especially arrogant know-it-alls like Alhaitham.

You grit your teeth and continue, “And then there’s Navia. She’s not actually a student with the Akademiya. She runs the campus bakery, so they let her stay in student housing.”

She’s also your best friend, as evidenced by the fond smile that crosses your lips whenever you talk about her. She’s trusting to a fault, so you know there’ll be little trouble convincing her of this…arrangement. But for the first time since this whole fiasco sprang to life, it isn’t nerves that twist your stomach at the thought of having to lie. It’s guilt.

“She’s going to be so hurt when she finds out the truth,” you groan. “She’s probably hurt enough that I’ve hidden this from her.”

“No one needs to find out the truth,” he says simply. “As soon as the wedding is over with, we can stage an amicable breakup and then go our separate ways. I’ll have my archivist position, and you’ll have your dignity. It’s a mutually beneficial outcome.”

“I guess…” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, not convinced. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this whole archivist position. I know you’re really intelligent—"

The bastard smirks, and you realize you inadvertently gave him a compliment of the highest degree.

“—but I was under the impression that you didn’t really care about fancy titles or accolades. You must be passionate about archival work if you’re putting this much effort in.”

He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Not particularly. But the pay is quite comfortable, and I’ll have ample time and resources at my disposal for any personal projects.”

“So…” You squint, trying to puzzle out his answer. “You want this position so you can be as lazy as possible for as much money as possible?”

“Is that such an absurd thing to want?” He doesn’t even try to deny it. “And anyway, you’re making it sound worse than it is. I don’t need more cash than I know what to do with. I simply wish to live a comfortable life. I don’t think that’s such a lavish goal.”

You sigh wistfully. “I guess not needing to worry about finances does sound pretty nice.”

But Alhaitham doesn’t even take the time to appreciate you agreeing with him for once. He checks his watch and sighs.

“This has taken up far too much of my time for one day. Let's end it here and reconvene a few days from now. I trust when the time comes you’ll have cleared your mind enough to actually focus on the task at hand.”

“So…that’s it?”

He blinks in question. The slow, lazy movement reminds you of a cat.

“I just mean…” You motion towards your collective belongings strewn across the table, of which Alhaitham has begun to clean his up. “We just…work on the project as normal? What about when either of our friends ask us why we’re not going on dates or anything like that?”

He shrugs. “We can always schedule a work session on a Friday evening to avoid suspicions.” He pauses, co*cking his head. “Unless you feel it necessary to engage in a practice date of sorts—to prepare for the wedding.”

You actually consider it for a moment—god, it really has been that long since you’ve been on a date that hasn’t ended in total disaster. But fake or not, the thought of being in such an intimate setting with the person who knows how best to get under your skin sounds like a potential disaster all its own.

“I-It’s fine,” you reply after a time. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We already have to stomach each other during these sessions. At least we have the work to focus on—and that’s what this whole thing is about, after all. Friday evening sessions sound fine to me.”

“Good.” He stands, snapping the buckles closed on his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Then, until next time.”

Even that is more of a goodbye than he usually gives, often accompanied by a brisk walk to the door without a second glance.

So when he leans over the table to plant a quick, gentle kiss against your temple, you just about fall out of your chair from shock. The feeling of his lips brushing against your skin sends an electric shock down your spine, and you have to force your traitorous heart to calm its stuttering. When he pulls back, he simply observes you, as though waiting for a reaction. Ever the f*cking scholar.

“What,” you hiss between clenched teeth, “the hell. Was that?”

“Practice,” he says calmly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, who knows who might be watching? I won’t have it be said that I’m an unaffectionate partner.”

He’s speaking in as lecturing of a tone as ever, but you swear there’s a glint of something like mischief hiding in his eyes. And you realize then that even though Alhaitham can’t be bothered with pursuits that don’t interest him, it’s when he truly sets his mind to something that he’s a force to be reckoned with. And since he seems to have decided that your performance on this assignment is directly correlated to how good of a show he puts on as your fake boyfriend…

You watch as he turns on his heel and leaves the cafe, long legs eating up the distance to the door with ease.

That bastard is going to make this as embarrassing as possible for you, isn’t he?

The light has begun to fade by the time you finish your long-chilled coffee and start the walk back to campus. The student housing comes in all shapes and sizes, but you can't help but feel that the spacious townhouse you share with your roommates is one of the most charming of its kind. The pastel blue building sits in a neat little row with four others just like it, save for the varying colours of each one. A small gap is all that separates this cluster from the next, and the streets stretch on that way for quite some time. Blossoming trees, still barren from the remnants of winter, line each side of the red brick street, which is only wide enough for foot traffic.

You trudge up the front steps and fumble with turning your key in the door in the dark. By the time you finally manage, you’re buzzing with annoyance and exhaustion. All you want to do is drag yourself upstairs, peel off your clothes, and soak in a long, warm bath.

Instead, you’re met face-to-face with your three roommates gathered around the dining table in the middle of the spacious, open-concept bottom floor. A single seat remains empty, and the moment you lock eyes with Yae, she tilts her head and motions towards it.

“Welcome home,” she greets you. “Please, do sit. Navia has scones cooling on the counter.”

You meet Navia’s stare, and as expected, those big blue eyes of hers are flickering with hurt.

“Is this an intervention?” you ask, dropping your bag and sliding into the chair. “Shouldn’t the participants all be awake for this sort of thing?” You poke at the muted blue ombre of Layla’s hair, splayed out across her arms as she rests her head on the table and dozes.

“Avoiding the situation with humour,” Yae tuts, shaking her head and sending her soft, pink hair rippling. “I would say she’s as guilty as they come.”

“You haven’t even accused me of anything,” you protest.

“Oh, Y/N,” says Navia, “how could you keep something like this from us? And Alhaitham? You told me the two of you can’t stand each other. I thought he was…what did you call him?”

“Believe she said ‘arrogant asshole,” Layla mumbles.

Navia snaps her fingers. “That.”

Your whole body has broken out in a cold sweat. This isn’t how you envisioned any of this going. For starters, you thought you’d be able to perform damage control one person at a time. Start with someone simple like Layla and work your way up to the final boss that is Yae.

“Look…” you begin, but much to your dismay, the story doesn’t come easily without Alhaitham guiding it along. You’re terrified to establish something new and concrete in the story without him there to approve it first. How is he able to be so stone-faced when lying about something this huge? You reach deep down and try to channel some of that blasé attitude. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I know I can be a bit of a downer in the romance department so I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up if it didn’t pan out.”

“How thoughtful of you to consider our immense investment in the matter,” says Yae mournfully.

You give her a dry look. “But then Childe showed up out of the blue and he was acting as innocent and patronizing as ever. He was trying to set me up with a friend of his—probably some loser so he could make a total fool of me.” It isn’t hard to feign annoyance at that part of the story. “Alhaitham really didn’t have a choice but to cut in and spill the beans to put a stop to things.”

Navia gasps softly. “He was jealous?”

You try not to cringe with guilt. Of course she’s falling for it so quickly.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you begin.

“He seems like he can be rather competitive when he wants to be,” Yae muses. “Much like you’ve told us Childe could be. It would seem you have a type.”

A type? You blink in shock. These two men could not be more different from each other, but you suppose what Yae is saying does make a degree of sense.

“A-Anyway,” you continue. “It’s still sort of casual. I wasn’t really expecting any of this to happen.”

“I’ll say,” says Navia, and now some of the doubt has crept back into her voice. “Why, I believe it was just last week that you were telling me how much of a headache he’s been during this whole project.”

“He has been,” you admit. Perhaps peppering in the truth will make this easier for you. “But I guess I realized…it’s kind of nice to meet someone who isn’t afraid to both challenge and encourage my ideas with this kind of stuff. God knows Childe wasn’t exactly an ‘academic’.”

“Rivals to lovers is a popular trope in romance fiction these days,” says Yae. Is she actually buying it or just tormenting you? You can never tell when it comes to her. “The heated arguments, the passionate late-night discussions…I can only imagine how quickly it would take for a flame to spark.” Her tone lilts suggestively. Then again, that’s kind of just how she talks.

Navia’s eyes glitter. "Have you—?”

“No!” you exclaim, face burning. “God no.” But the confused look she gives you makes you pause to collect yourself. If you really are dating Alhaitham, you shouldn’t sound so horrified at the thought of a physical relationship with him. “I-I just mean…things are still pretty new. I didn’t even know we were considered ‘exclusive’ until he sort of just…said it. I think it was more to make Childe leave than anything, but it ended up opening up that discussion for us and we decided…”

Navia notes the blush on your cheeks and can’t help but swoon. “Wow…I can’t believe it. You’re totally smitten.”

More like totally trapped.

“Well, I’ll try not to pry too much,” Navia goes on, while Yae gives you a knowing smile that tells you she doesn’t plan on making the same promise. “But this is all just so exciting! Oh, have you been on a real date yet?”

“N-Not exactly. Unless you count coffee dates to work on the project.”

“We certainly do not,” says Yae disapprovingly. “That simply won’t do. I have half a mind to track him down—”

“That won’t be necessary,” you say hastily. “Really. In fact, we have something planned this Friday evening. Our first ‘real’ date, I guess you could say.”

Even Layla perks up at this, finally lifting her head to blink her sleepy amber eyes at you with curiosity.

“Oh really?” says Yae. “And just what does our unexpected suitor have planned?”

You shrug, trying to feign shyness when your nerves about going off-script begin to flare.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Well, that’s sort of exciting, isn’t it?” Navia presses.

“It is.” You push back from the table, stretching your arms as you wander over to the counter. Like Yae said, fresh blueberry scones are laid out on the cooling rack. You grab one and take a bite, practically moaning at the warm, buttery sweetness.

“There are lots,” Navia goes on. “If you’d like, I can pack some in a container for you to bring to Alhaitham.”

You scoff. “With a body like that, I think he’s allergic to sweets.”

A faint blush crosses her cheeks, while Yae chuckles to herself. Little do they know that you’re not actually complimenting his impossibly toned abs, but instead ridiculing his aversion to joy.

You finish the scone in one final, noisy, gulp, then gather your belongings and begin to head upstairs. But Navia clings to your shadow, catching you by the arm before you can escape.

“Hey,” she murmurs, loud enough so the others can’t hear. “Alhaitham business aside, are you alright? Seeing Childe again…it couldn’t have been easy.”

“I’m okay,” you lie, squeezing her hand where it rests on your arm. “Honestly. It was…nice to catch him off guard for once, you know?”

She frowns. “I suppose…still. Let me know if you need anything. We might not have known each other when everything happened, but the least I can do is be here for you now. That’s what friends are for, right?”

You smile, but force your head away when warm tears prick your eyes.

“Thank you, Navia. You’re a great friend.”

You practically flee the rest of the way upstairs, leaving her frowning after you. It’s just as you thought—lying to poor, sweet Navia is going to be the hardest of all.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

The moment you make it into your bedroom, you lock the door behind you, flop face-first onto your bed, and let out a long, muffled screech into your pillows. You’ve been running on caffeine and adrenaline up until this point, and now that you can finally drop the mask, you’re hit with a wave of exhaustion and, conversely, panic.

Everything happened so fast that you didn’t even have a chance to truly spiral over seeing Childe again. You suppose you can thank Alhaitham for that. But now, in the solace of your room, you can’t help the flashes of memory that strike you—that final fight, where he denied until the very last moment having feelings for Lumine, where he made it clear your insecurities were what tore your relationship apart.

“I don’t have it in me to fight anymore. Not with you, Y/N. Maybe…maybe we should just shut this down before we end up hurting each other even more.”

At first, you’d begun to worry he was right. Maybe you were paranoid. Maybe all the fame and the popularity made you worry that the rift between you two was only going to grow wider and wider until he became totally out of reach. Had you been self-sabotaging? Even now, knowing you were right to worry about his intentions with Lumine, it’s that very same insecurity that has you blaming yourself. Maybe you should have tried harder to keep up with him. Maybe you should have taken more risks.

After all, he’s gotten everything he’s ever wanted. And you’re in a fake relationship with a man you don’t even like.

You rub your eyes before they can do something as humiliating as shed tears over this situation. Even here, in the sweet silence of your bedroom, you won’t give him that satisfaction.

You mindlessly scroll through your phone for a little bit, purposefully ignoring all of those probing texts still sitting unread in your inbox. Dealing with your roommates was enough. Fielding questions like an interview subject is a bit much for you right now.

It isn’t long until you find yourself typing out a message to Alhaitham, because who else do you have to text right now that doesn’t require keeping up an elaborate lie?

You: Just so you know, I had a full-on intervention waiting for me when I got home. What a disaster.

He reads the message and doesn’t reply. Asshole. You send another.

You: Are you sure I can’t tell my friends about this? Lying to them is going to be the absolute worst. I’m sure they can keep a secret.

Agonizingly long minutes later, he replies.

Alhaitham: Are you? Need I remind you I’ve met your ex? I’m not entirely confident in your ability to select a reliable social circle.

Your hand clenches around your phone. He even texts like a self-important prick.

You : Fine. But our Friday night work sessions are going to have to start this week. I had to tell them you were taking me on our first real date.

Alhaitham: Very well. I’ll pick you up at your place at 7 pm.

You pale, your palms suddenly sweating so badly that you nearly drop your phone.

You: You’re coming here??? Absolutely not. Just tell me where to meet you.

He reads it and doesn’t respond.

You: Alhaitham you are forbidden fromshowing up at this house. Do you understand me? Reply back so I know you understand me.

Alhaitham: Read @ 7:33 pm.

You : It’s even more irritating when you type it out yourself, jackass.

This time, the read receipt is genuine. You toss your phone onto your nightstand and groan. At this point, the humiliation of coming clean is starting to sound downright enjoyable compared to spending another moment with this man. You’re staring at your ceiling, still seething, when your phone finally chimes again.

It’s Alhaitham, but all he’s sent you is a word document with the basic outline of some grammatical rules he's drafted up. Despite your sour mood, you have to laugh. At least someone is pulling their weight on this stupid assignment.

You:How did you know grammar gets me all hot and bothered? Could it be, you're...my perfect man???

Alhaitham:Prepare some notes on what I've sent you for our next meeting. I think it will work fine as a baseline.

You: Whatever you say professor ;)

This time, when the read receipt pops up, you consider it a victory.

Chapter 3: the place we met

Chapter Text

You spend the week with a cloud of dread hanging over you. The so-called “date” itself is inconsequential—you know you’ll just spend the night bickering over this assignment. It’s literally just the potential ten minutes of stress you’re going to have to endure when Alhaitham shows up at your house. Perhaps he won’t come inside. Perhaps he’ll just loiter outside like the weird antisocial creep he is.

He hasn’t even told you where you’re going. The cafe you frequent isn’t open that late, and somewhere like a sit-down restaurant might feel a bit too genuine and intimate for this whole situation. It's as you're pacing in front of your closet that day, littering your floor with most of its contents, that you finally cave and text him.

You: It’s not even a real date. Why all the secrecy?

When he finally messages you back, you can practically hear his dry snark in the short sentence.

Alhaitham: Because it’s funny.

You: I’m going to actually murder you. Can’t you at least tell me what to wear so I don’t look like an idiot?

Alhaitham: Something cute and simple will suffice. I like that little black top you wore the other day.

Your heart skips a beat. You stare at your phone, jaw hanging open, fighting for something to say in response to that.

You: How the hell do you even remember something like that?

Alhaitham: What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?

You refuse to examine the reaction your chest is having to that statement too closely. Instead, you toss your phone onto your mattress and crack your knuckles. Cute and simple it is. Now, you realize, staring at the battleground that is your bedroom floor, you just need to find where youput that top.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

A little under two hours later, you’re pacing the kitchen, dressed in that little black top Alhaitham mentioned with an appropriately cute and simple outfit built around it. Your hair is simply done, and you’ve done your usual makeup routine for a casual evening out.

Yae is perched on the counter, draped in her favourite red and white kimono-style housecoat. Her violet eyes haven’t stopped appraising you since you walked downstairs, and you can tell by the way she’s tapping her chin that she’s compiling a list of no-doubt ruthless criticisms of what you’ve chosen to wear.

Navia is rolling dough at the kitchen table, and even Layla seems more alert than usual, curled up in her usual armchair in the living room with a book on her lap. You’re all friendly enough with each other as far as roommates go, but it’s rare for everyone to be gathered in the common area at once like this.

“Would you all quit staring at me?” you mutter.

“Not staring!” Navia says honestly, sprinkling some more flour on her rolling pin.

“Reading,” Layla agrees, but she hasn’t turned the page once in the last fifteen minutes.

“Is that really what you’re wearing?” says Yae, earning a scowl from you and Navia both.

“Alhaitham likes this top,” you protest, pressing a hand to your stomach. Navia lets out a sound of glee that you rush to drown out. “And anyway, we’re not going anywhere fancy.” At least, you hope not. Maybe Alhaitham purposely misled you so you’d show up inappropriately dressed. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“The outfit is fine,” says Navia. “Don’t listen to Yae. She’s just moody because Ei’s still off on that silent retreat.”

Yae’s calculating expression doesn’t change. There’s no changing the subject with her once she’s got her claws in someone.

The three firm knocks that sound at the door, cutting off her next retort, are both a blessing and a curse.

It all happens so fast.

“Well, goodbye!” You start at a brisk pace towards the door, but suddenly a yawning Layla stumbles into your path, uttering apologies as though it was an accident, and then Yae is off the counter and crossing the room at lightning speed.

“Don’t you dare open that door, Yae!” you shout.

She simply shoots you a mischievous smirk over her shoulder and tugs the door open.

Alhaitham is standing there with what looks like, to the untrained eye, a perfectly innocent smile. But you know it’s chillingly similar to the mischief tugging at Yae’s lips. You realize in horror that the duo staring at each other in the doorway are a natural disaster at work. You have to put a stop to this before it detonates and causes irreparable carnage to your self-esteem.

All three of your roommates have their gazes glued to the door, so no one sees the exasperated glare you shoot at him that silently says, I told you not to knock.

“Well, well,” Yae hums, crossing her arms and sizing him up. “I thought we were never going to get to meet the infamous Alhaitham. Y/N gushes about you constantly , you know.”

Your face burns. “ Yae.”

“Does she, now?” says Alhaitham, raising his eyebrows at you. His lips twitch ever so slightly.

“No,” says Yae. “Not at all. In fact, we knew nothing about you until precisely four days ago. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Well, we should get going!” You move Layla firmly out of your way and throw Navia a beseeching look as you grab your coat. Thankfully, Alhaitham’s dark brown trousers, thin turtleneck, and overcoat are about on par with what he normally wears, so at least the two of you are evenly matched in terms of wardrobe.

“Yae, stop torturing the poor girl,” says Navia, but the dazzling smile she’s giving Alhaitham is almost just as embarrassing, like a starstruck fan meeting a celebrity.

Yae calmly steps out of the way as you reach the doorway and begin shoving Alhaitham outside. But he’s not quite as movable as you expect, and he drapes his arms across either of your shoulders as he plants his feet firmly against the ground.

It’s the closest you’ve ever been. Your brain short circuits as he fixes you with a real, genuine, honest-to-god smile.

“So eager,” he says affectionately, leaning over you. God, he’s tall. He lets his gaze cling to your mouth. “You could have told me you were missing me. I’m only a text message away.”

If only you returned my f*cking messages, you resist snapping back. Instead, you bring a hand up to his arm in what looks to your roommates like a gentle stroke of his bicep. What none of them see is you pinching his skin between two fingers as hard as you can. To his credit, a slight tightening of his jaw is the only indication it hurts.

“You look great, by the way,” he goes on, mercifully taking a step back. He subtly rubs his arm. “How did you know I love that top on you?”

Layla stifles a romantic sigh behind you. Great, he’s already got her and Navia wrapped around his bony finger.

“Lucky guess,” you reply with a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Are we ready?”

“Don’t you want to introduce me to your roommates?” he presses, and has the nerve to look wounded.

Your jaw locks. “We’ll be late.”

“Nonsense. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“My first batch of biscuits should be cooled by now,” Navia offers. “Why don’t you sit for a moment and I’ll get you one?”

“They really are delicious,” says Layla with a serene smile.

Traitors. Every single one of them.

It’s clear that silent death threats aren’t an effective tactic against Alhaitham so you decide to switch gears. You draw your bottom lip between your teeth in as delicate of a pout as you can manage. Batting your lashes, you reach out and twine your fingers through his. To anyone else, it looks like a doe-eyed girl can’t keep her hands off her man. You hope Alhaitham sees it as you truly mean it—pleading for your damn life.

Miraculously, something shifts in his expression and he relents.

“It’s kind of you to offer,” he says, his mercy at odds with the way he’s near-crushing your hand in a vice grip. “But I think Y/N here is eager to head out. I know she’s been looking forward to this all week, so I’d hate to keep her waiting.”

“So sweet,” you say sharply, wrenching your aching hand free.

“Well, don’t be a stranger,” says Yae, and the lilt to her voice leads you to suspect that she caught every clumsy exchange the two of you tried to hide. “We simply must have you over for tea.” You know Yae well enough to know that it’s not an offer. It’s a demand.

“Select a day that works best and I’ll make it happen.”

You shove him out the door before she actually can, and it’s only when it closes behind you that you allow yourself to release a long, shuddering breath.

“What did I say?” you hiss, guiding him down the front steps and onto the sidewalk. “I told you to text me when you got here.”

“It’s more polite to knock.” That doting air he’d put on in the entryway has completely dropped, and he’s back to speaking in that calm, matter-of-fact cadence that you know and loathe.

“Right, because politeness is a concept you’re so attached to.”

“Your roommates seem pleasant,” he says as though you haven’t spoken—something he does often. “Though I see what you meant about that Yae woman. I’d hate to disappoint you, but it would seem she saw through the whole thing.”

“I’m getting that impression,” you sigh.

“It didn’t help matters at all that your performance was less than satisfactory.”

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He slings an arm around your shoulders as you walk, peering behind the two of you to wave back at your house. Sure enough, when you turn to look, you catch the movement of billowing blonde hair escaping back through the front door. Busybody spies…

“It means you could try acting like you hate my guts a little less."

“Forgive me for not being able to shut my emotions off on a whim like you,” you retort. Every inch of your skin crawls for you to shove away from him, but you know your roommates are still probably watching you make your way down the street. And besides, there’s something kind of nice about walking this way with someone, even if only to provide extra warmth against the early spring chill. “It’s just…lying to my friends, acting all lovey-dovey…it’s all a lot more difficult than I thought it was going to be.”

“Understandable. But it’s only going to get a lot more difficult from here on out. You’re going to have to get used to a little physical contact and affectionate language.”

“I get it…” You twist slightly to peer up at him. This close, you can catch the faint whiffs of whatever citrusy soap he uses. Orange? Or is it bergamot? Hmm… “I guess I’m just impressed you’re so comfortable with it. I know this whole thing was your idea, but you’re always so cold and calculating all the time. Isn’t this sort of thing uncomfortable for you?”

“I don’t tend to get embarrassed by much. That would require caring what others think of me.”

“Must be nice,” you grumble. You turn the corner onto the main street, and with the direct line of sight to your house broken, the two of you are quick to separate. “So, where are we headed, anyway? Did you bring a car?”

“My car is parked nearby, but our destination is within walking distance. I thought the fresh air would be nice.”

You wrack your brain for where you could be headed, but this close to campus, the possibilities are extensive. You let Alhaitham take the lead until eventually, you reach a quaint pub nestled in the row of many bars and restaurants just like it. You’ve been here countless times with Navia and the others in the past—it’s not exactly a hidden gem of the nightlife around here. They have a small food menu available, but for the most part, it’s just a relaxing place for grad students to grab a drink and unwind. It’s not uncommon to see people typing away on laptops or even reading novels, though you can’t see the appeal of trying to focus in such a noisy room. The decor has a bit of a rustic, rundown vibe, with chipped wooden tables and wrought iron accents.

“ This is the big surprise?” you say wryly as you follow Alhaitham inside and to a vacant table near the window. “I mean, it’s the perfect choice, I’ll admit, but I don’t see why you couldn’t have just told me we were coming here.”

“It’s like I said. It was more amusing to make you sweat over it instead.”

“Jerk.”

“Would a jerk offer to buy your drinks for the night?”

You light up, the slight instantly forgotten. “You mean it?”

“Consider it an incentive for your productivity tonight.”

“You really know the way to a woman’s heart.”

He lifts his arms in a confident shrug that seems to say, When are you going to stop doubting me? You give him your drink order and then he heads to the bar to wait in line.

You settle into your seat while he’s gone and pull your notebook out to start some preliminary notes. It’s still early in the night, so the pub is only about half-full, and the ambient noise is about on par with the chatter of the cafe.

That is, until the door opens and one particularly noisy newcomer cuts through the din of the room.

“I’m just saying,” the man says as he and his two friends settle at the table beside you. He’s tall, his golden hair haphazardly pulled back from his face in a series of clips and pins. He’s animatedly flinging his hands around as he rants. “Haven’t these people ever heard of balance? Scale? Hell, just a basic understanding of physics would be nice before they start making all these insane demands of me. It’s like they want to live in a house that collapses on top of them. But hey, as long as it’s boring and grey, who gives a sh*t, right?”

“I thought the customer was supposed to know best,” comes the dry reply from the man sitting across from him—tan-skinned, with long white hair beneath a black beanie, and a deadpan expression.

The blond looks about ready to burst a blood vessel. “Are you kidding—”

“Don’t get him going even more,” the third one groans. His hair falls to his chin in a straight, black curtain, and he impatiently toys with the string of his hoodie as he glares between the two of them.

“It was just a joke.”

You let out a soft chuckle at their antics before training your attention back on your notebook. As requested of you, you’ve done some preliminary work leading up to this, jotting down a few different linguistic styles you might want to use to springboard your own lexicon off of. Knowing Alhaitham, he’ll probably shoot down every single option you give, but maybe he’ll be impressed you came prepared.

You glance up just in time to see him grab two glasses from the bartender and then begin to make his way back over to your table. He only makes it halfway across the room before he freezes in place, an irritated scowl pulling at his face. You blink and tug at your hair self-consciously. What could you have possibly done to piss him off this time?

But then the golden-haired man from the table beside you lifts his head as well, cutting off his renewed rant to scowl right back.

“Oh, great, ” he calls across the pub. No one really seems to pay the noise much mind—he must be a regular. “And just what are you doing here? I thought you were much too busy and important to do something as lowly as playing cards with your friends. Did you suddenly have an epiphany that it really was pathetic to spend Friday night brooding by yourself?”

Alhaitham knows these people? He told you he has friends, but until this moment, you weren’t entirely sure you believed him. And indeed, as he begrudgingly makes his way back towards your table, the stiffness of his posture tells you he isn’t exactly happy to see them. But he smooths out his scowl, and by the time he reaches you and sets your drinks on the table, he’s wearing his classic, unbothered mask.

“Did I say I was going to be spending Friday alone?” Alhaitham questions, while the other two men at the table hone in first on the two drinks he set down, and then, inevitably, on you. “Or are you simply making up stories to make yourself feel better as usual?”

The blond’s brow twitches. “It isn’t as if you have any other people who even remotely tolerate your presence, so forgive me for reaching that conclusion.”

“Maybe that’s not true,” says the black-haired man, blinking at you in surprise. “Who’s your friend, Alhaitham?”

You flush at the sudden attention. “Oh, I, uh…”

“This is Y/N,” says Alhaitham calmly, and even though you brace yourself for the words, it still sends you reeling a bit when he continues, “My girlfriend.”

A brief silence falls over the table.

Then, chaos.

“Your what?” the black-haired man exclaims in shock.

“He’s joking, right?” says the white-haired man.

“Of course he is!” the blond man explodes, scowling. “Don’t tell me you’d believe for a second that any woman in her right mind would shackle herself to that conceited, hard-headed—"

“Actually,” you force yourself to speak up, “he’s telling the truth.”

His mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that not much leaves this man speechless, but as his sharp, scarlet eyes flick between you and Alhaitham, you truly believe he might be at a loss for words. When he finally does speak, it’s a single, disbelieving word:

“Girlfriend.”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” says Alhaitham patiently. “Perhaps you need to see a doctor about your hearing problems. And while we’re still on the topic, you can say what you want about me, but I'll ask you to kindly refrain from making insulting speculations about her intelligence. She’s one of the top students in her department.”

Everyone’s mouth falls open at that—including yours. Is this the first time he’s actually acknowledged your intelligence? Other than to compare it unfavourably to his own? If you knew this is what it would finally take for him to start taking your accomplishments seriously, you would have started fake-dating him ages ago.

“I think he might be serious,” the white-haired man says in shock.

“Hmm…” The black-haired man leans forward in his chair, hazel eyes searching your face. “He’s not blackmailing you into this, is he?”

The blond snaps his fingers. “Of course he is! Why didn’t I think of that, Tighnari? Oh, Alhaitham, how could you? Isn’t tormenting us enough for you? You really had to trick this poor, sweet girl into dating you just so you hadanotherreason to think you're superior to us?"

“Astoundingly incorrect as usual, Kaveh,” says Alhaitham, and you perk up.

“Oh! Kaveh. You’re Alhaitham’s roommate, right? He’s told me so much about you.”

“He…did?” There’s a certain degree of fear in the blond, Kaveh’s, voice. Alhaitham looks slightly wary as well, since he knows full well he's told you virtually nothing. “Look, you can’t listen to a word he says about me! I swear, this man has had it out for me since—"

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” you assure him, fighting back the snicker threatening to break through your act. You run your fingers up Alhaitham’s arm and smile softly up at him. “He’s actually a lot sweeter than he lets on.”

Alhaitham’s expression doesn’t change, but you can see the death threat flickering in his eyes. You blink innocently at him. Wasn't he the one who said he wanted your acting to improve?

“This is Alhaitham we’re talking about, right?” The black-haired man, Tighnari, is giving you a wholly baffled look. “Cold, unfeeling, stiff as a board Alhaitham?”

You frown. “Is it really so strange I could fall for someone like him?”

All three reply in unison, “Yes.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to pass it off as doubt when in reality, it’s all you can do not to burst into laughter. If only circ*mstances were different. You can think of nothing more appealing than sitting around a table with these men with a round of drinks and sh*t-talking Alhaitham well into the night.

“Well, this has been thrilling as ever,” says Alhaitham. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Y/N and I have a date to return to—"

“ Oh no,” says Kaveh, standing and slamming his hands on the table. “That won’t do. You can’t just drop this bomb on us and then expect us all to sit here beside you like it’s not the most unnatural, earth-shattering phenomenon we’ve ever—"

“Then find another table,” Alhaitham says bluntly. You know the real source of his frustration—he wants to work on the project in peace, but that’s obviously not going to happen if he has to sit here across from his friends and pretend to be your doting boyfriend. Though, you feel inclined to point out that the role isn’t so hard for him to play when it’s in front of your friends.

“Why don’t you join us?” the white-haired man offers. He doesn’t smile at you, but there’s a certain warmth to his expression all the same. “Do you like Genius Invokation, Y/N?”

“I’ve never played,” you admit before Alhaitham can answer for you. “But I’m familiar with it. I’ve always thought the dice were so pretty and shiny.”

His face lights up slightly. “I have extra decks with me. I can teach you if you’d like.”

“Oou, that sounds fun—"

“We’re not giving up our date to play card games, Cyno,” Alhaitham interrupts.

You find his hand where it’s braced against the table and gently cover it with your own. Forcing your lip to tremble, you fix him with as crestfallen of a look as you can summon.

“Alhaitham, I don’t mind spending some time with your friends. I promise. Are you…” You drop your voice to a wavering whisper. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me or something?”

His jaw locks.

Okay, maybe you feel a littleguilty for tormenting him, especially when he cut you some slack earlier. But one merciful moment does not make up for nearly a year of making you want to pull your hair out, so the guilt is quick to dissipate.

“Alhaitham, how could you be so cold and heartless to such a lovely girl?” Kaveh snaps. “This is exactly why none of us believed you right away. You wouldn’t have it in you to be an affectionate partner if your life depended on it. Honestly, Y/N, not to put you on the spot or make you uncomfortable, but it’s still early enough to cut your losses on this sham. He’s only going to end up breaking your heart. And in fact—"

“Enough,” Alhaitham says. There’s a gleam in his eye that makes you uneasy. From what little you’ve gleaned of his dynamic with Kaveh, you can only assume that he’s taking Kaveh’s declaration against his affection levels as a literal challenge. He takes the hand not currently trapped beneath yours and gently cradles your face, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip. “Of course I’m not embarrassed. I just wanted tonight to be the two of us, but if you’d like to spend time with my friends, we can. Anything to make you happy.”

The colour that blooms in your cheeks at that featherlight touch against your lip is anything but fake, even when his fingers then slide into your hair to give a hidden, punishing tug.

“But don’t think I won’t make up for it later in private,” he murmurs. To anyone else, it’s a sensual promise. You see it as the menacing threat it is and know he’s going to have some choice words for you the moment you’re alone. You have to bite back another giggle.

“This is…unsettling,” says Tighnari.

“My thoughts exactly ,” says Kaveh, blanching in horror. “I have not had nearly enough to drink to stomach the nauseating mental image of you…” He trails off and shakes his head, clearly not drunk enough to even speak the words either. “I swear, I’m starting to regret every time I begged you to branch out and find someone else to torment. Who knew you would be this sickening in a relationship?”

“Is it so sickening?” Alhaitham questions, glancing at Kaveh but keeping his grip on your hair. You’re sure the sad*stic asshole must have ripped a chunk out by now. “Or are you just so unfamiliar with the concept of romantic connection that it makes you uncomfortable?”

Kaveh splutters, “Wha—you— me? That’s rich coming from the man who doesn’t have a single romantic bone in his body! I mean, really—you took her for a date here? What, was the dive bar down the street closed for renovations?”

“This place is special,” Alhaitham says. “It’s where she and I first met, after all.”

You try not to roll your eyes. Because that'sa convincing story. Why is he switching things up just for his friends? You thought you were sticking as close to the truth as possible.

But then you swallow a surprised, "Oh!" as the memory hits you. Seeing as most of your past interactions with Alhaitham have been far from anything worth remembering, you hadn’t bothered classifying your first meeting as anything other than another headache. But now that he mentions it, you do have a vague recollection of Lisa dragging the two of you to this pub to make introductions when you started the program.

“ Y/N, I’d like you to meet the other student I’m advising. You’ll likely be spending a lot of time together if any conferences or seminars pop up. His name—"

“How long will this require, exactly?” the stone-faced scholar interrupted. “I thought this was about my thesis. I didn’t sign up for a night of casual drinking with my professor. And anyway, don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate?”

“Alhaitham,” Lisa finished, her smile unwavering. “He’s charming, once you get to know him. I think the two of you will really hit it off.”

Really, it was mutual disdain at first sight. And a year later, here you are. Should it warm your heart that he came up with such a sweet notion? In reality, he's probably also looking back on that night as the cataclysm that eventually led him here, suffering through this stupid fake relationship nightmare with you.

“That’s surprisingly sentimental of you,” says the white-haired man, Cyno. “Maybe you really do have a heart.”

“Or at least a very good memory,” you say brightly, hoping he can sense the suspicion you’re hiding in your tone. You playfully swat his hand away and suck in a breath of relief when he releases your poor, aching scalp.

“Well, as Y/N likes to tell me, I’m a man with many…what was the word you used? Assets?”

“Something like that,” you say between gritted teeth, flushing at the implication.

“Okay, that settles it.” Kaveh, still standing, slaps the table again before jabbing a finger towards Alhaitham. “If I’m going to have to sit here and listen to the two of you flirting all night, the least you can do is buy us a round of drinks.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re broke,” says Alhaitham. “Why should I be the one to fund your overindulgence when it’s going to be me dealing with the aftermath?”

“Well, forgive me if your grating personality drives me to drink! If you’re so worried about the ‘aftermath’ perhaps you can go spend the night with your precious girlfriend that you forgot to tell any of us about.”

While the two of them bicker, Tighnari gives you an apologetic smile.

“He’s only this bad when Kaveh’s around,” he promises. “They bring out the worst in each other. I’ve never seen two people get under each other’s skin quite like those two.”

You smile and say nothing. If you were allowed to be honest, you’d tell him that their dynamic is actually something you are painfully familiar with. Perhaps you and Kaveh should start a support group when this is all over.

In the end, Cyno ends up paying for the drinks, if only to diffuse the fight so he can get to the card game faster. He’s a bit intimidating on the surface, but as the evening stretches on and the drinks keep flowing, you find that he’s actually a pleasant, patient teacher—even if he tends to crack some groan-worthy jokes.

In fact, all of Alhaitham’s friends are a surprising treat to be around. You’d expected them to be just as blunt and unwelcoming as he is, but by the time the night ends and you’re saying your goodbyes outside, you’re almost sad it’s over.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re such a delight,” Kaveh raves, practically falling over in his attempt to shake your hand goodbye. You’ve never seen someone put away so much alcohol in such little time. He could give Beidou a run for her money—even if it’s clear he can’t handle his liquor nearly as well as her. “You— hic!— better give Alhaith’m a hard time for hiding you from us.”

“I’ll make him suffer,” you promise in a conspiratorial whisper, causing Kaveh to roar with laughter.

“I think Kaveh does a good enough job at that already,” Alhaitham sighs. He glances at Tighnari. “Can you please make sure he makes it home without collapsing in a ditch somewhere? I need to bring Y/N home.”

“Walking her home?” says Tighnari. “How chivalrous.”

Of course he is. The longer he spends with you, the less time he’ll have to spend with an utterly sloshed Kaveh.

“You’ll have to come to our next game night,” says Cyno. “Now that you know the basics, you can build your own deck.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you say earnestly. And if Alhaitham decides he has better things to do that night—all the better.

You all bid each other a final farewell, and then you and Alhaitham head back the way you came. The night is cold, but the mild buzz of alcohol warming your blood makes it a bit more bearable. The journey back is mostly silent, but as you turn onto your street, you shove your hands into the pockets of your coat and give him a hesitant smile.

“I wasn’t expecting your friends to be so…”

“Colourful?” he offers.

“ Nice,” you correct. “Though I’m surprised Kaveh is your roommate with how much the two of you argue. You’d think one of you would have bit the bullet and moved out by now.”

“Kaveh is…a special case,” says Alhaitham. He squints slightly up at the cloudy night sky, as though taking great care with choosing his words. “I’m sure if his financial situation was more stable, he would explore other options. But with putting himself into heavy debt to pay for schooling, not to mention the elaborate projects he takes on for his fieldwork, he doesn’t have much choice but to admit that our deal is too beneficial to pass up.”

“Beneficial? Are you offering him discounted rent or something?”

“More or less.”

“Why? What’s in it for you?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “You don’t think I have it in me to do something out of the kindness of my heart?”

Your resulting belly laugh is answer enough.

“Think what you will,” he says wryly, barely audible over your laughter. “It makes no difference to me.”

You’re still caught in the throes of your giggles when your townhouse comes into view. The two of you pause at the foot of your walkway.

“Needless to say, this night turned into a total waste,” says Alhaitham irritably. “I trust you’ll work on the project on your own time to make up for it. This is turning into more of a headache than I anticipated.”

You poke at his shoulder. “Oh? You mean you do regret opening your big, stupid, impulsive mouth?”

“Not at all. We’re just going to have to be smarter about things.”

“Orrrrr you could admit you didn’t think things through?”

His lips twitch at the corners. “Unthinkable.”

“Didn't think so. Oh well…” You blow out a breath and give a short wave. “Well, anyway. Bye.”

But as you turn to leave, he catches you by the wrist, tugging you back until you're standing face-to-face. You blink in surprise, the liquor in your system causing you to stumble with the sudden movement.

“A-Alhaitham?”

“Your roommates are watching from the window,” he says, his harsh mutter at odds with the soft look in his eyes. “I think...I’m going to have to kiss you goodnight.”

“Ugh,” you gag, but you can’t say you’re surprised to hear their nosiness hasn’t subsided in the three hours you’ve been gone. “Seriously?”

“It’s not like I’m thrilled about the concept either. But unless you want them interrogating you about why I didn’t, I see no other alternative.”

“I’m willing to live with that burden.”

He steps closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you against him. You gasp, but refuse to give him the satisfaction of pushing him away.

“What’s wrong?” he taunts softly. “Are you too scared to commit?”

You send a pointed, sweeping gaze to your entangled bodies. “I think you’re a little too eager to commit."

But he simply stares expectantly at you in response, because he knows it was the smart thing to do—to appeal to your pride. And there’s no way you’re going to let Alhaitham claim you’re a coward. You roll your eyes. A small, insignificant kiss? Whatever. This isn’t middle school. You can grin and bear it.

“Fine. Make it quick.” You squeeze your eyes shut and pucker up, fully prepared for the brief, soulless peck you’re both going to have to endure for the sake of appearances.

So when he presses his lips against yours with delicious force, swift and claiming and hot, you let out a startled gasp against his mouth. His hand moves to cup the side of your face, and maybe it’s the alcohol keeping you off balance, but you find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck to stay upright.

You’re also going to blame the alcohol, you decide, for the way your heart is slamming like a trapped bird against your ribcage. And the way you kiss back for just a moment, helpless against the perfect rhythm his big, stupid, impulsive mouth is setting? Also the alcohol.

The “alcohol” is dangerously close to making you melt in his arms, breathless and dizzy, when he finally breaks away. There’s a devious tilt to his mouth as he searches your face, gauging your reaction.

“Was that convincing enough for you?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and will your breathing to settle. “A little too convincing. Something tells me you just wanted an excuse to get handsy.”

“You thought that was handsy?” He blanks his expression into that oblivious innocence that you’re starting to become far too familiar with. “Hm. I thought it could have been more…passionate. I guess you and I have different thresholds for such things.”

“Oh please,” you scoff. “And what makes you think that I’m so hot and bothered over that mediocre kiss?”

“You’re a bit flushed.”

“It’s cold!” You fling your hands up in exasperation.

He hums, as though pondering.

“Oh well,” he says eventually. “I suppose I’ll have to strive to make the next one more memorable.”

“Next one? Dreaming about getting your hands on me again already, Alhaitham? You know it’s just an act, right?”

His lips twitch. “Do you?” But that gleam is back in his eye. Leave it to him to get competitive over proving he’s better at faking a relationship with you. You’d laugh, if the threat of how far he’s willing to go wasn’t hanging over you like a chilling omen.

“I’m not the one dreaming about ‘next time’,” you retort, but the derision you’re hoping for falls flat. He seems to think so too, because that twitch in his lips escalates to a full-blown smirk when you turn on your heel and make a brisk retreat inside.

“I’ll call you tomorrow!” he calls after you, and you resist the urge to flip him off.

It’s like you never left. Your roommates are suspiciously posed around the common area, only half-committed to whatever tasks they’re doing.

“Oh, you’re back!” says Navia, looking up from where she’s scrubbing at an already pristine and sparkling table.

“How was your date?” asks Layla casually without looking up from her book. It seems she’s mastered the art of reading books upside down since you left.

Your narrowed eyes flick between the two of them before finally landing on Yae, perched on the counter and watching you with a smile that is somehow sly and innocent all at once.

“Well?” you say to her, expectant.

Neither of you speak for a long moment—the showdown of the century.

“That was some kiss,” she finally croons.

You sigh as the room devolves into excited chatter, the illusion of disinterest smashed into smithereens. Off of one tightrope and straight onto another, it seems. Perhaps one more drink couldn’t hurt.

Chapter 4: lantern rite lite

Chapter Text

Your phone rings early the next morning, rousing you from the deepest sleep of your life.

At least, you thought it was early. But as you fumble for your phone on your nightstand, you squint and see that not only is the time in the quadruple digits, but it’s dangerously close to rolling back over to triple digits. How did that happen? It’s not like you had that much to drink, so you can’t be hungover.

But your roommates did force you to sit there and pull details about your date out of thin air (you weren’t about to say you spent it playing cards with his bros) until well after midnight. Not to mention the sheer toll it’s taking on your brain function to force yourself to be nice to Alhaitham. If the two of you keep having to resort to minor physical violence just to get a jab in at each other, then this whole affair is going to get very bruisey, very fast.

And that kiss is a whole other category of problems that you’re refusing to put stock into. Who knew that walking ice sculpture had it in him to be…

Nope. Not finishing that thought.

Perhaps the hangover is more of the mental variety.

“Hello?” you mumble, putting it on speaker so you can rub at your sleep-crusted eyes.

“Y/N! Don’t tell me you’re still asleep at this hour!”

“Beidou?” You stifle a yawn with your fist. “Of course not. Just, uh…getting back from a jog.”

She snickers. “Sure. Look, is now a bad time? With the wedding coming up so soon I wanted to give you the finalized run down on all the…festivities.”

“Right.” You can’t help but smile. “And just how many of these festivities involve drinking our faces off?”

“Most of them,” she’s quick to admit.

"Naturally." You stretch your arms out and swing your legs around to plant your feet on the floor. "Okay. Shoot."

“Well, since there are two brides, Keqing, being the try-hard she is, insisted upon two bachelorette parties. We’ll do the traditional one the night before the wedding, but we decided on this upcoming Friday for the first one. Consider it a practice run.”

Friday. Alhaitham won’t be happy about that. Oh, well. You’ll just have to work extra hard throughout the week to make up for it. No big deal.

“I’ll be there,” you promise.

“Of course you will. Just like you’ll come to the night market with all of us tomorrow evening.”

“Awww, the night market!” A fond grin splits your face. Back in high school, the weekly night market at the docks was the hangout spot for you and your friends. But with everyone growing up and tied up with school and work and general adult responsibilities, it’s been ages since you’ve gotten to go. “Wow, that brings back so many memories.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Beidou agrees. “It was Ganyu’s idea. She figured, with so many of us home for the wedding, it would be the perfect excuse to get everyone together for old time’s sake.”

“Everyone, huh?” You can’t help the bitter undertone that laces your words. Beidou heaves a sympathetic sigh on the other line.

“I know. I’m not happy he’ll be there, either. But why don’t you take the opportunity to talk to Lumine? I think she feels a bit guilty about the way everything went down.”

Which makes you feel guilty for distancing yourself from her. The sound, logical part of your brain knows that she had no control over Childe’s detachment from your relationship. It’s not like they willingly cheated together. And you weren’t lying when you told Alhaitham that she’s impossible to hate. It would be easier to give in to your pettiness if she wasn’t so damned nice.

“Maybe,” you say, biting your lip. Nervous energy floods your body, and you stand and begin pacing around your room.

“And,” Beidou adds, her voice turning sly, “you’re more than welcome to bring your new boyfriend that you apparently were just never going to tell us about.”

“I was going to tell you,” you insist. “But...well, it’s not like you’ve had a lot of free time to chat with all of the wedding prep. You would have found out eventually, and you’ll meet him at the wedding.”

“I have to wait that long?” she exclaims. You’re grateful you had the foresight to put the phone on speaker. “Why can’t you bring him tomorrow?”

“He’s busy,” you immediately lie.

“You can’t hide him from us forever.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide him from you, I just…” Am trying to avoid this situation as much as I possibly can. So, yeah. You basically are trying to hide him from her.

“What? You don’t think that between Ningguang, Keqing and I, you have very inviting, non-intimidating friends?”

You snort. “At least you’re self-aware.”

“Well, if he suddenly becomes free, let me know,” says Beidou. “It would be nice to meet him before the wedding, since that’ll be such a whirlwind and I probably won’t get much of a chance to talk to him.”

“About the wedding,” you say. “I know I only RSVP’d for one person, so if it’s too much hassle to add him last minute—”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” There’s a sudden shadiness to her tone that immediately arouses your suspicion.

“You better not tell me you had me down for a plus one anyway.”

“Fine. I won’t tell you—”

“I don’t even want to know what scheme you had up your sleeve.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” She hangs up before you can respond.

You heave a sigh into the silence of your room. At least the market isn’t until tomorrow evening. Something tells you it’s going to take a full day of solitude to recover from one whirlwind and prepare for the next.

Sunday evening comes around. The docks are already bustling with people by the time you make it there. Something unwinds in your chest at the sight of the paper lanterns strung from nearly every surface, bathing the area in a warm, orange glow. Stalls of every type line the waterside and stretch out across the wooden planks—food vendors, games, boutiques. You can even hear live music coming from somewhere.

Ganyu’s pale blue hair is easy to spot in the crowd where she told you to meet, and the two of you rush to embrace the moment you spot each other.

“It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s been too long,” she agrees. Her kind, sleepy voice is like a balm to your soul. But then she pulls away, and her colourful eyes are frantic with worry. “I’m so sorry I told Childe you didn’t have a date. I-I promise I wasn’t trying to talk about you behind your back— he was the one prying.”

Anger and smug satisfaction battle for dominance in your head. He needs to mind his own business, but it’s kind of a relief to know he’s not as aloof and morally superior as he tries to pretend to be.

“It’s okay,” you assure her. “I’m not mad.”

She sighs in relief. “Oh!” she says, perking up. “Beidou told me she invited your boyfriend. Is he going to come? I’d love to meet him.”

“I don’t think so.” You give her an apologetic smile that feels more like a grimace. Something tells you you’re going to be having this conversation a lot tonight. As a consolation, you say, “But maybe we can get together with him soon.”

“Sure! I can’t wait. What’s he like, anyway?”

“He’s…” You tap your chin. Arrogant? Rude? Addicted to making your life a living hell? “Super intelligent. Confident, too. And, for the sake of transparency, I suppose I can admit he has a very nice body.” Even if you’d rather drop dead than ever admit that to his face.

“Wow,” she says with a dreamy sigh. “He sounds too good to be true.”

“He really does, doesn’t he?”

“There they are!” Beidou exclaims.

You turn to find everyone gathered around a picnic table outside a milk tea stand—Beidou, Ningguang, Keqing, and, to your chagrin but not to your surprise, Childe and Lumine. There are a few notable absences. Zhongli won’t be home until closer to the wedding, and you aren’t surprised Xiao didn’t deign to show up—unless it’s life or death, he’s usually nowhere to be seen. Beidou is probably going to have to drag him to the wedding herself if she wants to see him there.

“Childe being the only man in a group of women is probably like heroin to his ego,” you mutter as the two of you approach.

Ganyu lightly swats your arm. “Play nice. You know, he’s really matured these past few years. You haven’t seen it but—”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You feel like citing the stunt he pulled in the coffee shop as evidence of that not being true, but then the two of you are at the table and exchanging long overdue hugs and hellos.

“Um, hi, Y/N!” Lumine greets you with a hesitant smile. She looks as annoyingly lovely as ever, her short blonde hair dotted with pastel flower barrettes. She’s dressed in a pale blue coat and a long white scarf. “It’s really nice to see you. How have you been?”

You wish you could offer her a smile that wasn’t so painfully forced. “Hi! I’ve been good. Uh…cute clips.”

“Oh!” She reaches up to touch one, but her expression is caught between a smile and a frown, as though she isn’t quite sure if you’re trying to mock her or not. You internally curse yourself.

“Okay!” Keqing claps her hands together before anyone really has a chance to take a breath. “Now that we’ve all had a chance to catch up—"

Have we even? You smile fondly to yourself. Keqing hasn’t changed a bit—sensibly dressed, not a thread out of place. As usual, the one spark of rebellion to her otherwise professional appearance are the cat ears she’s styled at the peak of her long, lavender pigtails.

“I’ve come up with an optimized game plan for our visit tonight to ensure we maximize our time here. We can start with food—portable dishes only, of course. That way, you can carry it with you while we take in the street performers. Then—”

“Regimented fun,” Beidou interrupts, “everyone’s favourite kind. What happened to just living in the moment and seeing where the night takes us?”

Beidou is the same as ever, too. Her long brown hair is haphazardly tied up with long, decorative pins, and she’s wearing the same vintage maroon jacket she’s worn since high school—the one that’s always reminded you of a pirate. She’s sitting atop the picnic table, leaning back on her palms without a care in the world.

“Highly inefficient,” Keqing scoffs.

“We’re still waiting on a few more, anyway,” Childe speaks up. “Yelan told me she’s running late.”

You blink in confusion. Yelan told him? She’s more Ningguang’s friend than anyone. Since when have she and Childe gotten so close? Though, you suppose it’s not fair to assume that life stands still just because you’re not in the picture as often anymore. Still, his words hit a weird snag in your chest that you can’t say you like.

Ningguang doesn’t seem to care either way, but she toys with a long lock of pale hair, bathed golden in the glow from the lanterns, and asks, “Oh? Who else is coming?”

Childe hesitates. “Oh, uh…I invited a friend of mine. I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Beidou says with a shrug. “The more the merrier.”

But Childe’s eyes briefly flick towards you and your mouth falls open. Anger, swift and hot, bubbles up in your throat and completely overrides any instinct to be civil.

“Childe,” you say quietly, and the chill in your voice causes everyone in the group to grow still. “Who did you invite?”

Lumine stares between the two of you for a moment, but when realization dawns in her golden eyes, she groans.

“You said you told her—”

“I just thought my friend Wriothesley might want to meet everyone,” he says innocently. He turns to the rest of the group, effectively ignoring you, and explains, “We used to fight in the same organization, but he’s moved on up to managing now. There’s an ongoing tournament in town for the next few weeks, so he’s going to be here and I thought, since I’m here anyway—”

“Did you just completely ignore our entire conversation last week?” you hiss. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh?” He glances at you over his shoulder, questioning. Calculating. “And where is he tonight?”

There’s a hint of challenge in his tone as the two of you stare each other down. The asshole is doing this on purpose to try and call your bluff, which is especially easy considering Alhaitham is nowhere to be seen. But it’s not like you were expecting an ambush of this magnitude.

“I told him not to do this,” Lumine begins, clearly trying to diffuse the brewing fight. “But—”

“Oh, I have no doubt he was too f*cking stubborn to listen.” Poor Lumine. You almost pity her for having to deal with Childe’s bullsh*t.

“What’s there to be upset about?” says Childe in that lazy, careless tone of his that drives you up the wall. “I’m not saying anything has to happen. But if things end up falling through with this new guy you’re seeing, it never hurts to have options to fall back on.”

And even though you know he’s only trying to egg you on, it’s the nonchalant way he says it that makes you truly begin to see red.

“Alhaitham and I are in a committed, exclusive relationship,” you snap. Every messy, complicated feeling you have towards Childe comes rushing to the surface. Memories of fighting tooth and nail to hang on to your real relationship make it surprisingly easy to defend the fake one. “I know your definition of those words is a lot looser than mine, but some of us do not want a whole roster of—”

“Hello, hello!”

Yelan’s calm, collected voice cuts through the tension like a knife, causing the rest of your friends to deflate in relief. Probably for the best, because Childe has a pained look on his face, like he regrets every word that just came out of his mouth, your heart is pounding like a jackhammer, and Lumine…

You swallow painfully and turn away from her. She just looks…sad.

You watch as Yelan approaches. As usual, she looks like she stepped off the page of a runway magazine, with her chic, indigo bob and her fitted bodysuit beneath a fur-lined coat.

And you have to admit, the stranger trailing behind her isn’t hard on the eyes either. Tall and broad, his black hair is that stylish brand of carefully messy, and his ears are littered with black metal jewelry. There’s a scar beneath one of his striking blue eyes—and many more, you realize, on his neck, riddling his arms where they poke out of his jacket sleeves.

“Look who I found on my way here,” says Yelan, linking her arm with the stranger’s. “You never told me you were inviting him, Childe.”

You freeze. So does Childe. You feel his eyes on you, nervous and pleading, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

Okay, point one for Childe. His pity date is actually very, very attractive. Big whoop.

“It was sort of last minute,” says Childe with a sheepish laugh. “Wriothesley, I’m glad you can make it!”

“Of course. Thanks for inviting me.” His voice is cool and pleasant compared to his intimidating appearance. “I’ve been wanting to check out this market since I first read about it. I’ve heard the tea vendors are excellent .”

“Y/N,” says Childe, shaking a finger at you with a nervous laugh, “really loves tea as well, if I remember correctly.”

You fix him with as blank of a look as you can without glaring. “I prefer coffee.”

“Coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon. Can’t go wrong,” is Wriothesley’s casual response, but he shoots Childe a slightly bewildered look. It makes you like him a little bit more, especially if he was just as roped into this fiasco as you. And hey—his philosophy on hot drinks is admirable, you'll admit.

“Well,” says Ningguang, folding her hands together. “Now that we’ve all been made sufficiently uncomfortable, why don’t we grab something to eat?”

“ That’s what I’m talking about.” Beidou hops off the table and offers a hand to her fiancée.

“You all go ahead,” you say. “I just have to take care of something first. Alone, ” you add firmly when Childe looks like he’s tempted to be infuriatingly pushy again.

“U-Um, hey!” Lumine wraps herself around Childe’s arm. “I think that stall over there sells lotus flower crisps. Why don’t we go try some? Come with us, Wriothesley!”

Wriothesley gives her a lighthearted shrug. “Sounds delightful. Lead the way.”

Everyone begins dispersing to check out the various food stalls, Lumine practically dragging Childe along. She meets your eyes over her shoulder, and you exchange understanding looks—yours grateful, hers apologetic. You feel a bit of the ice around your opinion of her begin to crack and melt. She really is nice, isn’t she? Maybe Beidou’s right. You should give her a chance, especially since she just did you a huge favour.

Either way, now you have a quiet moment to collect your thoughts and get your anger under control. But if you have to deal with Childe trying to shove you and this stranger together all night, that anger isn’t going to stay smothered for very long. And you know from experience that if you blow up at him, it’s just going to make you look like the bad guy in the end.

An idea forms in your head. You pull your phone out of your pocket, say a silent prayer to whatever merciful god will listen, and hit the call button.

Alhaitham picks up just before it goes to voicemail.

“What do you want?”

“Such a sweet way to greet your girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, but you’re quick to pour a bit of sugar into your voice when you remember you’re about to ask him for a favour. “Listen. How quickly can you make it to the night market?”

“Not happening.”

“Please,” you beg quietly, just in case any of your friends are lingering nearby. “Childe blindsided me by bringing his stupid pity date here, and now I’m going to have to deal with him trying to smush us together like dolls all night. I got totally scammed.”

“Maybe you should have been smarter. We might have an agreement, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to drop everything on a whim whenever you need me to play the role. I have my own priorities.”

And then the bastard has the nerve to hang up on you. You stare at your phone, jaw hanging open in pure disbelief. You pull open your message thread and let your thumbs fly.

You: I can’t believe you would hang up on your girlfriend. Unbelievable. You’re really going to let this guy think it’s okay to walk all over you and steal your girl?

Alhaitham: If you’re that easy to whisk away then it sounds like this whole problem will solve itself. I don’t see what you need me for.

You: Oh, come onnnn. I’ll make it worth your whiiiiiiiile ;)

He reads the message and doesn’t reply.

You: Pleeeeeease professor? I’ll stay after class and do soooooo much extra credit ;) ;) ;)

Alhaitham: What the hell are you doing?

You: Seducing you. Is it working?

Alhaitham: Only in that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it stop.

You: See you soon, boyfriend <3

Letting out a quick breath, you pocket your phone and make your way over to where Ganyu is waiting in line at one of the vegetarian stalls. She’s drooling over all the options when you approach, and she turns to you with a thoughtful frown.

“If I get some spring rolls, will you split them with me?”

“Spring rolls sound good,” you nod.

She puts the order in, and the two of you stand back to wait.

“Things got…a little intense back there,” she says nervously. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh. “He can just be so infuriating sometimes. This is exactly why I told you he hasn’t changed.”

She frowns. “It is strange that he doesn’t seem to respect your relationship. Why do you suppose that is?”

Well, it’s definitely because he knows you’re a big, fat liar, but you’re not about to tell Ganyu that, so you simply shrug while she accepts her order from the vendor.

“It wouldn’t be the first time he hasn’t respected my relationship,” you mutter. “He just happened to be in the first one. I just feel bad for Wriothesley.” You grab a spring roll from the container and bite into it. “He seems nice enough, and I feel like Childe probably roped him into this.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

You jump, nearly dropping the spring roll, as Wriothesley comes up behind you. He’s looking a bit frazzled, but at least he got his lotus crisps, you note.

“I wanted to apologize,” he goes on. “I thought Childe had totally innocent intentions for inviting me along today, but he always has been a little too scheming for his own good. I think I, uh, started to piece together what’s going on here.”

“I’m the one that should apologize,” you say with a sigh. “He shouldn’t be dragging random people into our stupid drama.”

Wriothesley waves a hand. “It’s what I’ve come to expect from him. It’s…charming, in its own way. Like an annoying little brother.”

Oh, god. Childe even has this guy, in all his tall, scarred glory, wrapped around his finger.

“Well, I don’t know what he told you, but I very much do not need a date for this wedding.”

“I gathered that, yeah. It’s fine, though. I’m still happy to come take in the sights of the market, and there’s nothing that says you and I can’t be friends, right? Childe tells me you’re a very smart, interesting person.”

That makes your face warm a bit. He said that? But you quickly shake free the urge to feel flattered. Obviously he said that. He was trying to hype you up to this guy.

“I guess…you can never have too many friends,” you say with a careful smile. You can feel Ganyu nervously watching the whole encounter. You take another bite of the spring roll and use the time spent chewing to size him up a bit more. “Though he didn’t really tell me much about you at all.”

His lips pull into a wry smile. “Did you give him the chance?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Well, I’m an open book, really. What do you want to know?”

“Um…” Ganyu frowns. When Wriothesley fixes her with a curious look, she jumps. “N-Nothing! Don’t mind me.”

“I think I know what you’re going to ask,” says Wriothesley. His smile turns slightly bitter. “I guess you did your research on me, huh?”

A faint blush crosses her cheeks. “N-No! I mean…”

You stare between them, acutely aware that there’s some sort of silent conversation going on between the two of them. But when Wriothesley looks at you again, it’s with a finger to his lips.

“A mostly open book,” he clarifies. “Not everything is appropriate conversation for a lovely night like tonight. Now, why don’t the three of us go catch up with the rest of your friends before Childe finds a way to get us alone and meddle?

“Who’s meddling?” asks Childe, coming up to the two of you. He’s holding an order of lotus crisps in each hand, and Lumine is happily picking away at one. “I hope you two aren’t plotting against me behind my back.”

“Just in my head,” you mutter. The exchange between Ganyu and Wriothesley still has you feeling off-balance, but Ganyu shoots you a conspiratorial nod that lets you know you’ll get a text message later full of the juicy details.

“Of course not,” says Wriothesley brightly. “I know you prefer to settle things man to man rather than behind the scenes. We can throw down right here, if you’re up for it.”

“Don’t you dare,” Lumine scolds them both. She ushers you all along to where Beidou and the others are waiting up ahead. Naturally, Beidou and Ningguangare still arguing about what to eat, as though the option to buy from different stalls hasn’t occurred to them. “I don’t feel like getting kicked out of the market, thank you very much.”

“I also vote for not getting kicked out of the market,” Ganyu chimes in nervously.

Childe laughs. “Don’t worry! Why would I ruin the atmosphere when it seems like everyone is having such a great time? And do my eyes deceive me, or are Y/N and Wriothesley really hitting it off?”

“Well, we did bond over our mutual annoyance that you can’t mind your own business,” you quip. “So there’s that positive.”

But it doesn’t dig in the way it should. The smile he gives you is a bit too earnest to feel natural as he says, “Ah! Well it sounds like I gave you a valuable chance to make a new friend. No need to thank me, Y/N. I told you this was a good idea.”

“I’m not thanking you for—”

“Are you two going to play this tiresome game all night?” says Ningguang, hearing the argument as you approach. “Can’t the two of you put this to rest for an hour or two and simply enjoy yourselves?”

You drag your cheek between your teeth. Arguing with Ningguang doesn’t end well for anybody that’s not Beidou, so pointing out that Childe is to blame for you not being able to just enjoy an evening with your friends will definitely be a lost cause.

“That sounds splendid to me,” says Childe with a broad smile. “I’m sure Y/N agrees.”

You’re biting your cheek so hard that you can taste blood, but you silently nod.

“Ah! There’s my girl.”

And just like that, salvation. You’ve never been happier to hear that dry, smug voice in your entire life. Actually, you’ve never been happy, period, to hear it, which is just a testament to how out of control your life has become.

Childe’s smile hitches as you turn to see Alhaitham approaching. There’s a slight breeze that rustles his smoke-coloured hair, and you think perhaps it’s the breath of angels, because surely this man floated straight down from heaven to put you out of your misery.

Granted, it’s probably just a pit stop on his way down to hell, but you’ll take whatever small mercies you can get.

“You’re here—!”

Alhaitham cuts off your enthusiastic greeting with an enthusiastic greeting of his own.

Namely by grabbing you by the face and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

You don’t blame everyone for the collective sound of shock that erupts. You let out a startled yelp as well. This is way more intense than a simple greeting has any right to be, the kind of hot, breathy kiss that would make you blush even if you weren’t surrounded by your ex, strangers, and the entirety of your high school friend group. The way he seems to devour each breath that escapes your lips, his tongue unrelentingly soft against yours, makes your traitorous insides turn molten.

He did promise he was going to make this one more convincing.

“Okay,” Childe says tightly, just as Alhaitham’s hand moves to brush the small of your back beneath your jacket. He has to raise his voice to be heard over Beidou’s wolf whistles. “ Okay. We get it.”

“Sorry,” Alhaitham says breathlessly, releasing you so abruptly that you almost stumble, if not for one hand remaining nestled in the crook of your neck. With the way his fingers seem to search across your skin, you know this jerk is one hundred percent trying to find your pulse and see how fast he got your heart beating from that. “I wouldn’t have gotten so carried away if I'd noticed we had an audience.”

“This—” You cut off to clear your throat when it comes out thin and shaky. Alhaitham lets out a low sound that might be a laugh. “This is, um, Alhaitham.”

“Is he now?” says Wriothesely with a faint sense of awe.

“I thought Y/N said you were busy,” says Beidou, ruby eyes flashing with mischief.

“I was,” Alhaitham admits. “But I decided I could spare a few hours to finally meet Y/N’s friends. I mean, how could I say no to her after she sent me so many…convincing texts?”

If the suggestive nature of the words alone isn't enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and die, your friends’ scandalized reactions really seal the deal.

“Well, that explains the warm greeting,” says Ningguang with a smirk.

“He’s kidding,” you insist, but the tremor in your voice isn’t very convincing.

“Ah, don’t be embarrassed!” says Beidou. “I think it’s great that you finally found someone you’re crazy for.”

“Yep.” Your smile strains at the corners. “He sure does drive me crazy.”

Alhaitham coughs. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

You jump at his offer to change the subject and begin going through all the introductions. Your annoyance with him for embarrassing you is quick to evaporate when you realize just how put off Childe seems to be that you foiled his plan.

“And you already met Childe,” you finish, wrapping yourself around Alhaitham’s arm. You rest your head against him and stare sweetly at Childe, whose eyes are narrowed with a mixture of annoyance and challenge, like he’s determined to not let this stop him.

“Oh, that’s right,” says Alhaitham. “Aren’t you the guy we met at the movie theater?”

Oh, he’s good at this. If only Lisa was judging your progress based on this charade instead of the project you’ve made next to no progress on. Alhaitham’s archivist position would be as good as his.

“No silly,” you whisper. “The cafe.”

“Ah,” says Alhaitham. “The ‘old friend’. Forgive me for not remembering. If Y/N is in the room, it’s safe to assume I’m not paying attention to much else.”

“An honest mistake,” says Childe in his default cordial tone, but for the way his jaw tightens, you could kiss Alhaitham.

Actually, screw it. You do kiss him, standing on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his cheek with a soft giggle.

“Isn’t he the sweetest?” you sigh.

Lumine presses a hand to her cheek. “Wow. You two are so adorable.”

Childe shoots her a betrayed look that has you biting back a laugh. At the very least, Wriothesley seems to be getting a kick out of things, and whether he believes the sickening PDA you two are partaking in is genuine or not, he at least seems to realize it’s partially to prove a point.

Alhaitham wraps his arm around your waist. “What can I say? Y/N does most of the heavy lifting on that front.”

“Well, we’re so excited to finally meet you,” says Ganyu warmly. “We were just going to all head over to watch the street performers. Want to join?”

“You all go on ahead,” you tell her. “We’d just like a quick moment alone together if that’s okay.”

“Don’t take too long, lovebirds,” Yelan teases.

You wave them all off, keeping a wide grin plastered on your face while you watch them make their way towards the street performers on the far side of the market. You both wave…and keep waving…and keep waving…

Until finally, the last of them turn the corner and you swiftly disengage from each other. Whatever force that has been keeping you moving—adrenaline, nerves, spite—leaves your body in a single, sweeping wave. You drop onto the nearby picnic table in a full-body slump.

“You owe me,” says Alhaitham. You can’t decide if it’s impressive or frightening how quickly he can go from doting boyfriend to stone-cold in an instant. “If I had known spending this much time with you was going to be such a headache, I would have just accepted failing the project and letting all of my goals turn to dust.”

You scoff. “That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it? But if you want my firstborn child or something, then, by all means, you’ve earned it. You really outdid yourself with that one. Good touch with the whole movie theater thing.”

“I knew that would get under his skin.” He cracks the thinnest of smiles, but he definitely still looks annoyed. “So—I’m guessing the guy who looks like a mob boss is the pity date?”

“Yep. He’s actually kind of cool,” you admit. “Just as annoyed at Childe trying to play matchmaker as I am.”

“Is that right? Then I don’t see what you dragged me out here for. Why don’t you just take this opportunity to find a real relationship and then we can stop with this self-inflicted torture?”

“Oh?” It’s not biting enough for you to take offense to it. You prop a fist against your chin and give him a lazy smile. “With how eager you are to kiss me any chance you get, it doesn’t seem all that torturous for you.”

“Anyone would be eager to kiss you,” he says, his voice neutral and matter-of-fact as he braces his hands against the table. “It doesn’t make the rest of it any less troublesome.”

If your hand wasn’t keeping your jaw in place, it would have fallen open. It’s like he can see that urge written on your face, because when you manage to swallow your reaction, he raises an expectant eyebrow.

“Eager is one word for it,” you say evenly. There’s no way you’re going to reveal just how off-balance that last comment left you. “Don’t you think the kiss was a little overboard?”

His mouth curves at the challenge. “It did the trick, didn’t it? And it’s interesting that you latched onto the first part of that sentence and not the part where I said that fake-dating you is troublesome.”

“That’s because the first part is what makes it sound like you fell and hit your head.”

“What?” He leans his weight further on the table, until he’s practically leaning over you. “Am I supposed to lie and say I find you hideous? There’s a reason this charade is so easy for me, you know.”

With how close he is, there’s no way he misses the way that jab makes your breath quicken. You’re suddenly nostalgic for all the times he’s implied you should drop dead. At least those sorts of taunts don’t cause your brain to send such conflicting signals to your body. Because that’s a hundred percent what this is—a taunt. The battlefield you two have stood on since first meeting hasn’t changed, but this whole arrangement has simply given Alhaitham new ammunition to work with.

“Such a charming compliment,” you tell him. And just to prove he doesn’t have as much of an effect on you as he’d like to believe, you lean forward, tilting your face up towards his. You blink at him in slow, lazy movements. “Just what every girl wants to hear—you are 'not hideous'.”

“We’re not dating, so I’m not trying to be charming.” He flicks his gaze to your mouth. “Just honest.”

“Do you want to know my honest opinion?” you ask softly.

He lets out a low hum in response. The sound does something weird to your stomach.

“I’m hungry.” You suck in a sharp breath and swing your suddenly shaky legs out from the picnic table. “Ganyu took my spring rolls with her. Let’s get something to eat and then catch up with the others—your treat, of course.”

He clears his throat, but there’s no missing the amusem*nt tugging at his features.

“You drag me out here and expect me to pay?" He crosses his arms. "I think I deserve a bag of samosas for my troubles.”

“Well, you also almost made me go into cardiac arrest from embarrassment, so forgive me for not wanting to reward such negligent behaviour.”

“Oh? So it’s my fault that I have such an extreme effect on your blood pressure? Maybe you shouldn’t take everything so seriously, Y/N. It’s all fake, remember?”

“Have I ever told you that I can’t f*cking stand you?”

Your bickering continues until well after you’ve waited in line and gotten your food (which Alhaitham does end up paying for), only subsiding when you reach the fringes of the crowd that’s gathered around performers twirling flaming batons and juggling colourful glass orbs. A stage is set up at the far end by the water, and people are milling about and setting up sound equipment. Alhaitham is quick to shrug his role of boyfriend back on like a coat, letting his arm drape across your shoulders as you join your friends.

“Xinyan’s band is performing soon!” Keqing says, unusually animated. If there’s one thing that breaks her from her serious persona, it’s rock music.

“Wow,” says Lumine. “I thought they’d gotten too big for this sort of thing.”

As Lumine speaks, it comes to your attention that although Wriothesley is beside her and finishing off the last of his lotus crisps, Childe is nowhere to be seen. It should come as a relief, but something about his absence strikes you as strange.

You must have been visibly searching for him, because Lumine elaborates, “You get a bit of a breather from him. He and Yelan wanted roasted lavender melon…but I think they’re the only two people alive who actually like roasted lavender melon. They should be along shortly.”

“Ah.” You’re thankful that being short with Lumine has come to be expected of you, because that single, pitiful syllable is all you can manage to get out around the sudden anxious pang in your stomach. Yelan again? And not to mention…

“Listen,” Lumine continues, breaking you out of your spiral. She toys with the ends of her scarf, not quite meeting your eyes. “Do you think…I was hoping we could—”

A loud screech comes from the amp on stage as the guitarists start plugging in. The crowd erupts into cheers, and even the street performers have already packed up their equipment to make space for the way the crowd fills in to get closer to the stage.

“What?” you say, wincing. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Um—”

“Back!” Childe announces as he and Yelan approach. You flick your narrowed gaze to them, noting the obvious absence of anything in either of their hands.

“I thought you were getting lavender melon,” you say, trying and failing to keep the edge out of your words. You're on the last bite of only your first samosa, but it suddenly tastes ashen.

Yelan shrugs a delicate shoulder. “The stall was closed when we got there. That would have been nice to know before we went to all that trouble.”

“I can’t say I’m upset about that,” Lumine giggles, looping her arm through Childe’s. The giggle is a bit halfhearted; whatever she was trying to bring up to you, she’s clearly given up on it. “I don’t know how you two can eat that stuff.”

Childe kisses her temple. “There’s no sense in being a picky eater. Food is meant to be enjoyed, after all.”

You watch the exchange without speaking, the pit in your stomach growing.

Eventually Xinyan takes the stage with her band, but you’ve fallen so deep inside your own head that you barely hear her familiar, drawling greeting. The blazing guitar riffs are a dull thud in your ears, and when the show is over, you almost forget to clap alongside everyone else. The only thing that snaps you out of it—

“Look!” Ganyu gasps softly, just as the first deafening crackle sounds. “Fireworks.”

Alhaitham nudges you, but when you glance at him he’s got his arms folded across his chest and is watching the explosion of colour against the night sky with a bored expression. It cracks whatever strange shell you’re in and you let a dry laugh slip loose.

“Only you could look so astoundingly unimpressed while watching fireworks,” you remark. “Let me guess—I bet you could do a better job yourself?”

He shrugs. “Give me a manual and a few weeks to study it, and I’m sure I probably could. Though, this isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

“I find that hard to believe! You seem to fancy yourself an expert at everything.”

“Nonsense. Even someone as competent as I am has room for improvement. I just happen to have less room than others.”

You roll your eyes and fall silent, taking in the vibrant blooms of gold and pink and violet. The lights, the cold air, the comfort of knowing your friends are scattered around you—you soak in that familiar peace and try to internalize as much of it as you can. And even though the man beside you is less “friend” and more “begrudging ally”, you even give yourself a little room to feel gratitude towards him, too. After all, who knows how much more disastrous this evening might have gone if not for him intervening?

And speaking of which, you sense movement at your side and turn to see Wriothesley slipping by you. He pauses when you notice him and gives you an apologetic wave.

“Leaving?” you ask.

“I’ve got an early morning,” he explains. “I didn’t want you to think I was so freaked out by this whole ordeal that I fled at the first chance I got”

You crack a smile. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“It really was nice meeting you.” He turns to Alhaitham, who’s very much pretending to ignore the whole exchange. “I’m sorry if there were any, uh, crossed wires. You two really do make a lovely couple, if that's worth anything."

“Forget about it,” says Alaitham, sounding just as disinterested as he looks. He absently reaches out and toys with a lock of your hair. “It’ll take a lot more than something so trivial to make me feel threatened.”

Wriothesley’s smile warms. “I’m glad. Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I actually am going to flee. If Childe comes chasing after me, tell him I went the other way, will you?”

You respond with a silent salute, and then he’s off, vanishing into the dwindling crowd.

“Let’s go too,” says Alhaitham suddenly. “I’ll drive you home.”

You blink in surprise. “Huh? But…shouldn’t we say goodbye to—”

“We can. But your friends seem to care about you. If you’re feeling out of sorts, they might ask questions.” His expression doesn’t once change from the calm neutrality he’s displaying, but all the same you detect a hint of something actually kind, even when he says, “I don’t particularly care what’s wrong with you one way or another, so I might be the preferable option.”

“I just…” You fold your hands over your stomach. “I just ate something funny. That’s all.”

He shrugs. “Sure. Then let’s go.”

You search the crowd, uncertain. But Ningguangand Beidou are making out beneath the glow of the fireworks, completely oblivious to the world around them. Ganyu and Keqing have found Xinyan in the crowd and are hyping up her performance. And with the current state of your nerves, you’re not even going to look in Childe’s direction.

“Okay,” you murmur. You pull out your phone and send quick texts to Beidou and Ganyu.

You: Had to bail early. Something I ate disagreed with me :( but I’ll see you on Friday for the bachelorette!!!!! <3

You stick close to Alhaitham as you weave your way through the worst of the crowd. When it finally thins enough that there’s no danger of getting separated, you give him a bit of space. But as you make the long trek back to his car, you gather up the nerve to ask the question that’s eating away at you.

“Alhaitham?”

“Hm?” He’s eating more of the samosas you two bought as you walk, and at the sound of his name, so anxiously mumbled, he audibly swallows.

“How do you feel about roasted lavender melon?”

He shudders a bit. “I can’t say I enjoy it.”

“Yeah,” you say, heaving a troubled sigh. “Neither did Childe.”

Alhaitham is, regrettably, the smartest person you know. So although he’s a bit puzzled at first, he's quick to pick up on your meaning.

"Hm. Well, tastes can change the older you get. It's not so unusual."

"Maybe..."

"You're that worked up over some lavender melon?"

You shake your head. "Of course not. No...it's probably nothing. I guess...I guess it's weird to see how much things can change in a few years."

Even though he knows you're not being entirely honest, the truth of what you're saying does seem to resonate with him. He gives a solemn nod, but that's all he offers as you reach his car and settle inside. There could be a million reasons why he doesn't pry and gives you the space to process your own complicated feelings. Habit dictates that he just doesn't care enough to ask, but you also feel like his mind has drifted somewhere else as well, somewhere totally unrelated to your own stresses.

You'd never admit it out loud, but the silence is...comforting.

Your phone buzzes as Ganyu replies.

Ganyu:Oh no :( I hope things didn't get too uncomfortable for you tonight. It was really great to catch up <3 feel better!!

You:Pls deliver Wriothesley tea at earliest convenience. ty <3

When Alhaitham drops you off at your house, he's as curt and detached as ever with his goodbye.

But he lets you keep the rest of the samosas.

Chapter 5: get me a shot, we're tying the knot

Chapter Text

As the week goes on, the unthinkable happens.

You and Alhaitham actually make progress on your assignment.

It’s unsettling, this common ground you’ve now found yourselves on. Your time during research hours is spent in comfortable silence, studying linguistic history and comparing popular fictional languages. You find yourself meeting for lunch every day out of habit, and while you still find yourself butting heads, it’s manifesting more as stimulating debate rather than non-productive bickering. By the time Thursday afternoon rolls around, you come to the realization that you haven’t called him one degrading name all week.

You might as well tie the knot at this point.

“You never did tell me Ganyu’s big reveal on Wriothesley,” Alhaitham says, eyes still glued to his laptop as he sips his coffee. When you dissolve into snickering in response, he scowls at you. “What.”

“Nothing, nothing!” You swallow your laughter, rubbing at your eyes. “I just never thought you were one to care for idle gossip. It’s not very productive of you, you know.”

He shakes his head and trains his attention back on his screen. “Then don’t tell me. I couldn’t care less. Forgive me for trying to make conversation.”

“Hmm…” You reach across the table and press the back of your hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

He slaps your hand away. “Quit it.”

“Making conversation is a symptom of a very serious condition, you know. It’s called having a personality.” You pretend to choke up and press a shaking hand to your heart. “With your disposition, I fear it might be fatal.”

“I have a personality,” he informs you. “Kaveh tells me it’s the biggest he’s ever seen.”

“I don’t think he means that as a compliment,” you say dryly. “Unless you’re talking about something different, in which case—I thought I was picking up vibes from the two of you.”

He tries to deepen his scowl, but there’s no mistaking the threat of laughter wavering in the tight line of his mouth.

“Anyway…” You glance around. It’s after lunch by this point, so the afternoon rush has almost died down. Still, the cafe is far from empty, so you lean forward and drop your voice to a whisper. “Now that I know you’re such a slu*t for drama, I guess I can fill you in.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose.“Do you even listen to what comes out of your mouth? What makes you think I actually care—”

“Wriothesley,” you interrupt, unable to fight your grin at his reaction, “went to prison.”

The way he falls silent is a bit too casual, his annoyed expression remaining firmly in place—and only because you’ve been spending so much time with him, you’re able to tell he’s forcing it to stay that way, to mask his curiosity.

“Well?” you prompt. “Don’t you want to know why? Aren’t you sooooo curious?”

“The only thing I’m curious about is how the pronunciation guide is coming along,” he says coolly. Liar. “You said you’d be done by now.”

“Oh, now you’re all business. Remember how you were the one who brought this up less than five minutes ago? Or did talking about your well-endowed personality get you a little sidetracked?”

“Well-endowed? Interesting choice of words.” The look he gives you is so loaded it makes your face warm. As usual, any attempt to get under his skin the way he does to you ends up totally backfiring.

“Ugh murder , Alhaitham,” you say, exasperated. You realize how loud it comes out and cringe. Dropping your voice to a whisper again, you continue, “He killed someone.”

He blinks. “Alright. I’ll admit—you’ve surprised me.”

You sink back in your chair. “I don’t know all the details, but apparently it happened when he was a teenager, and he was acting in defense of someone else, which is probably the only reason he’s not still in prison.”

“Does that make it better or worse that this is the person your ex tried to set you up with?”

“Ugh, I don’t even know,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “It definitely makes it more…chaotic.”

Thinking of Childe puts you in a weird mood that’s become too familiar over the last week, which is impressive, considering not even knowing you were chumming it up with a killer can stop your mind from drifting there again. Alhaitham hasn’t pried since that car ride home, and if he can sense the remnants of that mood still lingering in you since then, he doesn’t let on.

You almost wish he would. You’d never in a million years willingly ask him for advice on this sort of thing, but if he chose to act out of character and question you on it, you have the feeling it wouldn’t take long for you to crack. And then he’d say exactly what you’d expect him to—that you’re being paranoid.

Because it’s stupid, right? Even if Childe is lying about something as inconsequential as food preference, who cares? That doesn’t automatically mean it’s malicious. And if he’s suddenly become good friends with Yelan in the years since the two of you have broken up, who cares? Yelan is effortlessly cool. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with her?

And even if there is something shady going on—at the end of the day, it’s definitely none of your business.

Alhaitham snaps his fingers. “You’re zoning out again.”

“S-Sorry.”

He peers at the time on his laptop. “We can finish for today. I need to look for a few books before I can continue with my portion of this step. I’ll bring them to our session tomorrow evening.”

“Can’t tomorrow,” you say, beginning to pack your belongings away. “The brides are having their preliminary bachelorette party so I think I’ll be slightly too inebriated to be of any use to you.”

You’d expected him to look annoyed when you broke the news, but he seems totally unfazed by it.

“That’s fine,” he says. “We’ve made good progress this week, so I have no problem with taking a day off. That time slot is just for the benefit of our charade, anyway.”

“And after that kiss at the market, I’d say you’ve earned at least another week of credibility.”

His eyes narrow smugly.“Why am I not surprised you’re still thinking about that?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not still thinking about—you know what? Forget it. I think tomorrow, when we show up at the swanky, overpriced bar Ningguang is dragging us all to, the very first thing I’m going to do is find some rich, married guy and swindle him into buying my drinks all night. Maybe you won’t be so smug then.”

He stands, pulling his bag over his shoulder. “I’m not sure what my level of confidence has to do with what seems to be some strange, misguided attempt to make me jealous. I’ve told you before that the project is my only priority. It seems you’re the only one getting bogged down by all the extra details.”

“Oh sure , say that now. But when I get whisked away by some silver fox millionaire, you might find that you miss having me as a fake girlfriend—and a project partner, mind you. Because if I don’t have to work for the rest of my life, why the hell would I keep up this thankless study?”

“I’ll be relieved to have you taken off my hands.” He drains the rest of his coffee and chucks it in the nearby garbage bin. “And I’m not worried about the project. There’s no way you’d give up your passion for something as meaningless as money.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Oh? What makes you so certain?"

But he simply gives you a knowing smile and heads towards the door, leaving you feeling far too seen for your liking.

As Friday evening draws closer, you find yourself actually getting a bit excited to go out for drinks with friends and unwind.

Well…perhaps “unwind” isn’t an appropriate word for the energy levels Beidou is going to expect you to bring to this booze-fest. It’s going to be decidedly chaotic, an endeavour that will take you days to recover from. But the point is, your last hangout with your friends at the night market wasn’t exactly smooth sailing. It’ll be nice to have a break from navigating the collective minefield that is Childe and Alhaitham.

Although keeping the lie up to your friends is its own challenge.

Case in point, Navia lounges on your bed as you get ready, flipping through a magazine. The amount of questions you’ve had to fumble through from her is enough to make your head spin, but if she notices any holes in your story, she’s far too nice to point them out.

And anyway, getting ready for a night out together is a familiar comfort. Your room is filled with the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked cookies, precariously stacked on a plate on your nightstand and likely riddling your bed with crumbs.

“It’s one of those fancy high-end bars you’re going to, right?” says Navia. “I think this dress is the one.”

“I don’t know,” you say with a frown. You turn and examine your reflection, watching the light catch against the glittering gauze. “It’s a little…leggy.”

“All the better,” says Yae from your doorway, causing you to jump. Stupid, sneaky Yae. She smirks, pushing off from your doorframe to cross the room and settle next to Navia on the bed. “I think it’ll make that scholar of yours weak in the knees.”

You roll your eyes. “He’s not even going to be there, Yae.”

“Well, that’s what photographs are for, aren’t they? Don’t be shy, give me a pose.”

“Going to add it to your shrine of me, Yae? What will Ei think?” You pop your foot, bite your lip, twirl a lock of hair—as over the top of a fun and flirty pose as you can manage.

She raises her phone and snaps what you can only imagine to be the most ridiculous photo of you in existence. Then she taps her chin and begins scrolling.

“Let’s see…Alhaitham…Alhaitham…”

Your heart lurches when you realize that’s not her phone at all.

“H-Hey!” you exclaim, lunging towards her. “Give me that!”

“One moment.” She hops onto her feet on the bed, keeping your phone raised high as she reads out what she’s typing in a sultry voice. “‘ Wearing this dress tonight and thinking about how badly I wish you were taking it off of me. Xoxo.’ How does that sound?”

You swipe at her, but she’s far more nimble than you and she simply hops down the other side of the bed and away from you. Navia yelps as you practically scramble over top of her in your pursuit.

“I’m going to kill you,” you growl. What if she reads your message thread? With the way your blood is rushing to your head right now, it’s hard to remember if there’s anything incriminating inside or not. It’s certainly dry and loveless—texts exchanged to meet up or ask questions about the project, with a few teasing jabs thrown in.

“Sent!” she taps the button with a flourish, just as you manage to catch up with her. She calmly hands you the phone, looking stupidly pleased with herself. “Don’t act so shy. You look divine. He’ll be thrilled.”

“How did you even get into my phone?” you demand, face burning. “I changed my passcode.”

“Yes. And I figured it out again. You’re rather predictable.”

“You’re going to torment the girl into an early grave,” Navia scolds.

Yae shrugs. “Perhaps if she—"

She cuts off as your phone buzzes with a new message. Your heart climbs into your throat.

“Well?” says Yae, lips curving. “What did he say?”

Navia scrambles off the bed to cling to your arm, clearly forgetting she was scolding Yae for this very behaviour five seconds ago. “Open it! Open it!”

“Give a girl some space,” you say, stepping away from them. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to open his response. You hope and pray that he knows this wasn’t you, that he’s going to have to play along or risk blowing your cover. As long as his reply isn’t too obviously disdainful, perhaps you can play it off.

Alhaitham: Such a tease. I’d beg you to make a detour before the party, but what I’m dreaming about doing to you in that dress would make you very, very late.

Oh .

Definitely not what you were expecting.

You suck in a breath so sharp that it makes your lungs sting. It’s all you can do to keep your sweaty fingers clenched around your phone. Yae rests her chin on your shoulder to read the response aloud, and your brain is suddenly so frazzled that you can’t even bring yourself to shove her away. Something about hearing Yae’s delightfully shocked croon reading such a seductive text—from Alhaitham, of all people—makes your stomach start to violently flutter.

“Oh, my,” says Navia, a faint blush in her cheeks. If she’s blushing, you can only assume that you’ve turned the shade of a strawberry.

You reread the message two or three times, each read making your pulse race more and more. Your eyes flick a bit further up the thread to the photo Yae sent. God, the dress looks even shorter somehow, and the angle she took it at seems to perfectly accentuate every curve you have.

It’s a damn good photo, silly posing aside. Why did it have to go to Alhaitham?

And why does he have to be a little too good at this whole fake flirting thing?

“I…” You clear your throat to try and steady your voice. “I need to finish getting ready.”

“Sure, sure,” says Yae with a devilish smile. “We’ll leave you to it. Something tells me you’ll need a few moments alone after a text like that.”

She all but drags Navia from the room, the latter spluttering complaints about her abandoned magazine and cookies. The moment they’re gone, you shut the door behind them and proceed to fall back on your bed, clutching your phone to your racing heart.

It takes a long time for the thought of texting him back to not make you want to die, but when that feeling settles, you type out a message with shaking thumbs.

You: Apologies for that utterly humiliating message. Yae took my phone.

He’s quick to respond.

Alhaitham: I figured as much. Hence why I tried to be as convincing as possible. Did they buy it?

You: Hell, even *I* bought it a little.

Alhaitham : What can I say? Yae paints a vivid picture. You can tell she reads a lot of romance novels.

You laugh and shake your head. But as you’re in the middle of typing your next response, he sends another message that makes you forget how to type.

Alhaitham: And anyway, it wasn’t hard to let my mind wander with a dress like that. I’m sure the millionaires will be all over you.

You wonder if he only included that last sentence to make it all seem a little less earnest. It doesn’t make it any easier to breathe, or the room any less stiflingly warm. You gnaw on your lip, fighting for something to say in response that doesn’t make you seem like a total idiot.

“He’s just trying to get you going,” you mumble under your breath. It’s a little harder to remember that than usual. You’re going to blame his and Yae’s combined efforts as an unusually destructive force—you knew it from the moment they first met.

In the end, you decide that short and simple is what’s going to come across as unaffected as possible.

You: That’s the plan ;) <3

And then you decide to stick with the leggy, shimmering gauze.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

In true Ningguang fashion, the bar you arrive at to meet the others is one of the most luxurious in town. The building is sleek and modern, and you enter into a large room filled with warm, dim lighting and furniture that looks like it costs more than your entire degree. But despite the expensive atmosphere, there is a large dancefloor against one wall, and the music that thumps through the speakers is modern and dancey.

Waitresses in sleek black dresses walk around serving elaborate co*cktails atop golden platters, and you have to weave through them as you make your way to the large booth your friends are occupying. You’re the last to arrive, and a chorus of cheers meets you when you reach the table.

“Wow, Ningguang,” you say, as Ganyu stands to hug you in greeting. “This is one classy spot.”

“Oh, it’s nothing special,” she hums, sipping at a co*cktail that looks more appetizer than drink with how many garnishes it’s loaded with. She’s dressed in shades of draping indigo that leave little to the imagination while still somehow looking as elegant as ever. “And, rest assured, I’ve already footed the tab for the night, so drink to your heart’s content.”

Well, there goes the millionaire plan. Maybe Ningguang will be the one to whisk you away instead.

“I won’t say no to that,” you say earnestly. It would seem strange to some, that the bride is footing the bill of her own party, but you've learned a long time ago that to refuse Ningguang’s generosity is a grave insult, so you simply accept the elaborate co*cktail from the tray that’s suddenly held out to you. And anyway, the party the night before the wedding will likely be much more traditional. You already know that Beidou is taking the reins on that one, so it will likely involve a lot more pub crawling and a lot more dirty party games.

“I love your dress,” Lumine breathes before you get a chance to sit down.

“Very daring,” Yelan agrees admiringly. Her teal eyes are assessing as they survey your form, and you find yourself sliding into the booth beside Ganyu to escape the scrutiny.

“I sort of got bullied into wearing it by my roommates,” you admit with a self-conscious laugh.

“Hmm,” says Beidou over the rim of what looks like straight, clear liquor in a glass. “And you’re wasting it on this sorry lot?”

“I might have sent Alhaitham a pic or two,” you admit shyly, because it’s not technically a lie. Judging by the giggles that erupt around the table, it's believable. “But why are we talking about my outfit when Keqing looks like that?”

Keqing scoffs at your praise, but she’s fighting back a pleased smile. She’s swapped out her typical business casual for a gorgeous strapless dress with a skirt that reminds you of raven wings, and black ribbons stream from her cat ears.

“Well,” she says, crossing her arms, “working in construction offers few opportunities to dress nicely, even if I’m not directly on-site most days. Men just…don’t appreciate fine clothing.”

“They appreciate it quite a bit,” says Yelan, twirling the ice in her glass. “But only in the sense that they’re usually just deliberating on how to get you out of it.”

You think of your text conversation with Alhaitham and drain the rest of your co*cktail. Beidou’s eyes light up.

“Y/N’s got the right idea! I’m going to need the rest of you to match her energy, pronto!” She waves down a waitress, and fresh drinks grace the table.

“I’m a bit of a lightweight,” Lumine admits nervously, but Beidou squints at her like she’s never heard of such a word.

“Just pace yourself,” you tell her with a tight-lipped smile. “If we try to keep up with Beidou, we’ll end up hospitalized.”

She buries a laugh behind her hand, and something inside you warms, something that feels like progress and mending. But then your gaze slides to Yelan and that flame flickers out just as quickly.

You like Yelan, you have to remind yourself, and force the smile to stay on your face. You don’t even know that she’s done anything wrong.

“And Yelan,” you say, trying your hardest to sound light and airy. “As usual, you look like you stepped out of a magazine. Let me guess—designer?”

“This old thing?” She runs a hand down the tight black dress she’s wearing that hugs every ample curve she has, accessorized with pearls and short lace gloves. “A gift from an up-and-coming designer that owed me a few favours. You’ll be seeing him on every runway by next year.”

“Wow,” says Lumine in awe. “You know so many interesting people, Yelan.”

“What do you do for work again?” asks Ganyu.

Yelan shrugs. “Oh, you know. A bit of this and that.”

Such a typical, mysterious Yelan answer.

“Wriothesley tells me he had a wonderful time at the market,” she goes on, leaning across the table towards you. “It’s almost too bad about that boyfriend of yours, because he seemed rather smitten.”

“What?” Your face suddenly feels ten times warmer. “He said that?”

“Well, not in so many words. But he kept asking about you.”

You train your face into a calm mask. Between keeping up the lie of your relationship with Alhaitham and not letting Childe feel vindicated, there are many reasons you should not feel flattered over Wriothesley’s attention. But it is true that he’s incredibly handsome and charming, even if he’s got a troubled past. If these were normal circ*mstances, you wouldn’t be able to help but swoon a bit.

“He’s nice,” you say finally. “I’m sure he’ll have no trouble meeting a nice, single girl.”

“You’re worse than Childe,” Lumine says to Yelan, shaking her head. She fixes you with a pleading look. “I can’t apologize enough for that whole mess, by the way. I swear, I told him to keep out of your business, but he felt so obligated to help—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, if only to avoid the topic of Childe. Something about the thought of him and Lumine talking about you when you’re not around makes you queasy. “It’s like Haitham said. We’re too solid to feel threatened by that sort of thing.”

“Haitham?” Ganyu lets out a dreamy sigh. “That’s so adorable.”

“Can we stop talking about my relationship?” you say hastily, taking an anxious swig of your drink. The co*cktails must be something Ningguang had specially designed—shimmering gold liquid in a sparkling sugar-crusted glass. It tastes vaguely of cinnamon. “Beidou and Ningguang are the brides to be. Aren’t we supposed to toast to their loss of freedom or something?”

“I’ll drink to that!” Beidou cheers, downing the rest of her glass. Ningguang rolls her eyes at you.

“Don’t encourage her.”

“I don’t think she needs much encouragement,” you dryly retort.

And indeed, as the night goes on, Beidou proves that to be true. You’ve always known her to be a woman of high tolerance, and it seems that description has only grown more and more apt with age. She’s outpacing most of you two-to-one (or in Lumine’s case, three-to-one), but at the same time, she seems totally unaffected.

You can’t say the same about yourself. These drinks are dangerously light and sweet, masking the alcohol completely, and you find yourself knocking them back like water. It’s not your fault—the moment one glass empties, another appears like magic, and if it’s in your hand, it’s basically an instinct to sip away at it.

After several hours of drinking and laughing, when the party inevitably makes its way to the dancefloor—a shift strictly ordered by Beidou—you take the opportunity of everyone being distracted to slip away to the washroom. Naturally, this leads to the classic drunk experience—sitting down, alone in a stall, and realizing just how strong the rosy buzz in your vision has grown. And the time. How is it past midnight already?

You sit for a while, idly scrolling through your phone and enjoying the silence. Just when you’re about to work up the willpower to leave, someone enters the bathroom in the middle of an animated phone call that shatters any plan of that happening.

“What are you thinking, calling me tonight?” Yelan teases. “You’re just too eager, aren’t you? Are you trying to get us caught?”

Your stomach drops to the pits of hell. f*ck, f*ck, f*ck. No. Absolutely no way.

“These things require a certain degree of discretion and stealth, something you’re far too bold to exercise.”

She could be talking to anyone about anything. This doesn’t confirm anything.

“Yes, yes, the reservation is Thursday at 7 pm. That intimate little Snezhnayan spot near the water. I thought it was fitting for this sort of affair.”

Oh, god, she literally used the word affair. Your heart feels like it’s going to climb out of your throat and splatter on the floor. You try to quell the anxiety grabbing you by the throat. Who says she’s even talking to Childe? You’re sure Yelan has a whole slew of suitors falling at her feet.

“Mm, lucky for you this is my area of expertise. But if you keep calling me when your girlfriend is directly beside me, no amount of shoddy lavender melon excuses are going to save you, loverboy.”

You suck in a breath and press a shaking hand to your mouth. sh*t.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a party to return to,” she says sweetly. “I love your enthusiasm, but it’s not very conducive to keeping things secret, now is it? I’ll text you later with more details, just be patient.”

You’re going to be sick. If you don’t get out of this cramped bathroom stall and into some fresh air you’re going to spill your guts all over this immaculate marble floor–

Yelan mercifully hangs up the call and is quick to exit the bathroom. You wait several long, agonizing moments before bursting out of the stall and stumbling towards the sink. You clutch at the counter, drawing shuddering breaths. Then you wash your hands, scrubbing them nearly raw. With your hands still damp, you pat cold water on your neck and face and try to remember how to breathe normally.

“Okay,” you say under your breath, shaking your hands out. “Okay. Air.”

You recall there being a little sitting area outside and decide that is exactly where you need to be right now. But as you turn to storm out the door, it swings open and in walks the absolute last person you’re equipped to see right now.

“Oh!” Lumine gasps, stumbling to a halt. “Here you are.”

Your gaze flicks to the mirror. You wonder if she notices how sickly and sweaty your complexion is.

“I was just leaving—” you begin, but Lumine steps in front of the door, effectively blocking your path.

“A-Actually, I was sort of hoping to talk to you about something.”

Are you having a heart attack? This has to be what having a heart attack feels like. You rub at your collarbone, wincing through the pain in your chest.

“Can this wait?” you ask, and you’re too drunk and panicked to feel bad when she flinches.

“It can’t,” she insists, clearly fuelled by liquid courage herself. “Look, I know you don’t like me—”

“That’s not true—”

“It’s true,” she says firmly. “It’s not a secret. And…and I get it. It was really messy, the way everything happened. But I need you to know that nothing happened between me and Childe while you were together. I swear. We really were just friends at the time. He loved you so much—”

You draw in a ragged breath. “I really can’t talk about this right now.”

“—and it’s the whole reason he’s being such a pain,” she goes on like you haven’t spoken. “He just wants you to be happy. I know it doesn’t seem like it—”

“Lumine,” you snap, and this time, when she recoils, you feel it like a knife to the heart. You try your hardest to soften your tone but it’s just not something you’re capable of right now. “I just…I just can’t, right now, okay? I’m sorry.”

Her crestfallen expression makes you want to die. How dare she defend him? How dare she have so much love and light to give and how dare you not come clean with the truth here and now?

“Okay,” she says quietly, her voice wavering. “Sorry.”

“Another time,” you say as a consolation, but you’re so on edge that it comes out just as harsh.

You practically flee the bathroom, keeping to the darkened edges of the room so you can make it outside without anyone spotting you. Your coat is still at your table, but the frigid air feels like heaven on your burning-hot skin as you stagger out the front door.

Mess. This is a horrible, ugly, chaotic, painful mess. You pace the walkway, twisting your fingers together as you try to process the whirlwind of the last ten minutes. You need to tell someone. This is going to eat you alive if you have to keep it bottled up.

But even though you know she deserves the truth, how the hell are you going to tell Lumine? After how you just treated her in the bathroom, she’ll probably just think you’re making things up to be spiteful.

You absently tap through your phone, mind whirling. It’s like the multitude of drinks you’ve had tonight all hit you at once, and maybe it’s the sh*tshow you’ve found yourself in the middle of, but the world around you feels completely off-kilter.

After a moment, you find yourself with your panicked hands hovering over your message thread with Alhaitham.

The urge to seek his advice on anything is foreign to you, let alone matters like this that you know he would deem as superficial. But you can’t tell any of your high school friends about this—not until you’re certain of what the hell is going on. Layla is probably asleep, Navia would be too nice and passive and try to justify the situation, and Yae would probably craft an elaborate scheme that would end up complicating matters ten times more.

Alhaitham, blatant flaws aside, is probably the most calm, logical person in your life.

In the end, you decide against it, shoving your phone in your pocket and continuing to pace. He’d probably just be annoyed that you bothered him this late.

But not two minutes after putting your phone away, it starts to ring. You blink in confusion when you read Alhaitham’s name on the screen.

“H-Hello?” you answer. Oh god, your voice. You really are drunker than you thought.

“Hi?”

A long silence stretches between you.

“Did you need something?” you ask.

“What are you talking about? You called me and woke me up.” And indeed, his voice is rough and groggy.

“Huh?” Embarrassment floods through you. You must have pocket-dialled him. “Oh, s-sorry, it was an accident. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Is there a problem?” he says, sounding impatient. “You sound weird.”

You open your mouth to answer—

—and promptly burst into tears.

“Y/N?” His voice sharpens a bit.

“I don’t know what to dooooo,” you weep. The panicked words are tumbling out of you, inebriation having eroded your filter completely. You’re not even fully processing who you’re spilling your guts to, just fulfilling the need to get this crushing weight off your chest. “This is huge trouble and I needed help and I just—I don’t—“

“Where are you?” he interrupts.

“Mmm still at this stupid bar.” With the tears and the drunkness and the embarrassment it spills out of you in a near-incoherent mumble.

“Y/N can you just—?”

“Y/N!” you hear Beidou call from the doorway. “We’re doing shots! Get your ass in here!”

“Can’t talk,” you sigh, and then end the call, cutting off whatever annoyed, snarky, mean, rude thing that jerk was about to say to you. This night is already enough of a disaster without having to listen to Alhaitham chew you out for waking him up.

You do your best to dry your tears, likely smudging the hell out of your makeup, and then make your way back inside. Everyone’s gathered around the table again, where a tray of colourful shot glasses are arranged. Lumine avoids your gaze as you approach, while Ganyu tilts her head.

“Are you alright?” she murmurs, though it’s barely audible over the loud music. “Your makeup is smudged.”

𖧷𖧷𖧷

You’re losing track of time.

Beidou has decided that shots are the new rule of the night, and she continues beckoning the waitresses over to the table to bring more. The more you take, the more your misery seems to dull, so you’re happy to indulge her, at least for the first little while.

But time continues to pass—or maybe it just feels that way—and though you’ve nearly forgotten what you were so upset about forever ago, you’re definitely starting to feel unwell.

“Y/N~!” Beidou calls, and the lilt of her voice makes you groan. You know that tone. That’s her “how dare you think you can get away from having another shot?” tone.

“No more liquor,” you beg, your voice wobbling and pathetic. But then she appears at the table with a shimmering pink liquid in a crystal shot glass and you can’t help but admire how pretty it is. “Ooooou! Okay, I’ll do one more shot because that is verryyyyyyy sparkly.”

She cheers as you toss it back—is she certain that wasn’t just juice in a shot glass? It wasn’t very strong at all. Suddenly, your whole perception changes. You could probably have two—no, three more. Maybe four? That’s like one whole drink, right?

Beidou roars with laughter. “Sound logic to me!”

Did you say all that out loud? You dissolve into a fit of giggles, until the two of you are laughing so hard that there are tears in your eyes. But weren’t there already? Were you upset about something a while ago? Whatever it was, it can’t be that important.

Ningguang shakes her head as she watches the two of you, a fond smile tugging at her lips. But then her eyes flick to the entrance of the bar and widen. Her smile turns scheming.

“Oh, Y/N,” she playfully scolds. “Looks like someone’s decided it’s time to cut you off.”

“Ugh, finally!” You grin, tilting your head to the ceiling, but that makes the room spin so you immediately jerk it back down. That sets you and Beidou off again.

“Nuh-uh, out!” Beidou calls to the newcomer, still snickering. “No men allowed at these things, and that goes double when there’s two brides!”

What, huh? Who? Men? You follow where Beidou’s animatedly pointing—

And see the motherf*cking Grim Reaper storming towards you.

The words, “Oh god,” tumble out of you in a squeaky whisper as a very pissed, very sleep-deprived Alhaitham stops halfway across the bar and beckons you towards him with a murderous glare. The laughter dies on your lips.

Keqing quirks an eyebrow. “That’s him? He looks…different than I remember.”

“He looks a little…scary,” Ganyu admits.

“I-I’ll be right back.” You stumble out from behind the table, but only make it about two steps towards him when the whole room spins . One foot gets caught behind the other and then you go flying—

Alhaitham closes the distance to catch you before you can fall flat on your ass. His fingers dig into your arms in a bone-deep grip as he pulls you upright.

“H-Hi babe!” you greet him, definitely too loudly even with the blaring music.

“Another rare look at the infamous Alhaitham,” says Ningguang, while Keqing stares him down like she’s assessing a threat.

“Ladies,” he says, tightening his lips into what you think is supposed to be a smile? It makes him look even scarier. Lumine lets out a small yelp that you can’t help but feel some petty satisfaction over. But then the guilt comes sweeping back in, even if you can’t remember why you’re feeling it, and you audibly groan. “Congrats on the wedding. Might I borrow my girlfriend for a moment?”

The table erupts into taunting cheers but Alhaitham doesn’t wait for a concrete answer before dragging you across the bar and out into the chill of the night. You’re starting to dissolve into a fit of giggles again, but now that you’re alone, Alhaitham drops his hands and gives you a look that cuts through the giddiness like a knife.

“What, um…” You start patting down your hair self-consciously, while he continues to stare and stare at you. All you can think about are your legs suddenly, and how much of them he can see. “What are you doing here?”

His jaw locks as his eyes widen in exasperation. He pauses for a long time before answering, as though giving you an opportunity to ask a less idiotic question. But all you use the opportunity for is to take in his appearance, which is perhaps the least put-together you’ve ever seen. He’s dressed in black sweatpants and a pine-coloured crewneck sweater—which is inside out, you quickly realize. His hair is a bit of a mess, like he could only be bothered to half-comb it before leaving the house. He’s not even wearing proper shoes— just slip-on moccasins over bare feet.

“What,” he repeats faintly, like it’s taking every iota of his already thin patience not to lose his sh*t at you, “am I doing here?”

You bite back a giggle. “I asked you that silly—”

Alhaitham cuts you off, eyes flaring, “You call me in the middle of the night, crying and saying that you’re in trouble, then hang up on me , and you want to know what I’m doing here?” He presses a clenched fist against his mouth, as though physically holding back a no-doubt very extensive, creative list of insults.

“Huh?” you crinkle your nose in confusion. “I’m not in trouble.”

“Is that so?” He takes a long, long breath. “Actually, I did figure that out after I flung on whatever clothes I could find, called every bar that vaguely matched the description you gave me yesterday, and drove about double the speed limit to get here, only to find you laughing and taking shots.”

Uh oh. That’s the most spine-chillingly calm tone he’s ever taken with you. Combined with his wide, bewildered eyes and the way his jaw is pulled so tightly you think it might shatter, it tells you one thing—he’s so astronomically pissed that no one is ever going to find your body.

That fear sobers you up enough to remember just what it was that had you so upset on the phone. And in fact, the panicked tears grip you again as the stress of the secret you’re sitting on grabs you by the throat again.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, frantically wiping at your eyes as if it will stop you from crying. “I didn’t even mean to call you, I swear. It’s just stupid drama, but it’s also kind of big drama and I have no clue what I’m going to do about it. A-And I wanted your advice but I knew you’d just tell me to grow up and you’d probably be sleeping anyway and—and I didn’t mean to wake you up I swear, Alhaitham! Oh, god, you probably thought something horrible was happening and—“

“Enough,” he says impatiently, but some of the murder has melted from his gaze. He grabs you firmly by the shoulders to snap you out of your rambling. His eyes search you over once, as though checking for injuries. “So you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m not, I just…” You stare at him in disbelief, still so drunk that the thought of cold, heartless Alhaitham actually showing concern for you has you welling up all over again. “You…you really went to all that trouble because you thought I needed help?”

He tenses. Something like regret flashes in his eyes, as if in his exasperation, he revealed far more than he meant to. Because god forbid Alhaitham gets caught doing something actually nice for somebody else.

“Of course I did,” he says casually. “I’d hate to jeopardize this project by letting my partner get herself kidnapped or worse.”

“Hate to jeopardize my project partner,” you mimic under your breath, and thankfully the jab is familiar enough ground that Alhaitham’s posture relaxes.

“Well, maybe next time I won’t bother,” he says, his voice rife with condescension. “It’s not like it’s my business if you end up in a ditch somewhere. Kaveh could use the company.”

You drop your forehead against his shoulder, weepy and delusional. “You’re such an asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.” He steps away from you, keeping one hand on your shoulder to keep you from face-planting. The annoyance is nearly gone from his voice now. There’s even something like amusem*nt tugging at his mouth now when he murmurs, “The dress looks even better in person, by the way.”

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact that hand is making on your shoulder. Your usual response would be to roll your eyes or play it off with a witty comeback, but your body horrifically betrays you by pulling your mouth into a bashful, dangerously-close-to-being- flirty smile. You’re quick to smother it, clearing your throat and dropping your head. His amusem*nt only seems to grow.

Before you can think of a response, the dull music from inside the bar briefly spikes in volume as the door opens. Ganyu approaches the two of you, rubbing her arms against the chill. She’s not wearing a coat, but she is holding one—yours, you realize.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

“It’s all good,” says Alhaitham. He’s calmed down enough by now that he’s remembered to pull up that facade of politeness he’d used with your roommates the day before. You wish you could tell Ganyu that that is scarier than the murderous intent he’d shown in the bar. “Y/N called me by mistake and there was some mutual misunderstanding. I just needed to come see with my own two eyes that she was okay.”

Ganyu’s face softens. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“That’s my boyyyyyyfriend,” you say, rolling your eyes before you can think better of it. “Always needs to be the big strong hero and save the—“

The nausea that hits you is swift and merciless. Ganyu and Alhaitham both widen their eyes as you cut off mid-sentence and stumble to the nearby trash can to…well, deal with the nausea.

“Oh dear,” Ganyu says softly, moving to hover over you. One delicate hand pushes your hair back from your face, while the other drapes your coat across your shoulders. “Maybe it’s time for you to call it a night.”

You hear the jingling of keys, and when your stomach finally settles somewhat, a set of much stronger hands than Ganyu’s gently guide you upright.

“I’ll take her home,” says Alhaitham, tucking you beneath his arm. There’s a certain resigned patience to his tone, like he’s had ample time to grow used to dealing with you this way. A convincing touch, even though you know he’s just drawing on his experiences with Kaveh.

“Beidou’s gonna be so madddddd,” you protest, but gravity tugs at your body until you have no choice but to let your head loll against his chest.

“I’ll deal with Beidou,” Ganyu promises with a smile. “Just get home safe, okay?” Then she lifts her head to Alhaitham and gives him a grateful nod. “I’m glad Y/N has you looking out for her.”

“He’s the lucky one,” you mutter. “That I put up with his mood.”

His fingers dig into your shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Bye Ganyu,” you say, so forlornly that her face softens with sympathy. She gives you both a final wave before returning inside.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

Even though the silence of the car offers a perfect opportunity to give Alhaitham the rundown on why he had to drag his ass out of bed, you’re too focused on not throwing up all over his dashboard to even think about it. He must be able to tell that’s the case, because he drives the whole route to your house in silence.

He parks his car at the communal lots at the end of your street, and then comes the daunting task of making the walk from the lot to your house.

But even though you wouldn’t blame him for just leaving you to figure it out yourself, he wordlessly walks you the whole way there, keeping an arm looped through yours to keep you from toppling over. And when you expect him to just leave you at your front door with a muttered goodbye, he takes your keys from you, unlocks the door, and leads you inside.

You’re not quite sure how Alhaitham manages to get you upstairs without waking the entire house up. It definitely feels like you slam into a few walls as he drags you up, and between your barely-stifled giggling and him hissing curses at you, you’re not exactly stealthy.

But if your roommates do hear the commotion, they mercifully keep to themselves. You direct Alhaitham to your bedroom, and you’re so focused on how nice it’s going to feel to collapse into your bed that you don’t even remember to feel self-conscious about the clothes strewn about your floor or how much Alhaitham is going to judge your choice in decor.

“No,” he whispers when you open the door. “ Bathroom first.”

You point directly across the hall.

“I meant you.”

When you blink at him in confusion, he sighs and guides you to the bathroom, ushering you inside so he can close the door behind him. He drops onto the lip of the tub and buries his head in his hands.

“Are you mad?” you ask nervously.

He lifts his head to give you a deadpan look. “I’m tired. Just brush your teeth.”

You do a half-assed job of complying with his demands, and even manage to remember to drag a makeup remover wipe down your face. But each swipe of the cloth just seems to smudge your makeup across your face more and more, and you blow out a frustrated breath at your reflection.

“Here,” Alhaitham says impatiently. He stands and grabs the wipe from your hand. “Just let me do it.”

You hold your breath in shock as he cradles your chin in one hand and begins wiping the cloth across your face in gentle but firm movements. This close, you can see the exhaustion settling into his features, dulling his normally sharp expression into little more than a focused frown.

You’re glad he’s not at full capacity right now. You’re not sure you’d be able to handle the full intensity of those turquoise eyes gazing so intently at you. You try to concentrate on the cool dampness of the cloth and not the long fingers that are guiding it. When he runs the cloth over your eyelids, you breathe out a content hum, both at getting a reprieve from those searching eyes and at how nice it feels. You lean back against the sink, and his body instinctively closes the gap with you.

“Don’t squirm.”

“I’m noooooot.”

“You are. There, done.” He clears his throat and tosses the wipe into the garbage can. Maybe you’re imagining it, but his voice sounds a little shaky as he puts space between you again. “Now, do you think you need to throw up again?”

You consider it. That exchange definitely did something to your stomach.

“No,” you answer after a while.

“Good. Go get changed. I’ll grab you some water.”

“But you don’t know where my cups are.”

He scoffs. “It’s not rocket science. I’ll figure it out. Go get changed.”

You grab his arm as he brushes past you to leave. But when his eyes narrow in on that single point of contact, you audibly swallow and release him.

“Um…why are you being so tolable of me—tor—” You suck in a sharp breath and try again. “Torleble. No—”

“Tolerable?” he supplies dryly. “By which I think you mean tolerant?”

“Whatever. Why…you’re not usually this patient and…nice. I can put myself to bed, you know. You can go home—”

“Do you want me to?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

You’re left speechless when you realize a fact that is going to leave Sober You dealing with a mountain of annoyance and embarrassment. Because even though you’re not sure why you’d ever want him here, you just …do.

“It’s not such a hassle,” he says, and any trace of lingering impatience has vanished from his tone. “The amount of times Kaveh expects this sort of thing from me has, regrettably, made this something of an instinct.”

“Kaveh makes you wipe his makeup off for him?”

“That’s a special privilege for my lovely girlfriend.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but you’re still toeing that line between weepy and giddy, so when your eyes inexplicably well up, he rolls his eyes with exasperation. “Don’t start with the waterworks. Just go get changed. Don’t make me say it again.”

“Okay,” you sniffle, and the two of you part ways in the hallway when he heads back downstairs into the kitchen.

You fumble with turning on your lamp and then struggle through the arduous task of choosing pajamas, something that takes so long that you’re barely finished changing by the time Alhaitham knocks softly on the door.

“Come innnnnnn.”

He pokes his head through the doorway, as though not quite trusting that you’d have the sense to be fully clothed. But he’s greeted by the sight of you already collapsing on top of your neatly made bed. The room spins again, and you let out a low groan as you sit up straight.

Alhaitham crosses the room and hands you the water, forcing you to drink. All you can manage are a few measly sips, but it seems to be enough for him because he gives a nod of approval. He stands back, crossing his arms and watching you carefully.

“Well, I’d say my job is done,” he says. “I think even you can figure out how to go to sleep in this state, but maybe I shouldn’t be so charitable.”

“Jerk,” you mumble.

“Well, this jerk just got you home safely, so you could be a touch more grateful.”

“I know.” You drop your eyes to your hands, voice wavering. “Thank you.”

Perhaps he might have left without another word, if not for his obvious surprise at your teary-eyed gratitude rooting him in place. His posture relaxes with something like defeat and he drifts a bit closer to the bed.

“Don’t you think I deserve to know what it is that had you in such a panic?”

You eye him warily. “Thought you said my drama was inna—inun—” You cut off in a groan and wave your hand. “Oh, you know.”

He blows out a breath that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh. “I know. Tell me anyway.”

You take a deep breath, dizzily watching the light the lamp casts on your ceiling. Each breath you take seems to rob the room of more and more of its air. Finally, when your breathing is pained and shallow and Alhaitham’s patient gaze feels like it might bore a hole in your skull, you let it loose in a thin, wavering voice.

“I think…I think Childe might be cheating on Lumine.”

And then the words are out, and you can’t take them back. It leaves you feeling strangely culpable, like the only reason that it might be true is because you gave voice to it.

The sudden, overwhelming guilt makes your eyes well up again and you hurry to press a hand to your brow to hide them.

“Ah.” There’s a long stretch of silence, and then the weight of the bed shifts slightly as Alhaitham carefully lowers himself onto the edge.

“What am I supposed to do?” you say, desperation peaking in your voice. “I should be the last person to care what happens to that relationship but it’s like…even though we were so horrible to each other, at least one of us ended up happy. And if he’s just going to turn around and f*ck everything up all over again, then what was the point? What was the point of me going through that if he’s just…” You trail off, snapping your trembling lips shut.

“There was no ‘point’,” Alhaitham says. “It’s fruitless to look at pain as currency for something greater to happen. And anyway, are you absolutely certain this is true?"

You let out a frustrated groan and fall back on your pillows. You suppose you're not, but the evidence is pretty damning.

“I don’t need a lecture," you say, avoiding the question.

“It sounds like you do."

You narrow your eyes at him. He leans back on his palms and stares at you through the pale curtain of his hair.

“Don’t give me that look,” you mumble.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“That look that says you’re bored with it all even though you’re hyper-analyzing every thought in my head.”

He says nothing to that, but his gaze flicks across the room as though he’s really mulling over what you said. When he finally speaks, you think it’s going to be because he crafted some stunningly sharp comeback.

“Why don’t you go to sleep?” he says instead. “You’ll be better equipped to talk about this tomorrow.”

A strange sense of panic grips you. Because no, you won’t be. Tomorrow you’ll be back to your right state of mind, and you’ll be able to remember that Alhaitham of all people does not care about your problems. Which means you’ll be back to bottling this up and suffering in silence.

He hesitates for a moment, then places his hand on your outstretched leg, thumb brushing back and forth across your ankle.

“You’re not going to solve anything tonight, drunk in your bed. Just go to sleep.”

You blink at the unexpectedly gentle touch. Even Alhaitham keeps his eyes trained on his hand, keeping incredibly still like he’s not quite sure why he did it, either.

“O-Okay.”

He abruptly stands, yawning and moving to the door. And even though that yawn is a symbol of just how much effort he went to tonight—for someone who he barely tolerates—you find the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them.

“Alhaitham?”

He pauses at the door to raise an eyebrow at you over his shoulder.

“I know there’s no one around right now, so we don’t have to keep up the whole fake-boyfriend charade, but…can I make a stupid, embarrassing request anyway?”

He almost looks wary. “What?”

“Would you…just stay for a little while longer? Just until I start to fall asleep?”

He looks impatient enough that you almost take the words back. What the hell are you thinking? Why would he stay after dragging himself out of bed, tracking down your location, and basically putting you to bed like a child, and why would you even want him to? But if you’re left alone in this state, you know your mind will start to race and spiral. Alhaitham is like a tall, awkward barrier from that happening.

“You’re a weepy drunk,” he says, but the bite in his tone is half-hearted. He waves a hand. “Go on, then. Get comfortable.”

Is that a yes? You’re so startled that he didn’t just laugh at you and storm out that it takes a moment for you to move. You watch Alhaitham pace your room as you get comfortable beneath your blankets. He examines your decor, runs his fingers along the jackets hanging on the back of your door. But nothing makes you more self-conscious than when he starts perusing your bookshelf. Rigid, scholarly Alhaitham, who only reads stuffy non-fiction, maybe a classic or two if he’s feeling rebellious. Meanwhile, your shelf is filled with every genre under the sun—poetry, fantasy, romance. All contemporary works that would likely make him scoff with disinterest.

But as you settle down against your pillow, blanket pulled up to your chin, Alhaitham plucks probably the trashiest romance novel you own out of the shelf and skims the first few pages. You bolt upright.

“Don’t read that!” you exclaim in a panic.

“Go to sleep,” he chides in that familiar lighthearted way that tells you he’s relishing in your embarrassment. He crosses the room, book in hand, and sort of drapes himself across the foot of your bed, propping himself up on one elbow. He must be truly tired if he’s lowered his guard enough to lounge.

“Can’t you pick something else?” you plead, very much considering hiding under the covers.

“I need something to read, or I’ll fall asleep. Much like you should be doing. And I’m not getting back up until I leave.”

You pause for a long time before insisting, “I like it for the story. Not for…the other stuff.”

He thumbs through to the first page. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Don’t you think—?”

“Why are you so embarrassed?” He keeps his eyes glued to the page, but the bastard is smirking behind the book. “Did you highlight your favourite scenes for quick reference? Am I about to learn far more about you than I bargained for?”

“You’re the worst.” You sigh and fall silent, letting your head fall back on the pillow in defeat. Most of the dizziness has faded by this point, and sleep has already begun to creep in at the edges of your vision.

“Y/N,” he says, frowning and brushing at the blanket, “your bed is full of crumbs.”

“Cookies,” is your barely coherent reply. Alhaitham sort of hums in response, like he doesn’t really think you heard him properly. Several long minutes later, when you already feel like you might be dreaming, you mumble, “Haitham?”

He breathes softly through his nose—a silent laugh. “Mm?”

“Thank you.”

You’re asleep before you ever hear his reply.

Chapter 6: hangover woes

Chapter Text

Despite your late night, when you begin to stir awake the next morning, the light filtering through your windows is still the soft grey of early morning. A dull, painful ache is throbbing in your forehead, and your tongue feels like it might be permanently latched to the roof of your mouth.

Hell, you might even still be drunk. You wince as you fumble against your nightstand for your cup of water, but there’s a strange added weight across your ankles that makes the movement awkward.

You take a sip of your water, just at the same moment that you glance down to see what’s causing the added weight.

Still half-asleep, you don’t recognize the man passed out at the foot of your bed.

So naturally, you choke on a gasp and throw your water at him.

Alhaitham wakes up with a start, coughing from the water you dumped directly onto his face. He mumbles a few incoherent curses and rolls onto his side, but he’s clearly stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position because it only makes him groan and curse some more.

“What…” You blink the sleep from your eyes and try to calm your racing heart. “Why are you sleeping at the foot of my bed like a f*cking cat?”

He glares at you through the hair that’s now dripping and plastered to his forehead.

“I obviously fell asleep.”

“But why…” Memories from the night before hit you in a sudden punch to the chest. Your face floods red with humiliation and you slap a hand to your mouth. “Oh god…I totally made you stay here last night.”

“You did.” He struggles with pulling himself upright, flicking beads of water from his sweatshirt. Each movement makes him wince, and he brings a hand to rub the back of his neck.

You bury your face in your hands. “Why the hell would you say yes?”

“Because I clearly didn’t plan on falling asleep. And you asked so nicely—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” you plead. “I’m so embarrassing. You’re never going to let me live this down.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ll definitely use it to my advantage, however.” He gives you a look that masquerades as thoughtful but simply drips with torment. “You look so peaceful when you sleep. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“I could say the same to you,” you fire back. “I thought you were an intruder.”

“I’m glad to know your survival instincts are as sharp as your wit,” he says sarcastically.

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“Only if you think that was an appropriate response to finding a strange man in your bed.”

“Glad we’re on the same page with the whole strange thing.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can see him fighting a smile as he turns away. He takes a moment to sweep his gaze around the room before settling his attention on you again.

“I want breakfast,” he says, and it’s so far from what you’d thought he was going to say that you stare at him dumbly. "Feel free to come along."

“Breakfast after waking up in my bed? What will people think?” You mean it as a joke but it comes out a little meek and unsteady.

“Exactly what they’re supposed to.” He stretches, letting out a satisfied grunt when several cracking sounds follow. “Come on. I’ll buy. And then, if you’re feeling up to it, we can have a real conversation about what happened last night.”

Your heart skips a beat as fear washes over you.

“What do you mean ‘what happened’? Did…we didn’t…I mean I didn’t try—”

“It’s getting more and more suspicious how quickly your mind falls through the gutter,” he says dryly. “I’m talking about Childe.”

“O-Oh…” You’ll give Alhaitham credit for one thing—he has an uncanny talent for taking your mind off of your worries. But now, the night’s events begin trickling back, making your stomach twist with anxiety. “I don’t know how appealing food sounds right now. But I guess I owe you an explanation.”

He hums in agreement while you gather the strength to drag yourself from your bed. When you swing your legs out from beneath the blanket and stand, the room thankfully doesn’t spin. But a dull ache sweeps across your brow, and you slap the heel of your palm to your forehead and groan.

Alhaitham breathes out a silent laugh. You scowl at him.

“I can’t believe you slept that way all night,” you say, gesturing to the end of the bed. “Wasn’t it uncomfortable? I’m surprised you didn’t wake up.”

“I was tired.” He shrugs, rubbing at his neck. The rest of his sentence goes unsaid, but you hear it loud and clear—he was tired because a drunken, crying mess called him and made it seem like her life was on the line.

“I’m…sorry about that,” you bite out. Earnest thanks and apologies towards him are a lot harder to stomach without the sappy haze of alcohol in your blood. “I shouldn’t have called you. This whole thing is super embarrassing.”

He shrugs again, but now you notice he’s avoiding your gaze. “Well, I would hope that if things were seriously dire, you wouldn’t think me so heartless that you couldn’t consider calling me. I wouldn’t just leave someone in a dangerous situation.”

You watch him carefully, swallowing the flutter of emotion you inexplicably feel all of a sudden. Not just “someone”. You. He wouldn’t leave you in a dangerous situation, and would clearly put himself through a lot of trouble to get you out of it. His still-inside-out sweater is proof of that.

But if you’re embarrassed about…well, everything that you did the night before, then you can only imagine how cold, stoic Alhaitham must be feeling. He told you before that he doesn’t get embarrassed about much, but he also hasn’t made eye contact with you in a few minutes.

Would he show you this kinder side of him more often if you didn’t mock him for it? The urge to partake in said mocking is certainly an instinct at this point, but you also can’t help but note that he had every opportunity to poke fun at your vulnerability and hasn’t really done that either besides a few lighthearted quips.

And so, in the interest of testing where this shaky truce might lead, you give him a tight-lipped smile and say, as earnestly as you can, “I know. I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you.”

His jaw tightens. Yep. Definitely embarrassed. He clears his throat and gestures to the mess of clothes littering your floor—a result of tearing your closet apart to find the perfect outfit for last night that you didn’t expect anyone to ever see the aftermath of.

“Get dressed and we can head out. Though I’m not sure how you’re going to find anything in this mess.”

“I could just put the dress back on.” You flutter your lashes and tilt your head to where the dress is still draped across the chair near your vanity. “You know. Since you loved it so much.”

“Hm.” He finally looks at you. You wonder if you’re just imagining something heating in his eyes. “That’s certainly a tempting thought. Though I don’t think putting something on that reeks of vodka is going to help your hangover.”

“Reeks?” you exclaim. Any impulse to be jokingly flirty flies out the window. You give the chair a wide berth. “This is so embarrassing. I swear, I’m not usually that…messy.”

“I see worse from Kaveh every weekend,” he says, and thankfully sounds like he means it. “I’ll go wait downstairs so you can change.”

“Not happening,” you say firmly, hurrying to block his path. The sudden movement makes your head spin. “There is no way I’m letting you down there where my roommates can see you without me to supervise. Who knows what mortifying crap you’ll pull?”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Then you’d prefer I stay and watch?”

Your skin warms. “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Just turn around, smartass.”

You can see his building smirk as he walks over to the window and turns his back to you. The thought of stripping with Alhaitham in the room doesn’t do your nausea any favours, but you grab a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt and hurriedly change into them.

“Okay,” you say, smoothing down your hair with your fingers. “You can look.”

“The anticipation was killing me.” Alhaitham turns and gives you a once-over. His head tilts as he takes in your outfit. “Hm.”

“What?” you say irritably.

“Nothing. Just admiring your duality.”

“Mm, funny. Well, at least my shirt isn’t inside out.”

He peers a bit closer. “Actually, it is.”

“Huh?” You fumble at your collar to feel for the tag. When you find it tucked inside your shirt where it’s meant to be, you narrow your eyes at him. “Very funny. Just fix your shirt so we can go.”

Without waiting for you to turn around, he swiftly peels off his sweater. You’re left rooted in shock at the sight of the sculpted muscles of his naked torso.

You should turn around.

It’s going to be very embarrassing for you if you don’t turn around.

Alhaitham is going to torment you for the rest of time if he catches you ogling him like this.

But that’s the whole reason he didn’t give you any warning. This smug asshole knows he has a good body, knows that you could probably grate cheese on those stupidly defined abs. And the way your fingers are twitching with an alien impulse to trace the curves of his biceps and to see if his pectorals are just as rock solid as they look?

He definitely knows that too. Especially judging by the smirk playing his lips when he finally—after a bit too much struggling to be accidental—pulls his sweatshirt back on the correct way. He blinks innocently as though just noticing your staring, even though you know he was fully aware of the effect this was going to have on you.

“You couldn’t give me a little privacy?” he asks.

“You’re a real piece of work.” The words come out much thinner than you would have liked.

“It doesn’t sound like such a bad thing when you say it that way.”

You scowl and head towards the door before he can elaborate on just what he means by “that way”. Alhaitham is close behind as you head into the hallway and for a moment, you dare to hope that sneaking him out the front door might be easier than you thought. The house is dark and quiet this early on a Saturday, and you certainly don’t hear any indications of your roommates being awake.

But maybe that’s because they’re lying in wait for you in the kitchen like it’s meant to be a f*cking trap.

“Good morning!” Navia’s cheery voice greets you as you hit the bottom of the stairs.

You stumble to a halt, Alhaitham nearly tripping down the rest of the stairs with you blocking his path. Navia and Yae are, surprise surprise, posed a bit too casually in the kitchen. Layla is nowhere to be seen, though at this time of morning that’s not unexpected.

“M-Morning.” You consider pushing Alhaitham back up the stairs, but the open bannister already leaves him perfectly exposed.

“Good morning,” he greets calmly, clearly unbothered by the near-predatory way Yae is regarding him.

“I wasn’t aware you had a guest last night, Y/N,” she says in a tone that sends a chill up your spine.

“Then why were you lurking in the kitchen waiting for us?” you retort.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

“How was the party last night?” Navia asks it innocently enough, but you know her well enough by now to recognize an obvious attempt at probing for information when you see one.

Yae tilts her head towards Alhaitham. “Well, considering this little morning-after moment we just stumbled upon, I would wager it went quite poorly or a bit too well.” Something dangerous glints in her amethyst eyes. “Just how much did you have to drink last night, anyway?”

“Too much,” you admit, rubbing at your forehead. But when Yae seems to bristle slightly at that, you realize just what she’s getting at, and just why she seems so poised to kill. You pull Alhaitham the rest of the way down the stairs and basically force yourself beneath his arm. Thankfully he’s quick to take the hint and drapes his arm more comfortably across your shoulders. “But Alhaitham is the perfect boyfriend and wasted no time in coming to get me when I got too drunk.”

“Oh, I’ll bet. I’m sure it had nothing to do with that dress he was such a fan of.”

Sending Yae’s suspicion, Alhaitham clarifies, “You don’t have to worry about Y/N. Nothing inappropriate happened. I just happened to fall asleep. Now we’re heading out for breakfast.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you say pointedly.

“Don’t be so hard on her,” says Alhaitham. “You’re lucky to have such loyal friends. She doesn’t know me very well yet, so it makes sense that she’d worry I would take advantage of you in such a state.” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and adds to Yae, “And trust me, it was a bit of a state.”

You frown. “ Hey.”

But it was clearly the right thing to say because Yae relaxes a bit. Her lips pull into a mischievous smile.

“Did she cry? She always cries when she’s had too much to drink.”

“Is that right? And here I thought it was something I said.”

“I’m officially instating a no-contact order between the two of you,” you say, tugging Alhaitham towards the door.

“Always ruining our fun,” Yae pouts.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” says Navia. “I could whip something up for us and put on some tea and coffee.”

Breakfast made by Navia is a luxury you’d normally never pass up, so it’s certainly tempting to risk the embarrassment and stay.

“Unless you can do the impossible and ensure Yae and Alhaitham won’t spend the whole time ganging up on me, I’ll have to lovingly pass.”

Navia glances at the two of them, who seem to be having an entire conversation through mocking eye contact alone, and bites back a giggle.

“That’s probably the best option for your sanity.”

𖧷𖧷𖧷

For the second time in a 24-hour period, you find yourself trying not to throw up all over Alhaitham’s car.

The breakfast spot you decide on is only a few minutes' drive away, but with how the motion of the car renews your nausea from the night before, it might as well be an eternity.

“I don’t know why you talk so poorly of Yae,” says Alhaitham. In the harsh sunlight through the car windows, the dark circles under his eyes are much more pronounced. “I think we’d get along just fine.”

“No you wouldn’t,” you grumble, pressing your forehead against the window. “You only like her because you both have a preternatural ability to cause me suffering.”

“Sounds like a good enough reason to me.”

You flip him off, then suffer the rest of the drive in silence.

Eventually, you reach your destination, and you wordlessly follow Alhaitham into the restaurant. The spacious diner is all windows, sunlight glinting off the chrome accents and pastel checkerboard tiles. You pick one of the teal-cushioned booths by the window and slide in.

You sit in silence for a few moments as you both browse the menu. Everything looks good, but the thought of eating any of it has your stomach churning again.

“Maybe I’ll just get a coffee,” you muse, flipping through to the drink menu.

“Nope.” Alhaitham plucks it out of your hands. “Caffeine is a diuretic. It’ll only make you more dehydrated.”

You squint against the pain of your headache. “Do you ever get tired of listening to yourself talk?”

“Not at all.” He scans the contents of the menu he stole from you. “How about a mimosa?”

You swallow a gag. “Funny.”

“Hmm. Oh, this pineapple ginger smoothie sounds perfect. Why don’t you get that?”

“Will you ask them to cut the crusts off my toast, too, Mom?”

He rolls his eyes. “No one on this planet is more equipped to help someone through a hangover than me. And as much as I’d love to let you suffer the consequences on your own, I know I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with the…”

“You can say whining.” You give him a mockingly sweet smile. “I know you want to say whining.”

“I was going to say…” He rolls his wrist, contemplating. “Lamenting.”

“Ooh, big word.” You sigh and sink forward, resting your chin against your palms. “Well, you know, you could also avoid said ‘lamenting’ by going home and going back to bed. It’s not like I’m keeping you here against your will.”

And in fact, you’re wondering what he’s still doing here at all, if he finds you such a headache to deal with.

“I know.” Alhaitham’s eyes drift casually back to the menu. You watch him expectantly, waiting for the eventual quippy follow-up, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he browses the menu for several long, quiet moments before snapping it shut and saying, “I think I’ll get eggs.”

“Eggs,” you echo, fighting back a smile. When he narrows his eyes at you, you twist your head so that your mouth is obscured by your palm. “Right.”

The waiter comes to take your order—black coffee and poached eggs for Alhaitham, a smoothie and buttered toast for you—and then a loaded silence falls over the table. Alhaitham folds his hands beneath his chin and gives you an expectant look.

“Is this an interview?” you ask, a lame attempt at a joke. Clearly Alhaitham agrees, because he simply clears his throat and keeps staring. You sink back in your seat, scanning the dining room. It’s pretty full, and while there’s no one you immediately recognize, you know Yelan’s list of connections is seemingly endless. Who knows how easily this conversation will get back to her if someone overhears?

“I won’t force you at gunpoint to tell me,” he says, but you shake your head.

“I think I’ll explode if I have to keep this bottled up.”

“Then please,” he says, waving a hand. “Spare us both the mess.”

You glance around once more before leaning forward, keeping low to the table. Alhaitham mimics the action, until you’re both resting your chins on your folded arms and practically nose to nose. The ultra-serious expression he’s wearing tells you he’s mocking you a little bit, but there’s no way you’re going to get caught talking about something like this.

“I…overheard her talking to him on the phone,” you say in a careful whisper. “Yelan, I mean. And I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt but she was saying things about sneaking around and getting caught and an intimate spot for their affair. I mean, how else was I supposed to take that?”

“Hm…” You can feel the breath of the hum on your face and it strikes you just how close you are. “Well, that does sound damning. But it’s like you said—why should you care what he does to ruin his own relationship? If he cheated on you, it’s not like—”

“He…didn’t,” you say awkwardly. “N-Not exactly.”

He gives you a questioning look.

You elaborate, feeling suddenly dumb, “I mean…they never technically did anything while we were together. We all ran in the same circle, and they were best friends, but Lumine was genuinely super nice to me. I honestly believe she had no idea how Childe felt about her. Maybe he didn’t really know either. But when the three of us were together, even though I knew Childe loved me, it…” You scoff and shake your head. Even all these years later, the wound still has the ability to split open again, especially with that blank, pitiless look Alhaitham is giving you. “It’s stupid.”

“Say it anyway.” He finally pulls himself up straight so that he can cross his arms. You remain slumped over the table, choosing your words with immense care.

“To me, it had always felt like…Lumine was the ‘one’, you know? And I came along and f*cked things up before Childe had a chance to meet her. So when he did, it was like…” You wave a hand. “I was just the thing standing in the way of that. An obstacle.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t actually believe that.”

“It’s true. Haven’t you ever read a romance novel and it’s like…the main girl is in love with this guy who has a girlfriend, and even though the girlfriend hasn’t done anything wrong, it’s still obvious she’s just not right for him like the main girl is. You find yourself rooting against this innocent girlfriend who only wanted to be loved because it’s just what you’re supposed to do.”

Oh, god. You can feel yourself oversharing to an embarrassing degree. But considering Alhaitham literally washed your face and put you to bed like a child last night, you figure that his respect for you as a fellow academic is beyond shattered at this point. This is ammunition he would normally be thrilled to tuck into his back pocket for a later time. He’s watching you, jaw working furiously as he no doubt commits this incredibly tragic, pathetic metaphor to memory.

“I don’t read romance novels,” he says at last, his tone strangely stiff.

“Right,” you grumble, tempted to bury your face in your arms. “I forgot you only read textbooks and instruction manuals. You’ve always made it clear I’m just a vapid, stupid girl—”

“I couldn’t debate so extensively with someone who was truly vapid,” he cuts in, and now he seems bafflingly annoyed. “And the only thing that’s stupid is your refusal to paint yourself as the main character of your own novel in that foolish metaphor.”

“But it’s true.” You huff a laugh and rest your cheek on your arm, staring at the wall of the booth. “And if you’d been there for the whole mess, you’d agree. My insecurities were holding him back, and even though they ended up being justified, it just felt like…it felt like it was me who soured everything. Like when they finally got together, the world breathed a sigh of relief, because it was how things were supposed to be. Even our friends couldn’t really stay mad at him for long because I think they were all just too relieved to be free of our constant fighting.”

You can feel Alhaitham’s eyes boring into you, and when you finally lift your head, you recoil slightly at his expression. His mouth is pulled into a tight line, his eyes narrowed in disgust. Disgust. It’s been a while, you realize, since he’s regarded you with such open disdain. It makes you realize just how far the two of you have actually come in your grudging respect for one another in such a short time.

“What’s with that look?” you ask.

“I just can’t believe what I’m hearing,” he mutters. “I can’t believe you let him do such a number on your self-esteem that you’re actually going to blame yourself for what happened.”

You blink against the sudden sting in your eyes. “I’m not…I’m not saying I blame myself—”

“You’re not saying it. But it’s obvious that you do.”

Your face burns. Is he…is he angry at you? His reaction is making your head spin. It’s so different from the cold indifference he usually shows your problems.

“It’s…it’s more complicated than that.”

“What’s complicated about him not respecting your relationship?”

You stare at him, utterly speechless. Is this really Alhaitham speaking right now? Since when is he such a relationship expert, and since when could he be bothered to impart such wisdom on others? You can’t understand why he’s suddenly so indignant on your behalf, when before he made it clear that he couldn’t care less about your problems.

Once again, you’re left wondering what the hell he’s still doing here.

“I didn’t…” You flick your eyes to the table, falling silent as the waiter appears with your orders. Alhaitham curtly thanks him, and you take the opportunity of his attention being off of you to try and quell the warmth building behind your eyes. When the waiter is gone, you twirl the straw of your smoothie and murmur, “I didn’t do much to make it a relationship worth respecting. I mean…even putting our constant fighting over Lumine aside, what could I possibly have to offer—?”

He scoffs. “I’m not listening to this.”

“What do you mean?” His tone is so accusatory that you can’t help but feel defensive. “You pushed me to talk about it.”

“About the affair. I didn’t ask to sit here and listen to you put yourself down over that…” He trails off, shaking his head and angrily tonguing his cheek. He cuts into his eggs and makes a long, slow show of bringing his fork to his mouth. It gives you the impression he’s done talking, but before he’s even swallowed his first bite he gives you a look that could melt diamond and goes on, “Do you want to know what my problem is with you?”

There it is. This is more like the Alhaitham you know and loathe. You bristle.

“Oh? Please, let’s hear what judgment the great Alhaitham has passed on poor, lowly me.”

He stabs his fork towards you. “That. That is my problem with you. You have absolutely no issue with sticking up for yourself when it’s me, but any other situation and your backbone crumbles. Do you know why Lisa hasn’t let you choose a thesis yet? It’s because you’re letting her refuse you. Not once have you actually fought for your ideas.”

“That is not true,” you protest, staring at him with a stunned look. His words are like knives on your skin, scraping you raw.

“And they’re good ideas,” he goes on like you haven’t spoken. “You know why they’re good ideas? It’s because you’re smart. You wouldn’t be undertaking a masters program at one of the most prestigious institutions in the world if you weren’t. So to sit here and say you have nothing to offer…” He lets out a humourless laugh and swigs his coffee. “It’s such a joke.”

You can’t stop the tears that well in your eyes. From his anger, from the softness hidden behind the sharp steel of his words. Because despite every secret wish you used to harbour, Childe never quite cut through to the core of you the way Alhaitham so effortlessly just did. Your success with academics had never seemed to factor into the equation, even though Alhaitham is right—it’s a major accomplishment. Maybe that had always been the crux of it—you and Childe were different people, who valued different things. And that would have always been true, Lumine or no Lumine.

You sniff, reaching for your smoothie and taking a long drink. Your body seems to sing in thanks for the cool hydration. Alhaitham is focusing intently on his breakfast now, but there’s a visible rise and fall to his chest that reveals just how heated he got in the moment. You fight for something to say, torn between shame and gratitude and offense.

“You really think I’m smart?” you say at last. Maybe it was supposed to be a taunt, but the waver in your voice betrays just how much the words affected you. Not to mention the obvious tears pooling in your eyes.

He gives a resigned sigh. “There’s no reason for me to lie. I wouldn’t tolerate sharing a thesis advisor with someone I thought was totally incompetent.”

You sniff and laugh, dropping your head to stare into the depths of your smoothie. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it. Maybe if your ex wasn’t so thoughtless with his words and actions you wouldn’t have such low standards for yourself.”

“It’s not like he never complimented me,” you say, reaching for a piece of toast. You nibble on the corner and frown. “But I guess… he never called me smart. I mean, I’m sure he thought so, don’t get me wrong, but…I don’t think that was something he considered as a compliment you give a girlfriend. It was always shallow stuff like my looks or my laugh—not that it doesn’t feel nice to hear those things. But…it would have been nice to know we had a deeper connection than that. And I don’t think either of us ever felt that way.”

Alhaitham says nothing—just chews in silence as he watches you. The ire in his stare hasn’t seemed to dull very much, but it doesn’t feel totally directed at you anymore. It tugs at something in your chest, a messy, complicated knot that you didn’t think Alhaitham was a part of.

You’re not really sure how to feel.

“Lumine, though…” he ponders after a while. “If she was really ‘the one’ like you claim, then why would he throw that away?”

It’s not lost on you that he’s purposefully steering the conversation away from you and your complicated emotions on the subject. You’re not really sure what to make of that either.

“I had that thought too,” you admit glumly. “I never got the impression that he was inherently unfaithful. And knowing how enamoured he was with Lumine…” You trail off and shake your head. “Something’s not right.”

“Hm…” He sips his coffee. “Well, unless you plan on confronting him or trying to catch them in the act, there’s really not much you can do.”

“Isn’t there? I need to tell Lumine.”

“Nope.” He sets his coffee down and gives you a disapproving look. “That’s the last thing you should do.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” you insist. “I might not be happy with how things turned out, but she’s a nice person. She doesn’t deserve this—”

“And what are you going to tell her? You don’t have any proof besides your word, and given you’re the scorned ex-girlfriend, I don’t think that’s going to be worth much.”

You fall silent, chewing your lip. Alhaitham’s expression turns wary as he watches you think.

“I’m not sure I like that look on your face,” he says.

“It’s nothing. Just…” You think back to the conversation you overheard and sip from your smoothie. Lifting one shoulder in a casual shrug, you say, “I do happen to know that they’re meeting this Thursday at exactly 7 pm by the waterfront—”

“And what?” he says in dismay. “You’re going to spy on them? This is real life, not one of your romance novels. You’re going to get caught and make a complete fool out of yourself.”

You raise your hands in defense. “Okay, okay! It was just a thought. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

The look he gives you suggests he doesn’t believe a word of that, and the urge gripping you by the throat would support that disbelief. But before he can call you out on it, a warm, familiar voice calls out your name.

“Alhaitham? Y/N?”

“Just perfect,” Alhaitham mutters, as Lisa approaches your table. It doesn’t hit you right away—that this is probably a bad situation for Lisa to find you in. You’re too busy wondering what fresh havoc she’s going to wreak on your poor, hungover head.

“Morning Lisa,” you say with a weak smile. “Fancy running into you here. Seems a little early for you.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighs, then slides into the booth beside Alhaitham without asking. He gives her a baffled look as she keeps speaking. “But I’ve got meetings all weekend to prep for the Favonius Conference in a few weeks.” She buries a yawn in her hand. “I sort of put it all off until last minute.”

“That’s unlike you, Lisa,” says Alhaitham, and the barely suppressed sarcasm in his tone as he visibly stops himself from making eye contact with you has you biting back a laugh.

Especially considering Lisa doesn’t pick up on it. She nods sadly and says, “People underestimate how much work goes into this position. I’m a busy woman, you know.”

“Of course,” you say with a nod, and Alhaitham coughs into the collar of his shirt.

“It’s actually fortunate that I ran into the two of you here,” she goes on, then pauses and glances between you both. A knowing smile pulls at her lips, and when she speaks again it’s with a suggestive tone that would rival Yae’s. “And actually, why are you both here so early on a Saturday?”

“Discussing the project,” you reply a bit too quickly. You let out an annoyed scoff. “You know Alhaitham. He’s such a try-hard that he can’t even let himself sleep in on the weekend.”

“Not all of us have to sleep the day away,” he retorts without missing a beat. “It’s not my fault you drank enough last night to put a lumberjack out of commission.”

You kick him under the table.

Lisa watches the exchange, her smile unwavering.

“Well,” she says, “you two are as charming together as ever. I take it that the project is going well?”

“Actually, yes,” says Alhaitham. “Admittedly, there was a bit of a rocky start, but this past week’s progress has more than made up for it.”

Her face brightens. “That’s wonderful! You know, I had a good feeling about pairing the two of you together. That’s why I went ahead and put you both down for the Favonius Conference. Annnnnnd you can’t really say no because there are a lot of non-transferable, non-refundable tickets involved. So it’s actually a huge inconvenience if you can’t come.”

You and Alhaitham exchange an exasperated look. Typical Lisa. If this had been a few weeks ago, you would have been dreading the thought of being stuck at a conference with someone you considered Satan incarnate. But now that things are tentatively civil between you, it doesn’t sound so bad. And besides, the Favonius Conference is a huge honour to be chosen for. Academics from all over the world travel to take part and showcase their accomplishments in their various fields.

Getting out of town might be just what you’ll end up needing after enduring the chaos of Beidou and Ningguang’s wedding.

“I’m honoured to be chosen,” you reply, and Lisa seems to deflate with relief. “Though I can’t guarantee we’ll have much to present by that point.”

“You can just give a sneak peek,” she says, waving her hand. “I’m sure it’ll be fascinating.” And by fascinating, you know she just means it’ll be entertaining watching the two of you get through a public presentation without one insulting the other. If only she knew just how well the two of you had learned to collaborate.

“Well, if we don’t have a choice, then I suppose there’s no sense getting upset that you didn’t feel the need to consult either of us,” says Alhaitham. “Is the Akademiya footing the bill?”

“Of course,” she replies. “All that’s left to do is book the hotel rooms. Can I assume you’ll be sharing?”

You roll your eyes. “Very funny, Lisa.”

“Hm? Why, if it isn’t Alhaitham and Y/N!”

Your whole body locks up at the new voice. Has this just suddenly become everyone in the whole f*cking city’s favourite spot to get breakfast? Alhaitham, whose posture is typically ramrod straight, slumps down in his seat as Tighnari approaches your table. Cyno and Kaveh are close behind him, and the latter narrows his eyes at his roommate in what you’re going to just assume is a normal greeting for the two of them.

“What do you want?” Alhaitham grinds out from between clenched teeth. “We’re busy with our thesis advisor.”

“Oh, I was just leaving,” says Lisa, moving to slide out of the booth. “If your friends are here, I don’t want to intrude.”

Alhaitham’s lips press tightly together, like he can’t quite decide which headache he’d rather deal with.

“Where the hell did you run off to last night?” Kaveh demands before Lisa has a chance to stand. “I woke up this morning to your bed being empty and your room looking like a struggle happened. I might have thought you’d been taken hostage if I believed anyone would actually want you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” says Alhaitham, but his eyes start to widen in warning at you.

sh*t, you realize. The longer Lisa stays here to overhear this conversation, the higher the likelihood of her finding out about your “relationship”. And that’s going to cause a whole slew of other problems.

“Well, it was nice to see you, Lisa!” you say hastily, waving her off. “Just forward us the details about the conference.”

“As if anyone could get the upper hand on him,” says Tighnari. “He’d probably bore them to death by reciting some convoluted book he’d read recently. Doesn’t Y/N being here tell you he probably just went to spend the night with her?”

“In the middle of the night?” says Kaveh. And when Tighnari just gives him a loaded look, a bit of colour creeps into his face. “ Ah.”

Alhaitham shoots them both a glare, to which Tighnari blinks in confusion. Your stomach drops as Lisa, in the middle of standing, drops back down into the seat.

“Wait a minute,” she says, her voice rising with scandalized shock. “And just what are you doing sneaking out to meet her in the middle of the night?”

“I was giving her a drive home from the bar,” Alhaitham says carefully. Despite him doing a better job at hiding it than you, it’s clear that you’re on the same, horrifically uncomfortable page—Lisa finding out about this situation is a step above what you’re mentally capable of handling.

“Oh, I’m sure,” says Kaveh. “Well, you were in such a hurry to ‘drive her home’ that you left the door unlocked, you know. Aren’t you always chewing me out for doing that exact same thing?”

“Maybe we should drop the subject,” says Cyno in that forever-calm tone of his. You could kiss him for it. “Alhaitham might do something drastic if we embarrass him in front of his thesis advisor.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” says Lisa kindly. “I suppose I just didn’t realize these two had grown close enough to warrant late-night favours.”

Did she have to phrase it that way? Your skin warms even more.

“Maybe we should drop it,” Tighnari whispers to Cyno. “I don’t think she knows.”

Alhaitham massages his temple with two fingers. “What’s the point of whispering that if we can all hear you anyway?”

“What don’t I know?” says Lisa, but the mischief gleaming in her eyes tells you she’s already put the pieces together.

“It’s not—” you begin, but Alhaitham interrupts before you can get another word in.

“Our relationship and our research work are two completely separate subjects. There’s nothing to tell Lisa because it’s none of her concern.”

Lisa’s jaw drops with delight. “Oh my gosh. You two are hooking up, aren’t you?”

“Lisa,” you groan into your hands.

“Oh, we’re all adults here. There’s no need to get embarrassed, cutie. And truth be told, I always saw the chemistry between you two. It’s part of the reason I was so insistent on this project.”

She has to be f*cking kidding.

Alhaitham fixes her with one of those bone-melting, withering glares that you used to see in your nightmares.

“Are you telling me,” he says with soft, deadly quiet, “that you only put me on this project because you wanted to play matchmaker ?”

Lisa’s answering smile is shameless. “Of course not. The project needed to happen either way. But I will admit that it was a factor in deciding who to partner you with."

“Unbelievable,” you say, reeling with humiliation. All those months spent at each other’s throats, and Lisa thought it was because of sexualtension? You’ve wanted to strangle her many times during your time in the program, but this is the closest you’ve ever felt to acting on that urge.

“Alhaitham, you should be thanking her,” says Kaveh, oblivious to the emotional carnage unfolding before him. “Without this project, I doubt you’d ever find someone willing to date you.”

Lisa perks up. “So it’s a full-fledged relationship?”

“I’m surprised they were able to hide it from you.” Kaveh lowers himself onto the edge of the bench beside you and you think Alhaitham might actually dive across the table at him. Kaveh rests his hand against his cheek and goes on, “They’re so sickeningly in love it would make your teeth rot.”

Lisa leans forward. “I always knew it. Two people don’t argue the way they do without there being some major underlying tension going on.”

“W-Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” says Kaveh, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I mean, Alhaitham can be very hard to get along with, so could you really blame someone for getting into a lot of fights with him?”

“Why is he getting defensive?” Cyno says under his breath to Tighnari.

“Don’t you all have somewhere better to be?” Alhaitham says impatiently. To his credit, he doesn’t look nearly as embarrassed as you likely do, but there’s definitely a sharp edge to his voice. “It’s too early in the morning for this foolishness.”

Lisa checks her watch. “Shoot! I actually do have somewhere better to be. I’ll leave you lovebirds to it.”

You bite back another groan. Lisa finding out about this is the absolute last thing you wanted to happen. She's going to be even more unbearable about it than Yae.

“You know,” she goes on, sliding out from the booth. “This actually works out splendidly. If you two room together, that’s going to cut down on costs for the Akademiya. And they’re already a bit cross with me for going over their budget.”

“Then how can we refuse?” Alhaitham mutters. You can’t help but admire his ability to be totally unphased by the thought of having to share a room with you. Granted, he did just spend the night passed out at the foot of your bed.

“I-I don’t know Lisa,” you say, unable to help your wide-eyed panic. “Won’t that be a little inappropriate?”

She shrugs. “Not unless you plan on making it inappropriate. But if you’re that shy about it I’ll make sure there are two beds in the room.” That promise doesn’t sound very genuine, but then she waves and is off to the to-go counter before you can protest further.

The moment Lisa is gone, Alhaitham fixes a death stare on his friends.

More specifically, Kaveh.

“You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?”

“What?” Kaveh exclaims, far too loudly for your throbbing head. “Forgive me for showing a little concern that my roommate didn’t make it home last night. You could have at least sent me a text to let me know you were alive.”

“It slipped my mind,” says Alhaitham. “I was…preoccupied.”

“Alhaitham,” you hiss, colour flooding your face as the others bite down on the very obvious bait. He blinks innocently at you in response, as though he didn’t deliberately phrase it that way to sound as suggestive as possible.

“We’re in a relationship,” he says, with just enough condescension that it’s only clear to you. “It’s not like anyone should be that scandalized about what happens in the bedroom.”

You swallow a nasty rebuttal. You’re supposed to be dating. Talking about your sex life should make you giggly and bashful, not seething with rage. Slapping the sh*t out of Alhaitham for an innocent, flirty comment would probably not help you sell your story.

“Scandalized, no,” says Cyno dryly. “But a little unnerved…”

You shyly toy with your straw. “I guess I’ve never been the type to kiss and tell. But if Alhaitham really does feel like bragging about how good he is in the—”

“No, no, no.” Kaveh dramatically waves his arms. “That’s absolutely not necessary.”

“Really?” says Alhaitham. “But you seemed so eager to discuss it in front of our thesis advisor. Now that our professional images aren’t at stake, you’re suddenly shy?”

“The day I give a damn about your sex life is the day hell freezes over.” Kaveh shudders slightly, as though repulsed at the very thought of Alhaitham even having a sex life.

If you didn’t know Alhaitham was lying, you might agree with such a concept seeming extremely abnormal. Such a logical, stoic person letting loose enough to have sex with someone? Impossible. But you do know he’s a damn good kisser, and now that you’ve seen him shirtless the scene is a bit easier to picture.

Oh, god. Now you’re picturing it.

Worse—you’re picturing being there.

Your mouth falls open slightly, your breathing suddenly a bit more shallow.

“Look at her,” says Tighnari, staring at you in disbelief. It cuts off whatever bickering between Alhaitham and Kaveh that continued after you tuned them out.“She’s totally smitten.”

Alhaitham nudges your foot beneath the table. “What are you thinking about all of a sudden?”

You shrug and busy yourself with your toast. “Nothing! Are you all going to join us for breakfast?”

He gently rolls his eyes at your obvious subject change.

“Maybe next time,” Kaveh sighs. “I’ve already hit my tolerance limit with Alhaitham and it’s not even noon.”

“A new record,” says Alhaitham, pretending to sound impressed. “Finally, an accomplishment you can celebrate. If only your clients could say the same.”

“Ugh—you—!” Kaveh flings his hands up in anger and storms towards the takeout counter.

“Well, this has been sufficiently awkward,” says Tighnari, clapping his hands together. He turns to you. “Y/N, you’ll have to convince Alhaitham to let us all hang out sometime without the unexpected run-in involved.”

You smile. “That does sound nice. And if he’s really so opposed, it can just be us four. I’m sure you have juicy stories to share.”

“I’m sure we could think of a few,” says Cyno. “In exchange, you can try to explain to us just what you could possibly see in him.”

This time when Alhaitham rolls his eyes, it’s a lot less gentle.

“Oh, there’s lots,” you insist. “He’s smart, he’s good-looking, secretly very sweet. You know, just last night he—”

Tighnari holds up a hand. “That’s alright. I don’t think I need to hear any more about what happened ‘last night’.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” says Alhaitham. You have to restrain yourself from pointing out that he’s the one who started it.

Tighnari shakes his head at you with a wry smile and then, with a couple of final farewells, he and Cyno leave to catch up with Kaveh.

The minute you’re alone again, Alhaitham lets out a low groan and chugs the rest of his coffee. You give him a mocking pout.

“What’s wrong? You can conspire against me with the queen of all mischief but I can’t do the same with your very normal friends?”

“Normal?” he repeats, furrowing his brow. “Anyway, do what you want. It makes no difference to me.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little stressed.”

“I’m not ‘stressed’. Though if I were, it would only be at the thought of what Lisa will do with this very dangerous information.”

“Right…” You sink back in your seat. “But hey, isn’t it cool that we get to go to the conference? It’s after the wedding, too, so it’s not like we’ll still have to keep up the charade at that point.”

“Just share a room together,” he adds.

You wave a hand. “We’ve already done that. Who cares? But I’m more concerned with what’s worse,” you ponder. “Having to pretend to be a couple in front of Lisa, or having to pretend to be broken up?”

“We argue all the time anyway. Pretending to be broken up won’t feel much different.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “That’s true. Ugh, I was really hoping to hide this stupid situation from her. I mean can you believe her? Pairing us together like she’s playing matchmaker?”

“Unfortunately, yes I can,” he says. “This is Lisa we’re talking about.”

“Also true…” You finish off the rest of your smoothie. Stupid Alhaitham. He was right—this did make you feel better. A thought strikes you and you suddenly can’t stop fidgeting, running your lip between your teeth as you poke at the crumbs on your plate. “I mean…it’s crazy, right? All that stuff she said about tension and chemistry? It doesn’t take a genius to know you’ve hated my guts since day one.”

“No I haven’t,” he says without missing a beat.

You scoff. “Sure.”

“Hate is a strong word,” he says. “I don’t even hate Kaveh, despite how irritating he can be.”

“Suspicious how Kaveh’s name keeps coming up,” you taunt, but it’s only an attempt to deflect the strange way his response is making you feel. You suspect Alhaitham can tell, because his mouth curves slightly.

“I never hated you,” he insists. “It just happens to be extremely easy and entertaining to piss you off.”

“Oh, I get it. Being a prickly asshole just happens to be your love language, is that it?”

That curve in his mouth grows a bit. “Who said anything about love? Do you have a confession to make?”

“Ugh, as if.” But your face betrays you by warming to a mortifying degree.

He leans forward a bit. “You seem pretty stuck on what Lisa said. Maybe you do have a confession to make.”

“Me? You’re the one who’s so eager to succeed at this whole fake boyfriend thing. If Lisa was right about anyone, it’s you .”

Both of your phones buzz at that point, cutting the bickering short. You both check at the same time to find a notification from the same email—Lisa forwarding details about plane tickets, event scheduling, and yes—hotel options.

“I’ll read it later,” you sigh, tossing your phone onto the table. Alhaitham does the same, but as his phone clatters to the table, you catch a glimpse of his still-illuminated screen.

More specifically, the photo he has on his lock screen.

“I’m sorry, what?” You snatch his phone off the table before you can think better of it. Oh, so your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you.

He made that f*cking photo Yae sent him his lock screen.

“What’s wrong?” he asks innocently. “It’s like you said—I’m eager to succeed. And real couples proudly display each other like this all the time. I wasn’t about to let such a stunning photo of you go to waste.”

“This is…you’re…I can’t even—” You cut off, dangerously close to spiralling into a flustered mess. “Were you just waiting this whole time for me to see that?”

“Maybe.” Calm, smug asshole.

“You’re such a f*cking comedian, you know that?”

He shrugs. “I could send you one for your lock screen as well. It’s only fair.”

“Ah! And so generous, too. How did I end up with such a giving partner?” You cross your arms and give him a doubtful look. “Please. The day you take a sexy photo is the day hell freezes over.”

He takes a very suspicious pause, giving you a once-over. When he finally speaks again, it’s in a tone that activates your fight or flight response.

“If you say so.”

You eye him carefully and slide his phone back across the table, even though after that exchange it feels like you’re giving him a loaded gun.

“Ready for the bill?” he asks, pocketing his phone. “I’m ready for a nap after so much…excitement.”

You nod in agreement. He waves down the waiter for the bill, and the two of you barely make it out the door before you start bickering again—about Lisa, about the photo, about pretty much anything. But as Alhaitham drops you off at your street and you start a sleepy shuffle back to your house, it hits you.

You were so caught up in dealing with Lisa and bickering with Alhaitham that your problems with Childe completely slipped your mind.

As you’re getting out of the shower the next morning, your phone lights up with a text from Alhaitham.

Alhaitham: As promised. I expect to see it on your lock screen the next time we meet.

You swallow a startled yelp at the photo that follows. He’s standing in front of a gym bathroom mirror, clearly fresh from a workout, if the sweat dripping from his forehead and slightly damp hair are anything to go off of. Not to mention his expression—neutral as ever, but flushed and winded from vigorous exercise.

But it’s the rest of the photo that has your pulse climbing. His free hand reaches up beneath his tank top to rest on his shoulder, and the pose bunches and lifts the loose fabric of the shirt enough that it exposes the glistening plane of his abs and the defined line of muscles creeping up from the waistband of his black track pants.

Pants that are resting low enough on his hips to make your brain short-circuit.

You have to set your phone down for a minute and close your eyes.

When you finally gather your composure enough to form a coherent thought, you type a reply, thankful he’s not here to see just how flustered that made you.

You: In what world is that an appropriate photo for a lock screen? And you’re in * public* ? Quit f*cking around before you get kicked out for public indecency.

Alhaitham: Is your issue with the photo itself or the setting? I’d be happy to do a reshoot when I’m home in private. That way, it could be as decent or indecent as you’d like it to be.

You: If this is your way of trying to start a naughty photo swap, you’re going to have to do better than that.

Alhaitham: Hm. I’ll keep that in mind.

You let out a shaky breath and toss your phone onto the bathroom counter. Nope. You're not going to let him get you hot and bothered. This isAlhaitham. Who cares if he's stupidly hot? You're not about to give him the satisfaction of letting on just how easy it is to get under your skin.

And besides, you still have to get ready. You pour your focus into getting dressed and drying your hair, pointedly ignoring your phone.

You make it all of ten minutes before you cave and make the photo your lock screen.

Just to keep up the ruse, of course.

Chapter 7: casino royale

Chapter Text

Preparing for the Favonius Conference is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, compiling what you’ve already accomplished into a presentation has effectively doubled your workload. At this point, you and Alhaitham are spending most of your free time together, and while you would have once dreaded such a development, you’re both so focused on the actual work that you don’t even have time to bicker.

That’s the blessing. Pouring yourself into the work means you shouldn’t have the room in your brain to worry about Childe and Yelan. But as that fateful Thursday evening draws closer and closer, the distraction is no longer enough, and you can’t help your thoughts from drifting. Your hands are constantly twitching to grab your phone and fire off a barrage of heated texts—biting Childe’s head off, spilling your guts to Lumine, scolding Yelan for not knowing better.

But every time you reach for your phone, it lights up to that photo of Alhaitham, and you can’t help but continue to feel like he’s always one step ahead of you, like he tricked you into putting it there so he can chastise you when he’s not even around.

You try to distract yourself instead by scrolling through online maps of the pier, but that just gets you even more stressed. Yelan said they have a reservation at some Snezhnayan place, but as far as you can tell, zero restaurants in the area match that description. Was it some sort of code? Are Childe and Yelan so deeply entangled that they communicate through their own secret code now?

It’s enough to keep you in a constant state of anxiety-fuelled nausea. Your concentration falters. Your head pounds. Your productivity is dwindling to near zero.

And Alhaitham—observant, too smart for his own good Alhaitham—is starting to notice.

“So,” he says on Thursday, squinting at his computer screen. The two of you have been working away in the campus library for most of the afternoon. “What are your plans for tonight?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you demand, setting your pen down and frowning at him.

“Hm?” He blinks slowly, increasing his typing speed to finish whatever last chunk of text he’d been working on. When he finally tears his eyes away from his screen to find you staring warily at him, he gives a slow blink. “What do you mean ‘what’s it supposed to mean’? I can’t make conversation?”

“We’ve been over this,” you say. “It’s just not natural. And anyway, what makes you think I have plans?”

“Maybe you don’t. But you’re clearly distracted by something, seeing as you’ve spent fifteen minutes writing the same sentence over and over again.”

You gasp and glance down at your page. Sure enough, the phrase, “There are many facets of human life that transcend language” has been written enough times to take up at least half the page.

“I’m just…” You shrug casually and begin crossing them all out. “Making sure I like the sound of it. That’s all.”

“Right.” He taps his fingers lightly against his keyboard. “So, just to be clear, you’re not going to sneak down to the waterfront to poke your nose into your ex’s business?”

“Nope.” You shake your head, letting your gaze casually drift down to your notebook. You gently tear out the page and crumple it into a ball. “In fact, Ganyu and I are going to have a girls’ night.”

“Is that right?” He doesn’t sound convinced in the slightest. “What do the two of you have planned?”

You lift one shoulder. “Girl stuff.”

“Right…”

“You’re not my actual boyfriend, you know. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Of course.” He raises his hands and eyebrows both, as though pleading innocence. But when he finally cautions a glance up from his laptop screen, it’s with eyes that cut right through to the core of you. Guilty, guilty, guilty, they seem to chide. “I hope you have fun. Tell Ganyu I said hi.”

“No one who really knows you would think that’s sincere.”

“Because this whole arrangement is just built on sincerity, isn’t it?”

You get the feeling he’s baiting you to come clean about things, but really, there’s nothing to come clean about. Nothing is stopping you from sending Ganyu a text and asking her to hang out. It doesn’t have to be a lie.

And indeed, as the afternoon drags on into the early hours of the evening, and the two of you eventually go your separate ways, you swear to yourself that you have every intention of hitting Ganyu up. And when you find yourself wandering the streets barely an hour after dropping your things off at your house, you promise that you’re just going to get some exercise in before heading over to Ganyu’s unannounced.

When the glittering stretch of the waterfront comes into view, you cling to the lie that you’re just here for the scenery.

But as the crying of gulls pierce your ears, it’s like those cries pierce the delusional shield that’s been holding back your sanity. You stumble to a halt.

What the hell are you thinking? Did you really just wander down here without any semblance of a plan? Just what do you think you’re going to accomplish if you do catch them in some undeniable act? Do you really have it in you to dramatically confront the two of them? What would you even say to them?

Not that there’s anything you could say that could spin this situation in your favour. Childe is so shameless and carefree that he’d probably deny anything being wrong even if you caught him mid-lip-lock, and Yelan’s whole deal is keeping sensitive matters under wraps. You’re completely out of your element here.

Not to mention you still haven’t managed to track down that stupid restaurant.

Your senses return to you like a splash of cold water, as bracing as if you’d held your breath and jumped straight off the pier. Time to return home and forget this whole thing ever happened. No one has to know about this severe lapse in judgment and sanity.

But as you abruptly turn to head back in the direction you came, you end up slamming right into someone.

“Oof! Ugh, I’m so sorry—”

Your words die in your throat, replaced by the steady climb of your heart. At first, your eyes stay locked onto the black fabric of this person’s impossibly well-fitted sweater. But then they make the inevitable journey upwards, confirming that the brief glimpse of ash-coloured hair you saw as you turned around was no mere illusion.

“A-Alhaitham?”

“Y/N,” he greets calmly, feigning surprise. Those cunning teal eyes bore into you though, and you have the distinct, piercing feeling of being caught. “What an odd surprise. I thought you were spending time with Ganyu tonight.”

“Oh, I-I am.” Your attempt to sound casual falls totally flat as you flick your eyes around for a lifeline. Your gaze catches a nearby bao stand. “Just picking up a bit of dinner first.”

He follows your line of sight. “Bao? I thought Ganyu was a vegetarian.”

“They make vegetarian ones,” you reply, wincing at the sharpness in your tone. “A-And how do you even know that about her?”

“That stall doesn’t. And I happen to listen when you tell me things.”

You cross your arms. “I didn’t know you were such a bao connoisseur. What’s with the interrogation, anyway?”

“No interrogation,” he says. “Why the defensive language? Is it because I just caught you skulking around the place you told me Childe and Yelan are supposed to meet?”

“Hm?” You glance around, feigning ignorance. “Is this where I said? Huh. I’d totally forgotten.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Ugh, whatever,” you relent, flinging your hands up. “Fine. I was snooping. Happy? Do you really have nothing better to do than to come down here and try to catch me in the act?”

“I’m not letting you do something so stupid,” he says firmly. “You’ve been distracted enough as it is, but this will just turn you into a full-fledged basket case, which will have disastrous effects on your contribution to the assignment. And with the conference now being an added factor, we can’t afford any setbacks.”

You’re not sure why you’re not telling him the truth—that you’d just realized the same thing and were about to leave before you crashed into him. Maybe it’s that tone that slides under your skin like a knife through butter. Maybe you’re just hard-wired to be unable to admit when he’s right.

Whatever it is, it causes you to lock up defensively and taunt, “You can’t just hide behind the assignment every time you find yourself worrying about me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not ‘worried’ about you. It’s self-preservation.”

“Oh really? Was it self-preservation when you took care of me while I was drunk?”

That tumbling out of your mouth makes you both awkwardly lock up. Why did you even bring it up? You promised yourself you weren’t going to take the one time he actually did something nice for you and throw it in his face. And now his eyes narrow in response, the muscles in his jaw working furiously. The reaction tells you all you need to know—you crossed the line of harmless bickering.

“I didn’t mean…” You clear your throat and avoid his eyes. “I’m not trying to make fun of you for that. You already know I’m super grateful for it. It’s just…I think maybe…maybe you like me more than you’d care to admit—”

You cut off as he suddenly tugs you aside, pressing you up against the wall of the nearby building, beneath a shaded overhang. You open your mouth to let out a yelp of confusion—

—and immediately get silenced by his frantic lips on yours. Your heart explodes in your chest, scrambling into a wild, irregular rhythm as he places his hands on the wall beside your head, effectively cradling your body with his. You find yourself gripping at his waist for stability, even though the hard force of his body keeps you more upright than your own legs ever could.

The kiss itself only lasts a moment, and when he pulls away with a soft gasp, you instinctively find yourself moving forward to fill the space he left. He glances over his shoulder, panting slightly.

For the best, because some strange, alien part of you was about to pick up right where he left off. The reality of what just happened crashes against you like a wave. You pull at your lips, fighting for words.

“I don’t…” Your voice comes out shaky and breathless. “I don’t know what to—”

“I saw Childe and Yelan approaching up ahead,” he explains, still looking over his shoulder. His own voice doesn’t sound much steadier than yours.

“Oh…” For a moment, all you can feel is confusion, washed with a second feeling that you can’t explain. It feels suspiciously like disappointment, but that’s an absurd thought that you’re not going to entertain or examine too closely.

Then you remember what you were doing here in the first place.

“ Oh.” You peer around the cage his body is still making against you, just in time to see a flash of blue walk by. Alhaitham shifts his body to hide you from sight and you scowl up at him. “Wait, why the hell does that explain why you kissed me out of nowhere? I thought…” You trail off. You’re not really sure what you thought. Alhaitham gives you an expectant look, clearly very interested to know as well. “I don’t know.”

“I panicked,” he admits. “But it’s true that most people are going to avoid looking too closely at a couple making out.”

“I guess…” The silence that follows becomes slightly charged as you both realize in unison that he’s still pressed up against you. He clears his throat and steps back, casually scanning the street for wherever Childe and Yelan might have headed. You take the opportunity of his attention being off of you to suck in a gasp of air and clutch at your chest.

This whole charade is starting to become bad for your health.

“Well, get moving,” he says quietly, jerking his head down the street. “If you don’t want to lose them.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait, what? You’re actually going to indulge me on this?”

He sighs. “I’m starting to fear for my academic career if I don’t. It’s clear that trying to get you to ignore it is only making it worse.”

You bite your tongue. Your earlier comment still feels appropriate here—that helping with something so ridiculous feels several steps beyond just trying to ensure the success of the project. But if he’s really going to help you get the answers to the questions that are eating you alive, you suppose you shouldn’t pass him up on it.

“O-Okay,” you say with a resolute nod. “I guess…I guess it won’t hurt to follow them for a little while.”

Alhaitham’s jaw shifts in a way that tells you he very much wants to argue with that claim, but he mercifully refrains. The two of you push off from beneath the overhang, and you caution a glance down the street. Childe and Yelan are travelling at a casual pace far ahead, with a respectful amount of space between them. Well, at least they aren’t stupid enough to make things obvious in a public space.

You and Alhaitham follow behind at as far a distance as you can without totally losing them. Occasionally, when they stop to examine the street vendors lining the docks, you and Alhaitham are forced into blatant displays of affection at the drop of a hat. Nothing as dramatic and blood-pumping as slamming you into a wall, thankfully—usually just slipping into the role of a perpetually entwined couple browsing the shops.

But the further you follow them, the more your confusion mounts. There are still plenty of vendors this far out, but the actual buildings are shifting into a much more industrial setting—warehouses and tackle shops and the like.

“Here’s the part I don’t get,” you murmur. “I kept looking up all the shops and restaurants on this stretch, but unless I’m missing something, there aren’t any Snezhnayan restaurants down here.”

Alhaitham hums to himself in thought. Childe and Yelan pause in the street up ahead, turning to speak to one another. Alhaitham pulls you aside to a nearby kiosk, hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder like you’re both examining the wares.

“You’re a little too quick with this,” you mutter, while the salesperson gives you a slightly baffled look.

“You can thank me anytime.” Childe and Yelan continue on, and the two of you are quick to disengage. Alhaitham looks thoughtful as you resume walking, keeping his eyes locked ahead. “Well, are you sure you heard her properly? It’s not as if you were in the best state of mind. Does it matter either way?”

“I guess not,” you admit.

The farther you travel, the worse your nerves become. Even the shop stalls have stopped appearing, and all it will take at this point is one of them turning around to see that you’re the only two other people really around this part of the wharf. Your confusion grows when they eventually stop in front of what looks like a warehouse. There isn’t any identifying signage out front, and you don’t even see a door until Childe and Yelan move to speak to the man leaning against it. He’s dressed in a plain suit, and smoking a cigarette. You’d assumed he was just some sort of derelict loitering outside an abandoned building, but after a few words from Yelan, he pushes off from the wall and waves them inside.

“This just officially became shady,” you say. A cold sweat prickles your scalp.

Alhaitham nods beside you, murmuring his agreement.

“So,” you go on, “I guess we—”

But then Alhaitham startles you by striding towards the warehouse. Your heart starts hammering in your chest as you scramble after him, hissing his name so as not to cause a scene. The man in front of the door eyes you warily as you approach.

“Evening,” Alhaitham greets. You’ll never get used to the chilling sound of his fake polite voice, and it’s even more unsettling when you don’t know why he’s using it or what the hell he’s planning.

The man gives him a once-over. “Membership card?”

Alhaitham looks sheepish, reaching into his pockets. “Afraid I left it at home. Will this do instead?”

And then you and the man are both left gawking at the obscene amount of mora Alhaitham holds out to him. The man smothers his shock, but the glazed look in his eyes remains as he pockets the mora.

“If you make trouble in there and they find out it was me who let you in, no amount of mora will save you,” the man grumbles, then opens the door to usher you inside. You’re so flustered at Alhaitham suddenly going rogue that he has to practically drag you inside. The urge grips you to dig your heels into the ground and furiously shake your head, but the last thing you want to do is make the man more suspicious.

The door slams shut behind you, leaving you in a dark stairwell only illuminated by dim lights lining the steps on either side. The dull thumping of bass-heavy music blasts from the bottom of the stairs.

Alhaitham lets out a long breath, scratching the back of his head. You slowly turn to him with murder on your mind.

“What the hell was that?” you hiss.

“Someone had to think quickly.”

“Well, I think you thought a little too quickly!” You fling your arms out and gesture to the beckoning abyss of the stairwell. “Do you even know where we just waltzed into? For all we know this is some kind of black market HQ.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he says dryly. How the hell is he so calm right now?

You cross your arms. “It’s Yelan. She’s secretive as hell—who knows what kind of weird sh*t she and Childe are into?”

“I do,” he says. “This is a high-end lounge and casino. Members only—very exclusive.”

You squint at him through the darkness. “What? How do you even know that?”

“Kaveh’s mentor was the one who built the place,” he explains with a shrug. “He ended up helping with a lot of the planning during the last year of his undergrad.”

“Really?” You feel some of the tension leave your body, your posture relaxing as it does. “Are you sure you’re not f*cking with me?”

“Why would I so confidently walk into a place if I truly had no idea what it was? Do you really think I’m that idiotic and reckless?”

“Well, why the hell didn’t you mention it sooner?”

“I’ve told you before. It’s funny to watch you squirm.”

You swallow back the string of curses boiling on your tongue and turn your attention back to that door at the bottom of the stairs.

“How high-end are we talking here?” you ask, gesturing to your jeans. Alhaitham has nothing to worry about since he’s dressed as smartly as ever.

The way he regards your jeans with distaste is answer enough.

“Don’t give me that look,” you grumble. “If I’d known you were planning on bribing our way into a high-end casino, I would have come dressed in my Sunday best like you. I still can’t believe you did that, by the way. I seriously cannot fathom the way your brain works. Most of the time you can barely be bothered to give a sh*t about anything that doesn’t benefit you—no offense—”

“None taken,” he says, and you scoff because you know he means it.

You go on, “But all of a sudden you’re so fascinated by my misery that you’re willing to throw away mora on something so foolish?”

“It’s not throwing it away if you pay me back with interest,” he replies simply.

You blink. “With interest?”

“The interest is for the hassle this is causing me.”

“Causing you? I wasn’t about to go waltzing through the front door. Maybe you’re more invested in this than you’d like me to believe.”

“I’m not invested. Call it the natural curiosity of a scholar.”

You’re not about to dignify that obvious lie with a response, especially considering you’re just surprised he didn’t say what his actual intentions are—seeing you make a fool of yourself. Instead, you turn towards the beckoning darkness of the stairway, your stomach beginning to flip.

“The longer you wait, the higher the chance of them coming back up those stairs,” says Alhaitham.

You curse under your breath and, before you can talk yourself out of it, set off down the stairs. The music grows louder the further down you go, and when you finally push the door open, it hits you in full, jazzy force.

The worry that you might be seen by Childe and Yelan dims as you step into the massive, glittering room. The casino pit is aptly named in this case, as the floor in the large warehouse has been sunken in to hold countless tables for roulettes, blackjack, poker and rows upon rows of slot machines. A large, circular bar splits the room, with the other half being filled with tables and intimate, private booths lining the darkened walls and corners. Everything is dazzling shades of red and green and gold, with so many bright neon lights it makes your eyes hurt.

A stairway leads up to a balcony—what was once the main floor of the warehouse. You can’t see much of it from where you stand, but you can assume there’s more seating and what looks like a small dancefloor. Definitely the more casual space of the venue.

Once you’re finished taking in the room itself, you remember to search the people inside it. It’s as high-end as Alhaitham claimed, with lots of high-roller men in luxurious suits sporting young, beautiful arm candy. Even the employees are lavishly dressed, though your face warms when you realize that some of them seem to be wearing very little. Girls in fitted bodysuits and mesh tights giggle and serve drinks to men at card tables, not seeming to care when they get a bit handsy. At the same time, men in fitted mesh shirts dote on rich, older women draped in enough pearls to pay off your whole degree.

“I had no idea this place existed,” you breathe. You don’t object when Alhaitham tugs you towards the darkened edge of the room, hugging the wall so you have a chance to take it all in without being seen.

“That’s part of the allure, I suppose,” he says. “At the very least, this can be your chance to nab one of those silver-fox millionaires you were going on about.”

You huff a laugh. “Well, if you really walk around carrying so much mora, maybe I should be looking a little closer to home.” You trail your fingers slowly up his arm. “You’ve even got the silver hair and everything.”

He swats your hand away. “Stay focused.” But as his gaze sweeps out over the room again, you can tell his unimpressed frown is in danger of cracking.

You swallow your own smile and follow his line of sight. The sheer amount of sights in this place is enough to send you into sensory overload, but you force yourself to sift through the actual patrons. Childe and Yelan cut quite a figure together, so it doesn’t take long to catch sight of them as they approach one of the many poker tables. A couple of other men in fine suits are already settled, and Yelan greets them both as she slides into her seat. Childe stays standing, one hand on the back of Yelan’s chair as he eyes the men carefully.

“Very protective of him,” you mutter, eyes narrowing at the sight. “So typical of him, too. He’s really the jealous type. Ironic, considering his track record with loyalty.”

“So he just tagged along to watch Yelan play poker?” says Alhaitham. “That doesn’t seem very date-like.”

“Ugh, I just wish I could hear what they were saying,” you groan, but with the music and the bustle of people, you’d have to practically be right beside them to catch anything meaningful.

“I’m going to grab a drink,” Alaitham sighs, pushing off from the wall. When you give him an exasperated look, he clarifies, “It’s not like there are any rules against just standing around in here, but we’re less likely to be scrutinized if we’re at least spending a little money. Plus, who knows? Maybe if you bat those beautiful eyes at the bartender he’ll be nice enough to answer a few of your questions.”

You roll your eyes at the mocking flattery, but the last part makes you perk up.

“What, you think he’ll have noticed if they come here a lot?”

He shrugs. “Only one way to find out.”

Leaving the safety of the wall feels daunting, especially since it means moving closer to the center of the room and increasing your risk of getting caught. But the way the bar is arranged means that one of the bartenders is on nearly the opposite side of the actual casino pit. And with Yelan only just getting dealt into a game and all of those beautiful waitresses hand-delivering drinks to the tables, there’s really no reason for either of them to come over this way.

“Fine,” you relent. “Let’s go.”

You weave through the tables towards the bar. Since it’s the middle of the week, you suspect it’s a little slower than usual. And with most people not really needing to go to the bar thanks to the…generous service, you don’t even have to wait in line. The bartender gives a friendly wave as you approach, motioning towards the empty row of stools in front of his bar. This is perfect—near privacy.

“Evening,” he greets, his casual tone at odds with the opulent atmosphere. He’s dressed in a black dress shirt and pants, a red serving apron tied around his waist. His golden hair is tied back, bangs pushed up off his face with a black headband. “What can I get for you?”

He seems friendly enough. Maybe getting information out of him will be just as easy as Alhaitham seems to think it will be. You slide onto a stool, giving him a smile.

“Ooh, I’m not sure what I’m in the mood for,” you say thoughtfully, hoping that you’ll be less suspicious if you dial up the cluelessness a bit. “What would you recommend?”

He gives a self-conscious laugh. “Well, I’m actually not a big drinker. But the dandelion wine is popular.”

“Two glasses of that then,” says Alhaitham, tossing more than enough mora on the counter. You bite back a groan at the visual indicator of your debt to him growing.

The man gives a grateful nod, but looks otherwise unphased at the generous tip. With a face like his, he’s probably used to receiving much more. He’s quick to fill your glasses, and as he slides them across the bar towards you, you take the opportunity to peek at his nametag—Thoma.

“I must say, you two don’t look like our usual clientele. Are you new members to the casino?”

“N-Not exactly,” you say with a nervous giggle. You take a sip of the wine. It has a sweet, honey-like aftertaste, but the initial bitterness and the burn of alcohol immediately make your stomach lurch. “I’m sure you see all kinds in this job, though, right?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He says it casually enough, but there’s a haunted note in his voice that makes you cringe with sympathy. “But this sort of place pays well, so I suppose I can’t complain.”

You hum around the rim of your glass. If you had the time and will, you’d sit here all night, plying him with tips and compliments until he let slip whatever you wanted to know. But you’re definitely not that skilled at this sort of thing, and Childe and Yelan could decide to wander over here at any minute, so you decide to cut right to the chase.

“I actually was hoping you could help me with something.”

Alhaitham tenses beside you, as though annoyed that you couldn’t hold off a bit longer. Thoma merely raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? With what?”

“Do you know a person by the name of Yelan?”

He lets out a surprised laugh. “Do I know Yelan? Well, I should hope so, considering she’s in talks to buy this place.”

You nearly drop your glass in shock. Your eyes slide towards Alhaitham, praying the panic isn’t evident on your face. sh*t. Not only are you totally out of your element in a place like this, but you’re poking into Yelan’s business in a place she practically freaking owns. This just became ten more kinds of complicated.

“Right,” you say, forcing a smile. “Obviously, you know Yelan. Well, I guess, the more important question is, do you know the guy she’s here with tonight?”

Thoma watches you carefully. “I’m not sure I should be talking to you about this. Miss Yelan is pretty private with her business.”

Your panic spikes. sh*t. Now he’s suspicious. And if he’s suspicious, he’s probably going to let it slip to Yelan that some basket case of a girl and her partner with annoyingly nice bone structure were poking around asking questions. And that won’t make it hard for her to piece together what’s going on.

“I can’t believe this,” Alhaitham mutters, swigging from his wine. You blink in surprise as he fixes Thoma with a glare. “I try not to bring this sort of thing up, but don’t you know who I am?”

Thoma looks confused. “Uh, no?”

Alhaitham’s foot nudges yours beneath the bar, and maybe it’s just because you’ve been spending too much time with him lately, or maybe he really does have the ability to burrow into your head. Either way, you’re shocked to find that you know exactly where he’s going with this.

“Please,” you whisper, giving Thoma a pleading look. “This is the great architect, Kaveh!”

When Thoma continues staring at you, utterly blank-faced, Alhaitham pinches the bridge of his nose and pretends to look disgusted and annoyed—an act that you’re sure comes naturally to him.

“Surely you’ve heard of the Great Light of the Akademiya’s Kshahrewar program?” He looks down his nose at Thoma. You wonder if the derision he pours into such a lofty title is only meant to mock Kaveh behind his back.

Thoma crosses his arms, but you can tell he’s starting to sweat a little. “Should I have?”

You sigh dramatically. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s not like he designed this entire building. One could argue you wouldn’t even have this job if it weren’t for him. But you know, it’s okay. Maybe you’re right—we shouldn’t have bothered you with this. If Yelan is so familiar with the owner, I guess we can just go to him with this instead. Right Kaveh?” You drape yourself around Alhaitham's arm, resting your head on his shoulder.

“He’ll give me the information I need,” Alhaitham agrees. He fixes Thoma with his trademark nightmare-inducing glare. “Though I’m sure he won’t be thrilled to be bothered over something so trivial. I guess I’ll have no choice but to tell him his staff wasn't very accommodating.”

“Now, just hold on a second!” Thoma pales, scrambling to form a sentence. Guilt stabs you right in the chest at having to put this poor man through such misery. At the same time, you wonder just how menacing this mysterious owner must be if Thoma is willing to do whatever it takes to avoid pissing him off. “That won’t be necessary. It really is trivial, isn’t it? I can tell you. Just don’t…don’t do anything drastic.”

You light up. “You really would? Oh, what a gentleman.”

He glances over his shoulder, as though certain Yelan would have suddenly teleported behind him within the last five minutes.

“Miss Yelan has always been one of our top customers,” he explains. “She brings in a lot of money for the casino through the clients she brings here to meet with. Usually, she’s alone, but lately, she’s had that ginger guy with her. And I can’t put my finger on it, but he seems…familiar, somehow.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve probably seen him on TV. He’s a pro fighter.”

Thoma's face lights up. “That’s it!”

“Do the two of them seem particularly…involved?” asks Alhaitham.

Thoma ponders this. “I’ve learned to keep my head down in a place like this, so I’ve never really noticed. A lot of the guys who come here with hot young girlfriends have wives waiting at home for them. Is that what you’re getting at?”

You grimace. “Sort of…”

He shrugs. “Sorry. Miss Yelan isn’t really any touchier with him than she is with anyone else.” Which isn’t to say she isn’t touchy at all, you realize. But now Thoma is looking thoughtful again. “I will say—it seems like the past few times they’ve met here, Miss Yelan always leaves with a flashy new piece of jewelry. I can only assume that the hotshot fighter is buying them for her.”

“He’s buying her jewelry?”

Alhaitham winces at your outburst, but you can’t help it. All you can think of is poor, sweet Lumine. How desperate she is to make things right with you. How her gentle face lights up whenever Childe walks into the room. Your eyes mist over as you down your drink, even when it makes you shudder with revulsion.

Thoma’s face softens with sympathy. “I think I see what’s going on here.” He reaches under the bar and hands you the rest of the bottle he poured your drinks from. “Why don’t you have the rest of this bottle? On the house.”

“Huh? Really?” Your mouth falls open as you blink away your tears.

“Really. That asshole doesn’t deserve your tears.”

Oh. That’s what he thinks. You scramble to clarify the situation but Alhaitham stands and grabs the bottle before you can get a word out.

“Much appreciated. Don’t worry—we’ll make sure Yelan never hears a word about this.”

Thoma deflates slightly in relief. “Thank you so much, Mr. Kaveh. My apologies for the confusion.”

Alhaitham stiffens at being addressed by Kaveh’s name, and you have to desperately fight to swallow your laughter. As Alhaitham stalks away from the bar, you give Thoma a final, grateful smile.

“I’m sorry about the headache,” you begin, but he shakes his head.

“Think nothing of it. Just promise me you won't waste another tear on him…and maybe don’t bother wasting them on your surly companion either.”

“No worries there,” you scoff, leaving Thoma looking baffled as you follow after Alhaitham.

He’s already settled into one of those private booths lining the wall, drinking the wine straight from the bottle. The couch is carved into the wall in a velvet U, with a short table in the middle just big enough to hold drinks without impeding movement. You perch on the edge of the couch and sigh.

“We’re going to hell for what we did to that poor, sweet man,” you say.

“Your morals choose interesting moments to make an appearance,” says Alhaitham, taking another sip.

“Oh, you’re the last person to lecture me about morals. And anyway, my morals are what got us into this dilemma.”

Alhaitham eyes you over the top of the bottle like he doesn’t quite believe that.

“Well?” he presses. “Was that enough proof for you?”

You stare at him for a long time. Eventually, he grows unnerved by your silence and sets the bottle down.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just…is this really what we’re doing? Sitting in this booth practically begging Childe and Yelan to come find us? I’m just wondering why we didn’t immediately book it out the door.”

“I’m not going to let perfectly good wine go to waste.”

“Of course you're not. The great Kaveh does love his liquor after all.”

He massages one of his temples. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not, Kaveh? You know, I’ve always had a thing for architects.”

“I have an actual one that I will pay you to take off my hands.”

You open your mouth, laughter already warping your voice, but the mirth dies in your throat as you catch the conversation of the two men settling into the booth next to you. The booths are sectioned off by latticework partitions, but while they mostly obscure sight, they don’t do much for sound.

“The game was over quickly,” one of them explains to the other. “Miss Yelan wiped the floor with us as usual, and even then I could tell she was holding back.”

“Incredible,” says the other one. “Well, I can’t wait to finally meet this Yelan.”

“She and her partner just had some business with the dealer to finish up, but they should be headed over this way any minute.”

This way? As in past the table that you and Alhaitham are currently sitting at instead of being halfway home already like sensible people?

“What do we do?” you whisper, already beginning to break out in a panicked sweat.

Alhaitham's normally focused gaze stares through you, as though he’s only just now realizing what a stupid idea this whole thing was. Because now, they’re going to walk right past your table and even though these booths are dim and private, they’re not that dim and private, and Childe is going to know you somehow snuck in here to spy on him and that’s going to be humiliating, and—

An idea strikes you, cutting off your inner spiralling. Alhaitham still looks like he’s bracing himself for the incoming headache, so he barely notices you sliding closer towards him. It’s only when you place a hand on his lap, readying yourself, that he raises an eyebrow at you.

“And what do you think you’re—”

“Following your example and panicking,” you whisper, and kiss him.

You can’t help but feel a tiny inkling of satisfaction at the fact that you caught him off guard for once, at the sound of surprise that catches in his throat. But he’s a bit too eager to commit to this impromptu plan, parting his lips to sweep his tongue along yours. That quickly, he’s shifted that balance of power. You can feel it in the intense pressure of his lips, in the way he cradles your cheek with a forceful hand so that it’s easier to angle himself closer to you.

He took you initiating this as a challenge. And when it comes to each other, neither of you has ever backed down from a challenge.

You almost feel like pulling back to remind him that being competitive isn’t the point right now. But with any merciful luck, Childe and Yelan won’t look twice at a couple using one of these booths exactly as they seem to be meant for. So you let him push himself closer, and you don’t object when he uses his free hand to brace himself against the cushion beneath you, leaving you caged between him and the back of the couch.

The sheer force of him pressing into you has you dangerously close to toppling over. You grip the front of his shirt, trying to tug yourself upward, but your other hand is still on his lap and the movement causes it to slip upwards, dipping between his legs and grazing his inner thigh.

Alhaitham jolts forward, his breath turning ragged in his throat. A mortified blush rushes to your face. You scramble for the willpower to pull back and assure him it was an accident, but it’s as if he accepted that accidental touch as a further challenge. The kiss turns deeper, his lips more and more heated as that hand bracing himself moves to splay across the small of your back instead.

It makes your mind go totally blank. Why are you even kissing in the first place? All sense of that urgency is lost beneath the feeling of his lips and tongue. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth and you let out a soft—

You both freeze at the soft “noise” that comes out of you. Your lips break apart by the smallest of measures, his face still agonizingly close to yours.

“What was that?” he whispers against your mouth.

Your heart hammers in your chest. “Nothing.”

You feel his lips curve into a slight smirk. “Did you just—?”

“Nope.”

“I could have sworn that was a m—”

“I…yawned. This is boring.”

“Oh?” The word is a low rumble in his chest that makes something in you turn liquid. The way that one word feels spoken against your lips makes it hard to form a coherent thought. “Is that so?”

“Oh! My. Am I seeing things correctly?”

Yelan’s cool voice sends you hurtling back to reality. Right. That’s why you were just having such a hot and heavy make-out in a public space. For cover. No other reason. You suck in a breath and whip your head towards Yelan, hoping the surprise you're forcing into your expression seems genuine enough.

“Y-Yelan,” you say breathlessly, squirming to put distance between you and Alhaitham. He mercifully obliges, save for the hand that was cradling your face. That hand slides down to rest in the crook of your neck, fingers searching over the soft spot of your racing pulse. Asshole. “What a surprise.”

“I’ll say,” says Childe, his voice strained. It’s hard to read the emotion in his widened blue eyes. He certainly looks scandalized enough to tell you that your “show” was convincing, but just the very fact that you’re sitting in this room has renewed a spark of suspicion. “What are you two doing in a place like this?”

“My roommate is the architect who designed this place,” Alhaitham answers calmly, sparing you from the need to explain. “He managed to get me a membership. Though I hadn’t realized it was under new ownership.”

“One of my many investments,” says Yelan, shrugging it off like the fact that she’s soon to be the owner of such an opulent casino is no big deal. But at the mention of Kaveh, her eyebrows raise. “So your roommate is Kaveh? What a funny coincidence. I’ve been meeting with him to discuss a few renovations I have in mind once the sale goes through. He’s such a nice guy—very passionate about his work.”

Of course Yelan knows him. She really does know everyone, doesn’t she? Alhaitham looks like he wants to protest that assessment of Kaveh, but you cut in before he can.

“Alhaitham wanted to bring me here for something special,” you say. “But it was a bit too much of a surprise, hence me being so underdressed.”

Yelan waves a hand. “Most of the patrons here are too busy losing mora or getting drunk to pay attention to much else.”

“I am surprised to see the two of you here, though,” you go on, blinking innocently. You try not to sound too hopeful as you ask, “Is Childe involved with the casino as well? Or have you two just grown closer than I realized?”

“I guess, lately, we have.” Yelan slides a secretive smile towards Childe that makes you sick to your stomach. “Tonight’s outing was strictly business, however. He tagged along to meet with a few of my clients.”

You narrow your eyes at Childe. His expression is just as unreadable as before, but now it feels intentionally so, like it’s taking everything he has to keep his features from pulling towards anything other than neutral.

“Just making sure Yelan doesn’t run into any trouble,” says Childe. “Men like trying their luck in more ways than one in places like this.” And at this, he sends Alhaitham a pointed look—like freshly sharpened knife levels of pointed.

You bristle, already indignantly scrambling for the words to jump to Alhaitham’s defense. But you’re so blinded by anger that Childe could feel entitled enough to make such a comment that it’s left you totally speechless.

As usual, Alhaitham isn’t. He begins gently running his fingers through your hair, watching Childe thoughtfully.

“Do you have a problem with me kissing my girlfriend?” You recognize the icy challenge in his tone all too well. It’s refreshing not to have it directed at you for once.

“Not at all,” Childe replies. “I just wasn’t aware Y/N enjoyed such public displays of affection.”

“Well, that seems like it says more about your relationship than it does about ours.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, torn between laughter and shock. It’s just part of the act, you tell yourself. Yet you can’t help but feel a warm flutter in your chest at the thought of Alhaitham jumping to your defense like this. It’s been a while since anyone’s bothered, as far as dealing with Childe goes.

“Come on, boys,” Yelan chides, looking more amused than anything at the showdown. “No need for the measuring contest. And anyway, I’d hardly consider the dark corner of a lounge like this public. I think it’s sweet that these two can’t keep their hands off of each other.”

“Surely he knows what that’s like,” Alhaitham agrees. “Where is that lovely girlfriend of yours anyway?”

Childe gives him a thin smile. “She has dinner with her brother tonight.”

You find yourself glaring at him again. Her brother. Right. You wonder how Aether would feel to know his sister was being cheated on by the guy he barely considered good enough to date her in the first place.

Either way, you can feel the tension beginning to mount, and the fact that this conversation is even happening proves that this night has already spiralled far too out of control. You clear your throat.

“Well, tell her I said hi. Anyway, we actually should be going—”

“You’re sure?” says Yelan. She tilts her head towards the other side of the room, where the glittering sea of gambling awaits. “I can’t tempt you with a game of cards? Maybe some dice?”

“Sounds fun,” you say between gritted teeth. “But we really should be going.”

“Even dark corners are a bit too public for what I have in mind for the rest of the night,” Alhaitham adds, brushing his lips against your ear. That promise, however empty and fabricated, has your toes curling beneath the table. You nudge him in the ribs with your elbow.

Childe looks like he’s contemplating violence. Yelan’s smirk only grows.

“Well, far be it from me to interfere with such exciting plans,” she says. “But you’ll at least come to my birthday party, right? It’s in a few weeks—the weekend before the wedding. I simply won’t take no for an answer. Everyone else is coming.”

That sounds like the absolute last place you want to be, but without a solid excuse to refuse you simply nod and say, “Can’t wait.”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details closer to the date.” She winks and wiggles her fingers in farewell, and then she continues on to the next table. Childe lingers for a moment, caught in the showdown of the century with Alhaitham. You take a sip of your drink, scowling.

“Can I help you?” you ask impatiently before you can help it. “You know, this whole alpha male bullsh*t might have made sense when we were dating, but now that we’re broken up it’s more than a little weird.”

He has the audacity to look wounded. You wish he’d stop doing that—pretending to care.

“It’s nothing like that,” he insists. “I just…” His eyes flick towards Alhaitham again, his mouth pulled into an unreadable line. “Hope you’re happy. That’s all.”

The words feel earnest enough to cause a painful knot to form in your chest. Childe turns and leaves without another word, leaving you staring after him with an infuriating sense of guilt. You grab the bottle from Alhaitham and take a long drink.

“Have you been sufficiently tortured enough for one day?” Alhaitham murmurs, his lips still brushing your ear to avoid them hearing at the next table over. The warmth of his breath sets every hair on your body rising. “Are we done here?”

If only it could be that simple—being done here. But you nod and let Alhaitham lead you from the booth and towards the exit. It takes everything in you not to look back towards Childe and Yelan, a temptation made easier to resist by Alhaitham slinging an arm across your shoulders and practically forcing your head to look straight ahead.

If Thoma notices you waltz right out with the open wine bottle, he doesn’t say anything.

Walking back through the crowded docks with open liquor is a recipe for getting in trouble, so you and Alhaitham wander to the farthest edge of the pier, where the only company to be found are tarp-covered fishing boats, peacefully moored and abandoned for the winter season. There aren’t even any lingering dockworkers this late in the day, so you settle onto the damp boards, not caring about the cold or the state of your clothes.

“So,” he asks, frowning down at his pants. “Do you feel better now that you’ve gotten that out of your system?”

“No,” you admit. “In fact, I’m left with even more questions and stress.”

“Are you really going to go to that birthday party?”

You consider it. You’ve been to Yelan’s once or twice before, and as expected, she lives in a large, lavish house with acres and acres of land. It’ll probably feel like half the city is invited, so it’s not like you’ll even have to see either of them while you’re there. But knowing that Lumine is going to be there, you wonder if you’ll get through the night without the guilt eating you alive.

In the end, you give Alhaitham a pleading look, and he sighs irritably.

“I guess the better question is—are we going to that party? Something tells me I don’t have a say in the matter.”

“You are my dashing, supportive boyfriend, after all.”

“Well, you owe your dashing, supportive boyfriend a considerable sum of mora.”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “Can’t I repay you another way?”

You both awkwardly tense, as though remembering that slip of your hand, that noise you couldn't stop from escaping your throat. You clear your throat and lift a shoulder in what you hope is a casual gesture.

“I’ll send you an electronic transfer.”

For the next little while, you simply pass the bottle back and forth in silence. The sun sinks lower and lower into the sky, and as the last strands of gold are washed away with the black, the absurdity of this whole day strikes you. You immediately dissolve into a fit of giggles, shoving the bottle at Alhaitham so your hands are free to wipe the mirth-fuelled tears from your eyes.

“What are you chuckling at all of a sudden?” he asks, straight-faced. “Is this some sort of stress-induced psychosis?”

“ Ohh, I think this whole day is a stress-induced psychosis.” When he raises an eyebrow, it takes you a moment to get your giggles under control before you can elaborate. “I mean, if you told me a year ago that I’d be infiltrating some high-end casino with the bane of my f*cking existence to spy on my ex, I…” You trail off, dissolving into hysterics again.

A rare smile is tugging at Alhaitham’s lips. “When you put it that way…”

“I just don’t… oh, hehe, sorry. I just don’t get why you did all of this. The Alhaitham I knew would have just left me to my own fate and gone home to take a nap or something. But the mora, the stupid act with the bartender—”

“I told you,” he interrupts patiently. “It’s only—”

“Right,” you say with a tiny grin. “The assignment. How silly of me to have forgotten. That archivist position must come with some serious perks you’ve neglected to tell me about.”

“None at all.” His gaze flicks out towards the water, and something softens in that granite stare that makes the laughter die in your throat. “Just the ability to lead a peaceful life. That’s all I need.”

Your mouth falls open with something like wonder at that tone he’s speaking in, softer and more contemplative than you’ve ever heard from him before. You’ve seen brief glimpses of this gentleness in him before, but it’s so deeply buried beneath the arrogance and the indifference that you don’t blame him for never letting it out. It would be like trying to pull a rusted lever and expecting the result to come easily.

You’re not sure what’s prompting it now, only that it’s doing something funny to your stomach. You clear your throat, tucking your hands beneath your thighs for warmth. Naturally, the back of your jeans are already damp and freezing, but somehow, it doesn’t seem so bad.

“A peaceful life, huh?” you ponder. “Not sure how much of that you’re going to have as long as I’m around.”

You meant it as a joke, something to ease the strange feeling hanging in the air like a shimmering cloud. But Alhaitham’s responding chuckle is half-hearted, little more than a huff of air through his nose. Still, when he finally tears his eyes away from the horizon to answer you, that softness hasn’t really left. You wonder if he even realizes it’s there.

“It’s fine. I’m willing to put in the work for the things I want.” He blinks slowly after he says it, as though finally realizing that you've caught him in an oddly sentimental mood. Draining the last of the bottle and abandoning it atop a nearby crate, he stands and wordlessly offers you his hand.

You’re not really sure what to make of the words either. You’re grateful for his hand, helping you onto unsteady legs—unsteady just from the cold denim clinging to your skin. Nothing else. But your palms linger against each other for just a moment before you start to head back the way you came. It’s strange, you think, how he had his tongue in your mouth less than an hour ago, but it’s these brief moments on a deserted dock, with no one around to fool, that really leave your ability to breathe in shambles.

And as the stars begin winking into view high above, and a cold spring wind rustles your hair, you can’t help but agree that, once this endless parade of chaos has concluded, a peaceful life wouldn’t sound so bad at all.

Chapter 8: dangerous waters

Chapter Text

You don’t think your heart is ever going to beat at a regular rhythm again.

It’s been nearly a week since that disastrous night at the casino, and despite the night’s peaceful resolution, you haven’t been able to stop playing through it all like a horrific broken record. You thought that perhaps now that you’ve all but gotten confirmation of your suspicions, the itch would subside. You could go back to focusing on slightly more important matters.

Of course, it only made things about ten times worse. And with Yelan’s birthday now an added issue, you’ve just come to accept your fate—living beneath a permanent cloud of dread.

But the only thing scarier than the complete sh*tstorm you’ve gotten yourself into is the thought of Alhaitham verbally tearing you a new one if you keep letting yourself get distracted. So even though it’s borderline excruciating to keep yourself focused, you do it. You buckle down and pour all your concentration into your work.

By the time the weekend rolls around, you’ve managed to pull together a complete outline for your presentation. It’s an obvious conclusion that you’re going to be doing most of the talking, with Alhaitham chiming in for the more technical aspects, so you’ve divided up portions of the presenting respectively.

But, most importantly, with all of the coffee you’ve been buying him, you’re that much closer to paying off your debt.

You’re looking forward to sleeping the day away on Saturday, but it’s as you’re idly dozing in bed that your phone buzzes with a text that catches you completely by surprise.

Alhaitham: Lunch with Kaveh today. I’ll pick you up in an hour.

You scrunch your face up, sleepily trying to decipher what you’re sure has to be an elaborate joke.

You: Did you fall and hit your head or something? I thought you hated Kaveh.

Alhaitham: I don’t hate him. But considering I came clean about using his name at the casino, I’m not sure he can say the same about me.

Your breath catches in shock.

You: You told him? Why would you do that?

Alhaitham: Preemptive damage control, obviously. I’d rather get ahead of someone inevitably asking him why he was throwing his name around to harass the employees for info.

You suppose that does make quite a bit of sense. All it would take would be someone mentioning it to Yelan, then Yelan mentioning it to Kaveh…the very thought sends you into a panic.

You: Have I ever mentioned you’re a genius?

Alhaitham: Not once.

You: Good. I don’t need your head getting any bigger than it already is. But I’ll admit, this was a good idea.

Alhaitham: Excuse me while I print that text and frame it on my wall. I doubt you’ll ever admit such a thing again.

You smile at your phone for longer than what’s likely wise, then roll out of bed to get ready.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

You’re surprised to find Alhaitham alone in the car when you slide into the front seat. He’s dressed more casually than he typically does throughout the week, in a pair of black khaki joggers and a hunter-green quarter-zip sweatshirt. He rolls his eyes when you comment on it.

“I’m not getting all dressed up for Kaveh of all people.”

“Sure,” you say, shrugging. “I just wasn’t aware you owned clothes besides dress shirts and sweater vests.”

Of course, that’s not true. You’re all too familiar with that sweatpant and crewneck combo that he flung on when he came to your rescue at the bar. And not to mention the track pants he’s wearing on your lockscreen…

It’s like he’s remembering the same, because he doesn’t justify the jab with a response. He just shifts the car into drive with a vaguely smug look on his face.

“Where is Kaveh anyway?” you ask, frowning. “Don’t you live together?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Wouldn’t it make sense to all go to the restaurant together?”

Alhaitham scoffs. “I’m not his chauffeur. He’s perfectly capable of making it there on his own. Besides, I wasn’t about to wait for him to finish getting ready. He’d be late to his own funeral if he didn’t get to rely on someone else to get him there on time.”

You smother a smile, keeping your eyes trained on the road. But Alhaitham hears the shuddering breaths of your suppressed laughter and scowls at you.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” But then a snicker breaks through and you cover your mouth. “You just sound like an old married couple when you talk about him.”

“I absolutely do not,” he snaps.

Your smile tugs wider. “Whatever you say.”

His knuckles turn white against the steering wheel. You get the feeling he’s regretting this lunch already.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

Just as Alhaitham suspected, you two are the first to arrive at the restaurant. It’s a surprisingly cute spot that reminds you of a greenhouse—floor-to-ceiling windows and brimming with plants and greenery. Alhaitham seems familiar with the space, as he wordlessly leads you to an open table with the stride of a person who’s done so many times before.

“This is a cute spot,” you say as you sit down, admiring your surroundings.

Alhaitham drums his fingers against the table and says nothing.

A waitress arrives to take drink orders, a sweet-looking girl with long red hair. Her face lights up in recognition when she sees Alhaitham.

“Oh! It’s been quite a while since you’ve been in. It’s nice to see you back at your usual table.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, nodding in greeting. You blink in confusion at his sudden awkwardness. It’s not uncommon for him to be standoffish, but with the way he keeps idly tapping the table, this feels more like nerves.

The foolish thought crosses your mind before you can help it—could this be someone Alhaitham has history with? She’s certainly gorgeous. Even you can’t help but feel a little fluttery at such a radiant smile and saccharine voice.

Alhaitham motions towards you. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Girlfriend?” Her eyebrows disappear into the fringe of her hair as she lets out a delighted gasp. “Oh, wow!”

“Don’t look so surprised,” he mutters.

“It’s very nice to meet you!” she says enthusiastically. “I’m Nilou. Alhaitham and Kaveh used to come here all the time during their undergrad. They were some of my favourite regulars.” She perks up as though remembering something. “Speaking of which, where is Kaveh?”

“Regrettably, on his way,” says Alhaitham with a heavy sigh.

“I was surprised when you two stopped coming here,” says Nilou with a slight frown. “I used to see you in here every Saturday afternoon like clockwork.”

Alhaitham shrugs. “Our schedules changed.”

You watch him carefully from across the table. He used to come here with Kaveh every week. You suppose you could pass it off as something akin to your own arrangement—meeting out of necessity to complete schoolwork. After all, you know that ill-fated project is half the reason that Alhaitham and Kaveh are at each other’s throats all the time. But with every interaction you’ve seen between them, you kind of just assumed that, living situation aside, Tighnari and Cyno were the only ones keeping any semblance of a friendship alive between them.

Had Kaveh and Alhaitham actually once been close?

The pieces start to click into place. It isn’t the waitress that has Alhaitham off-kilter. It’s the restaurant itself—a visual reminder that he and Kaveh used to have a bond beyond bickering roommates. And as that realization hits you, a wave of guilt sweeps in to accompany it. Alhaitham knows far too much about your personal life, but you’ve been so wrapped up in those problems that you’ve never bothered to find out more about his. Not that it would be easy to get that information out of him, but…

“Well, it’ll be nice to see him,” says Nilou. Her eyes flick briefly to you before settling back on Alhaitham with sympathy. “I’ll go grab some water and coffee for the table while we wait for him, okay?”

Alhaitham nods his thanks, and then Nilou is off, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. You browse the menu, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you can feel Alhaitham’s eyes on you from over the top of his own menu.

“Out with it,” he sighs.

“Out with what?” you ask innocently.

“You’ve got that look on your face that tells me you’re dying to be nosy.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” But when Alhaitham gives you a dry look in response, you go on, “I just…never knew you and Kaveh used to be so close.”

You expect him to roll his eyes and deny it, to summon one of those cruel jabs against Kaveh that he seems to have constantly loaded and ready to fire. Worse, you expect him to snap at you, to insist that you mind your own business.

He doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he returns his attention to his menu and says, “It’s a long story.”

You decide that must be true, if he’s resorting to borderline mumbling. But before you can gather the courage to pry further, a whirlwind of blonde and burgundy enters the restaurant and makes a beeline for your table.

“It’s about time you showed up,” is Alhaitham’s calm greeting to him, as though that former tension had never happened.

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “If you’d been willing to wait fifteen extra minutes we could have all come together.”

“It’s nice to see you Kaveh,” you say as warmly as possible, nudging Alhaitham’s foot beneath the table to silently tell him, Be nice. “From what Haitham tells me, I owe you a bit of an apology.”

Alhaitham lets out something akin to a groan at the nickname. It only makes you want to double down and use it more.

Kaveh drops into the seat beside you, his face folding with worry. He places a hand on your shoulder and gives you perhaps the most earnest look you’ve ever seen a person give.

“I don’t want to hear a single apology from you, Y/N,” he says. “I won’t have you feeling guilty about Alhaitham getting you into trouble. If only he had the same decency and respect for others."

“Well, it wasn’t entirely—”

“It’s fine,” says Alhaitham with a sigh. “I already took full responsibility.”

“Huh?” You stare at him, fighting to keep your expression neutral. “You did?”

“Shocking, I know,” says Kaveh, scowling. “I couldn’t believe he’d go to so much trouble just to help someone else, but when I realized it gave him the opportunity to cause trouble for me, it made more sense.”

You’re tempted to set the record straight, but you suppose you can’t, really. It’s not as though it was your idea to go barging into that casino. And even though you were quick to pick up on Alhaitham’s efforts to use Kaveh’s name, it was him who thought of it in the first place.

You compromise by saying, “He really did go to too much trouble for me. I mean, the whole reason we were even there—”

“Oh, he told me,” says Kaveh. “And I think it’s so admirable you’d worry like that about an ex-partner’s new girl.” He gently squeezes your shoulder. “It sounds like quite the drama. I want to hear everything.”

Alhaitham looks like he’s five seconds away from losing his temper—an impressively short record, you must admit—but thankfully Nilou arrives then, balancing a tray of water glasses and empty mugs in one hand and a steaming coffee pot in the other.

The moment she sees Kaveh, she lets out a tiny squeal and sets the pot and the tray on the table as quickly as she can without spilling them everywhere. Then Kaveh is out of his seat in a flash and the two are excitedly embracing.

“It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s even better to see you!”

“How is your dancing going?”

“Wonderful! It’s so sweet of you to remember! Oh my gosh, I saw your latest design featured in the architecture magazine—”

“You’re still subscribed to that?”

You slide Alhaitham a bewildered look as the two of them continue to gush and fawn over one another. He rolls his eyes, but you’re surprised to note that his scorn is entirely halfhearted.

“They act like this every time they see each other,” he says under his breath. Is that a rare smile tugging at his mouth? “Doesn’t matter if it’s been a week or a year.”

You giggle and turn back to Kaveh and Nilou.

“Forget chapters,” Nilou is saying incredulously. “I feel like I missed a whole book! I mean, Alhaitham having a girlfriend?”

“We were all just as shocked,” says Kaveh with a grave expression. “The amount of times I tried to set him up with someone? I tried women, men—nothing worked. I was starting to believe he’d resigned himself to growing old and dying alone.”

“It’s really charming how you talk about me like I’m not here,” Alhaitham says. He’s taken the liberty of grabbing the coffee pot and pouring cups for you and himself. “Did you ever think that maybe I just didn’t want you butting into my personal life?”

Maybe that’s why Alhaitham was so quick to rush to your defense that day. He knew how annoying it was to deal with a meddler of his own.

“Well I’m very happy for you,” says Nilou, giving him a warm smile as she begins filling Kaveh’s mug. “For what it’s worth, the two of you make a lovely couple. How did you meet?”

“We share a thesis advisor,” you explain. “Admittedly we clashed quite a bit in the beginning, but now I can’t imagine my life without him.”

Your face warms a bit as it strikes you then and there how true that statement is. When did you get so used to seeing him every day? To him being the only person in your life that you didn’t have to lie to? The thought makes your stomach churn strangely and you reach for your water.

“I wouldn’t say the clashing is a thing of the past,” Alhaitham adds. He thoughtfully pushes your hair back from your face. “We’ve just come up with much more…creative methods of settling our arguments.”

You choke on your water. Nilou’s face turns pink.

“Oh my.”

“Welcome to my life,” says Kaveh, rolling his eyes. “At least you can get a break from it. I swear, at home, it’s all ‘Y/N this’ and ‘Y/N that’.”

“Oh?” You prop your chin against your fist and flutter your lashes at Alhaitham. “Is that right?”

“It’s not my fault if you’re constantly asking about her,” Alhaitham retorts, but he’s notably avoiding your gaze now. You have to fight back a grin. “Anyway, do you want lunch or not? I’m perfectly content to leave the two of you to gossip and have Y/N and I take our leave.”

“ Oh no you don’t.” Kaveh jabs a finger towards him. “I was promised a meal as recompense and I’m going to get it. Mimosas for the table, Nilou! Alhaitham’s treat.”

The fact that Alhaitham doesn’t protest tells you that he likely could use a drink right about now.

Nilou takes the rest of your orders and then hurries off, leaving the three of you alone. The minute Kaveh drops back into his seat he turns towards you again, attentive and doting as he leans into his palm.

“Tell me everything,” he insists.

Obviously you’re not about to do that, but you tell him what you can—your ill-fated relationship with Childe, his merciless attempts to meddle, your suspicions about Yelan. Kaveh, to his credit, is an incredibly sympathetic ear. He reacts to your story like it’s the most tragic plight he’s ever heard, gasping and sadly sighing at all the right moments. Nilou comes and goes with mimosas and food, but rehashing all of this drama again is souring your appetite.

“It sounds like you’ve been under a lot of stress, Y/N,” says Kaveh, already on his second mimosa by the time you’re finished. Alhaitham has taken to eying him warily. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Do you think you’re going to confront them?”

“You never should have let Kaveh in on this,” says Alhaitham, taking a bite of his kale wrap. “He’s such a busybody that you’re going to have to provide him with play-by-play updates anytime the situation changes.”

“Forgive me for showing a little empathy,” Kaveh fires back. “You could stand to do the same from time to time.”

“Oh, I’ve shown this situation plenty of empathy.” At this, Alhaitham gives you a pointed look.

“It has been hard,” you admit with a shuddering breath, ignoring Alhaitham and causing him to sigh into his wrap. But you can’t help it. Alhaitham’s logical, no-bullsh*t attitude is helpful when it comes to actually conjuring productive solutions to these problems you’re going through, but sometimes you just need to vent. Sometimes you don’t want to be presented with hard choices to make. “I can’t tell any of my friends about it because I just…I’m not sure it won’t all come spilling out somehow, you know? And on the slim chance I do confront them and it turns out I’m wrong?” You down your mimosa, then take a giant bite of your burrito bowl. “I cannot even begin to unpack what a mess that would be.”

“Do you want my advice?” asks Kaveh, to which Alhaitham snorts. He briefly glowers at his roommate before returning to you with a much kinder expression. “Just forget the whole thing. You’ve got too much on your plate to be worrying about other people’s relationship drama, especially since it sounds like he’s caused you nothing but heartbreak.”

“That’s what I tried to tell her,” Alhaitham begins, but you cut him off.

“I truly would love nothing more than to do just that. But it’s just, Lumine, she…”

Kaveh’s face softens. “You don’t want her going through the same thing.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Does that make me totally pathetic?”

“Of course not.” He takes your hand within both of his. You’re a bit surprised at the overly familiar gesture, but you have to admit that it’s comforting. “It makes you a good person. Better than that asshole deserves.”

“Why do I feel like that’s directed at me?” Alhaitham ponders.

“Thank you, Kaveh,” you say, ducking your head to hide the sudden swell of emotion. “It means a lot to hear you say that. I’m glad Alhaitham has a friend like you.”

Something in that kind smile wavers when you say it, and you immediately wish you could take the words back. It seemed like the natural thing to say as Alhaitham’s “girlfriend”, but reality is a lot more complicated than that. You’d once again gotten so wrapped up in explaining things to Kaveh that you forgot that coming here was clearly not easy for Alhaitham.

Sure enough, Alhaitham clears his throat and says, “I’m going to the washroom.”

He’s gone from the table before you can say anything else. You watch him leave, throat tightening. Kaveh lets out a weary sigh, like he’d been silently counting down the minutes until something like this happened.

“I said something wrong,” you mumble, “didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault,” Kaveh says with a tight-lipped smile. “I told him coming here was probably going to be awkward, but he insisted.”

“He did?” Your eyes linger on the space he left. “But why? He seemed a little…uncomfortable. Before you got here, I mean.”

“Has he told you anything? About…well…”

You shake your head. “I know there was a pretty catastrophic project the two of you worked on, but he hasn’t really gone into specifics. Hell, until Nilou mentioned you used to come here all the time, I didn’t even realize you…well…” They what? You have zero clue what really went on between them, and it doesn’t feel right to pry information out of Kaveh behind Alhaitham’s back.

Kaveh seems to agree. He shrugs, dragging his fork across his plate.

“I’ll let him tell you when he’s ready. But…yeah. We came here a lot. We were a lot closer than we are now.” It’s like he has to force the words out, like they’re razor blades in his throat. “I don’t think I need to tell you he can be a bit difficult to get along with.”

You huff a laugh. “Oh, sure. But he’s not such a bad guy when he wants to be.”

Kaveh nods with a slightly bitter smile. “Yeah. When he wants to be.”

You can practically taste that bitter smile, coating your tongue like a thick layer of ashes. If you really did mean anything to Alhaitham, you might promise to try and get through to him. You’d get him to open up, learn everything that happened to sever his friendship with Kaveh, then do whatever you could to help mend it. Wouldn’t it be the least you could do to repay him for what he’s done for you?

But you don’t mean anything to Alhaitham. Not really. And if you did pry, he’d probably just get annoyed.

“I think you’ve been good for him,” Kaveh says abruptly, wrenching you from your thoughts.

“What? Me?” You blink slowly at him, unsure why exactly those words are having such an effect on your pulse.

“Yeah. When he told me what happened at the casino, I was pretty pissed, especially since he didn’t seem sorry at all. As usual, he refused to admit he’d done something wrong. But there was something about the way he framed it, about how important it was to help you out. He just seemed…”

You cling to every word as he trails off.

“I don’t know, exactly,” he says finally. “Just…different. I told him I expected a pretty big favour if he wanted a chance at forgiveness, but I thought he’d just buy me a couple of cases of wine. When he offered to come here…” He shook his head, lost in the memory. “It’s like Nilou said. We came here a lot back before everything happened. So even though he didn’t come right out and say it, it felt like a real olive branch, about more than just the casino. I’m not so sure he would have been considerate enough to think of something like that before you came along.”

You don’t understand why hearing such a thing makes it so hard to breathe, or why your face has suddenly grown so unbearably warm.

“A-At least, that’s what my wishful thinking tells me,” says Kaveh hastily, and polishes off the rest of his mimosa. “Realistically, it probably came from a place of calculation rather than sentiment. You’re very charming, but I’m sure not even you can work miracles, Y/N.”

Could that really be true? Is Alhaitham so calculating and self-serving that he would manipulate Kaveh into forgiving him? Despite constantly being at each other’s throats, you’ve come to learn that he’s not quite so cruel as you’d once thought. Maybe you’re just being baselessly optimistic like Kaveh, but something in you really wants to believe that the gesture came from a place of kindness.

“R-Right,” you eventually say with an uneasy laugh, probably after a much longer pause than you should have taken. “But it is a nice thought. I hope…I hope you two can work out your differences.”

Kaveh has nothing to say to that. His crimson eyes have a faraway look to them, like he imagined such a thing happening for a long time and has since chalked it up to nothing more than a daydream.

It sparks something like determination in your chest.

Alhaitham returns from the washroom shortly after that, and you feel a tiny twinge of fear that it’s going to be obvious you were talking about him. But Kaveh, perhaps as natural of a gossip as Alhaitham accused him of being, starts talking halfway through a sentence.

“A few times now,” he replies to your imaginary question. “Yelan really is an incredible woman. I didn’t get the impression she’d be the type to break up a relationship.”

“Me either…” You give Alhaitham a hesitant smile as he reclaims his seat across from you. He nods in response. “It’s like I told Alhaitham—it seems obvious what’s going on, but something still seems…off.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it,” he assures you. Then he gives Alhaitham a pointed look. “Just try not to drag me into it while you do it.”

Alhaitham shrugs. “It did the trick, didn’t it? You should be grateful, Kaveh. It seems being the Light of Kshawrewar is a more prestigious title than we thought.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes and grumbles, causing you to giggle and ask, “Why do they call you that, anyway?”

“Kaveh graduated at the top of his class with honours,” Alhaitham explains. You can’t say you understand why such lauded accomplishments are being recounted so mockingly, but then again, it does seem to be Alhaitham’s default tone when speaking to his roommate. “It’s like Nilou said. His work is featured in all the most popular architectural magazines and journals.”

“Only you could make my accomplishments sound like something to be ashamed of,” Kaveh snaps. There’s a faint flush of pride in his cheeks. “I suppose it’s true, though. I have had a certain degree of success. Not that it matters, much—I’m so in debt from paying for my degree, and I so often have to use my own money to fund the more ambitious facets of my projects, so…”

“So you’re forced to leech off of me,” says Alhaitham in a cool tone.

You cut in before Kaveh can try to splutter out a comeback, “Hang in there, Kaveh. If your name keeps growing the way it is, you’ll have no problem at all finding people to work with who can actually pay you what you’re worth.” A thought occurs to you, then comes tumbling out before you can stop yourself. “I mean, take Yelan for example. She’s got more money than she knows what to do with. I’ll be at her birthday party next weekend, so maybe I can…”

“No, absolutely not,” he says in a panic, though his eyes have already lit up. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“That really is a stupid idea,” Alhaitham agrees.

You bite your lip. “Maybe. But the least I can do is put in a good word for you.”

“Oh, Y/N!” Kaveh exclaims, then flings his arms around you. “How in the world did Alhaitham ever get so lucky to find such a kind, selfless girlfriend? You have to know you’re too good for him, okay? You better not let him push you around!”

“No danger there,” Alhaitham says under his breath.

You can’t help the giddy grin that forms as Kaveh pulls back and cradles your face in his hands. You’ve had precisely the same number of mimosas as him, but it seems they’re hitting him much more quickly.

“Do you have to manhandle my girlfriend like that?” asks Alhaitham, but his annoyance seems to stem more from Kaveh’s enthusiasm and less from any qualms about your physical well-being.

“Don’t get too excited,” you agree. “As you know, it’s a precarious situation with Yelan, so—”

“Who could say no to this face though?! Clearly not even Alhaitham, which means it has to be a very special face. Oh, I think we should order one more round of mimosas!”

You helplessly slide your gaze towards Alhaitham, vision nearly obstructed with the way Kaveh is squeezing your cheeks in and upwards with renewed fervor.

And maybe you’re imagining it, but as he rolls his eyes and takes a sip from his coffee, you swear you catch the hint of a smile.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

Alhaitham drops Kaveh off at their apartment first, claiming he has work to do on campus and your place is closer anyway. You suspect he just wants some peace and solitude after sitting through that lunch.

And for the first stretch of road, you grant it. As the two of you sit quietly, you watch Alhaitham’s posture gradually relax. The visual cues of his stress dwindling seem to have the same effect on you, and when it finally feels like he’s not in danger of tearing off the steering wheel anymore, you gather the courage to test the waters.

“I apologize if any of that was awkward,” Alhaitham says before you can.

You blink in surprise, watching him as he keeps his eyes glued to the road.

“It was fine,” you say. “I liked hanging out with Kaveh. I think…I think that meant a lot to him.”

His posture stiffens again, but at least he doesn’t immediately retreat back into his shell.

“I’m sure he told you about everything.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Just confirmed what I already suspected—that you two had a pretty serious falling out.” When he just sort of hums his confirmation, you clear your throat and decide to just bite the bullet and ask what’s been on your mind. “Did you…were you guys—”

He finally tears his eyes away from the road to give you an exasperated look. “Please don’t ask me if we were in a relationship.”

“I’m not judging,” you say, holding your hands out in defense. “Just…trying to understand you a little better. That’s all.”

At this point, you’ve reached your parking lot. Alhaitham shifts the car into park and sighs. The silence stretches on for a long, long time, growing into a tangible thing that seems to take up ample space in the car.

“It wasn’t like that,” he finally says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “But it was… complicated. That’s all you need to know.”

“Sure,” you say gently. Something in you wants to reach for his hand, to offer a small shred of comfort. You swallow the urge. “I mean, either way, it’s obvious you two still care about each other.”

“Is it?” The sarcasm in his tone makes you scowl.

“It is. You wouldn’t have brought him to your old ‘spot’ if not.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he says calmly. “I just missed their kale wrap, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You tap your fingers against your lap. “You know, before we left, I heard Kaveh and Nilou talking about some gallery that he just helped design. They’re having some sort of special opening for it in June.”

“So?”

Your scowl deepens. “ So, you should go to it and support him. I’ll go with you.”

“That’s not necessary. The wedding will be long over with by then, so we won’t have to keep up this charade anymore.”

You’re not sure why, but the words stop you short. Even though the wedding is the whole reason you got into this mess, it had started to become buried beneath all the extra drama that’s unfolded since then. You forgot that it’s only two short weeks away, and that aside from the project, you’ll be free of each other soon enough. It’s been such a hassle to keep up the act that you should be relieved over such a revelation.

Which makes it very confusing that what you currently feel is much more akin to dread.

“I suppose you’re right,” you say. “But we can still go as friends, can’t we?”

“Friends?” He repeats the word like he’s never heard it before, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“Pretend all you want like you’re too cool to have friends, but I’m starting to learn better. And if you’re going to sit here with a straight face and say we’re not friends at this point, even though you’ve had your tongue in my mouth—”

“I wasn’t aware that was the main criteria for friendship these days,” he dryly cuts in. “I think most people would argue it means something very different.”

You shrug. “I’m sure plenty of people platonically kiss their friends.”

“Hm.” The appraising look he gives you, coupled with the close confines of the car, makes you start to sweat. “Is that so?”

“Don’t change the subject,” you snap, fumbling at unbuckling your seatbelt. “We’re going to that gallery opening. This is going to be known as the year that Alhaitham both expands and mends the pre-existing damage to his social circle alike!”

“That really rolls off the tongue,” he remarks. “I’ll be sure to buy the t-shirt.”

You smile sweetly at him. “It’s really charming how you use mockery as a defense mechanism, but it’s not going to work. If I have to drag you to that gallery opening by the hair, that's exactly what I’ll do.”

“I can think of much more favourable situations for you to be pulling my hair.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. He just stares at you with that infuriating calm, because leaving you speechless—or less politely, shutting you the hell up—was clearly his exact goal. You snap your mouth shut, lips pressing into a tight line as you fix him with a wholly unimpressed look.

“You know, comments like that are less effective when I know you’re only doing them to get a rise out of me.”

“Are they?” His mouth curves to a near imperceptible degree. “Ineffective, that is?”

“Yes,” you bite out, but you’re sure the warmth in your face betrays you. “Why would I go all heart-eyes for you using flirting as a manipulation tactic?”

“I don’t know,” he says calmly. “Why would you?”

You suck in a sharp breath and open the car door, while that tiny smirk only grows.

“Don’t forget we’re going shopping with Ganyu tomorrow,” you throw over your shoulder as you exit the vehicle. “For the wedding.”

His brow furrows. “How could I forget something that you never told me?”

“I’m telling you now. Meet you at the mall at one o’clock.”

Then you slam the door before he can get another word in. If he wants to play up the fake relationship to his advantage, so be it. Two can play that game.

It’ll be nice to have someone to carry all your shopping bags.

Ganyu texts you the next morning to let you know she’ll be running late, since Beidou and Ningguang have her running all over town for last-minute errands. It occurs to you then that you probably should have just asked Alhaitham to drive you, but you don’t mind the walk. It’s a sunny spring day, and all the snow has finally melted, so you throw on a light jacket and begin the short trek to the mall.

On your way out the door, you send Alhaitham a text.

You: Don’t forget to come shopping with meeeeee :) <3 I’ll be waiting for you near the fountain!

Alhaitham: Damn. Here I was, planning on forgetting.

Roughly twenty minutes later, you’ve made it to your destination and are perched on the edge of the elaborate, bubbling fountain that serves as the shopping center’s main plaza. You people-watch for a bit while you wait for Alhaitham, but since he’s taking longer than you expected, you eventually you end up idly scrolling your phone.

When a set of footsteps stops directly in front of you, it takes you a moment to look up, certain it’s just Alhaitham arriving like he’s supposed to. But then a different, yet still familiar, voice calls your name.

“Y/N?”

You lift your head, eyes catching on a familiar fur-lined jacket before trailing up to their owner—a certain scarred, black-haired dream sipping from a takeout cup of tea.

“Wriothesley,” you say, smiling up at him. “What a pleasant surprise. How have you been?”

“Busy as ever, but that’s how I tend to like it. What are you up to today?”

“Wedding prep,” you say with a grimace. “As it turns out, they actually expect you to dress up for these sorts of things, and my closet is woefully unprepared. I sort of left it last minute.”

“I’m sure you won’t have any problems finding something suitable,” he says. “Can I assume you’re meeting up with your boyfriend today? I’d imagine you’ll want to match.”

You remember what Yelan said about how smitten he seemed and can’t help but feel like his tone is a bit loaded. But his expression remains casual enough as he sips from his tea.

“He’s on his way to meet me,” you say, fighting back a smile. And it’s like he knows you saw right through him, because his own mouth twitches into a smirk as well.

“Just checking,” he says with a shrug. “Childe seems to think my luck is going to change any day now. Forgive me for being optimistic.”

Your mouth falls open. Okay, so now he’s openly flirting with you. And even though he’s playing it off as a joke, it still makes your face grow warm. It’s a weird position you’ve found yourself in. It’s not like you can flirt back, since that would poke holes in your cover. But cover aside, something in you would feel weirdly…guilty. As if it would be actually immoral to betray your imaginary loyalty to Alhaitham.

What a f*cking headache. When this inevitably all blows up in your face, perhaps then you can give Wriothesley the chance he deserves. You bury any temptation to swoon at that look he’s giving you and instead latch on to the easy swell of anger at the mention of Childe.

“Childe needs to mind his own business,” you bite out, “and worry about his own relationship instead of mine.”

Wriothesley’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? Is there a reason for him to be worrying?”

“Not exactly…”

But you trail off, watching Wriothesley carefully. He’s friends with Childe and Yelan, isn’t he? How much does he know? Could it be possible he’s baiting you right now? If only you’d thought of this connection earlier. You could have saved yourself that casino fiasco and just sweet-talked it out of Wriothesley instead.

But if he does know anything, or if he suspects you of knowing anything, he doesn’t let on. He lets out a thoughtful hum and sips from his tea.

“None of my business, I suppose. But he and Lumine make a sweet couple, so I’d hate to see anything get in the way of that.

“Meddling in his ex’s love life might be a start,” you mutter. You sigh and lean back on your palms, water misting your fingertips. Wriothesley watches you with a faintly amused smile.

“Well, if you ever reach a breaking point with his meddling, let me know. I’ve been itching for a reason to get back into the ring.”

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “You mean to tell me you’re not scared to face the great ‘Foul Legacy’ in hand-to-hand combat?” You let the so-called “title” drip from your tongue with as much mockery as it deserves. Childe’s fans love the mystery of the title, but it’s only mysterious because there’s no meaning to it—he made it up because he thought it sounded cool.

“Not scared in the slightest,” says Wriothesley. “I’m one of the few people who’s ever beaten him in a fight.” He jokingly flexes his bicep and you have to force your eyes not to linger on the sight, appealing as it is. He pours on a haughty tone and clarifies, “The Duke, in the flesh, my lady.”

“Wait a sec!” You gasp in recognition, jumping to your feet. “That’s you?”

“So you have heard of me.”

“Only in the sense that I had to listen to Childe bitch about losing to you all the time. It was about ten times worse anytime he had anything to drink.”

Wriothesley seems like he’s trying not to look too pleased with himself, but there’s no mistaking the smug gleam in his glacial eyes.

“He still hasn’t beaten me,” he assures you with a dramatic sigh. He lowers his voice. “And in fact, between you and me, our last fight ended with me punching him so hard in the bladder that he pissed himself.”

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the abrupt laugh that slips out of you.

“He did not,” you say in a wavering voice. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” he says seriously, and it’s the conspiratorial grin tugging at the corners of his mouth that has you letting out a sound of shock that’s a cross between a giggle and a gasp.

“ Wriothesley,” you hiss. You’re hardly able to get the words out around your laughter, the muscles in your stomach clenching. “I can’t believe you told me that! He’s going to kill you if he finds out!"

“I can take him in a fight. Weren’t you listening? Just one word and he’ll be too busy shopping for new pants to bother you anymore.”

Even he can’t say that with a straight face, and his chest begins shaking with silent laughter. You’re both standing there like a couple of giggling idiots in the back of a classroom, desperately trying and failing to compose yourselves.

“Sounds like we’re having fun,” comes a dry voice, and you turn to see Alhaitham standing there holding a tray of takeout drinks. Ah. So that’s why he broke his punctual streak. There’s something oddly wary in his expression, though that’s probably because you’ve been laughing so hard there are actual tears in your eyes.

“There you are!” you say, your voice still wavering. You can hear Wriothesley clearing his throat, trying his hardest to regain his composure, and it’s in danger of setting you off all over again. “Yeah, we were just…he said…” A giggle warps your voice. You shake your head, waving your hands in front of your face. “I can’t even say it. I’ll tell you later.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

And then he snakes the arm that’s not balancing the coffee tray around your waist, tugging you close so he can press an unnervingly soft kiss against your lips. Something about that tender brush of his lips has you feeling more vulnerable and exposed than any flashy make-out the two of you have had so far. He barely pulls back when he speaks again, his mouth only a breath away as he searches your face. “You ready to go?”

“Uh…we…” You suck in a shuddering breath. Any lingering mirth was completely melted by that sudden kiss, and your words along with it. “Y-Yeah.”

He squeezes your waist before stepping back and nodding. Then he’s off, without a single glance or word to Wriothesley. You blink in surprise. Alright, that’s a little dismissive, even for Alhaitham. You give Wriothesley an apologetic smile.

“Alright,” he says, blowing out a breath. “I knew Childe was wrong, but I’ll have to let him know how wrong he is.”

“He’s…” You awkwardly jab your thumb over your shoulder. “You know, it’s…” Words really are failing you after that. You clear your throat and finally say, “It was nice seeing you.”

“Likewise.” You don’t like that knowing gleam in his eyes one bit. It’s like all of your secrets are laid out for him on a silver platter, even the ones you’re unaware of.

“I’ll definitely think about that offer,” you add.

He winks. “I’ll make sure you have front-row seats.”

You smother another giggle and hurry to catch up to Alhaitham, who’s walking at such a brisk pace that you’re amazed he isn’t spilling those clearly full drinks all over the place. It’s only when he hears your approaching footsteps that he opts to slow down, eventually pausing to let you reach him.

“Getting in your daily step count or something?” you tease, still a little breathless.

“Something like that.” Before you can question what the hell is up with him, he holds out the tray, angling one of the drinks towards you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Obviously it’s coffee.”

Yet again, you find yourself blinking in surprise. “You remembered my coffee order?”

“We’ve been having coffee together almost every day for over a month,” he scoffs. “I’d need to have brain damage to not have it memorized by now.”

It is true that Alhaitham’s more than proved by now that he indeed pays attention to the things you tell him. But you feel like pointing out that it’s not like that’s a habit for him. You were always under the impression that he only cared to remember things that directly affected him.

But you don’t point that out at all, because you’re too busy pondering over that strange edge to his voice, like despite the tooth-rottingly sweet kiss you just shared, you’ve still managed to somehow piss him off in the literal five minutes since he’s shown up.

You cautiously remove the coffee from the tray, then watch as he does the same before discarding it in the nearby trash bin. He’s as graceful with his movements as ever, but you can’t help but feel he’s putting slightly more force behind everything than usual.

“Where to first?” he asks, taking a long drink.

“I have a couple of dress shops I wanted to check out,” you reply in a careful tone. “Ganyu is running a few errands for Beidou, so she’ll be meeting up with us shortly. Do you need to get anything?”

“I have a suit,” he replies. “But I’ll buy some matching touches once you decide on a dress.”

“Sounds good…” You sip from your own drink, fighting to keep the surprise from your face at the confirmation that yes, he really did get your coffee order correct down to the last detail. It tastes perfect. “Thanks for this, by the way. I didn’t expect you to buy me coffee after I dragged you down here for the afternoon.”

“Think nothing of it. It sounded like you’d need the caffeine as much as I do for an ordeal like this.”

“Mm…” You tap the side of the cup. “Listen…is there something going on?”

“Not at all,” he calmly replies. “Why do you ask?”

“I just…you seem…”

“What do I seem?” Alhaitham steps closer, peering down at you from over the lip of his cup.

“I don’t know exactly,” you admit. His sudden proximity is making it hard to find the words. “On edge, I guess? What was with that kiss?”

“Just playing the part as usual.” Are you imagining the bitter undertone lacing his words?

“In front of Wriothesley of all people? He’s not exactly top of the list for people we need to fool.”

“Maybe not,” he says evenly. “But what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let him flirt with you without giving him a clear reminder that you aren’t available?”

Something shifts when he says that—in the air, in his expression, in the now very tight confines of your chest. You suspect that was very intentional on Alhaitham’s part. He watches you carefully now, gauging your response.

“So that’s it?” you say, audibly swallowing. “You just didn’t want it to get back to Childe?”

“Exactly.” His eyes roam across your face, lingering a touch too long on your mouth. “Though, if you decided to flirt back, I suppose that’s out of my hands.”

“And if I did?” You take a thoughtful sip of your coffee, if only to hide the anxious tremor in your hands. The question somehow feels like diving into the deep end of a pool with cinder blocks tied to your feet.

“Like I said—out of my hands.” His tone is a bit too casual to be genuine. You know him well enough by now to tell when his temper is fraying, and something about the thought of you flirting with Wriothesley seems to be having exactly that effect.“But if you’re saying you’re in need of a similar reminder, I’ll consider it.”

The quiet lull of his voice as he says it does something to your insides. It’s a lit match and a splash of cold water all at once. You’re not sure how you got here—testing the limits of what’s clearly Alhaitham’s jealousy— but you have to admit that it’s sparking a strange thrill within you.

“A reminder of what?” you challenge softly. “That I’m not available? That’s not technically true, is it? I mean, you said it yourself yesterday. Pretty soon we don’t have to pretend anymore. Maybe I’ll call Wriothesley up the moment that happens.”

You shouldn’t feel as much satisfaction as you do when something flashes in his eyes at the challenge. The slight working of his jaw is a familiar sight, one you’ve seen countless times as he’s puzzled over a particularly challenging piece of text.

“Did you know fighters are very familiar with the workings of the human body?” you go on. You can hardly believe you’re voicing such bold words to him, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “I mean, they have to be, to know which parts to avoid causing too much damage. And I happen to know from experience that they take impeccable care of their own.”

“If you’re so interested in his body, you can call him up right now,” says Alhaitham. He’s doing a pretty good job at pretending to be unbothered, but the tension in his frame is a dead giveaway. “It sounds like he’d be more than willing to indulge you.”

“But why would I do that? You made it so very clear that I’m not available.”

He watches you carefully, eyes narrowing.

“If you’re trying to get me to admit to jealousy,” he says, his voice full of pure, cold, threat, “it’s not going to work. I couldn’t care less who you decide to sleep with.”

You’d been getting a kick out of dancing around the heart of the matter, but hearing him put the words so plainly makes your heart flutter a bit—even if he’s denying it.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you muse, lips curling into a smile around the lip of your cup as you take another drink, “the next time I decide to sleep with someone else.”

You drag the words out in slow, deliberate syllables, strangely eager for another smothered flash of temper, but to his credit, he seems to have gotten a leash on it. He gestures down the mall hallway with his free hand, his face back to an unreadable mask.

“Lead the way already.”

A leashed temper, sure. But you can’t help but feel that the pivot in subject is another concession in itself.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

That strange, electric undercurrent seems to dull as you two begin browsing through the various dress shops in the mall. Alhaitham offers little of his opinion on the various options you present, which ends up making the whole ordeal akin to pulling teeth. Why did you even bother asking him to come if he wasn’t going to be helpful? You should have just brought Navia instead. At least Ganyu will be here soon, though with her pesky tendency to people-please, you doubt she’ll offer much in the way of honest opinions either.

“Can you at least try to seem interested?” you plead with Alhaitham after trying on what feels like your hundredth dress of the afternoon.

He stares at you blankly from the bench outside the dressing room, where he’s spent the entirety of the time boredly scrolling through his phone.

“Just pick one,” he sighs. “They all look fine.”

“ Fine?” you echo with an indignant scowl. “You’re so quick to shower me with flirtatious torment whenever you please, just not when I actually need it.”

He looks like he’s itching to say something to that, but he refrains. Instead, he gestures pointedly towards the dressing room, as though urging you to continue so you can both be put out of your misery.

You groan and skulk back inside.

The last dress you try on is probably the most elaborate. The gauzy sage tulle is embroidered with pastel wildflowers and hangs elegantly off your shoulders, tight in all the right places and draping in all the others. A single slit cuts up one side of the skirt, keeping it from being too restrictive or conservative in style.

The flash of your leg, the tasteful cleavage? You suppose it doesn’t matter what you think of it. If Ningguang were here, she’d probably find an especially creative way to threaten you into buying it.

Though the corset ties prove a bit difficult to deal with on your own. You’re pretty certain it’ll fit properly once laced up, but it’s quite the price tag to commit to without knowing for sure.

That leaves you one, slightly mortifying option.

Huffing impatiently, you fling the door open. You don’t offer Alhaitham a second glance as you step towards the larger mirror in the hall, frowning at your reflection with your arms crossed over your chest to keep the dress from slipping.

“Do you mind helping me with the ties on this one? I can’t quite reach to pull them tightly enough.”

When you don’t get a response, you shift your stance a bit to catch a glimpse of his reflection. He’s still seated on the bench, leaning forward against his knees like he’s frozen in place. There’s a slight pull to his jaw, his gaze sharper than usual, and your heart sinks.

“You hate it.”

“I never said that,” he says quietly.

You wave your hand. “That dour expression said it for you.”

When Alhaitham still just sits there and doesn’t say anything, you give a defeated sigh and turn to head back towards the dressing room.

You barely get five steps in before he swiftly rises to his feet and closes the distance between you. He clears his throat as he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you, so abruptly that you stumble a bit. You’re both facing the mirror now, and you have no choice but to stare at your twin reflections with a dumbstruck look.

“It’s a good dress,” he says as he takes the ribbons into his hands. You yelp in surprise as he forcefully yanks back on them, pulling the fabric tighter together. He doesn’t apologize, even when you nearly go tumbling back against him. But when he speaks again, you wonder if you’re imagining the unsteady hitch in his voice. “A lot different than the other ones you tried on. What made you pick it?”

You fidget a bit while he works at the lace, dropping your arms in favour of tugging at the neckline. The tighter he pulls the ribbons, the more everything seems to get pushed up. It’s all you can do not to self-consciously fold your arms across your chest, especially with how close he’s standing to you, breath caressing the back of your neck.

“I…I liked the colour,” you admit softly. Now that the dress isn’t in danger of slipping down anymore, you run your fingers through the gauzy skirts. “If I’m being honest, it reminded me of you. And since we’re going together, I thought it only made sense to choose a colour that would look nice on you, too.”

You feel his fingers fall still on the ribbons, and when you caution a glance towards the mirror, you can’t help the sharp intake of breath. The dress is, regrettably, perfect. It accentuates curves you didn’t even know you had, all while flowing off into the most flattering, dreamy silhouette you’ve ever seen.

But seeing yourself in the dress isn’t what causes your face to warm.

It’s Alhaitham seeing you in the dress. His eyes seem to follow your trail of thought, roaming across your reflection with a slightly glazed look to them. Your eyes briefly meet, and it’s like something as simple as a slab of glass has given you both the courage to hold each other’s gaze for just a touch longer than you normally might, for him to visibly indulge in glimpses of those dress-accentuating curves in question.

“Aren’t you considerate?” he asks at last in a voice that’s like gravel. He’s completely abandoned all pretenses of finishing tying the ribbons, and you tell yourself it’s simply because they’re already pulled tight enough to hold the dress up. That’s all.

“I try,” you attempt to hum, but the sound gets lodged in your throat. “But how do you think it holds up to the bachelorette dress? I know you were pretty fond of that one.”

The question is as hesitant as it is reckless, veiled in the cadence of a teasing joke.

Alhaitham runs a finger along the fabric of the sleeve, contemplating like you’ve just presented him with the greatest academic dilemma of the century. You have to fight back a shiver. But as his hand trails down your arm, and your fingers inevitably brush, your anticipation over his answer builds to something suffocating. You’re not sure why you’re hanging on every breath, waiting for him to reply—

“Ah! Here you are.”

—but you do know that you’ve never been more disappointed to hear Ganyu’s sweet, sleepy voice in your life.

Alhaitham’s hand lingers near yours for just a moment before he clears his throat and steps away from you. He offers Ganyu a tight-lipped smile as she approaches, and you try not to look so guilty at her catching you…doing what exactly? You’re not sure you have a word for what just crossed between you and Alhaitham, only that it might be a completely normal interaction for two people in a real relationship to have.

And since there’s nothing real about any of this, that’s exactly what has your head spinning right now.

“Wow,” Ganyu breathes. She presses a hand to her cheek as she admires your dress. “You look so beautiful! I think that’s the one. Doesn’t she look beautiful Alhaitham?”

You find yourself holding your breath as you flick your eyes towards him. He’s managed to smother whatever it was that was brewing in his eyes, and when he answers, it’s in that totally calm, rehearsed tone you’ve grown so accustomed to.

“Of course,” he replies. “Though I’d think so regardless of what she was wearing.”

Any other time you’d internally roll your eyes at his attempt to embarrass you. But your very blood seems to be buzzing in your veins. It’s like a faucet’s been turned on and the knob completely torn off—a hopeless stream of…of…well, you’re not exactly sure. There’s one logical explanation for why it feels like something incredibly heavy is doing somersaults in your stomach, but really it’s not logical at all.

There’s just no way you’re falling for Alhaitham of all people.

It would be completely ridiculous.

This isn’t even Alhaitham at all, you have to remind yourself. The real Alhaitham is a surly, miserable loner who’s made it perfectly clear that he couldn’t care less about the company of others. Any shred of charisma he’s displayed is fabricated. Any kindness he’s shown you has just been to sell the act. And any lingering, private moments you’ve shared when no one else is around to see them are just like aftershocks from an earthquake. It’s not so easy to just shrug the act on and off like a jacket. Of course there’s going to be some spilling over. That doesn’t make it real.

None of this is real.

“Anyway, sorry I’m late,” says Ganyu, oblivious to the inner turmoil you’re experiencing right now. “I was on the phone with Beidou. There have been some…complications.”

At this, you whip your head towards her.

“What kind of complications?”

“It turns out the wedding venue underwent some massive structural damage,” says Ganyu with a weary sigh. “I couldn’t even get a clear answer on what it was—flooding? Electrical fire? A-Anyway, there’s no way it’s going to be ready in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, sh*t,” you breathe. You’re glad you weren’t around to witness what was likely a spectacular fit of classic Ningguang fury—more quiet and glacial than explosive, but still just as terrifying. “That’s not good. Are they going with another venue?”

Ganyu’s wince tells you all you need to know. Ningguang has a vision for this wedding and won’t compromise an inch of it.

“Ningguang is pouring a lot of money into helping them fix it,” Ganyu continues. “But it still likely won’t be ready for at least another month. I’ve been running around all morning meeting with all the vendors and begging them to reschedule.” She stifles a yawn.

A month.

You and Alhaitham have to keep up this charade for another month?

“What a drag,” Alhaitham says blandly. His expression is unreadable. Is he internally panicking as much as you are right now? It’s not the first time you’ve wished that you could read his mind.

“Ganyu,” you say suddenly. “I saw this super adorable dress near the front of the store that I think would look great on you! You should go look while I get changed.”

It’s rare for her to buy something for herself, so you’re surprised when she actually agrees. The moment she’s gone from the dressing room, you shoot Alhaitham a panicked look.

“A month?” you hiss. “I don’t think I can keep this up for another month, Alhaitham. I think the stress is going to send me to an early grave.”

“I didn’t realize my company was such a detriment to your health,” he says dryly.

You roll your eyes. “I’ve grown to tolerate your company. It’s the lying that I’m having trouble with.”

“I don’t see an issue.” How the hell is he so calm about this? You would have thought he’d be positively incensed to have to keep up with this chore, but even with Ganyu gone, he’s barely batting an eye. “I’d consider the drama with Childe and Yelan its own separate entity. Everything else has been a breeze for me.”

“Of course you’d say that,” you say. “The few friends you have are probably used to you not being forthcoming about your personal life. And you’re probably enjoying getting to f*ck with Kaveh."

His expression turns thoughtful. “You’re acting incredibly inconvenienced for someone who was trying to make me jealous less than an hour ago. It’s clear you don’t have an issue playing into this just as much as I do, so what are you really scared of?”

“Scared? Who’s scared?” But your breathing has turned uneven, especially because you’re left with the unsettling feeling that Alhaitham has pried into your brain and rifled through the frazzled spiral of your thoughts. You bite down on the challenge like the bait it is, if only to shut down this conversation before it drifts into dangerous waters. “I’m totally fine to keep going. But when you get sick of your precious little routine being upended by my chaotic life, I don’t want to hear a peep!”

“Noted.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

You scoff and then turn on your heel to head back into the dressing room, but Alhaitham catches you by the wrist before you can.

“Don’t you need help getting out of that?” he asks in a low voice. Your pulse races at the sound of it, and you have to curse yourself for it, because he’s obviously just trying to prove a point.

“If I need help,” you murmur, giving that hand circling your wrist a pointed look, “I’ll call Wriothesley and see if he’s still around.”

The slight pull of his jaw gives you a twisted sense of triumph, confirming what you already suspected. It doesn’t matter if you were trying to make him jealous.

He was jealous to begin with.

And that fact, which hadn’t fully hit you until now, only adds to that complicated knot growing and growing in your chest.

You all but flee into the safety of the dressing room before he can get another merciless taunt in. You weren’t lying. If the line between what’s real and fabricated keeps blurring and blurring like this, you really don’t think you’ll be able to make it another month.

You press your back against the door after you close it. Hopefully you really don’t end up needing help with the ribbons.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

Navia is in her natural habitat when you get home—baking in the kitchen. You can tell by the way you open the front door and get an instant whiff of freshly baked bread. It’s like a balm to your nerves, which have been in complete tatters ever since leaving the dressing room.

The rest of the afternoon was…uneventful. You bought the pretty green dress, but Alhaitham ended up buying nothing at all, claiming he already owned a suit that complemented the dress perfectly.

That made you feel even more flustered about your choice in dress, even though it really shouldn’t have. Of course Alhaitham owns a green suit. That was the whole reason you chose the dress—because you knew green was a good colour on him.

But besides that, you helped Ganyu finish off her last batch of errands, and then Alhaitham drove you home in near-silence. The air in the car felt charged and ready to burst—with what, you weren’t really sure. All you knew was that each casual comment Alhaitham made about the project or the wedding venue or, god, even the weather had you combing through each word for some hidden meaning that probably wasn’t even there.

So, yes. Freshly baked goodies from Navia are just what the doctor ordered after a day filled with such…confusion.

“Hey, you,” Navia greets you with a fond smile as you enter the kitchen. She’s in the middle of sliding a bread pan into the oven. Several finished loaves are scattered about the counters. “Welcome home! Perfect timing. I’m trying to perfect this loaf recipe and I’d love your opinion.”

“Dessert before supper?” you tease, hating how little punch the words have to them. You set your shopping bag on the counter before flopping down at the table.

Navia grins, eyes glinting with mischief. “It’s a savoury loaf. It doesn’t count!”

“Sound logic to me.”

“I thought you’d say that.” She giggles and begins slicing into one of the cooling loaves. “So, how was shopping? Did you find a dress for the wedding?”

“Yep.” You cringe when the word comes out flat and borderline pained. Navia frowns as she slides a piece of loaf towards you on a plate.

“That tone…what happened?”

“Nothing,” you insist. “Just…”

But you trail off, throat growing unbearably tight. You’re just what? How can you even begin to explain what’s going through your head right now? You don’t even want to think the words, to give them life by acknowledging them, but it’s getting harder and harder to deny. It’s no big revelation that you’ve been feeling a physical attraction to Alhaitham for a while now, but you’ve convinced yourself that it’s meaningless. An inevitable side effect from his annoyingly perfect body and considerable skill at using it to make you melt.

You're not sure the extent of it, or when it happened, but somewhere along the way, a line was crossed.

Something shifted.

Something very, very bad.

How do you explain to Navia that you’re scared you might be catching feelings for someone you’re supposed to be already dating, messy and complicated as those feelings might be?

You can’t. Not without coming clean that you’ve been lying to her for weeks. So you force yourself to bite into the slice she gives you, sighing at the warm taste of spinach and spice, and say, “Ningguang and Beidou have to push their wedding back.”

Navia’s face softens. “That’s terrible. And so close to the day, too. I can see why you’d be bummed.”

The confusion hiding in her tone is perfectly reasonable. It really doesn’t make sense for you to be this distraught over it, but not for the reason she thinks. But naturally, you can’t tell her that. And even if you could, you're not even sure what you'd say.

"Yeah," you say, shoving too large a bite into your mouth. "It just made everything a lot more...complicated."

And that, you can at least admit, is one hundred percent true.

Chapter 9: yelan's party (come get it)

Chapter Text

“Does that sound okay?”

Alhaitham’s question sounds worlds away, a muffled din like you’re at the bottom of a pool and he’s speaking to you from far above water.

You squint at your notebook, tilting your head with a puzzled frown. Okay, so if the singular pronoun sounds like this, then the plural would sound best like that. But what about past tense versus present tense? You flip back through your notebook.

“I could switch it back the first way we had it, but it does sound quite clunky in a sentence.”

Where the hell did you put that list? It has to be in this notebook somewhere. Did you write it on a random scrap of paper?

“What do you think?”

Maybe Alhaitham has the right idea, working on a laptop. It’d be nice to find whatever you need with a few taps of some keys, but it also feels a lot less hands-on. Normally, this isn’t an issue anyway. You’re typically much more organized with your notes, but can anyone blame you for being a little scatterbrained lately?

“Or… I could just take my clothes off in the middle of the library.”

You blink up at him in shock. “Huh? You’re going to what?”

“Of course that got your attention.”

You roll your eyes. “Excuse me for trying to concentrate on the project .”

“My question was about the project,” he retaliates. He’s barely bothering to mask his temper, and his mounting frustration is evident in both the low timbre of his voice and the unimpressed look he’s giving you. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you say with a shrug. You flip back to the page you’d been working on and begin jotting down your thought process, list or no list. You suppose you can always tweak it later when you add your portion to the shared online document you’ve both been working from. “We’ve just been making so much progress lately that I’m trying to keep the momentum going.”

“Right…”

You stiffen under that assessing gaze of his. Like usual, you’re left with the feeling that he’s peeling back the layers of your brain one by one, sifting through the most embarrassing of your secret thoughts.

It’s been like that all week. Though you’re hard-pressed to call your inner crisis a revelation, it’s definitely been something of a tipping point. Something’s shifted, and it’s making it nearly impossible to have a normal conversation with Alhaitham.

Pouring your focus into your work to distract yourself from the whole Childe fiasco has done the trick so far, but this is different. Considering Alhaitham himself is the person you’re working on this project with, you can’t really escape into your work the same way. Or rather, you can, but not without it resulting in his mounting frustrations that you keep tuning him out.

How the hell are you supposed to keep your story straight when you’re lying to every person in your life? Alhaitham used to be the one person who you didn’t have to watch your words around, and that’s the very reason you’re now in this mess. Maybe you just got too attached to the comfort of having a listening ear.

Especially since the lips that the listening ear shares a face with have made a habit of attaching themselves to yours.

“ Y/N.”

Alhaitham’s exasperated tone breaks you out of your inner spiral. He leans forward, resting his cheek against his palm as he gives you a mockingly sweet smile.

“What are you thinking about, love of my life?”

You scowl again, if only to cover the way those words make something in you flutter.

“Conjugating verbs,” you snap. “And you’re breaking my focus.”

“Because that’s razor-sharp to begin with.”

“Alright, then.” You snap your notebook shut and gesture at his laptop. “Let’s see how much work you’ve accomplished today, oh great future archivist of the Akademiya.”

He frowns slightly. “No.”

“No?” You cross your arms, staring at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“There’s nothing substantial to show,” he says simply. “My mind is elsewhere today.”

Your gaze narrows in suspicion. Since when is Alhaitham’s formulaic mind capable of wandering? You’d just assumed at this point that he kept it chained to a desk chair to keep it on task.

“And it doesn’t help that my research partner won’t even deign to answer a single one of my questions,” he adds, causing you to scoff.

“As if you’ve ever been in need of my opinion before.”

It’s subtle, but his posture straightens at that slight edge in your tone. His frown deepens for a moment before smoothing back into a blank slate.

“Well, it’s about that time anyway.” He checks his watch before snapping his laptop shut. “Let’s call it here for the day so we can both head home and get some rest before the party.”

Any urge to wonder over his abrupt change in subject is eclipsed by the painful realization his words cause.

“Ugh, why did you have to remind me?” you groan, dropping your forehead to the table with a loud thud. “Do you think it’s too late to cancel?”

“That’s totally up to you,” Alhaitham replies. When you lift your head, you find him shrugging. “There are a million things I’m sure we’d both rather be doing. Though, I will remind you that you made a promise to Kaveh."

You twist your mouth to the side. “I did, didn’t I?”

“I’m sure you can find time to ask her another day,” he says. “It is her birthday, so…”

“No,” you sigh, “let’s just go so we can say we did. It’s not like we have to stay for any length of time. And trust me—Yelan will be thrilled to talk business. It’s her favourite pastime. We won’t even need to bring her a gift.” You follow his lead and begin packing up your belongings. “And anyway, it’ll be a nice chance for you to meet a few more of my friends. Zhongli is pretty zen, so I feel like he’s a lot more your speed.”

“More of your friends means more people to fool,” Alhaitham points out. “Remind me why that’s a good thing?”

You fall still, fingers pausing on the zipper of your bag.

“N-No, you’re right,” you say, trying your hardest to sound casual, even though your throat has inexplicably tightened. You drop your head, shrugging as you refocus on zipping your bag. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I just meant—”

“It’s fine,” says Alhaitham. “I know what you meant.”

You cautiously lift your head. “You do?”

There’s that assessing, calculating gaze again. He says nothing as he slings his bag across his shoulder, and you’re left with the horrifying feeling that he’s expecting you to say something. But even though your mouth is hanging open, words totally fail you.

“I’ll pick you up around 8:30,” he says, then strides from the library before you can get another word in.

Your mouth clamps shut as you watch him go. After an embarrassingly long time of staring at the door, you tear your eyes away and begin mumbling under your breath, mocking yourself.

“ It’ll be nice for you to meet my friends, Alhaitham. Come to this party with me, Alhaitham.” You suck in a sharp, annoyed breath before tugging the zipper of your bag shut. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

8:30 comes all too quickly.

You spend the evening labouring over what to wear, but not because you’re worried about not looking good. That’s the problem. You’re worried about looking too good. It never really mattered before what Alhaitham thought of your outfits, your hair, your makeup, but suddenly it’s all you can think about. You don’t want to look like a slob, but if he gets the impression you tried too hard to look cute in front of him that would also be too mortifying to bear.

In the end, you go as safe as possible—a plain black skirt and a black top to match. Cute, but far from eye-catching. You sit perched on your bed, counting down the agonizingly long minutes and waiting for your phone to chime with Alhaitham texting his arrival.

When 8:35 comes and your phone is still suspiciously silent, you start to worry a bit. Alhaitham is annoyingly punctual. It’s not like him to be late—not without at least giving you a heads-up. You check your phone a final time, frowning, before deciding to head downstairs and keep an eye out for him. Maybe he’s having phone troubles or something.

When you hit the bottom of the stairs, you stop dead in your tracks.

Or maybe he’s sitting at your kitchen table with your roommates, shooting the sh*t without a care in the world.

“It’s quite good,” he replies to Navia, biting into a slice of one of the countless loaves she still has taking up space in the kitchen. “If I had to pick something missing, maybe…a kick of spice?”

Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Spice? You really think so?”

Alhaitham shrugs. “Imagine how good a breakfast sandwich would be if there was.”

“Huh…”

“Um, hello?” You storm over to the table and cross your arms.

Alhaitham’s face lights up. “Ah! There you are. Ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready to go,” you say. “Why didn’t you let me know you were here? You didn’t text or knock—”

“I was just getting home myself,” Yae cuts in, and the gleam of mischief in her eyes feels far too much like she orchestrated this whole thing just to have a few, precious moments alone with him to humiliate you. “I hope you don’t mind that I let him in.”

“I was going to text you,” Alhaitham insists. The bastard looks just as scheming as Yae. “But then Navia offered me a slice of loaf, and we all got to talking—”

“Uh-huh.”

He stands, coming around the table to slide an arm around your waist and press his lips against your hair. Your heartbeat kicks into overdrive.

“Ready to go?” he asks again, his tone a soft caress this time that brushes against every part of your skin.

You wordlessly nod—then consider saying your final, tearful goodbyes to your roommates. This night might kill you after all, and Childe and Yelan won’t have anything to do with it.

The walk to Alhaitham’s car is filled with loaded silence, and it’s only when you’re pulling out of the parking lot that he finally speaks.

“I was trying to piss you off, you know.”

Ironically enough, the casual admission makes your temper spike.

“What a shock.”

“Seems to be the only way to get your attention lately.”

He says it calmly enough, but it’s the pull of his jaw as he stares at the road with razor focus that makes you slump down in your seat, awash with guilt.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’ve just been…out of it.”

“I get it.”

Nope. He really doesn’t.

“It hasn’t affected my work though,” you add. “I promise. I think we’ll be in top shape for the conference, s-so…”

He keeps his eyes glued to the road, working his jaw like he has something to say. But all he comes out with is, “Well, that’s good to hear. That’s the main thing that matters, right?”

“Right…” Your fingers curl against your lap. If there’s one thing you know about Alhaitham, it’s that he’s somehow going to make it feel like you’re having an entirely different conversation despite also being the most straightforward, zero-bullsh*t person you know.

Maybe that says more about you than it does him.

The rest of the ride passes in silence, save for you offering directions where needed. You can’t believe it, but you’re actually looking forward to arriving at Yelan’s. The enclosed air of Alhaitham’s car feels far too intimate a setting for your current frazzled state of mind.

Yelan’s house is just as huge and lavish as you remember it. Although she’s wealthy, she possesses that rare combination of wealth and taste, so every inch of the property is decorated in the same chic, modern style that she dresses herself in. You know she has quite the social circle, so you’re not surprised that it’s a less-than-intimate affair. People are milling about the lawn despite the chill in the air, and when you lead Alhaitham through the front door, you blink at the sheer number of people in the entryway.

“This is…”

You give Alhaitham a grim smile. “Regretting it yet, Mr. Social?”

“Not at all.” He startles the mockery out of you by lacing his fingers through yours. “I’m thrilled to be here. Aren’t you?”

Your breath turns shallow at the contact. You drop your gaze to your joined hands before you can help it.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Right.”

He frowns slightly at your stilted tone, but you tug him further into the house before he can question it. You know it’d probably be wise for your own sanity to let go of his hand, but with the amount of people crowding the halls, you’d probably just get separated.

His fingers fitting between yours like a warm, sturdy key into a trembling, clammy lock has nothing to do with it.

You know from experience that the heart of every Yelan party is her dining room—though it could only be considered a dining room in the loosest definition of the word. The tall, vaulted ceilings and glossy mahogany floors remind you more of a ballroom, really, especially with the tall glass doors and windows taking up one wall, spilling out onto a patio bathed in twinkling lights.

There’s a long banquet table against one wall that’s piled high with snacks, punch bowls, and desserts of every possible variety. You’re sure you’ve never seen so many different shades of blue frosting in one place in your life.

“You made it!”

You turn to find Ganyu approaching, a surprised smile on her face.

“I heard Yelan invited you, but I didn’t think you’d actually come,” she admits.

“Why?” you ask innocently, though it’s hard to keep the suspicion from your tone. That’s just how it feels these days—like everyone has some ulterior motive. “Yelan’s my friend.”

“I-I know, just…” She trails off, her eyes flicking out the window. You don’t need to follow her gaze to know that Childe and Lumine are cozied up together in the corner of the room. It’s some old, pathetic instinct you can’t seem to let go of, like you have an internal compass that swings towards wherever Childe is in the room. “Things have been…chaotic, lately. That’s all. I wouldn’t have blamed you for wanting to avoid it.”

You’re not sure if Ganyu can detect the tensing of your posture, but it must be obvious to Alhaitham. He squeezes your hand—not a gentle act of comfort, but a bracing, bone-crushing grip. It does the trick, the dull pain sharpening your focus into a razor-sharp point.

“There’s nothing to avoid,” you say firmly, digging your nails into the meat of Alhaitham’s thumb. He sucks in a sharp breath. “What’s better than spending a night with all my closest friends?”

She doesn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”

“I’m parched,” says Alhaitham, subtly freeing his hand from yours. “Why don’t I grab us some drinks?”

You try not to sound too eager as you reply, “Yes please. But don’t forget you’re driving us home tonight.”

He gives you a wry look. “I happen to know the meaning of the word ‘moderation’, unlike others I can name.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk so poorly of Kaveh when he’s not around,” you say with a mock pout, knowing he’s thinking of you nearly hurling up your guts all over his car.

Sure enough, he scoffs a dry laugh and then starts his trek towards the snack table. You watch him go, fighting back a smile.

“You’re too cute,” says Ganyu, and you turn to find her watching you with soft eyes.

The laugh dies in your throat. “What do you mean?”

She seems startled by your sudden shift. “H-Huh? Just, the way you were watching him right now…I can tell you really like him. I’m just happy for you. That’s all.”

“That obvious, huh?” you mutter. Your eyes scan the room, desperate for a change in subject. A good chunk of the people milling about the room are strangers to you, but your friend group is scattered around as well.

“Zhongli made it home early?” you question, catching sight of him chatting with Ningguang. You knew ahead of time he was planning on coming tonight, but were a little foggy on the details.

“The wedding was supposed to be a week from now,” says Ganyu. “Even a week wasn’t quite acceptable for Ningguang, but she made an exception.”

So much about him has remained a constant through all these years. He’s drinking that same expensive wine that he can’t really afford, dressed in an immaculate vintage designer suit that you’re also not sure how he came to own. So much about him is, and has always been, a mystery. One notable change, you realize, is the animated girl he’s introducing to Beidou and Ningguang. She looks quite a bit younger than him, with brown pigtails peeking out from beneath a black bucket hat.

“Who’s Zhongli’s friend?” you murmur to Ganyu. An odd sense of panic bubbles in your chest. “They’re not dating, are they? She looks a little young for him.”

Ganyu laughs. “Well, you know how he recently started that consulting job at that funeral parlour?”

You nod—what even is a funeral consultant, anyway?—and say, “Oh, so she’s his coworker?”

“Boss,” she corrects you.

Your mouth falls open in shock as you turn back to the girl who’s currently pantomiming biting his shoulder, fingers clawed and stiff like a zombie.

“How…interesting. And why is she here?”

“I think he somehow managed to pass this trip off as a business trip? Not entirely sure of the details.”

You snort. “That sounds like him.”

Shortly after that Alhaitham announces his return by wordlessly placing a drink in your hand—glittering blue punch in a glass that probably should be fake crystal at a gathering like this, but you know it’s likely real.

“Looks fancy,” you comment.

Alhaitham nods, sipping from his own. “Your friend Keqing called it an ‘Aqua Simulacra’—a batch version of a new co*cktail they’re going to be adding to the casino menu.”

You caution a sip. There isn’t much taste except for a faint hint of citrus—definitely unexpected given the vibrant blue colour. Even the alcohol doesn’t really come through that much. It seems as close to water as it can get, really, which you suppose makes the name a fitting one.

More importantly, it’ll be much easier to slam a couple of these back and bolster your courage.

Sadly, it doesn’t end up being that simple. The minutes roll into hours, and while it’s true that a drink or three certainly helps settle your nerves, it also begins to erode your impulse control. You sleepwalk through unremarkable conversations with your friends—at least, you hope they’re unremarkable. The truth is, Ganyu could have told you that she’s shaving all her hair off and joining a nunnery and you wouldn’t have noticed. You’ve been too busy daydreaming about those brief moments of holding Alhaitham’s hand in the crowded hallway and fighting back against the mounting urge to slide your fingers through his again.

That urge only grows when you realize how right you were about Zhongli. When you finally get a chance to introduce him to Alhaitham, they hit it off right away. Zhongli’s philosophical pondering goes perfectly with Alhaitham’s penchant for academic debate, and soon enough the two are chatting about…

Well, you’re not really sure. Partially because the subject matter flies over your head, but mostly because you keep finding yourself smiling up at him as he talks. It all just feels too frustratingly perfect. That he’s able to fit in so well with your friends, even if he’s faking it. That his arm has found a comfortable home draped across your shoulders—even if it’s for show.

It’s beautiful torture.

When Zhongli eventually excuses himself to go seek out his employer—Hu Tao, you learn her name is—Alhaitham catches you staring off into space with that bittersweet smile. His arm falls from your shoulder as he turns to fully face you, and you try not to mourn that loss of contact.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly.

You shrug in response, avoiding the question by scanning the crowd. Yelan is wishing farewell to a few partygoers, meaning she’s likely about to be free for conversation. Alhaitham follows your line of sight, then hums in realization.

“You’re that worried about talking to her?”

It’s actually fallen to the bottom of your list of worries, but you decide to latch onto the easy lie.

“It’s just…awkward.”

“The longer you put this off, the longer we have to stay here,” Alhaitham reminds you.

Guilt pangs through you. He’s probably saying that for his benefit as much as yours. You dragged him to this party full of people he doesn’t even know and you can’t even find the decency to act normal around him. Why wouldn’t he be counting down the seconds until he can leave?

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” That confusion creeps back into his tone, tugging his mouth into a frown. “No one's forcing you to—”

“Yelan!” you call out, plastering a smile on your face and weaving through the crowd towards her. You can hear Alhaitham scrambling to catch up with you.

Yelan turns at your approach. “You came!” Her face splits into a beaming smile as she pulls you in for a hug. That alone—the absence of her usual cool demeanor—is enough to tell you she’s had her fair share to drink.

“Of course! Happy birthday. It’s quite the party.”

Her smile turns a bit more prideful. “Isn’t it though? I’ve really outdone myself this year. I’m not one for sweets, but apparently all the desserts are divine. Keqing picked them up from a bakery on the Akademiya campus—”

Your jaw drops. Of course.

“No way. That’s my roommate Navia’s business! She probably made everything herself.”

Yelan’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Spina di Rosula?”

“Yes!”

“What a small world! Well, you can tell her that her food is a hit. I’ll definitely be back.”

“You really do know everyone,” says Alhaitham, mild surprise keeping the words from coming out in a full mumble.

Yelan’s eyes flick between you. “I suppose I could say the same for the two of you. Talented bakers and famous architects? Your inner circle alone would make you quite the power couple if you didn’t already look so perfect together.”

You curse the colour that floods into your face at that, especially when Alhaitham merely slides his arm around your waist in response.

“S-Speaking of Kaveh,” you say, your whole body tensing at the contact. Alhaitham softly clears his throat and lets his arm drop, sensing your baffling discomfort. “Have you had any more meetings about his work on the casino? He seemed pretty elated when we were talking to him about it last weekend.”

“Not yet.” She gestures to the party around you. “As you can imagine, it was a busy week putting everything together. I’m meeting up with him next week to discuss ideas, lay down a budget—things like that.”

You sip from your drink. “Do you have any idea what sort of thing you’re looking for?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Nothing concrete. I sought him out specifically because of his out-of-the-box designs, so I’m hoping he’s willing to take some creative liberties on the project.”

You try not to perk up too quickly at that. “Wow, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. He doesn’t exactly have the best luck with his usual clientele—very picky and demanding, not at all willing to let him put his own flair on things.”

“Oh I’m all for a bit of flair,” Yelan says. “Poor guy—I’m sure that’s torture for a creative genius like him.”

Alhaitham smothers a cough. You elbow his ribs.

“The worst,” you agree. “And don’t even get me started on how stingy some of these people are. If they’re going to be so particular, the least they could do is pay him well. But half the time he has to dip into his own funds just to meet their insane demands.”

Yelan’s eyes narrow in thought, and you worry you might have laid it on a bit thick. But then her mouth curves.

“Are you trying to put in a good word for someone I’ve already decided to work with?” she asks lightly.

You fight to keep a straight face. “I dunno. Is it working?”

That amused smile grows. “You know? It is. I’ll be sure to compensate him more than fairly. It doesn’t sit right with me that such talent is going unrewarded. If he does a good enough job, I’ll be sure to recommend him to various business partners.”

“That’s kind of you,” says Alhaitham, and it’s like he has to force the words out from between gritted teeth. “But you don’t have to go to such trouble for Kaveh of all people.”

You slide him an exasperated look.

“It’s not kindness,” Yelan insists. “Just proper business.”

“Yelan!” someone shouts from across the crowd.

“A hostess’s work is never done,” she sighs. “Anyway, tell Kaveh I’m looking forward to our meeting! Thank you so much for coming!

“No—”

But then she squeezes your arm and begins weaving her way across the room.

“—problem,” you finish, watching her go. The moment she’s out of earshot, you deflate in relief.

“That went well,” says Alhaitham. “Kaveh will be singing your praises more than he already does."

"He's a nice guy, Alhaitham," you scold. "Of course I'd want to help him."

"Right..." Alhaitham looks like he perhaps wants to argue the point, but in the end thinks better of it. "Let’s just hope that wasn’t an empty, drunken promise.”

You smile and shake your head. “She’s not the type. Very honorable—or, um…so I thought, anyway…” You fight desperately to keep your face from falling, but in the end, you can’t help the troubled frown that forms.

Alhaitham watches the change, careful and contemplative. Then you feel his fingers find yours again, idly tracing against your hand like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. You momentarily forget how to breathe.

“Take a walk with me,” he says firmly.

“A walk?” you manage.

“Just somewhere quieter where we can talk. I’m not used to being around so many people.”

If you weren’t such a tightly wound bundle of nerves, you might find it in yourself to laugh about that. He’s certainly out of his element. But your attention catches on that first half of the sentence and it makes your stomach flip.

“Talk?”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “Quit looking so nervous. Come on.”

He’s tugging you along before you can even fumble for a reply, and despite not knowing where he’s going, he leads you away from the chaos with a clear sense of purpose.

Alhaitham doesn’t let go of your hand. He’s quiet as the two of you walk, although maybe his voice is just drowned out by the thundering roar of your heartbeat in your eardrums. You’re certainly not looking at him, so there are no visual cues to go off of either.

Yelan’s house is bigger than you realized. You end up turning down halls and stairways you didn’t even know existed, until finally, even the occasional party guest is nowhere to be seen. Still, you walk, until eventually you catch a whiff of chlorine.

“I didn’t know she had a pool,” you comment. Curiosity gets the better of you and you end up taking the lead, following the scent down a stairway until you stumble upon the indoor pool in question.

The room is made entirely of unfinished brick, with curving arches that form alcoves all along the walls. Some hold lounge chairs and tables, while others are just piled with unused pool equipment. A skylight takes up the majority of the ceiling, likely showering the room with sunlight during the day. Now, the only light to be had is from the few dim sconces dotting the arches and the pool lights that cause the water to glow bright teal.

Alhaitham lets out a low whistle. “Quite the spot. What did you say Yelan does for work again?”

“I truly do not know.” You run your finger along the nearby bar, eying the various bottles lining the shelves behind it. “I’m just surprised the revelry hasn’t spilled itself down here.”

“We did undergo quite the journey to get here.”

You wander further in, breathing in the hot, chlorinated air. You’re gnawing on your lip at this point, waiting for him to break the agonizing silence. It was easier to distract yourself from his presence in a room full of people.

“So,” you say finally when it gets too much to take. “What’s, um, on your mind?”

“I was actually going to ask you that,” he says. You turn to find him appraising you in the low light. “You’ve been acting stranger than usual.”

sh*t. “Have I?”

“You have. Did I…do something to upset you?”

The confusion in his tone makes you pause. It’s not like him to sound like that, to not act eternally self-assured, even when he doesn’t really feel that way. It charges the air with something strangely intimate and vulnerable, and you’re suddenly grateful for the dim lighting.

“Would you even care if you did?” you wonder aloud in a half-joke.

Alhaitham’s gaze narrows at that, almost like…almost like that hurt his feelings?

“Of course I would. You said it yourself, we’re…friends.” He clamps down on the word with a frown, like it tastes strange and unfamiliar. Or maybe it just wasn’t the word he was looking for at all. He twists his mouth to the side slightly. “Though, I’m not very good at having those, so I can understand if you’ve changed your mind on that front.”

You manage a smile through your nerves. “Not a chance. We’re trauma bonded at this point so you’re, regrettably, stuck with me.”

He breathes a silent laugh through his nose. The sound of it makes your head spin. Once upon a time, the thought of Alhaitham laughing at something you said without ten layers of mockery involved would have been shocking. And you know that even now, there are probably very few people who get to see this side of him.

And it’s that thought that renews your nerves, that makes looking him in the eye on an impossible task. You stare into the water, digging deep down to scramble for any bit of courage you can find.

“Then tell me what’s going on,” he says after a while.

You can do this. You’ve had enough alcohol to bolster your bravery and knock down the walls of your common sense. Rubbing your arms, you examine the rippling pool water and focus on the trickle of the filter while you try to muster your courage.

“I just…” You drift a bit closer to him, but even when you turn to face him, you keep your eyes glued to his chest. You start to fidget with the hem of your top. “I’ve been thinking—”

You cut off as Alhaitham places two fingers under your chin, tilting your face upwards so you have no choice but to look him in the eye. His expression is as calm as ever—calmer, even, like he’s purposely keeping the emotion from his face in hopes that stoicism will rub off on you.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about.” His tone isn’t comforting or reassuring. He’s simply stating an irrefutable fact. “Just tell me.”

Your lips suddenly feel parched. You run your tongue along them, and the way Alhaitham’s eyes linger on the movement does nothing to help your nerves. Your gaze turns a bit helpless, like you're silently begging him to just read your mind like he always does.

Something flashes in his eyes—understanding. Realization. He sucks in a quiet breath and his grip on your chin tightens. You wish you could get a word out, to say something to clarify whatever conclusion he’s seemed to reach. But your voice is failing you. You’re not sure how to be honest without veiling the truth in flirting and teasing.

f*ck it. You’ll just have to give up on speaking at all.

It’s like he can see the resolve building in your eyes because that hand gripping your chin slides along your cheek, tilting your face towards his. He makes no move to close the distance between you, but his thumb traces your lips in a show of permission. Coaxing. Waiting.

He’s not going to put you out of your misery, you realize. He’s just going to stare at you with those heavy-lidded eyes and wait for you to stop being such a coward. Your mouth falls open, instinctual protests forming on your tongue, but all that comes out is a choked breath.

“Well?” he breathes, and now his thumb is tugging down on your bottom lip, leaving you mortified at the way it makes the saliva pool beneath your tongue.

Your eyes flutter shut. Maybe it’ll be easier if you don’t have to look at him. It does help a bit, and you find yourself rising onto your toes, sinking into him. All the while your heart climbs higher and higher into your throat, and your breathing quickens—

You’re close enough to feel his breath ghosting your lips when you hear the sound of footsteps and a familiar giggle drifting from the stairs.

“What, here?”

“I can’t wait another second,” comes a breathy reply that you were once intimately familiar with. “I need to touch you.”

You and Alhaitham both freeze, eyes widening as you stare at each other in shock. Because of course this moment couldn’t be interrupted by something trivial. It had to be interrupted by Childe dragging his girlfriend down here to, by the sounds of it, do what you were just dangerously close to doing with Alhaitham.

Alhaitham recovers before you do, tugging you into the nearby alcove. It’s one of the smaller ones, with no lounge chairs or tables but instead just a cluttered pile of netting and pool floaties.

“Why are we hiding?” you mouth, barely letting a breath out for fear of it being heard. The smart thing to do would be to loudly announce your presence so you don’t get trapped listening to something you really don’t want to hear.

Maybe the shattered moment has Alhaitham just as off-kilter, because now he’s squeezing his eyes shut like this was the most foolish idea he’s ever had.

And it’s too late to take it back, you realize. Because now you hear the loud scuffle and clatter of the bar stools being shoved aside, and a startled yelp as you can only assume Childe is lifting Lumine onto the bar. The wet, desperate sounds of them making out echo harshly around you. Stupid pool acoustics.

“Sorry,” Alhaitham mouths back. He’s standing even closer than he was out in the open, keeping you both pressed as far into the alcove as he can to avoid any chance of being seen.

You give him a miserable look. You’re sure you’ve had nightmares about this exact scenario before, though the fact that Alhaitham is present adds a decidedly deeper layer of suffering to the mix.

“I don’t know,” says Lumine breathlessly. “What if someone walks in?”

“That’s what makes it exciting.”

“Sure, but—”

And then whatever Childe does next causes her words to taper off into a lilting moan. Well, now it’s definitely too late to take it back. If you suddenly decide to hop out the moment things start getting hot and heavy, that’s going to make the situation a million times more humiliating.

Alhaitham’s fingers curl against your arm. Both of your chests heave with shaking breaths—from trying to stay silent and perhaps from the awkward tension of listening to the sounds Lumine is making. God, you didn’t know such a polite girl had it in her to be so vocal. Whatever Childe is doing—

You physically shake the thought away. Nope. Picturing things is not going to make this situation any more bearable. Alhaitham frowns in confusion at you.

“I’m stopping this,” you mouth, then fumble at your pocket for your phone. You angle it as close to your chest as you can while you turn the brightness all the way down. Then, with shaking thumbs, you type out a message to Ningguang.

You: SOS!!!! I need you to call Lumine with a fake emergency ASAP.

You show Alhaitham the message after you send it. He nods in approval, then crosses his fingers.

“So f*cking beautiful,” Childe breathes. His voice is thick with desire, but it sounds like Lumine is the one getting all the attention right now—and you absolutely hate how evident that is through sound alone. “I love you so much.”

You roll your eyes. Did him talking like that, all flowery and devoted, really used to work on you? Alhaitham is giving you a judging stare, like he’s thinking the same thing. You scowl in response, and despite the situation you have to marvel at how you two have evolved past the need for verbal arguments and can now rely on loaded, scornful glances alone.

Lumine’s response is drowned out by Childe seemingly kissing her again, and you hate how evident that is through sound alone. You’re trying so hard not to picture the scene unfolding around the corner but how can you not when they’re painting such a vivid picture?

The sudden chime of Lumine’s phone ringing is the most beautiful sound you’re sure you’ve ever heard. You’re not sure what you’re going to owe Ningguang for coming to your rescue, but you have no doubt she’s going to choose something especially creative.

“Don’t answer that,” says Childe, his voice little more than a throaty growl.

“But it’s Ningguang,” she pants. “What if— ah~! What if it’s important?”

“Councilwoman Ningguang will have to make an appointment. You’re all mine right now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and pray to whatever merciful god will listen. Please answer. Please, please, please—

“I’m answering it,” she says firmly, and then there’s some prolonged shuffling and clattering as she hops down from the bar. Childe lets out a long, forlorn sigh.

“Fiiiiiiine. But trust I’ll more than make up for it later.”

She lets out a breathless giggle. “Hello? Ningguang— oh. Oh gosh, that’s terrible! I-I’ll be right there.”

“What is it?” asks Childe, some of the clarity returning to his voice.

“Zhongli tripped and fell through the dessert table! There’s broken glass everywhere and he’s all sliced up!”

“ He what? Oh my god.”

Your mouth falls open. Ningguang couldn’t have just faked a wardrobe malfunction? You desperately hope she didn’t actually shove him into the dessert table for your sake. That’s going to be another harsh mark on your conscience.

“I mean, that’s terrible, but why is that our problem?” Childe’s voice drops to a suggestive hum again. “I think Zhongli can wait until I make you—”

“We have to go make sure he’s okay,” Lumine insists, though the hitch in her voice doesn’t make the words sound very convincing.

“I guess you’re right. You’re lucky your big heart is one of the things I love most about you.”

You can just make out the faint sound of her lightly smacking him. “Oh, you.”

You hold your breath as you listen to their retreating footsteps, too terrified to move a single muscle. It’s only when the door slams shut, echoing through the room, that you loudly exhale, “f*cking hell.”

“Agreed,” Alhaitham says under his breath. He clears his throat. “We should go while we have a chance.”

You nod, but your heart sinks. The delicate moment from before has been effectively smashed to smithereens, and your courage with it. When Alhaitham backs up, you turn to take a step—

—and find your foot to be tangled in the piled netting. You nearly faceplant, if not for Alhaitham letting out a sound of alarm and grabbing you by the waist to stop you from falling.

“Just great,” you grumble. You curse under your breath, clinging to him while you try to free yourself. When the net finally comes loose, you kick it away. “This is so—”

You cut off when you realize how close you are, that falling into him has left you effectively cradled in his arms. He seems to realize it at the exact same moment, but despite his posture stiffening, he doesn’t pull his arms away. His eyes meet yours in a silent challenge.

And maybe it’s the heat from the pool, or Childe and Lumine’s lust lingering like a toxic cloud, but something in you crumbles, and the words spill out of you in a near-whine.

“Can you please just put me out of my f*cking misery already?”

It’s like waiting for your signal was all that was holding back his flimsy restraint. His mouth is on yours in an instant, the sudden force of it sending you both stumbling backwards into the wall. His lips part to let out a resigned sigh, and you can’t help but use the opportunity to sweep your tongue along his.

It snaps what little remains of Alhaitham’s composure. His hands grip your hips as he presses himself tighter and tighter against you, until the brick is scraping your arms and you can’t breathe save for the brief moments between kisses where your mouths part. Even then, you’re both gasping for air at the same time that you’ve abandoned all need for it.

It’s when one of his hands roams up your waist, skimming the skin of your stomach beneath your shirt, that it hits you.

This is different than all those fake kisses you’ve shared before. Every move from Alhaitham has always felt deliberate—to get a rise out of you, to boast his own confidence, to prove some insufferable point. But there’s nothing methodical about the way his lips are frantic and borderline sloppy against yours. There’s nothing calculated about the way his usually sure hands are fumbling across the dips and swells of your body.

And, most importantly, there’s no one here to fool.

Panic spikes in your blood, mixing with desire, when you realize that this is real. And while you’ve certainly enjoyed kissing him before now, and it’s been very apparent he has too, it’s never felt this desperate before, like you’re racing to taste as much of each other as you possibly can before one of you comes to their senses.

You think, perhaps, it’s about to be Alhaitham. He breaks away from you, chest heaving as his heated gaze clings to your mouth. But then his mouth finds its home on your neck, just beneath your ear, and the feeling of his tongue against your skin drags you away from the brink of clarity again. You let out a soft moan as he drags your earlobe between his teeth. His breath hitches at the sound of it, turning to a sound in his throat that’s so deep and ragged that it makes your insides go molten. His fingers shift from trailing against your ribs to greedily digging into the soft skin of your hip. You cling to him in response, one hand bunching in the fabric of his shirt while the other tangles in the back of his hair.

Then, in what’s likely a malicious act of karma, Alhaitham’s phone rings.

The sound of it echoes harshly through the room. It’s like a splash of cold water to your senses. You suddenly remember where you are, who currently has you pinned to this wall.

“Alhaitham,” you breathe.

He doesn’t seem to care. The sound of his name falling desperately from your lips only makes a low groan rumble in his throat as he doubles down on his efforts. He’s so good with his mouth, turning you into putty in his hands, that it’s very tempting to let him, especially with the way it makes your mind wander to how that mouth might feel—

“Alhaitham,” you say again before that fantasy can fully take shape, more firmly this time. “Y-Your phone.”

He falls still, and for a moment, the only sound is the muffled, generic ringing of his phone from his pocket. His grip on your waist tightens as he curses under his breath. After a long moment, like he’s building the strength to do what needs to be done, he pulls away from you.

You can’t help but stare as he takes a moment to gather his composure—composure that you rattled. You’ve never seen him so shaken, his bruised mouth still glistening, his hair in disarray from where you’d run your fingers through it. He doesn’t look at you. The fire has only slightly waned from his eyes when he finally answers his phone.

“Yes?” The word comes out husky and he clears his throat. He listens briefly to the voice on the other line. After a moment, his whole body locks up in the sort of annoyance you’ve come to expect when it comes to dealing with Kaveh. But what’s different is the genuine frustration catching in his voice. “And how is that my problem?”

Oh god, you think faintly, now that the blood has stopped roaring in your ears. You bring your hand to your throat and take a shuddering breath. What the hell just happened?

“I fail to see how a lack of planning on your part constitutes an emergency on my end,” Alhaitham goes on, and Kaveh’s resulting exclamation is loud enough for you to hear, if not understand. Alhaitham fishes in his pocket for his keys, and when he retrieves two sets instead of one, his eyes squeeze shut in defeat. A soft curse crosses his lips. “Well, I suppose I have no choice but to come to your rescue. It’ll be up to you to explain to Y/N why I had to abandon her at this party.”

You try to ignore the flicker of disappointment that makes you feel, especially when Alhaitham sends you what looks like an apologetic look—you can’t be too sure, considering that’s a rare expression for him to be wearing.

“Whatever. See you soon.” He hangs up the phone, and then there’s just silence. The trickle of the pool filter and the distant sounds of the party are the only things to be heard, the bass a dull roar that’s only almost loud enough to drown out both of your shaky breathing.

Finally, after an eternity, he looks at you. Whatever had been in his eyes before—apology, frustration, need—he’s managed to lock away. A mild sliver of inconvenience is all that remains.

“Once again, I have to head to my roommate’s rescue,” he says. “I’m half-tempted to leave him to suffer, but he’s had too much to drink and I don’t feel like dealing with another noise complaint from our neighbours.”

Your lips twitch into a smile. “Are you sure it’s not because you’re a good friend?”

“Kaveh is not my friend.” But there’s no bite to the words. He runs a hand down his face. “I’m sorry about this. Is anyone going to give you a hard time if I leave?”

It nearly knocks you off balance to hear him apologize, even if there’s a hidden meaning behind it that sends your pulse stuttering again.

“I’ll just go find Ganyu,” you say, shaking your head. “Don’t worry about it.”

He nods. An absent hand reaches up to smooth down his hair.

“If you still need a drive home—”

“Ganyu isn’t drinking,” you insist. “I’ll ask her for a lift. Really, it’s fine. Let me walk you out.”

He still doesn’t seem convinced, but you both seem eager enough to get out of this damn pool room that he doesn’t object.

As you head for the door, you text Ganyu to ask for a drive home, and she’s thankfully quick to reply that she was getting sleepy and planning on heading out soon anyway. If she’s leaving so soon, logic dictates that you could just tag along with Alhaitham now.

Logic has completely left the equation at this point.

The walk back to the heart of the house is unbearably silent. Neither of you feels very inclined to discuss what just happened, and you have to wonder if it’s because Alhaitham is realizing what a colossal lapse in judgment he just had.

It’s better than thinking about the more likely alternative—that he’s just as pent-up and confused as you are. Because what if that is true? What if Alhaitham is having just as much of a crisis over his feelings as you are and he’s just too stoic to let it show?

How would you even feel about that? Where exactly does this leave you?

“They certainly don’t sound like they’re having relationship issues,” Alhaitham says eventually, causing you to let loose a groan.

“Please don’t remind me what they sounded like.”

He breathes a small laugh. Despite the miserable circ*mstances, your mouth pulls into a smile as well. But that smile dies as you reach the foyer. A few people mill about, but no one you really know. You swallow, nodding towards the other hall.

“Time to go see the damage I indirectly caused,” you joke weakly. “Give Kaveh my regards.”

“Will do.” And then, like it’s nothing more than second nature, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. You lock up in surprise. “Text me when you’re home safe.”

“S-Sure…” That one, pathetic word is all you can manage as you stare dumbly at him.

He nods, satisfied at the answer, and then gives a final wave before heading outside. You brush your fingers across your forehead, staring out the door in a total daze.

Again, you find yourself thinking, What the hell just happened?

Eventually, the loud chatter coming from the dining room draws your attention. You remember you have a mess to check on, so you tear yourself away from the doorway and make your way toward the source of the commotion.

You turn the corner into chaos. The floor is a complete mess of frosting, liquor, and chips, and the large table that once housed it all has been completely overturned.

Your eyes easily find Zhongli in the crowd, tall and distinctive as he is. Though, the complete pink and blue mess that’s become of his fine tailored suit jacket does make him stand out quite a bit. Lumine is doting on him, helping him dab at the mess of his clothes with a damp cloth, while Childe is listening to him recount what happened with a baffled expression. His boss, Hu Tao, seems to have tear streaks on her face from laughing so hard.

“You’re welcome.”

You jump as Ningguang materializes beside you. She’s surveying the scene before her like an artist admiring her work.

“Beidou wasted no time when she realized you were in some sort of trouble,” she continues. “She did a rather spectacular job, wouldn’t you say?”

“You call this spectacular?” You fling your arms towards Zhongli, and Ningguang follows your gaze to see Childe dragging his finger through the icing on Zhongli’s jacket and popping it into his mouth. “I’m surprised you’re not in hiding right now. Yelan hates when people get rowdy at her place.”

“Yelan’s been dying for an excuse to redecorate. I’m sure she might have pushed Zhongli herself if she’d been given the idea.” She takes a long sip from the martini she’s been nursing—likely poured from Yelan’s private liquor cabinet. “Well? You better have an excellent reason for making us disrupt the entire party like that.”

“I didn’t make Beidou push Zhongli through the dessert table! I texted you because I was hoping for a bit more of a subtle touch.”

She lifts one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “I suppose that’s your own error—not thinking Beidou would involve herself somehow.”

You can’t really argue that.

“Just what was so dire that you needed to ask such a favour?” she asks.

“Alhaitham and I nearly got trapped listening to Childe and Lumine get it on in the pool room,” you mutter, and Ningguang’s eyes widen.

“Wow, that would have been quite the predicament.” Her gaze turns calculating. It’s moments like these that remind you how you ended up friends with someone like Yae—you clearly have a type. “But what were the two of you doing in the pool room all by yourselves?”

The colour that floods your face at the memory of Alhaitham’s mouth on your neck makes it impossible to deny her insinuations. Still, you try, giving her a sarcastic smile and replying, “Swimming.”

She smirks. “Right.”

Ganyu approaches then, her coat slung across her arm and her keys dangling from her hand.

“Ready to go?” she asks.

“More than ready,” you sigh. You wave goodbye to Ningguang, blatantly ignoring her knowing smile, and follow Ganyu out the door.

“You missed quite the spectacle,” says Ganyu. “I don’t even understand how it happened! Clearly, Beidou had too much to drink, and it looked like she crashed into him somehow?”

“Sounds about right,” you say absently. The You from a few weeks ago would have been distracted by the growing tangle of confusion that is the Childe and Lumine saga.

Somehow, it’s not even on your radar.

Ganyu is already yawning by the time you make it to her car, so you’re not surprised that the ride passes in comfortable silence. Your phone sits in your lap like a dead weight—or perhaps a bomb, ready to detonate at one wrong move. You drum your fingers against the dashboard, fighting the mounting urge to text Alhaitham.

In the end, you cave.

You: How is Kaveh?

There, you think to yourself as you hit send. A nice, safe text with no possibility of being misconstrued. The reply comes several long minutes later, just as Ganyu is pulling into your parking lot.

Alhaitham: As intolerable as ever. He had the nerve to chew me out despite being the one to come to his rescue.

“Thanks for the drive,” you tell Ganyu as you exit the car.

She gives you a sleepy smile. “Of course! Get home safe!” With a final wave, she pulls away. As you watch her tail lights disappear down the road, you type out a reply.

You: Well, you did steal his keys, didn’t you? One could argue you’re sort of the root of the problem here.

Alhaitham: Is this payback for the whole roommate thing earlier?

You start the journey back to your house, smiling down at your phone as you walk.

You: Not sure what you mean. Maybe I just like taking Kaveh’s side.

Alhaitham : Right. And I’m sure that has nothing to do with getting under my skin, does it?

Your giggle echoes through the night air. You’re in the middle of typing out a reply when he sends another text that makes you stumble to a halt.

Alhaitham: I’m sorry I got carried away earlier. Try not to hold it against me.

You stare at your phone, pressing a hand to quell the swarm in your chest. All at once you’re transported back to that pool room, warmth flaring to life in all the places his hands had roamed. Even the air suddenly seems to hold the faint smell of chlorine.

A mountain of opportunity lies before you. You could shut this all down right here, brush it off as getting swept up in the moment. Or, the horrifying alternative—free of those piercing eyes that make it hard to focus, you could come clean about what you’ve been feeling.

You: An interesting choice of words.

Apparently, there was a secret third option: complete and total reckless stupidity.

The moment you hit send, you’re gripped with the urge to puke. You meant it as a light-hearted joke to poke fun at what happened, but even you can see how flirty and suggestive it comes across.

The pause between texts is just long enough to make you start to panic.

Alhaitham: Can you really blame me? It’s not like kissing you is some kind of chore.

So carefully worded. It feels less like you’re flirting and more like you’re playing chess, each word chosen like you’re both thinking five steps ahead at all times.

You: Just what every girl wants to hear—kissing you is not boring. Between that and me being “not hideous”, I’m sorry I ever doubted your romantic prowess.

Alhaitham: I could be more enthusiastic if you’d like. But without being there to put my mora where my mouth is, so to speak, it would feel a little cruel.

Your house looms ahead, cozy and familiar, but it does nothing to quash the feeling of careening into unknown territory. Heat creeps up the back of your neck, blooming across your face. It’s like your thumbs have a mind of their own, and the risky text is crafted and sent before you can think better of it.

You: Oh? And just what would you be doing to prove your enthusiasm if you were here?

You hurry up the walkway, as though fleeing from the inevitable reply. But as you fumble in your pockets for your house keys, Alhaitham’s reply comes and seals your fate.

Alhaitham: I know the kinds of books you read. I’m sure you’ve got a vivid imagination. But I’d probably start by putting my phone on silent.

The sound of your phone slipping from your fingers and hitting the deck might as well be a hammer driving the final nail through your coffin.

“sh*t,” you hiss, fumbling in the dark to find where it landed.

Light spills across the deck as the door wrenches open. You glance up to find Yae watching you, eyes narrowed in amusem*nt.

“Little tipsy, are we?” she asks.

You latch onto the easy lie. “A little.”

With the added light, you find your phone and shove it into your pocket like it’s in danger of biting you. Yae helps you to your feet. You follow her inside, chest heaving like you just ran a marathon. Of course, Yae is quick to notice.

“Did you run home?” she asks dryly. “I assumed Mr. Scholar would have come back with you for another slumber party.”

“He had to go help his roommate. What are you doing up so late?”

She pauses on her way towards the kitchen. A glass of red wine sits on the table next to a stack of red-addled manuscripts.

“Catching up on my reading,” she replies, but her answer is clearly an afterthought. She’s latched onto your sudden pivot in subject, and you can see the gears behind those violet eyes churning with fervor. “How was the party?”

“Fine.” You busy yourself with crossing into the kitchen and rifling aimlessly through the cupboards.

“Just fine?”

“Uneventful,” you add, but the hitch in your voice is a dead giveaway. You clear your throat and grab a glass to fill from the sink.

“Y/N…”

The warning in her tone causes you to lock up. The glass slips from your hands and into the sink with a loud clatter, but thankfully remains intact.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Yae goes on, coming to lean against the counter beside you. She folds her arms across her chest. “Normally I would mind my own business—”

You give her a skeptical look. She ignores it and keeps talking.

“But there’s clearly something troubling you. Teasing aside, if there’s something wrong, I feel obligated to help.” She frowns and gently touches your arm. “We are friends, you know. You can talk to me.”

“I…” To your horror, that single syllable comes out in a violent waver. Your breathing hitches as the panic begins crashing down on you in full force.

Something like sympathy flashes in Yae’s eyes, a far softer emotion than you’re used to seeing from her. And maybe it’s that rare display of the love you both share for one another that makes something in you crumble and you finally, finally snap.

“Emergency roommate meeting!” you exclaim.

Yae’s eyes widen.

Long, silent moments pass where the two of you just stare at each other. Then, Navia and Layla are all but tumbling down the stairs, the latter rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Tea and sweets, coming up,” says Navia, marching across the kitchen to fill the kettle.

“Comfy lighting initiated,” says Layla, shuffling to flick on the various lamps and string lights that decorate the common space.

Yae takes you by the hand and leads you towards the couch. As gingerly as though you were nursing an injury, she lowers you both down onto the cushions. Her hands remain firmly closed around yours as she meets you with an even, comforting stare.

“Tell us everything," she gently demands.

And so, like millions of gallons of water bursting from a dam, you do as she says and spill your miserable guts.

Chapter 10: spiral

Chapter Text

You’re not sure what time it is by the time you finish explaining the saga of the last month of your life. Checking your phone is out of the question, since that would mean being forced to confront the reckless string of texts that prompted this whole conversation.

At the very least, it’s still dark outside.

“Allow me to summarize to make sure we’re all on the same page,” says Yae. Unsurprisingly, she’s the calmest of the three right now. Even sleepy Layla is wide awake at the shocking revelation, and Navia…

Well, it’s hard for you to look Navia in the eye right now. It’s clear she’s pretty hurt you lied to her, considering the only sign she’s even tuned in to what’s happening right now is the fact that she’s gotten up to refill the cookie plate at least three times.

“Please do,” you mumble in response to Yae.

She taps her chin. “You and Alhaitham hated each other. Your advisor shoved you together on a project. He inexplicably jumped to your defense when Childe was trying to meddle in your love life, and then you were forced to maintain a fake relationship so as not to end up humiliated, correct?”

“Yep.”

“But then matters grew complicated when you suspected Childe of cheating on his current girlfriend. Shenanigans ensued, during which you came to realize that perhaps all of the faked kisses and flowery words weren’t so fake after all.”

You caution a look at Navia. Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth, eyes locked onto the floor.

“And all of this culminated tonight in a steamy, spectacular kiss and now you’re not sure where you stand.”

You reach for a cookie on the coffee table, even though you’ve eaten so many at this point that you might puke.

“Pretty much.”

Yae claps her hands excitedly. “Oh, this is too juicy. The fake dating, the rivals to lovers—you two are checking off too many tropes to count. If you’re ever interested in selling this story to the publishing house I’m sure I could find a ghostwriter—”

You scowl at her. “This is not helping. I need advice, not a publishing deal.”

“It is advice. Sound, logical, financial advice. If what you actually want is coddling, then Navia is your girl.”

“Hey .” Navia sends her a reproachful frown.

Yae ignores her. “You know, I thought there was something suspicious about this whole thing. I’ll admit, you put on a pretty convincing show at times, but don’t think I didn’t catch all of those sneaky little glares you always tried so hard to hide.”

You sigh. “Alhaitham said the same thing.” You finally gather the courage to look Navia in the eye, only to find her looking so much like a wounded puppy that it makes you want to burst into tears. “Can you please say something?” you plead.

Navia breathes a resigned sigh through her nose. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. I’m hurt you didn’t tell me.”

You force yourself not to drop your eyes. “I know.”

“But…”

“But?” You perk up with hope.

“It sounds like you haven’t had the easiest time,” she relents. The ice in her expression melts a little.“I knew…I knew something was bothering you. If you thought that it wasn’t something you could tell me, I…”

“It’s not like that at all,” you say. “It’s just…it all happened so fast, you know? And then suddenly everyone knew, and I had to keep track of this secret, plus the Childe and Yelan thing and it just…”

“Wow,” Layla breathes. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It really does,” says Navia. Her face softens with sympathy, which makes the guilt tightening your throat even worse. She shouldn’t feel sorry for you after such a colossal lie. But Navia is far too nice for her own good, and she’s never been able to hold a grudge for very long. “So, what about Childe? Is he really cheating on Lumine?”

“I don’t even know anymore.” You rub your eyes, which have begun to sting. “At this point, I don’t even think I have the mental capacity to care. It’d be one thing if I could just chalk this all up to a spontaneous thing, but after the texts Alhaitham sent me—”

Yae perks up. “Oh? Texts?”

You clutch your phone to your chest. “Absolutely not.”

“Come, now.” Her expression has turned borderline gleeful. “How do you expect us to help if we don’t have the full picture?”

Layla leans forward eagerly. “I wanna see! I wanna see!”

“Need I remind you I know your phone passcode?” says Yae.

Your jaw locks. “I changed it.”

But she simply gives you a feline grin, and you sigh and hand your phone to her. To your immense relief, she doesn’t put you through the torture of reading them out loud. She scrolls through the conversation once, twice, until finally, after the third time, she passes the phone to Layla. She watches you while Layla reads, eyes glittering with faint mischief, but her expression stays otherwise neutral.

Layla hums in surprise when she’s finished. Her wide, amber eyes flick briefly to you before handing the phone to Navia. The silence eats you alive, but you wait patiently as Navia takes her turn reading. She’s the least capable of controlling her reaction, and the longer she reads, the higher and higher her eyebrows raise.

“Oh,” she says finally. There’s a long pause as she stares at the screen. Her voice is high and strained as she continues, “It’s…well…”

Yae scoffs. “Don’t beat around the bush. I can’t believe you had the nerve to tell us you’re not sure where you stand after this.”

You bristle. “What do you mean?”

“He clearly has the hots for you. I don’t know what’s so confusing.” When you try to splutter through a response, face burning, she rolls her eyes and continues, “Tell me—in all your clever scheming to make this plot of yours work, I’m guessing he gave you some sort of indication of how he behaves in a real relationship?”

“He told me he doesn’t really date,” you reply. “That anything besides a casual physical relationship is nothing more than a distraction to his academic career.” You can’t help from bitterly mimicking that arrogant tone of his, even though Yae looks at you like you’ve proven some kind of point.

“How charming,” she says instead. “A typical college-aged male only interested in sex, then. I thought him more mature than that.”

“W-Well…” You cut off with a frown, suddenly flustered. “No, I didn’t say that. You make him sound so…”

“Unsavoury?” Layla helpfully suggests.

“He’s not,” you insist. “He just doesn’t want the distraction of a girlfriend, and it’s not like I really blame him for that, but—“

Yae’s eyebrows raise. “Girlfriend? An interesting word. So the issue is that you want more than he’s willing to give?”

“I never said that either.”

“Well, what are you saying? Because if the issue is you’re not sure if he’s physically attracted to you beyond this little game you’ve been playing, then I believe these texts prove otherwise. But if you think you’re falling in love with him…” She trails off, leaving that horrific implication dangling in the air.

“I’m not in love with him,” you say firmly, but something in your chest twists when it comes out feeling like a lie. It doesn’t help matters that Yae is staring you down like a hungry lion.

“Sure,” is all she eventually says. “Alright, well, setting aside his disappointingly cliche views on romance, what else did he say?”

“Well, he did tell me he’s…” Your face heats up at the memory. Straightforward with his desires. When you think about how plainly he’s stated that in the past, your whole dilemma sort of falls apart, doesn’t it? Still, you swallow loudly and clarify, “He said that if two people are attracted to each other, and there are no extenuating circ*mstances…”

Yae rolls her eyes. “Great. So he basically hit you over the head with the facts and you’re still not sure? I agree with him, by the by. If there are no extenuating circ*mstances—”

“Of course, there are!” you protest.

She levels you with a calm look. “Very well. Let’s hear them.”

“He’s…it’s…” Every reason you’d previously come up with is now conveniently absent. “He’s Alhaitham. I’ve complained enough about him in the past for that to be reason enough, okay? He’s an asshole, he’s arrogant, he’s…he’s—”

“Smart, capable, attractive,” Yae counters. “You could do worse. But none of that really matters, does it? Seeing as you’re so insistent that you’re not in love with him.”

“L-Let’s put that extreme to the side for now,” says Navia. “Forget love. Do you even like him? After all this is said and done, if he were to ask you on a real date, what would you say?”

You hesitate, which everyone seems to agree is answer enough, since they all exchange sympathetic looks with each other. But you still feel obligated to answer, so you say, “It doesn’t matter. That would never happen. He’s made that clear.”

When Yae lets out an impatient sigh at that, Navia hurries on, “Are you so sure? From the sound of things, he’s done way more for you than would be expected of any fake boyfriend. Couldn’t it be true that he’s having this same dilemma?”

“None of that is real.” Even you don’t believe the words, flat and half-hearted as they are. You try to force a bit more conviction into your voice. “That’s the problem. It doesn’t matter if I like him or want to date him because those feelings are just based on a lie he’s created for the sake of this stupid arrangement. Otherwise, why wouldn’t I have fallen for him before now? I know who he really is, and this attentive, doting boyfriend is the furthest thing from it.”

“If you really believe that,” says Yae, in a tone that suggests she certainly doesn’t, “then don’t date him. But at the very least, he’s just as sexually frustrated as you. I mean, I doubt he’s getting any if he’s trapped in this arrangement. You both might as well make the best of it.”

“The best of it?” you repeat, baffled. “You think I should just…what? Hook up with him?”

“Talking in circles around whether you do or don’t have feelings for him isn’t going to do a lick of good,” she insists. “Some physical release might be just what you need to gain some clarity on the matter.”

The silence that follows such a bold suggestion sounds entirely too much like everyone is actually giving this some thought. You scramble for something to say—an argument as to why this is a horrible, horrible idea, but your mind is too busy sifting through the sudden flood of highly provocative images the suggestion has summoned.

It’s a horrible idea.

Horrible.

“Oh, just talk to him!” Navia exclaims, and the rare outburst startles you out of your very vivid daydream. “You’re working on a project about language, are you not? You should be experts on it. How about using it and just plainly telling him your honest feelings?”

You blink in shock. It’s not like Navia is sunshine and roses all the time—you’ve particularly seen her nastier side come out when dealing with assholes at the bar not leaving you or your friends alone. But it’s rare to have that temper trained on you, and it leaves you sweating a bit.

“What would I even say?” you say at last.

“It’s like she said,” says Layla with a shrug. “You’re the expert, aren’t you? What’s the worst that could happen?”

You give her a dry look. “Oh, let’s see—he could laugh in my face, he could get completely weirded out, he could be the smug asshole he usually is and use it as an opportunity to torment me into an early grave. Oh, best of all, he could decide that this whole charade is more trouble than it’s worth and just say ‘f*ck the wedding’—”

“Or he could be understanding,” says Navia. “He could feel the same. Would that really be so horrible?”

Horrible, no. Horrifying, on the other hand…

It’s like Navia can see your train of thought, because she firmly but gently continues, “Quit overthinking it! Forget about the outcome. Just start by talking to him. I’m not saying you have to have it all figured out. Who knows? Maybe talking it through with him will help things become clearer, you know?”

“Y-Yeah…” You mumble, but then a wave of determination crashes over you. “Yeah. You’re right. Why am I getting so worked up about this? It’s Alhaitham. I’ve never cared what he thought about me before, so why should I start now?”

Navia looks a bit nervous. “Well, that’s not exactly what I said—”

“No, no, I get it.” You stand, cookie crumbs flying onto the floor with the abrupt movement. “I just need to air everything out. We’re both adults. It’ll be embarrassing to admit that I got a little caught up in the act, but I can handle a little ridicule.”

“I think you’re ignoring a very important factor here,” says Yae. “Namely the fact that he was about ten seconds away from having his way with you against a brick wall.”

Colour rushes to your face at how bluntly she puts it. “I’m not ignoring anything. So what if we made out a little? Why does that have to mean something?”

“Wow,” says Layla in amazement. “When did the slip into full denial happen? Did I fall asleep and miss something?”

“I think it’s more of a ‘blink and miss it’ situation,” says Navia.

“You’ve all been an immense help,” you say, not bothering to hide the fact that you’re just blatantly changing the subject. “I mean it. It’s been…it’s been really overwhelming having to keep this all bottled up. I’m really sorry that I lied to you all.”

Yae waves a hand. “It was entertaining trying to put the pieces together, really. I thought maybe there was some blackmail involved, or perhaps you’d lost a bet. I should have known it was simply the oldest romantic plot device in the book.”

“I think she means, ‘we forgive you’,” says Layla with a sleepy smile.

Navia stands, crossing the room so she can gently squeeze your arm. “You’ll never have to hide anything from us. We’re like family, right? Family looks out for each other. You can tell us anything.”

And maybe it’s just because you’re so tired you can hardly see straight, but the words cause your eyes to mist over with tears.

“I know. Thank you. And I promise, I’m not ignoring your advice! I’ll take every bit of it into consideration. In fact, I’m going to text Alhaitham first thing tomorrow!”

You don’t bother getting offended at the doubtful look the three of them share at that, especially since it ends up being totally justified. It’s well past noon by the time you wake up the next day, and you find yourself locked in a daze, staring at your phone screen and poring over that last message again and again.

I’d probably start by putting my phone on silent.

How are you even supposed to follow something like that up? Especially now that the heat of the moment has died and you're left with pure, cold, fear.

By the time Monday morning rolls around, you still haven’t responded to him. Such a task seems even more daunting in the harsh light of day, as though the sunlight brings stark relief to every single reason why that kiss was a horrible mistake.

It doesn’t matter what your roommates think. This isn’t denial. It’s reality. It’s not that you haven’t given their advice some serious thought—Navia’s heartfelt sentiments, Yae’s more…passionate suggestions. Both have their merits, but both fail to really cut down to the heart of the matter—they just don’t know Alhaitham like you do. Sure he can fake a bit of charm, and the physical attraction is undeniable. And his baffling willingness to go out of his way to help you like a real boyfriend certainly complicates things.

None of that changes the fact that you two are simply too different. You’ve clashed too many times in the past, and once this whirlwind of lust and romance settles like the pesky dust it is, it’ll inevitably start to happen again. You’ve already seen how insecure you can get when it comes to relationships, especially with someone as cool and capable as Alhaitham. And Alhaitham certainly won’t have the patience to coddle you or tiptoe around your hurt feelings. In time, his blunt, no-bullsh*t approach to advice will feel less like a breath of fresh air and more like casual cruelty.

It’s all just an illusion. The farther you get from that hot, steamy pool room, the more logic returns to the equation and the more obvious that all becomes. Hell, Alhaitham is probably thinking the exact same thing. And as the weekend hours whittle away to nothing, you cycle through all of those cold, painful truths, repeating them to yourself like a depressing mantra, until you’ve finally managed to convince yourself that the conversation you’re going to have with him will be nothing less than calm, productive, and sobering. You’re fully resolved to stop this madness before it can fully begin.

Then you see him waiting outside Lisa’s office Monday morning, and every one of those truths flies out of your head.

He’s leaning against the wall across from her door, the cold grey light of early morning streaming through the windows and making his colouring seem even paler than usual. He lifts his head as you approach, blinking in surprise.

Why does he have to be so damn beautiful?

Neither of you speaks, staring at each other in stunned silence—even though you obviously knew you’d be seeing each other at this meeting. But you suppose in your mind, you’d pictured the strict, professional setting of Lisa’s office, the structured meeting with no room for awkward small talk.

Who were you kidding? Of course Lisa is late to a morning meeting. You don’t even know why she bothers setting them anymore.

“Morning,” Alhaitham says eventually. His voice is still a bit sleep-rough. The sound of it doesn’t do your nerves any favours.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of every potential flaw of your appearance—every hair out of place, every blemish on your face, the way your clothes hang from your body. You put an appropriate amount of effort into your appearance for a meeting with your advisor, but could it still somehow look like you just rolled out of bed?

“Hi.” You move to lean against the doorframe across from him, subtly smoothing down your hair as you do. You fight for something else to say, but even that single syllable was a chore to spit out.

Alhaitham watches you carefully for a moment before holding out a tray you didn’t realize he was carrying. It holds a single coffee—his own cup rests atop the windowsill beside him.

“You got me a coffee?” you ask, throat tightening.

He shrugs. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Kaveh was up late hammering away at one of his projects. I thought it’d be rude to show up with just one.”

You cautiously accept the coffee, watching as he tosses the tray into the nearby trash can and then grabs his own cup to drink from.

“Thank you,” you manage, taking a small sip. As expected, it’s perfect. That chain around your heart tightens a bit more. You clear your throat and nod towards the door. “Classic Lisa, right? What was she thinking, scheduling a meeting first thing Monday morning?”

Alhaitham snorts. “Ever the optimist.”

The silence falls again, heavier than the last. Alhaitham sips casually enough from his coffee, but you can sense the tension in his frame building. Your free hand fidgets with the zipper of your jacket while you scramble for something to say.

You both seem to find the words at the exact same moment.

“I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“I’m sorry if what I said was—”

You both fall silent again. Perhaps it’s your imagination, but there seems to be a faint bloom of colour in Alhaitham’s cheeks. That could also just be wishful thinking for an even playing field, since you’re certain you’ve turned the shade of a strawberry.

“Go ahead,” says Alhaitham.

“No, no. You go.”

He remains silent, eyes locked onto the wall behind you. There’s a stubborn pull to his jaw that tells you he’s probably not going to break and speak first. You count your breaths, gathering the courage to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you say slowly, avoiding eye contact, “that I never texted you back.”

He only answers after a long, loaded pause.

“You didn’t? I never noticed.”

You give him an exasperated look. “Oh, sure.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he goes on, keeping up that forced, casual air. Those teal eyes stare out at you from over the rim of his coffee cup. “I…got a little carried away. That punch must have been stronger than I thought. I doubt it was even safe for me to have driven myself home.”

You smother the sharp spike of disappointment the words cause. Is it delusional to think that maybe he’s just doing the same thing you are? That the distance between this hallway and that pool room is ample enough for him to have had the time to craft all of these justifications? You know for a fact that the punch wasn’t that strong, and you drank more than he did.

“The punch,” you echo. “Sure.”

He watches you carefully, as though waiting to see which of you will be the first to break. This standoff is as good as a mutual confession, but neither of you seems able to man up and say the words out loud. Navia’s earnest advice rings through your ears.

Quit overthinking it! Forget about the outcome. Just start by talking to him.

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe it’s time you stop overthinking things.

You push off from the wall and take a few hesitant steps towards him. Alhaitham tenses slightly, like a prey animal caught in the sights of a predator. Funny, really, since the frantic pattering of your own heartbeat makes you feel like a frightened rabbit caught in the jaws of a coyote. You pause just in front of him, chewing on your lip as you give him a thoughtful stare.

“That look is never a good sign,” he says with soft amusem*nt.

“I just think…maybe it was more than just the punch. I think maybe we’ve both been feeling a little…”

His mouth quirks to the side. “Pent up?”

You hum your agreement, eyes suddenly glued to his mouth.

“Maybe you’re right,” he relents. “Maybe I’m just running out of excuses to kiss you.”

You suck in a startled breath at the bluntness of it. Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze, and then you’re both just silently staring at each other, saying everything and nothing at the same time.

“I…I guess…” You swallow, trying to return substance to your voice. “I guess there are worse urges to have, right?”

Alhaitham’s eyes narrow—not in displeasure, really, but in concentration, like this conversation is a massive jigsaw puzzle that he’s having trouble finding the proper pieces for. And in fact, much like someone to whom puzzles are life’s greatest joy, there’s a certain satisfaction to his expression. He’s finding joy in this dance as much as it’s vexing him.

There’s already such little distance between you, but he steps forward to fill what remains. His free hand brushes against yours as he audibly swallows.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, searching your face, “I suppose there are.”

And this time it’s Yae’s advice that rings in your ears, and you can’t stop your mind from wandering. You trace idle circles against his palm, remembering how it felt to have that palm roaming across your body. You’re picturing every spot his lips have ever touched, and all the places they haven’t yet. God, you really shouldn’t be picturing any of this at a time and place like this, but your traitorous mind won’t give you a break.

Footsteps round the corner, accompanied by a loud yawn. Your instinct is to jump away from him, but you fight it down. It’s not so strange for Lisa to find you snuggled up to someone you’re allegedly dating, after all. Still, Alhaitham clears his throat and lets his hand drop.

This really is getting out of hand. It’s only 8 AM and you’re already in need of a cold shower.

“Good morning, cuties,” Lisa mumbles. She’s balancing a thermos on top of a stack of books and paperwork, and she shifts it all to one hand as she begins fumbling in her coat pocket for her keys.

“Allow me.” Alhaitham takes the pile from her just as it’s about to all go toppling onto the floor.

She gives him a sleepy smile. “Thanks. At least one of us has it together this morning.”

“Rough night?” you ask. You try not to sound too eager as you add, “We could have pushed the meeting, you know.”

As Lisa unlocks her office, Alhaitham raises an eyebrow at you that you choose to ignore.

“If only,” Lisa sighs, beckoning you inside. “There’s simply too much work to get done before the conference next week. That’s partially what this meeting is about—I wanted to see if you could both pitch in and help.”

“Of course,” you say without thinking. “Whatever you need.”

Alhaitham seems wary at whatever headache you’ve just agreed upon on his behalf, but you’re just hoping for a suitable distraction.

Lisa nods, dropping into the seat behind her desk with a dramatic flourish. She motions towards the empty seats. You and Alhaitham exchange a brief look before claiming your usual seats. You can see it in the flicker in his eyes—he’s also thinking of that day in March, when Lisa slapped you together on this project and everything changed.

Lisa, oblivious to the tension, takes a long sip of her tea. She sighs contentedly and then logs into her computer. When a barrage of email notifications begin to ping, she groans and rubs her temples.

“How’s the presentation coming along?” she asks.

“Just about finished,” Alhaitham replies. “It was a little tricky pulling it together with the project itself still being incomplete, but I think we did a fine job regardless.”

“Alhaitham did most of the heavy lifting,” you admit. “I just made it sound pretty.”

He sips his coffee. “That’s half the battle.”

You know Lisa must be tired, because she doesn’t latch onto the opportunity to poke fun at that exchange of compliments.

“I can’t wait to hear it. And don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to practice at the convention center before the day of the presentation.” She types for a few seconds on her keyboard, squinting at the screen. “Now that the conference is only a week away, I’m going to forward you both the itinerary. Our plane out to Mondstadt leaves Monday morning at 6 AM—”

“Lisa,” you groan.

She grimaces. “I know. It was out of my hands. Anyway, our flight back will be Thursday at noon. I’ve signed us up for several workshops and presentations, and I’ve forwarded you the schedules for those as well.”

“Sounds enriching,” says Alhaitham.

“What sort of prep work do you need?” you ask.

By the time the meeting is finished, you regret asking. Lisa provides each of you with a laundry list of tasks to accomplish—errands to run, people to reach out to, organizations to research. The list ranges from outside the realm of your responsibilities (Alhaitham gets handed a stack of papers to grade) to wildly inappropriate personal chores (apparently picking up Lisa’s dry cleaning is crucial to the conference’s success).

The sun is near-blinding on the glossy hardwood floors by the time you and Alhaitham step into the hallway. The moment Lisa’s office door shuts behind you, his professional, rigid posture slumps.

“As if we don’t have enough to do,” you mutter in agreement.

Alhaitham checks his watch. “Wanna grab lunch?”

You lock up, then immediately force your posture to relax. Lunch after a Monday morning meeting is something that’s become second nature since starting this project, so it shouldn’t be so weird for him to ask. Still, that would mean having to sit through a conversation with him and act normal, without even the distraction of doing work involved. And even though you’d built up your resolve to address this damn elephant in the room, being close to him seems to have smashed that resolve to smithereens.

“I would, but I have some work to catch up on for another class,” you say, hoping it sounds casual enough despite being an obvious lie.

Alhaitham scrunches his nose. “We have those?”

You huff a laugh. “Shocking, I know.”

“Well, no trouble.” If he sees through your lie—which you’re sure he does—he doesn’t let on. He taps the thick stack of papers in his hand. “I should get a start on these anyway.

“Doesn’t the Akademiya give Lisa a budget for a TA?”

He rolls his eyes. “Knowing her, she wasted it on expensive teas.”

Your soft laughter is short-lived, and then you’re both left stewing in that awful, loaded silence again. You dig your nails into your palms, gathering up the will to break it—

“Well…” says Alhaitham again. “See ya.”

You blink as he gives you a short wave and then, tucking the papers under his arm, heads down the hall. The moment he rounds the corner, you press a hand to your forehead and groan.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

It’s strange, you think to yourself, how many little, inconsequential things you’ve come to learn about Alhaitham. For example, you know he’d never be caught dead eating in the campus cafeteria, so that’s exactly where you end up going to avoid him. You’re still so distracted by that disaster of a conversation that you don’t really pay attention to what you pile on your tray, and it’s only when you plop yourself down at a table in the corner of the cafeteria that you’re able to fully take stock—a cup of fruit, a smattering of french fries, and a piece of plain, untoasted bread.

It’s all about going through the motions, anyway. You’re hardly even hungry.

You push fries around on your plate, staring at your phone and waiting…waiting for what? For Alhaitham to text you? How pathetic is that? If that kiss in the pool room taught you anything, it’s that it doesn’t matter what’s going through his head right now. He’s just going to sit back and let you suffer, going to wait for you to grow the nerve to text him first.

Well, it’s not going to happen. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction.

…

…But wouldn’t hashing this out over text be easier? You’d have all the time in the world to carefully craft each response, and without his physical presence lighting up all the wrong switches in your brain, it wouldn’t be so easy to chicken out.

But don’t you owe it to him to have such an important conversation face-to-face? He’ll probably lose all respect for you for taking the coward’s way out.

No, that settles it. You won’t text him. You’re not going to think about it at all, actually. If he texts you, he texts you. You aren’t going to sit around waiting for—

Your phone buzzes and you nearly drop it in your hurry to check the notification. Disappointment floods through you when you realize it's just a text from your roommate group chat.

Navia: Did you talk to him????

You sigh, forlornly chewing a fry as you type out a response.

You : Nope. I completely chickened out. And actually, we somehow made it even *more* complicated by just flirting with each other and beating around the bush even more. I feel like I’m right back at square one.

Yae: My god, woman. If you’re not going to be honest about your feelings, then just jump his bones already. You’re not going to solve any of this pent-up tension until you sleep together.

You: Real helpful, Yae. That might be how you and Ei solve your problems, but I don’t think that’s going to work here.

Layla: Actually, she might have a point. Sometimes actions speak louder than words—and you don’t seem to have very many of those right now.

You gape at your phone. Layla agreeing with Yae? You wonder what strange misalignment of stars and planets is to blame for such an anomaly.

You: Navia, I’m desperately depending on you to be the voice of reason right now.

When she doesn’t immediately answer, you know you’ve already lost. And indeed, when her response bubble pops up, you slump down in your chair, defeated.

Navia: You obviously shouldn’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But…it does sort of make sense. If you’re so certain a “relationship” is out of the question, maybe you should just get it out of your system. You don’t seem too capable of following *my* advice, anyway.

You: How can I be certain Yae hasn’t commandeered all of your phones? I think we need to establish a code word.

Yae: A sound idea. What should the code word be? Cowardice? Lovelorn? We could go for a full phrase to be extra safe. I rather like the sound of “Y/N is in total denial about being emotionally and sexually repressed” don’t you?

You: I’m muting this chat now.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

Thankfully, the week flies by in a flurry of activity. Lisa seemed to underestimate how much preparation was going to be required of her for this conference, so you and Alhaitham end up spending valuable research hours running countless errands for her.

Even though your text thread has been unbearably dry, thankfully Alhaitham has at least been finding the time to wrap up all of his assigned sections in the document and email you any last-minute clarifications. That disconnect hurts your brain, like the people working on this presentation and the people clumsily navigating such complicated feelings are two separate entities. You’re not sure how you’d even begin to try and meld them together, so despite your best efforts, your exchanges remain totally professional.

For the most part, this system is working. Alhaitham is probably far too busy himself to care that you haven’t texted him. Sure, maybe you’re a little anxious that his silence equates to hurt feelings, but you try to squash down that fear.

It doesn’t work for long.

Lisa’s been emailing you all week, adding to her list of needs. You’re not sure how picking up lunch for her is relevant to the conference, and in fact, you’ve already long since concluded that she’s taking advantage of your willingness to help, but you actually don’t mind. At least it’s keeping you busy.

Friday afternoon, you’re at Spina di Rosula, having just paid for Lisa’s favourite cheese scones and chatting with Navia, when a familiar voice interrupts you.

“Afternoon, Y/N!”

Cyno and Tighnari approach the counter, both giving you a friendly wave.

“Oh, hey guys,” you greet them. “What brings you to campus?”

“Cyno is campus security,” says Navia, giving him a warm smile. “He’s in here all the time. How do you know each other?”

“Cyno and Tighnari are Alhaitham’s friends,” you explain. You turn back to the two and say, “And Navia is my roommate! What a small world.”

Navia raises her eyebrows at that revelation, but graciously says nothing. Instead, she grins at Cyno and says, “Your usual almond squares?”

Cyno nods towards Tighnari. “Make it two orders.”

“Right away!” Navia pushes off from the counter to get his order prepared.

“I had no idea you worked on campus, Cyno,” you say, shifting your grip on the paper bag of scones.“Alhaitham never told me.”

Tighnari rolls his eyes. “Shocker.”

“I’m mostly just surprised I’ve never seen you around.”

“I mostly work overnights,” he explains. “I usually see Navia first thing in the morning when I’m finishing a shift. Today’s my day off, so I thought I’d treat Tighnari to some of her infamous squares.”

“She really is infamous,” you say with a laugh. “It seems like everyone I know comes to this bakery, student or not.”

“Even Alhaitham speaks highly of her baking,” says Tighnari with a vague sense of awe. “Any praise from him is high praise indeed, so I’ve been dying to try it.”

“Speaking of Alahitham…” Cyno’s tone is a bit too casual. “How are things with you two, anyway?”

The question shouldn’t make you lock up the way that it does. Cyno is his friend, so it makes sense for him to pry a little. But there’s a loaded edge to his voice that makes you immediately suspicious.

“F-Fine. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” says Tighnari calmly. He gives Cyno a sharp look. “I told you it’s nothing.”

“What’s nothing?” you say, pulse stuttering. “Is something…did he mention something?”

“It’s nothing,” Tighnari repeats. “Kaveh was just complaining about him, and—well, you know how Kaveh gets. He was probably overblowing the whole thing like usual.”

Navia returns then with the squares, and you can feel her eyes boring into you with curiosity as she catches the tail end of the conversation.

“What was he overblowing?” you press.

“Apparently Alhaitham’s been a lot more irritable this week than usual,” says Cyno. “Snapping at Kaveh over every little thing. It’s not like that’s unusual, but usually it seems like he’s doing it for fun, not because he’s actually upset.”

“He’s upset?” Your heart has climbed so far up your throat that you’re worried it’s about to fall out of your mouth.

“Kaveh assumed you’d gotten into a fight,” Tighnari admits. “But judging by that surprised look on your face, maybe not.”

“He’s probably stressed from all that prep work for the conference,” Navia chimes in—thank god, since you’re at a complete loss for words right now. “Even I’ve been exhausted watching Y/N run around completing all these tasks.”

Tighnari frowns. “Wow, that does sound exhausting. I’ve heard Alhaitham complain about your thesis advisor before, so it definitely tracks.”

“If anything,” Navia goes on, “he’s probably upset that he and Y/N haven’t been spending much time together this week!”

You slide a thinly veiled glare her way. She meets you with an oblivious, sunny smile.

“I’m glad to hear it,” says Cyno, and indeed, his posture seems to relax a bit. “Alhaitham being in a foul mood is something we’ve all had plenty of time to get used to. But if there was something wrong between the two of you…”

You hold your breath. “What?”

“We’re just happy for him,” says Tighnari with an earnest smile. “This week aside, he’s actually been in a better mood than usual. I can only assume we have you to thank for that.”

You can’t manage a single word to say to that. Cyno seems to sense your sudden discomfort because he clears his throat before offering Navia a small smile.

“My thanks as always for the squares. I’ll see you next week.”

“Of course!” she replies brightly. “Until then!”

The two of them wave goodbye to you—at least that’s something you can bring yourself to reciprocate—before exiting the bakery. You watch them retreat through the window, and it’s only when they vanish from view that you turn and give Navia a panicked look.

“What did I tell you?” she says, looking sympathetic, but unsurprised.

“It’s a coincidence,” you insist. “You said it yourself—he’s probably just annoyed that Lisa is running him so ragged.”

“I also think I said something about him wanting to spend time with you,” she says. A timer dings somewhere in the back of the bakery and she checks her watch. “It doesn’t take a genius to see you’ve been avoiding him—and I’m pretty sure you’ve mentioned multiple times that he is one of those."

“But—”

“I have pies to take out of the oven.” She hurries away from the counter. “Talk later!”

And with that, you’re left alone with your racing thoughts. You still have to deliver the scones to Lisa, and the long walk to her office gives you plenty of time to spiral.

Could he really be upset that you’ve been avoiding him? That doesn’t seem very in character for him, but you suppose you’ve never had much of a glimpse into how he behaves when you’re not around. All you know is the surly, irritable scholar, or the overconfident, teasing boyfriend. Insecurity and doubt have never really seemed like something that could factor into the equation for him.

The entire week has been a seesaw of wanting to cave and reach out to him, and colossally chickening out. This is the closest you’ve been to breaking.

In the end, you do.

You: Has Lisa managed to succeed in cracking the impenetrable fortress of your sanity yet?

The attempt at humour feels so forced and desperate that you can’t help but cringe. But there’s no taking the message back, so you’re left to stew for the rest of the day while you wait for a response, checking your phone every time you get a rare moment of reprieve.

You don’t get much of a chance to debrief with Navia or any of your other roommates. You’re so exhausted by the time you make it home that night—far later than usual, at that—that you immediately crash. You awake late the next morning and find yourself fumbling to check your phone the moment you open your eyes.

Zero texts. You do have an email from Alhaitham, but it’s just a dry explanation about an adverb on a slide he minorly tweaked. Not a single reference to the pathetic attempt at conversation you sent.

It isn’t until Sunday night that all four of you have the opportunity to discuss the situation once more, and by that point, the panic has started to set in. You’re packing your suitcase for the conference—or rather, pacing around your room while it lay open and half-empty on your floor. Layla already retired to her room a while ago, claiming your circling was making her dizzy and sleepy. Navia and Yae are both perched on your bed and listening intently to your rambling.

“What am I supposed to do? I was supposed to have this whole situation aired out by now, but things are still weird and now I have to share not only a hotel room, but also probably a bed with him, since Lisa can’t be trusted not to meddle.” You shake your phone at them. “And this might as well be a hunk of rock, since it’s not like he’s texted me a single word since this all went down. I didn’t even have to say anything and he got weirded out anyway!”

“Right,” Yae says drily. “Alhaitham is the one who’s weirded out.”

“She has a point,” Navia reluctantly agrees. “Don’t you think maybe he’s just giving you space to figure things out? He did sort of leave the ball in your court.”

“This week has been chaos!” you snap. “I don’t have time for smacking balls around!” And because Yae smirks like she’s about to offer an incredibly unhelpful comment, you add, “Not a word about it.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” she pouts.

“Are you going to be okay presenting this project?” asks Navia. “It sounds like you haven’t had much time to practice or fine-tune anything.”

“The presentation is about the only thing I am confident about,” you reply. “Alhaitham’s been finishing up his end of the work, and we’ve been communicating through email on strictly work-related matters. Email. Like we’re nothing more than…than colleagues!”

Yae gives you a pointed look. “Until you suck it up and make the next move, that is all you are.”

“Just text him,” Navia agrees. “I mean, you heard his friends. He’s clearly not as unbothered as he’s pretending to be. Isn’t it kind of sweet that he’s so worked up?”

“Sweet,” says Yae. “Right. I’m sure his poor roommate he’s been using as a punching bag agrees.” Before Navia can refute that, Yae continues, “Anyway, it’s too late to text him at this point. It will make for a sleepless night and an awkward plane ride. Once you’re alone in your hotel room tomorrow night, there will be plenty of time for…talking.”

Heat rushes to your face at the mere thought. Navia scowls.

“That’s not helping, Yae.”

“I’m just telling her what she needs to hear.”

“Neither of you are helping!” you exclaim. “I need some time to myself to finish packing.”

Navia looks wounded. “But you asked us to be here.”

“And I love you both dearly for agreeing to listen to my incessant rambling. But if I keep talking in circles like this I’m going to drive all of us insane.”

Yae forces a loud yawn. “Oh, very well. I have an early day at the office tomorrow, anyway.” She gets off the bed and crosses the room, blowing you a kiss as she goes. “But I expect to receive hourly updates throughout the conference, understood?”

“She’s not going to have time for that, Yae,” says Navia, but as she follows Yae to the door, she gives you a conspiratorial nod that tells you she’s expecting exactly the same.

“Yes, yes.” You shoo them out the door, and only when it’s securely closed behind them do you let out a loud groan.

Well, at least Yae was right about one thing. You aren’t going to be getting a wink of sleep tonight.

Chapter 11: boiling point

Chapter Text

Your 4 AM alarm comes all too quickly—though it’s not like you got a wink of sleep anyway. You might as well have just stayed up and done something more productive with your time instead of straddling the line between sleep and waking, because now you’re just groggy and miserable.

The rest of the packing before bed flew by in a blur. You're pretty sure you remembered all the essentials—toiletries, underwear, professional clothing for the conference. But for all you know, you could be showing up with nothing more to wear than a pair of bunny pajamas.

You don’t even bother to turn any lights on, fumbling in the dark for a pair of joggers and a hoodie to wear on the plane. It’s a wonder you don’t tumble down the stairs as you attempt to drag your suitcase down in the pitch black. Yawn after yawn wracks your sluggish body.

You’re nearly blinded as your phone lights up with a text from Alhaitham—the first in over a week. You just stare at it, dumbfounded, the words nothing more than a mess of blurry text on the screen. Eventually you snap out of your daze and focus on the words themselves.

Alhaitham: Outside now. Obviously didn’t want to knock at this time of day. Cyno is waiting in the parking lot.

You don’t know why that startles you so much, but you actually jump a bit, whipping your head towards the door. Grabbing your suitcase in one hand and the tin of baking Navia left out for you in the other, you head towards the door.

Alhaitham is pacing along the walkway up to your house. He pauses at your approach, giving you a tight-lipped smile that you choose to attribute to the early hour.

“Morning,” you greet him, stifling another yawn.

He grabs your suitcase from you. “Morning.”

“Such a gentleman.”

He frowns and hefts its weight. “You realize this conference is only three days, right? Are you planning on starting a new life in Mondstadt?”

“Don’t tempt me.” You stretch your arms as the two of you begin walking, then rattle the tin towards him. “Navia baked us a little breakfast for our early morning. She took your suggestions about the spice in the spinach loaf to heart.”

“How thoughtful,” he says in surprise. “I can’t wait to try it.” You’re amazed at how genuine the words sound. It would seem not even Alhaitham is immune to the charms of Navia’s baking.

That wretched silence returns as you make your way towards the parking lot, but at least this time you can attribute it to the early morning. The text you sent him a few days ago flashes mockingly through your mind, daring you to bring it up, but is that really something you have time to unpack in the three minutes it’s going to take you to reach his car? Unless you feel like giving Cyno some entertainment this early in the morning.

You reach the car before you can ever make the decision yourself. Cyno waves at you from the driver’s seat as you slide into the back. He’s still wearing his security uniform, so he’s either just getting off a shift or on some sort of lunch break, you assume.

“Good to see you,” he greets, sounding much more alert than either you or Alhaitham.

“Likewise. Thanks for the drive.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he says. “I would have been awake either way.”

“It was this or letting Kaveh borrow my car,” Alhaitham agrees as he settles into the passenger seat.

Cyno sighs as he shifts the car into drive. “Thank you for saving the rest of us the headache that would cause from both ends.”

The drive to the airport is short, and passes in relative silence. Despite his clear efforts to appear put together at all times, it’s clear that Alhaitham isn’t much of a morning person, especially with the absence of caffeine. You end up thanking Cyno again for the both of you while Alhaitham moodily grabs your bags from the trunk.

Cyno waves off the gratitude. “Seriously, don’t mention it.” He glances over his shoulder before lowering his voice. “Here’s hoping he’s in a better mood this week.”

“Y-Yeah.” You force a smile as a sudden spike of anxiety attacks your empty stomach. The combination is enough to make you nauseous. “Here’s hoping.”

Lisa is nowhere to be seen as you check in for your flight and sleepily make your way through security. You can’t really decide if that’s a blessing or not. You’re sure that, despite her high likelihood to be just as exhausted as the rest of you, it would still be hard on the head to deal with her this early. On the other hand, her absence leaves ample room for that silence between you and Alhaitham to fester.

“Coffee?” you offer in a shot at normalcy.

Alhaitham’s posture relaxes. “Please.”

Maybe you’re a bit too eager to leave Alhaitham with the luggage and make a beeline to the airport cafe, but it’s nice to get a brief reprieve from the awkward tension. You order a black coffee for Alhaitham and a fancy latte for yourself, if only to prolong the respite.

Alhaitham makes a face as you return and hand him his cup.

“I don’t know how you can drink that much sugar this early in the morning,” he says. His first sip of coffee has him slumping down in his seat in relief.

The silence you fall into is more comfortable than before, now that you’re both happily caffeinated and have both devoured the loaf Navia packed you. The closer you get to boarding, the more nervous you grow at Lisa’s absence, but ten minutes before your boarding time you see her come flying around the corner in a whirlwind of over-stuffed bags and purple business casual.

Alhaitham checks his watch. “Cutting it a bit close, wouldn’t you say?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, breathless. “I made it in time, didn’t I?”

Not even the strain between you can stop you and Alhaitham from exchanging a weary look, silently saying the same thing:

It’s going to be a long three days.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

The flight is short and uneventful. You doze on and off against the window, dimly aware of Lisa chatting Alhaitham’s ear off—even though that ear is covered by his gold and green headphones. You awake as the plane is touching down, and then comes the groggy shuffle of retrieving luggage and disembarking. The hotel is just a short shuttle ride away from the airport, and you curiously gaze at the sign as you enter and check in.

“Grand Goth Hotel,” you recite. “Seems like it should be a bit spookier, no?”

“It’s the owner’s name,” says Alhaitham. You once thought he was just incapable of reading humour, but you’ve since learned that he just gets a kick out of pissing you off by taking things too literally.

You don’t let it bother you this time, instead choosing to take in your surroundings as Lisa speaks with the receptionist. Even though the exterior is a massive stretch of ivy and teal shingles, the interior somehow seems even bigger. The huge lobby is bustling with people, and you note that one wing seems to be dedicated to event-hosting—lounges, conference rooms, a restaurant, and so on.

“Here you are,” says Lisa, handing you two key cards. “We’re a couple rooms down from each other—I didn’t want to risk hearing anything I shouldn’t, so don’t you worry about being too loud.”

“Not appropriate,” says Alhaitham calmly, while you pray for the floor to open and swallow you whole.

After riding the elevator up several floors and making it to your room, that feeling has exponentially grown.

“I’m going to kill Lisa,” you say, your voice faint with mounting rage.

“Calm down.” Alhaitham’s cheek is pulled between his teeth like he’s trying his hardest to smother a smile. “It’s not so bad.”

You give him a withering glare, then fling your hands towards the state of your hotel room. The fact that there’s only one bed is to be expected. You would have been surprised if she had kept her word on that front. And anyway, it’s big enough that it shouldn’t cause too much embarrassment.

No, the bed is an obvious hurdle you were fully prepared for.

What you weren’t prepared for are the bright red rose petals littering every conceivable surface in the room, culminating in a heart-shaped pile on the bed.

“Not so bad?” you echo between teeth so clenched that they feel about to shatter. “It looks like f*cking Cupid threw up in here!”

Alhaitham snorts softly then wanders over to the sideboard, atop of which is a very expensive-looking bottle of wine with a note attached. He plucks the note off the bottle and squints down at it.

“For my two favourite lovebirds,” he reads in a dry tone. “ Here’s hoping you can spend some quality time together outside of your conference responsibilities. You know what they say about work and play, after all.”

You bury your face in your hands and groan.

“This is good wine,” says Alhaitham, giving the bottle a little shake. “If she’s going to shower us with expensive gifts, who cares if we have to put up with a little ridiculous behaviour?”

Easy for you to say, you think to yourself. You cross the room and drop your suitcase on the floor near the bed so you can start gathering up the rose petals. It is a pretty nice room, you have to admit. Large windows take up one wall, opening out onto a balcony that looks out over the city of windmills. And the bed is a big, fluffy king-sized, so at least you’ll both have ample room to yourselves.

“I’m going to take a quick shower before the panel starts,” says Alhaitham. He has his own bag flung open atop the dresser and is rifling through the contents for toiletries and a change of clothes. “Do you need in the bathroom before I do?”

You wave him off. “I’ll just use the mirror out here to get ready.”

He shrugs and heads into the bathroom. You’ve retrieved most of the errant petals by this point, but the mountain on the bed is more than you’re equipped to handle right now. You dump the petals into an unceremonious pile on the sideboard and then settle on the floor to take stock of your suitcase.

Well, at least you managed to pull three appropriate outfits together. You pull out your choice for today—black trousers and a white blouse. Nice and safe. Now, as long as you managed to pack a proper bra to wear underneath it, you’ll be two for two.

As you reach into the compartment with your undergarments, you freeze.

“Mother f*cker .” You can’t help the emphatic curse that slips out, and immediately snap your lips shut. But seeing as the shower isn’t running yet, Alhaitham naturally hears you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, poking his head out from the bathroom.

“I-It’s—”

For the second time in a ten-second span, you freeze. Alhaitham is dressed in nothing more than a fluffy white bath towel, hanging dangerously low on his hips. Your eyes cling to his abs against your will.

“Hello?” he says, sounding vaguely amused.

“Nothing.” You cough lightly and tear your eyes away. “I forgot my hairbrush. Put some damn clothes on if you’re going to come out here and talk to me.”

Maybe it’s just because it’s the first time you’ve been able to slip back into your usual banter in what feels like weeks, but a rare smile crosses his lips before he nods and ducks back into the bathroom.

If only you could relish that smile. Unfortunately, you’re too busy thinking of a particularly gruesome way to punish Yae for what she’s done to you. Because even though you’re certain you packed proper underwear, “someone” took it upon themselves to remove it all and replace it with slinky scraps of silk and lace in shades of vibrant crimson and pitch black. You rifle through the compartment, praying for one flash of a neutral colour or a full-coverage bra, but it’s looking more and more grim by the moment. Even your sleep clothes—basic, totally unsexy sweatpants—have been replaced by a silky pink babydoll slip with ridiculous feathers along the hem.

You grab your phone and furiously type out a message to Yae.

You: Did you seriously replace all my underwear with f*cking *lingerie*??????????

Her response is immediate, like she was just waiting for your realization.

Yae: Consider it a gift. It was quite expensive and non-refundable, so you better get my money’s worth out of it.

You: I’m going to kill you. This is an academic conference, not a honeymoon! What am I supposed to wear under my dress clothes?

Yae: The lingerie, naturally. I’m sure a scholar like Alhaitham is a sucker for the sexy librarian look. It’s going to be like all his birthdays have come at once.

You’re so blindingly enraged that you can’t even bring yourself to form a response, so you let your silence speak for itself. When the hell did she even have time to make such an elaborate switch? Then again, you weren’t paying too much to anything besides your own crisis while you were pacing a hole in your floor.

There’s a black, lacy bralette in the mix that would be far too revealing on its own, but thrown underneath your blouse, you suppose it could pass for a regular camisole.

It’s going to have to do. The brightly patterned sports bra you came here in isn’t going to cut it, either.

Alhaitham is quick to finish up in the shower, and by the time he makes it out—thankfully now dressed in a black undershirt and dress pants—you’re just about finished with your hair and makeup. He frowns as he watches you run a brush through your hair.

“I thought you said you forgot your brush.”

“Huh?” You dumbly stare at him for a moment before remembering your fib. “O-Oh, right. It was tucked into a shirt sleeve.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m going to change.” You gather up your clothes, carefully keeping the bralette stashed beneath the pile, and head into the bathroom.

A full ten minutes later, you’re still standing in the bathroom, the last shreds of your hope dwindling away. It’s no use. No matter how you tuck or tug on your blouse, the fabric is just sheer enough to leave the lace design of the bralette on full display. And with how warm the weather is forecasted to be this week, you never even thought to bring a blazer or sweater.

“Y/N?” Alhaitham’s muffled voice calls through the bathroom door. “Are you just about done? We’re going to be late.”

It dawns on you that you’re left with one, humiliating option.

Swallowing your pride, you wrench open the bathroom door.

Alhaitham stumbles back in surprise, blinking as he takes in your rigid posture and miserable expression. But then his gaze flicks down to your shirt—more specifically, to the flimsy lace visible beneath it. His cheeks flush slightly.

“I…don’t know how to tell you this,” he begins, “but, um—”

“I know,” you snap. “It’s a disaster. Would you believe Yae took it upon herself to meddle?”

“Ah.” He seems to be smothering a laugh. “Absolutely, I would.”

You groan into your hands. “She replaced everything I brought. This is the tamest thing in my suitcase—and all the tops I brought are light colours, so I can’t even change the shirt, a-and—”

“Calm down,” he says firmly. He crosses the room and rummages in his bag for a moment. When he returns to you, he’s holding a plain black scarf. “Just throw this on. The back is a lost cause, but I think covering the front is what you should be more concerned about anyway.”

“Won’t it look silly?” you worry, even as you take the scarf and sling it over your shoulders. He’s right—it hangs down either side of your chest and perfectly covers the…problem areas.

“We’ll come up with a better solution for tomorrow,” he promises dryly. “Right now, we need to go.”

You nod as you toy with the ends of the scarf, trying not to think too closely about how much it smells like him. As he begins ushering you towards the door, you twist around to ask, “Why did you even bring a scarf? The weather’s been so warm.”

“It’s been cold in the mornings,” he replies. “And unlike you, I prefer to make sure I’m prepared for anything. I mean, if you double-checked your luggage before leaving, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Yes mother,” you grumble, pausing to pull on your shoes. You pat down your pockets, making sure you have your phone and room key. “Normally I would, I was just…” You trail off when you realize the expectant way he’s watching you. You drop your gaze and finish in a mutter, “Distracted.”

He pauses at that, throat bobbing slightly. “Ah.”

You can’t even bring yourself to deny his assumptions—they’re right, after all. Instead, you sniff and move towards the door. “Anyway, we should—”

“What we should do,” he says slowly, awkwardly, “is talk about what happened. For real, this time.”

You force yourself to meet his eyes. “We don’t have to.”

“We don’t have to? Or you don’t want to?” He’s speaking in that calm, calculated tone that you used to think was crafted just for the purpose of getting under your skin. It’s certainly still doing the trick now, though for entirely different reasons.

“I don’t…” You suck in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”

“And why is that?”

You give him a dry look. “Is that a real question? Because you’re… you. You’re not exactly Mr. Approachable.”

He frowns in thought. “I thought we’d started to get along quite well.”

“Don’t be dense. Flirting is not the same as getting along.”

He shrugs. “I’d say it’s a step above getting along, wouldn’t you?”

Deflection after deflection. And he has the nerve to wonder why you can’t talk to him. You’re about to say just that, but then a knock sounds at the door.

“The panel’s going to start soon!” Lisa’s muffled voice calls out. “Are you two just about ready in there?”

“Tonight,” Alhaitham quietly promises, then opens the door and greets Lisa with a tight-lipped smile. “Apologies. Somebody was having a wardrobe malfunction.”

Lisa’s eyes fall on your scarf before narrowing in confusion. “Oh…well? Do you need another moment to get changed?”

You bite back a groan, but Lisa is already moving on as she ushers you down the hall.

“Well?” she presses. “Did you like the room? What did you think?”

Alhaitham contemplates as you all step into the elevator. “It’s a little…”

“Embarrassing,” you finish for him. “I mean, the rose petals, Lisa? Seriously? And don’t get me started on you breaking your promise about the bed—”

“The bed was out of my hands,” she says dismissively. You don’t believe her for a second. “But I just thought the rest would be a nice gesture. After all, I’m sure you haven’t had much time to get away since you’ve started dating, what with your schoolwork and everything else.”

“We appreciate the wine,” says Alhaitham. “Just…no more surprises.”

“That was all I had time for,” she insists.

You’re not sure you believe that either.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

You underestimated how much of a whirlwind this conference was going to be. The three of you make it to the panel in the knick of time, and are rewarded with an hour of the most head-scratching discussion you’ve ever been privy to. Alhaitham seems to be following along with mild interest, but you’re sure you’ve never even heard of the topic the panellists are discussing.

That’s only the beginning. From there, it’s a jam-packed day of panels, keynotes, debates, and more, and your confusion only seems to grow. Worse than confusion, you realize. It’s inadequacy gnawing at your insides as you take in presentation after presentation and realize you barely have a clue what any of these people are talking about. Alhaitham, meanwhile, seems to be completely engrossed and well-versed in every subject you get thrown into.

You’re not even sure Lisa is paying attention.

The feeling eats at you as you break for a quick supper. Alhaitham and you manage to sneak away from Lisa, who’s being bombarded by admirers and fellow academics from all over the world. The hotel has a sit-down restaurant, but you both have more important matters to attend to, so you grab something quick and portable from a kiosk in the lobby.

“I think Lisa made some sort of mistake,” you say as the two of you browse the hotel gift shop. You were so hungry that you already devoured the sandwich that you bought, but Alhaitham is still picking away at his. “There’s no way these are the people we’re supposed to present our silly little language to.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Silly?”

“That last presentation was a guy splicing genes to create symbiotic…uh…” You wave your hand in frustration. “This is what I mean. I don’t even know what any of these people are talking about.”

“You didn’t get it? I thought his process was quite intriguing.”

“Just call me stupid and get it over with,” you mutter.

He rolls his eyes. “Not this again. What’s the issue? You’re nervous about our presentation? We still have all of tomorrow to prepare, and I have full confidence that it will go smoothly.”

“Maybe everyone will be too busy staring at my bra—or lack thereof—to even listen to what we’re saying,” you say, glumly tugging at the scarf.

“Enough spiralling,” he chides, scanning the nearby shelves. Most of the shop’s wares consist of overpriced pottery, tacky jewellery, and locally made valberry jam, but Alhaitham pauses in front of a display of large silk scarves. He holds up a white one. “What about this? Maybe you could fashion some sort of chest wrap.”

“That’ll have to do,” you say with a sigh, taking the scarf and adding it to the “I Love Mondstadt” t-shirt draped over your arm. “That’s one crisis averted.”

“Two, if you count your new nightgown,” he adds helpfully. You bought the t-shirt about three sizes too big so that you’ll at least have something to wear to bed that isn’t totally humiliating. “I’d say this day is looking up, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure,” you say bitterly. “It’s going great.”

Alhaitham pays for your supplies, if only in an effort to further stall your misery, and then you hurry to rejoin Lisa for the evening mixer—a casual networking opportunity that you really don’t feel is beneficial to you. Still, Lisa insists that it’ll be important in building Alhaitham’s connections for his future archivist position. She introduces him to all sorts of important people—fellow archivists from other institutions, important merchants, and even a few authors whose first-edition manuscripts are safely housed at the Akademiya.

Alhaitham politely interacts with each and every one of them, but you can tell by the time the end of the event rolls around that he’s starting to lose his patience. His posture is somehow slumped and tense at the same time, and his answers to questions begin to hold more and more bite to them. You don’t envy him, since you haven’t had to say a single word all evening but even you feel exhausted.

When Lisa excuses you both to leave back to your room, you nearly weep with relief.

“Thank god there’s only one of those this week,” you sigh as you swipe the key card to your room. “You must be exhausted.”

“Pointless small talk is so…draining,” he agrees, rubbing his temples. He steps inside after you, kicking off his shoes before shuffling over to the bed.

You linger near the bathroom, leaning against the door frame. Alhaitham’s already flopped onto the bed, sending the rose petals you failed to deal with earlier fluttering. When he realizes you’re rooted in place he lifts his head and frowns.

“Right,” he says, blowing out a breath. “We’re due for a conversation.”

You wave a hand. “It can wait til tomorrow. You’re tired.”

“I’m fine.” As if to prove his point, he sits upright, pulling his posture ramrod straight. “We can’t avoid it forever.”

If only.

“Let me just…um, brush my teeth and stuff.” Without waiting for his reaction you hurry to your suitcase to grab your toiletry bag and then make a beeline for the bathroom.

You close the door behind you and then just press against it, wincing. As usual, you’re overthinking every single word you just said to him. Does he think it’s weird that you want to brush your teeth first? You mostly just wanted to be ready to crash in case the conversation stretches on late, but now you’re worried that it somehow came off sounding suggestive.

Quit overthinking it!

Yet again, Navia’s stern advice snaps you out of your panic. At this point, you’re considering just asking her to record it in a voice memo so you have easy access to it. You brush your teeth, strip out of your business attire, then pull the t-shirt on. It falls to about your mid-thigh—still shorter than you might like in this situation, but at least the important parts are all covered.

You’re sure you didn’t take that long in the bathroom, but by the time you make it back into the room, Alhaitham is already fast asleep atop the covers, his body splayed at an awkward angle. It’s like he somehow kicked up a whirlwind in here, because the rose petals are now scattered across the room. He at least managed to shrug his blazer off, but it’s sitting in a crumpled pile on the floor.

You deflate—in defeat or relief, you can’t be sure—and cross the room to carefully pick up his blazer and drape it over the armchair in the corner. Then, as quietly as you can possibly manage, you shut off the lights, peel back the covers, and slide into your side of the bed.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

Morning comes all too quickly. Alhaitham awakes with a start when your alarm goes off. You blindly slap at the nightstand to snooze it for just a few more minutes.

“I fell asleep,” Alhaitham groans, tugging at his sleep-wrinkled clothes.

“Mhm,” you mumble, eyelids already drooping shut again.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Told you…tired…”

“Hey.” He grabs your shoulder and gives you a firm shake. “Our day is too full for you to oversleep.”

You pull the comforter up to your chin and glare at him.

He grabs it and yanks it off of you completely. Your hands fly to tug at where your shirt has ridden up on your thighs, but Alhaitham is already rolling out of bed anyway, stretching and cracking his joints.

“Well, we’ll try again tonight when we don’t have a 6 AM flight catching up to us,” he says. “Now go get showered.”

You groan, but reluctantly peel yourself out of bed and do as he says.

By the time you’re both showered and ready to head down and meet Lisa for breakfast, you’re ready to go back to sleep. Putting an outfit together shouldn’t feel this much like defusing a bomb, but between sifting through the lingerie in your suitcase for the least embarrassing option (a black lace set with some curious gaps) and wrapping yourself up in the scarf (asking for Alhaitham’s help with that is a line you’re not willing to cross), it’s downright exhausting.

It was a good call on the scarf, at least. The crisp white shirt you button over it blends seamlessly, so it mostly just looks like you’re wearing an ill-fitting camisole. Alhaitham nods approvingly as you head to the elevator.

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

“The day is still young,” you mutter, and that feeling of foreboding only grows as you catch sight of Lisa practically sprinting towards you.

“Morning Lisa,” Alhaitham greets as she breathlessly steps into the elevator. “Oversleep?”

“Of course not,” she says, but there’s a yawn wavering in her voice. “It takes time to look this good, you know.”

“Uh-huh.”

There’s a breakfast buffet set out in one of the conference rooms, but it’s already so crowded by the time you make it down there that you decide to settle for coffee in to-go cups and some packaged yogurt and granola. Then it’s right back to another full day of listening to people who have to be leagues smarter than you talking about subjects you’re ill-equipped to understand. Why are there so many scientists at this conference? Where are the poets? The authors? The historians? Hell, even a know-it-all linguist like Alhaitham would be more familiar and welcome territory.

You’re trying your hardest to learn something new, but by halfway through the day you’ve already begun to tune it all out. This leaves plenty of brain power for what you do best—spiralling. About the validity of your project (you’re sure the language experts are here, they’re just waiting to jump out and poke holes in your presentation), about your inevitable conversation with Alhaitham tonight.

And then those two fears collide, because what if this conversation ends miserably and then you’re forced to present tomorrow in a hostile atmosphere? And then both of your futures go up in flames just because neither of you are able to have a mature, adult conversation?

You’re doing a good job of keeping this anxiety on the inside, but of course Alhaitham starts to notice. Granted, he doesn’t say anything about it, but as you’re practicing your presentation that evening in an empty conference room, it begins to slip out through the cracks.

Alhaitham’s laptop is hooked up to a projector, and even though the only other person in the room is Lisa, your nerves have begun to skyrocket. Blown up like this, it feels like you’re suddenly noticing a million little flaws on each slide that you didn’t catch so far. Design choices that felt sleek and understated before now feel boring and plain. Bold risks in colour or font now feel chaotic and messy.

“You did a phenomenal job,” Alhaitham says patiently when you point such a thing out for the thousandth time. “I don’t know how many times you want me to keep repeating it. Just read the slide.”

You take a shuddering breath and begin to recite your memorized cue card. This is probably your fourth attempt running through the presentation, and you haven’t made it to the end without incident once.

“We started by building our lexicon, and then we had to choose what grammatical structure we wanted to follow. Since we decided on Deshret script as a building block for the lexicon, for the, um, grammatical structure we took inspiration from Inazuman…or, no, sorry. It was the other way around—”

“No,” says Alhaitham with a frown. “You had it right the first time.”

“Right, right. I just—” You cut off, frantically shuffling through your cue cards. When you don’t find the one you’re looking for, you motion towards the projection screen. “Isn’t there a slide on this? I thought we made a slide on this.”

“You told me you didn’t need a slide on this.” His calm tone is beginning to fray, and even Lisa looks ill at ease.

You shake your head. “I think we need to add one.”

“Are you feeling okay, cutie?” says Lisa. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“It’s been a long day,” says Alhaitham before you can say anything. How is he dressed in so many layers? Why is it so hot in this damn room? “I think Y/N just needs to head back to the room and rest a bit. We can practice the rest up there.”

Lisa’s frown deepens. “Are you sure? If you think you won’t be prepared—”

“We’ll be prepared,” he says firmly. He’s already in the midst of unhooking his laptop from the projector and packing it into his bag. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, certain there’s something she’s missing. But after a moment she sighs and says, “Well, alright. In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I have a few things to prepare for my own talk tomorrow, so I’ll let you two get going.”

You bid farewell, and then the two of you walk in silence until you reach the elevator. Alhaitham seems calm and collected, but the moment the doors slide closed, he whirls on you.

“Mind telling me what the hell that was?”

You wince. “Sorry.”

“Not ‘sorry’,” he bites out. “I’d like an actual explanation. You’ve made zero indication that this presentation was going to be an issue for you, so if you’re choosing the night before to get stage fright—”

Your instinct is to shrink back, though like a cornered animal, some aggressive, self-preservation instinct flares to life.

“God, are you f*cking clueless?” you exclaim, satisfied when he flinches. “I could give this presentation with my eyes closed. It’s you. It’s all of this!” You fling your hands wildly in the air for emphasis.

His eyes narrow. “Me?”

“I can’t keep dancing around this like nothing happened.”

“If this is because I fell asleep, I said—”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “No, it’s…” You trail off, taking a few breaths to stop your words from coming out needlessly frustrated and cruel. “It’s not just you. Remember when you told me that I have no backbone when it comes to anyone other than you?”

“Vaguely.” He doesn’t look guilty, but something still shifts in his expression.

“Even that’s not true anymore,” you say helplessly. “I only ever had it because I couldn’t care less what you thought about me. And now…”

He watches you carefully. “Now?”

Now, you care so much it makes you physically ill.

“Now, it doesn’t matter if you fall asleep, or Kaveh calls you, or a f*cking meteor drops from the sky. It just feels like we’re always going to find some excuse to keep putting this off.”

Like a cruel, cosmic joke, the elevator finally stops at your floor, sliding open to reveal a couple waiting to enter. The tension must be pouring out of the elevator like a toxic cloud, because they physically recoil.

Alhaitham ignores them, grabbing your hand and dragging you out and down the hallway.

“What are you doing?” you ask warily.

“We’re not putting it off anymore,” he replies, keeping his eyes forward and his stride full of purpose. “We’re locking ourselves in our room and hashing it out.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” You reach your room and he aggressively swipes the card through the lock. “No interruptions. No distractions. Go get comfortable so you can spill your guts.” He jerks his head towards the room, but you give him a baffled stare.

“Comfortable?” You follow him inside, watching as he grabs a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from his bag.

“Yep,” he says again. “We’re not leaving, so we might as well be ready to crash when it’s all said and done.”

You wonder if he’s able to tell how vaguely threatening the words sound, like you’re about to partake in some sort of death match. But the sound of getting out of this awkward contraption of silk and lace you’ve swaddled yourself in does sound appealing, so you grab your t-shirt and head into the bathroom to change.

It feels like deja vu, staring at yourself in the mirror in that stupid t-shirt. There’s a sense of finality awaiting you on the other side of the door. No matter how this conversation ends, everything is going to change. And even though you can’t live like this anymore, can’t handle having this giant elephant squeeze into every room you walk into, it’s still hard to pluck up the courage.

And what’s worse, you don’t even know how you’re going to approach it—if you’ll follow Navia’s heartfelt advice and have an honest conversation, or give into the very tempting thought of what Yae thinks you should do—acting on a fairly ego-driven assumption that Alhaitham would actually want to. If you squint at your reflection, you can almost imagine them perched on either shoulder, your own personal angel and devil.

A small, foolish part of you hopes that Alhaitham miraculously fell asleep.

But you walk out to find him very much awake and alert, pacing in front of the window. His grey sweatpants and black t-shirt are a devastating combo, the rare casual outfit somehow outshining his usual academic wear.

Don’t focus on that. Don’t focus on that. Don’t focus on that.

Alhaitham pauses when he sees you, watching you carefully as you cross the room and lower yourself onto the bed. You tuck your legs beneath you, tugging at the hem of your shirt in a failed attempt to cover your exposed thighs.

“Alright.” Alhaitham drops onto the bed, cross-legged and facing you. He leans back on his palms and gives you an expectant look. “I’m all ears.”

You gnaw on your lip, anxiously drumming your fingers against your thigh. Where to even begin? It feels like you’ve rehearsed this conversation a million times, but as usual, you get in front of his piercing stare and your brain short-circuits.

Finally, you blurt, “I told my roommates.”

Alhaitham’s eyebrows fly up. You clap a hand to your mouth. sh*t. Not what you meant to say at all.

“You did?” he says when he finally recovers from the stunned silence. A cautious edge creeps into his tone. “Told them what, exactly?"

“Uh…” The words are already out. It’s not like you can take them back, so the only way through this is forward. You straighten your posture. “E-Everything.”

“Everything.”

“Mhm. The stuff with Childe and Lumine, the fake-dating, the, um…the kiss at Yelan’s.”

“Ah.” He doesn’t break eye contact, but his gaze turns slightly unfocused, like he’s staring through you. “How did they take it?”

“Navia was hurt, but she came around.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

More silence. The air feels twice as thick with it, coating your throat and tightening around your lungs.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I told them?” you ask.

“No.” He finally snaps out of his daze. “It’s obvious why you told them. You were freaked out about what happened.”

You fight against the instinct to get defensive about that. “I mean…yeah. A little—”

He blows out a breath. “You could have just said so when I asked you about it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you insist. When Alhaitham frowns slightly in confusion, you clarify, “I was freaked out before the kiss. I was freaked out because…because I’m starting to not really understand how I feel.” He says nothing—just stares at you with that unreadable expression, so you devolve into anxious rambling. “And so I told them because I needed advice, because I didn’t understand if…if it was all just physical, or I was actually developing feelings of some sort, and Navia told me I should just talk to you about it but Yae was saying all this stuff about sleeping with you to get it out of my system and—”

“She said what?”

You flush crimson at his baffled expression. “I know, okay? It’s stupid. But how am I even supposed to know what’s real and fake at this point? You’re certainly not going to tell me. A-And I’m only human. I can only have you kiss me like that so many times before my body starts sending me mixed signals. I feel…” You suck in a breath and give your head a wild shake. The look you finally fix him with is pure desperation. “I feel like I’m going insane. And you’re just sitting there staring at me like maybe I actually am.”

“Maybe you are,” he says thoughtfully. The sentence lilts at the end like there’s a “but” coming, but he remains totally silent. You stare and stare at him, stomach twisting into knots. His expression is more unreadable than ever.

“Well?” you press.

“Well what?”

Your gaze narrows. “Are you going to say anything?” When he doesn’t answer, chewing on the inside of his cheek, you continue, “You know, when you said we were going to hash things out, I thought there was going to be a bit more give and take to this conversation.”

“Sorry. I…” He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “What I’m taking away from this is that you need help figuring it out—your feelings, that is.”

Your face grows incredibly warm. “I mean is that really all you’re taking away from it? Because that was just something stupid Yae said.” The way he’s grown quiet and pensive makes your throat tighten with doubt. “I mean, isn’t it stupid? You’re not actually thinking about—”

“No, I’m not,” he says firmly. “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

You’re torn between relief and disappointment. It’s nice, you suppose, that he made the decision for you, but something in you twists at how resolutely he’s done so. Either way, you force your expression into a neutral one.

“R-Right. No, of course not.”

Perhaps the latter emotion is breaking through on your face, because Alhaitham quickly clarifies, “That’s not to say I wouldn’t. I just…I didn’t…I don’t have—” He cuts off, clearing his throat. You’ve never heard him at a loss for words before. It’s a bit nerve-wracking. He takes a moment to compile his thoughts, and the way his eyes dart back and forth like he’s physically looking for the proper words is the only sign of his racing mind. Finally, he looks you dead in the eye and says, “I didn’t exactly come prepared for this outcome.”

You realize what he’s getting at. Desperate to overcome your own embarrassment, you refrain from denying his assumptions and instead joke, “What, you mean you didn’t bring a suitcase full of lingerie? And here you were scolding me for not being prepared—”

You cut off as he suddenly places a hand on your thigh. You both stare at his hand like neither can quite believe what he just did.

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” he says again, but now it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “But if you’re really that pent up, if it’s causing you this much stress…then I’m happy to do something about it.”

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with your ears. Every sense you have is suddenly zeroed in on his hand. But after a moment, your jaw locks.

“I know what you’re doing.”

He blinks. “What am I doing?”

“Oh, please. I just spilled my guts out to you and you barely uttered a word in response.”

He bristles a bit. “What am I supposed to say? It sounds like I’ve caused quite the dilemma for you. I’m trying to help remedy it.”

“So you’re just going to…what? Get me off and treat it like it’s some big favour to me?" You’re not sure where the sudden indignation comes from, only that it spurs you into speaking more boldly than you might have otherwise. "Because I’m just so worked up and head over heels, and you’re not even affected at all? God forbid you come out looking anything other than distant and stoic and cool.”

He looks just as taken aback at your bluntness. “And who even said I am so affected? You’re the one who just told me the state this is putting you in.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but not with embarrassment. You find yourself puffing up with sheer anger. “You don’t have to tell me, Alhaitham. You’re not as hard to read as you’d like to think. If you’re so unbothered and this is all just physical for you, then why didn’t you text me back?” It feels like a cheap, childish shot, but when he doesn’t have an immediate answer, you double down and demand, “What was the deal with Wriothesley?”

“What about Wriothesley?” he scoffs, but his grip on your thigh tightens ever so slightly. You look pointedly at his hand. He clears his throat and retracts it completely.

“You thought I was flirting with him and you got jealous.”

“Why would I get jealous? Jealousy implies there’s some sort of perceived threat, and if you think I have such little self-confidence—”

You snort. “Having too little of it is the exact opposite of your problem. You have so much of it that you think you’re too good to stoop to things like talking about your feelings or opening up.”

“Oh, is that what you think?

“Yeah,” you snap, “it is. Because how is it fair for you to expect me to pour my heart out to you when you can’t even find the guts to do the same? I just don’t understand why you’re suddenly skirting around the heart of the matter when you’re the one who wanted to have an honest conversation about what’s been going on. But clearly you were excluding yourself from that, so unless you give me a reason not to, I’m going to bed and we can just forget about all of this.”

The pause he takes is so long, so loaded, that there’d be no point denying it even if he wanted to. But still, he sets his jaw, saying nothing.

Your stomach sinks.

“Right,” you say, sniffing. “Then just forget I brought anything up, okay?” You twist towards your side of the bed to tug back the covers and adjust your pillows.

Alhaitham grabs you by the shoulders and wrenches you back towards him before you can. You blink in shock, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Fine,” he says, his voice without inflection. Soft, quiet. Deadly. “I was jealous.” But you can’t even relish in the victory of that confession because he continues on, only now he’s cradling your face in those large, deft hands. You swallow a gasp as he begins trailing fleeting kisses across your face, lips punctuating each new sentence. “I was jealous that you’d even look at someone else, let alone flirt with him.” His mouth brushes your eyelids, your temple. “I was so jealous I couldn’t think straight.”

Now his lips find your cheek, your jaw, and you’re sinking forward, pulling yourself up onto your knees and leaning into him against your will like a flower turning its petals towards the sun. His thumbs trace circles along your face, until one eventually dips to tug at your bottom lip.

“I was so jealous,” he says, mouth hovering above yours, eyes dark with need, “it made me stupid.”

And it’s the slight anger in the words, like he resents you for worming your way beneath that iron shell, that tells you it’s as close to a confession as you’re going to get—maybe as close to a confession as he might be capable of making. It shouldn’t be good enough, isn’t honest enough to crush the swell of anger still rising in your chest.

You crumble anyway.

Like a rubber band pulled too tight, you snap forward. You both meet the kiss with equal hunger and relief, that unbearable tension flooding out of you to make way for pure, unrelenting heat. You’re fighting to keep your balance, knees wobbling against the mattress as you clutch the front of his shirt.

Alhaitham remedies that imbalance by gripping you by the thighs and tugging you into his lap in one swift movement. You yelp in surprise, and his answering, breathless laugh against your mouth is so rare, so intoxicating, that it sparks a sense of urgency in you. You settle fully into his lap, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. Sighing into his mouth, your fingers find his hair, twisting through the ashen locks without care to how much you’re messing it up and how much that would normally piss him off.

And indeed, he mumbles against your lips, “You’re doing that on purpose.”

You hum innocently. “Doing what?”

His hand roams up your back, sliding up the back of your head to tangle in your hair. You let out a gasping laugh as he gives a single, punishing tug. But the laugh tapers off into a soft moan as his lips find your now exposed throat, trailing across the skin with renewed fervor.

“So?” he murmurs into the crook of your neck. The hand not tangled in your hair cautiously creeps beneath the hem of your shirt, inching higher and higher along your ribs with a whispering touch. “Did you change your mind? Can I fix this dire problem I caused?”

“I…” You’re so breathless you can barely get a word out. “I don’t know. It still wasn’t very convincing.”

Alhaitham huffs a laugh, his breath dancing along your skin. His fingers trace circles beneath your breasts, knuckles brushing against them just slightly enough to make your breath catch.

“Will it help if I tell you I haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss since it happened? That if you’d asked me to forget about Kaveh, to stay and do whatever you wanted, I would have?”

A violent swarm flutters in your chest at the very thought.

“That’s…not very nice.”

“You should know by now that I’m not very nice.” If it weren’t for his lips on your skin, punctuating each word, you might latch onto that. It sounds suspiciously like a real, vulnerable admission. But he continues, “For example—I’m not doing a thing until you tell me you want it.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one showing some honesty?” you manage to ask. “Did I not make it obvious enough?”

His teeth graze your earlobe. “Nope. I need an answer, please.” The words themselves are so confident, but the slight tremor in his breath betrays a hint of…something. You’re sure he’s just as tightly wound as you are and trying to be cool about it, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s actually nervous. Uncertain.

Either way, you sigh impatiently and say, “You’re so impossible. Obviously it’s yes you stupid—”

His mouth finds yours again, cutting off the insult, at the same time that he finally drags his thumb across your nipple. You can’t help the whimper that slips past your lips, but thankfully Alhaitham is past the point of teasing you for such things. If anything, it spurs him on. His kisses grow more frantic and sloppy as he rolls your nipple between his fingers, as though desperate to draw out even louder and more humiliating sounds.

You can’t help but squirm against the building ache between your thighs, subconsciously chasing even a shred of friction to relieve it. As usual, Alhaitham is one step ahead of you. He shifts your weight on his lap, letting his thigh rest snugly between your legs. You let out a sigh of relief into his mouth, but then find yourself locking up. Even though this situation has hurtled past the point of embarrassment, the thought of grinding against his thigh is still too humiliating to act upon.

Alhaitham doesn’t seem to care. He rocks his hips against yours, as though coaxing you into motion—once, twice, three times, until you can’t help but match the rhythm he’s setting. He hums his approval, breaking from your lips to drag his tongue against the side of your neck. And as you cling to him, sucking in shuddering breaths and burying your face into the soft haven of his hair, the mortifying realization hits you.

If this keeps up, this bastard is going to get you off without even trying.

And even though you wouldn’t be surprised if he took that opportunity just to have something to smugly hold over you, it’s clear that wouldn’t be good enough for him either. You find yourself tumbling backward as he springs you both forward, pinning you to the mattress beneath his weight. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thigh as you hook your leg around him. You can’t seem to get yourself close enough, can barely get a breath in past the tangle of your tongues.

When his hand fumbles beneath the hem of your shirt, intent on resuming his roaming, you shyly mumble, “You can, um, take it off. I-If you want.”

Alhaitham’s lips twitch at the corners at the show of permission, but he’s quick to oblige. He pulls you upwards, tugging the shirt free in an awkward tangle of limbs. The moment it’s free, he tosses it across the room before pinning you down again with startling force. His mouth closes around your nipple before your back has even hit the mattress.

You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying and failing to stifle the moans he’s drawing out of you. His hands roam lower and lower down your torso, until they’re brushing along the black lace hugging your hips. He hooks a finger beneath the waistband and gives an appreciative hum.

“Yae has stunning taste.”

“Ugh, shut up,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

He lets out a low laugh, but it’s quick to die in his throat as he begins idly tracing the inside of your thigh.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks, eyes flickering in a rare show of uncertainty.

You nod, forcing yourself not to look away. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he teases you through the fabric, rubbing his thumb in lazy circles. It’s already enough to leave you a panting mess, staring at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

He pushes aside the flimsy lace. You’re so wet for him that it should be embarrassing. It should poke and prod at that part of you that’s too prideful to let him have the smug satisfaction of having this power over you. But there’s something strangely soft in his expression as he gathers that wetness on his fingers, like he’s so lost in this moment that he couldn’t even fathom being smug about it.

When he slides a finger into you, you both let out a gasp—yours sharp, his soft. It's like he's spent so much time digging through your thoughts, reading your mind, that some small part of him permanently lives there, is feeling just as much as you are. His breathing has grown more ragged, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks.

Your head falls back on the mattress as he adds a second finger. Your eyes flutter towards the ceiling, half-shut as you adjust to the feel of him, but he doesn’t once tear his gaze away from you.

“All good?” he asks.

You’re beyond words right now, so you simply nod.

He plants kisses along your collarbone as he begins slowly pumping his fingers. You grip at the comforter beneath you, dig your teeth into your lip—anything to keep from crying out over how frustratingly skilled his movements are.

“Stop holding it back,” he gently commands. You recognize that spark hiding beneath the uncharacteristic softness. Your stubbornness to stay silent is a challenge he’s more than happy to overcome.

And one that’s easily conquered. He arches his fingers in just such a way, at the exact moment that he gently drags your nipple between his teeth. The cry that slips out of you is a lilting curse, completely out of your control. Alhaitham lets out a low, satisfied groan at the sound of it.

“That’s better,” he breathes.

“Jerk,” you manage to pant out, but it’s little more than a wavering moan.

You barely hear his answering chuckle, can barely focus on anything at all besides the pleasure he’s wringing out of you. His thumb circles that sensitive bundle of nerves, moving in time with his fingers. He lifts his head to messily kiss his way along your jaw, inevitably aiming for your mouth but never seeming to quite find his mark. It’s all too much, wrapping you in a hazy, blissful bubble that’s swelling bigger and bigger with each second.

You knew you wouldn’t last long, but when his mouth finally finds yours, when he breathes your own name into your mouth like it’s a prayer and a curse all at once, the bubble bursts. Release sweeps through you in a warm, engulfing wave. Alhaitham’s mouth is insistent and hungry against yours, swallowing each moan and gasp that falls from your lips. The pleasure floods your senses so completely, it’s like sirens going off in your head—

You both freeze.

Nope. Those are actual sirens. A shrill alarm pierces the air. Alhaitham tenses, too shocked to even bother removing his fingers. You’re still shuddering against him, trying to form a coherent thought.

“This has to be a f*cking joke at this point,” he says in disbelief.

“Maybe…” The words are slow, careful—and not just because you’re so breathless. “Maybe if we ignore it, it’ll stop.”

“I can think of worse ways to die,” he agrees, and despite the insistent shriek of the alarm, the heat flares in his gaze again. “I’m certainly not finished yet.”

But then the knocking starts at the door. You shudder and gasp as Alhaitham wrenches his hand free.

“Hello?” comes Lisa’s muffled voice from the hallway. “You cuties in there? Sounds like we need to head to the parking lot.”

“We’ll be there!” you call out, wincing when your voice comes out pitched and trembling. “You, um, you go!”

There’s a notable pause before she says, “Well, alright! Just hurry it up, it could be serious!”

Alhaitham slides off the bed, scrambling towards where he so heatedly threw your t-shirt earlier. He tosses it to you and you fumble at pulling it back over your head. It’s inside out, but you don't exactly have time to care. It’s still long enough to pass as a nightgown, but without even a chance to clean yourself up you’re left feeling entirely too exposed.

As you stand to join Alhaitham near the door, however, you freeze.

“You can’t go out there,” you hiss.

He blinks. “Would you rather I die in a fire?”

“Well, you might,” you mumble, and then he follows your gaze downward, narrowing in on the pitched fabric of his sweatpants. If the situation wasn’t so dire, you might feel a smug sense of satisfaction at the colour that blooms across his cheeks as he flicks his eyes to the ceiling.

“sh*t.”

“It’s dark outside,” you say. “And if the hotel really is burning down, I’m sure no one will notice.”

He gives you a dry look. “Lisa will notice.”

“Oh! I think there’s a bathrobe in the closet.”

The bathrobe in question is actually a black silk dressing gown that is definitely meant for a more feminine figure, but at least the added dimension of extra fabric over his clothes somewhat masks the problem. Alhaitham scowls, tugging and adjusting the silk.

“At least you look good in black?” you offer, biting back a smile.

“You’re hilarious.”

You head into the hallway, joining the other bewildered hotel guests making their way down the stairwell. The parking lot is packed with people by the time you make it outside, and firefighters and hotel staff alike are doing their best to perform crowd control. The temperature has dropped considerably with the nightfall, and you cling to Alhaitham for warmth as you weave your way through the crowd.

“Nothing to worry about!” a firefighter bellows. “The fire will be contained soon! Your belongings are all safe for the time being, and we’ll let you know when you’re clear to return inside.”

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for you to find Lisa. She blinks in surprise when she sees Alhaitham, and it takes you a moment to register why. But when you do, it’s all you can do not to burst out laughing, biting your cheek so hard that you taste blood.

Lisa and Alhaitham are wearing the same robe.

“So,” says Alhaitham quickly before Lisa can comment on it. “Do we know what happened?”

“I got the scoop from one of the firefighters,” says Lisa, which means she probably flirted the information out of him. “Apparently that little cutie over there snuck into the restaurant kitchen and was playing around with the ovens. Caused a massive blow-up—doubt the restaurant will be open for months with all the damage.”

You follow where she’s pointing to see a young man with a blonde messy bun speaking with the firefighters and hotel staff—apologizing profusely, by the looks of things. Beside him is a little girl dressed in a red sweater, the hood of which is clutched firmly in his hand. They must be siblings, with their apparent age difference and similar appearance.

The look on her face can only be described as pure mischief.

“A little girl caused that much damage?” Alhaitham says doubtfully.

You shrug. “Looks like a handful to me. I just hope they get it sorted quickly. It’s cold out here.”

Alhaitham sighs. “If only you had a scarf to keep you warm.”

You glare daggers at him. “Well, you could be a gentleman and let me wear the robe, don’t you think? I mean, at least you have pants on, and my poor legs are all exposed—”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest and keeping your arms pinned to your sides.

“Is this better?” he grinds out from between clenched teeth.

“It’ll do.”

None of you had the foresight to bring a cell phone, so there’s no way to confirm the passage of time. Despite the firefighters’ assurances that the situation will be handled soon, it feels like hours that you end up waiting out in the biting chill. Even Lisa ends up pressed into your little huddle, sleepily bemoaning the cold.

Finally, when you’ve nearly lost feeling in your legs, you get the go-ahead to return inside. That’s its own ordeal, the hotel staff forcing queues and only letting small groups back in at a time to avoid crowding. By the time you both make it back to your room, it’s nearly midnight.

There’s a moment of hesitation as you both head inside and the door swings shut behind you. You’re both too tired to joke about the chaos of this night, but even so, something shifts in the silence. You press your back against the doorframe of the bathroom, waiting for him to break it.

But he doesn’t. There’s no heat in his eyes as he steps towards you and slides a hand against your waist, just a wordless question. And when you tilt your face to him, and your lips softly brush, it’s more cautious than urgent.

“We should sleep,” you mumble between kisses.

“I’m not that tired,” he breathes against your lips.

You pull back, letting your head thud against the door frame and giving him a wry look. “You will be when we end up standing outside all night because of…what do you think? A tornado warning? Earthquake? The interruptions are getting more elaborate every time, after all.”

“True. But we also seem to be getting closer every time.”

Your stomach flutters at the implication but with a final squeeze of your waist, he heads into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Less than twenty minutes later and you’re both tucked into bed, wordlessly lying side by side. You’re nestled onto your side facing Alhaitham, who’s got his arm tucked behind his head and is staring up at the ceiling. The silence is less suffocating than before, nearly peaceful, so you’re loathe to break it.

But you do eventually say, “I can’t help but notice…”

His eyes briefly flick towards you before settling back on the ceiling. “Hm?”

“We never got to run through the presentation again.”

He shrugs. “Well, have you recovered from that temporary insanity earlier?”

“Well, I’m not sure. We still didn’t really talk at all,” you explain, torn between a scowl and a laugh. “Navia is right. Why are we creating a new language when we’re so completely sh*t at communicating with the one we already speak?”

His mouth quirks into a small smile at that, but his eyes narrow with worry.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I normally don’t have trouble saying what I’m thinking. In fact, I’m sure you’d agree that I’m a bit too honest.”

You give a small hum at that. His mouth curves again at the sound.

“But with you…” And finally, he turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. His expression is strangely tight and pained, like it’s taking everything he has not to look away. “I’ve never had a harder time trying to find the right thing to say.”

“That certainly doesn’t seem true,” you tease weakly, if only to hide the way those words pierce you straight through the heart.

He huffs a laugh. “Maybe not. But the fact remains that all of this physical stuff just seems less daunting to navigate than…” He trails off for a moment before continuing. “I probably don’t need to say this, but being honest or vulnerable doesn’t exactly come easily to me.” Before you can answer, he leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. Maybe it’s just so he doesn’t have to look you in the eyes, because when he speaks again, it’s in a gentle murmur against your skin. “You might need to be a little patient with me.”

The way the request sounds so foreign in its softness, so awkward and stilted, just proves his point. Vulnerability is uncharted territory for him.

“Sure,” you reply softly. “I’ve got the patience of a saint.”

Another quiet laugh, this time the breath of it tickling your temple.

“What about you?” he asks. “Did that…help you figure anything out?”

“Well…”

Your hesitation causes him to pull away from you, searching your face with a slight frown. You make a show of giving it serious thought.

You know that tomorrow, you’ll probably both get into some pointless, sleep-deprived argument. The presentation will probably end up a complete disaster. And even after giving Alhaitham all the time in the world, he might decide that you’re not worth the risk of opening up. He’s always going to be arrogant, and too smart for his own good, and he’s probably always going to excel at pissing you off to no end.

But you’re not actually thinking about any of that. In reality, you’re memorizing every inch of his face—the sharp angles, the clever eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw. His hair is still in complete disarray, his face lined with exhaustion.

You don’t have to give it any thought at all. All you’re thinking is that he might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“Maybe I did,” you say coyly, pulling the covers up to your chin. “Just be patient. I’ll tell you eventually.”

Alhaitham’s jaw locks, even as you catch him fighting back a smile.

“I deserve that.”

You bury your smile behind the blanket, contemplating. After a moment, you light up with an idea.

“Okay, so what about this? Telling the truth all at once is clearly scary as f*ck for both of us, so why don’t we make it a bit easier?”

He looks wary. “How so?”

You lift a finger. “Every day, we admit one thing to each other. Big, small—doesn’t matter. It can be as stupid as a food you don’t like.”

“There are a lot of foods,” he says. “We could be at it for years.”

Even though he meant it as a joke, something about that thought makes your heart race. Years. The promise of a promise, that some sort of life awaits beyond the chaos of these last couple of months.

“Then…then I’ll go first,” you say quietly. Your eyes flicker downwards. “My truth—”

“I’m adding a rule to this game,” he says, startling you into meeting his eyes. He nods approvingly. “ That. I think eye contact should be mandatory.”

“You won’t be saying that once we reach the legume portion of the food-listing.”

“Nonsense. I’ve never met a legume I didn’t like.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips free. “Fine. My truth is…I’m grateful to Lisa for putting us on this stupid project.”

The rise and fall of Alhaitham’s chest becomes much more visible, as though with the effort of holding your stare. He nods thoughtfully, absorbing your words.

His voice is quiet as he asks, “What are the rules against copying each other’s?”

“Hmm…I guess I’ll allow it this once.”

“Then…” He finally drops back down onto his pillow, pulling the blanket tightly around him until you’re perfectly mirrored. “Likewise. But I’d rather die than ever admit that to her.”

You pretend to zipper your lips. “We’ll take it to the grave.”

Chapter 12: sick day

Chapter Text

Your presentation, apparently, ends up being flawless.

At least, that’s the impression you get when you step out of the conference room afterwards and Lisa practically tackles you to the ground. Truth be told, you hardly remember a single moment of it.

“Remarkable! Absolutely stunning. Whatever you did to help her prepare last night clearly did the trick!”

You avoid Alhaitham’s eyes, fighting back a smile like a shy teenager, as he shrugs and says, “Oh, just some tough love. Plus some words of encouragement just beforehand.”

The truth is, you were initially worried that it didn’t help at all. Morning was a sluggish affair, shuffling through showering and getting dressed with hardly a word from either of you. In fact, with how disturbingly normal Alhaitham treated you all morning, you started to worry that maybe the night before was one giant, stress-induced hallucination.

Left to fester through another frantic breakfast and then last-minute morning preparations, that worry turned into a giant, gaping wound, until you could only come to one, completely logical conclusion:

Alhaitham regretted every minute of it. This was him detaching himself from the situation, from you, and he planned on ghosting you the moment you were safe and sound back home.

And it didn’t help that you’d finally deigned to spill the beans to your roommates about what had happened.

Yae: You’re welcome for the assist, by the by.

You: I’m not thanking you.

Navia: Okay, so?

You: So what?

Navia: Are you dating for real now or what?

You started typing a reply, but froze up as a wave of horror washed over you. Oh god. Are you dating? You suppose neither one of you really thought to broach what now seems like a very obvious, crucial subject. As usual, hormones got the better of you.

You: We’re taking things slow.

You could practically hear Yae’s dry tone in her reply.

Yae: That’s code for “she was too scared to ask”.

A hundred percent it was, but you weren’t about to admit that. And so you became stuck in a strange state of limbo all morning. Because even though you’d settled things, there was still a lot left unsettled. And even though you had no issue waiting for Alhaitham to sort through his feelings, some sort of tentative label to this mess would definitely be nice.

As you were waiting to head into the conference room, that worry became apparent to him.

“What’s that expression?” he asked, understandably wary.

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

It was then that you realized you’d never cut it in a life of crime. All they would have to do would be bring Alhaitham into the interrogation room to hit you with that look and you’d fold like a house of cards.

“My truth for today is that I’m trying really hard not to spiral over what happened last night,” you blurted. Alhaitham’s eyebrows raised, but now that you’d started, you quickly devolved into anxious babbling. “Like, was it a one-time thing, are you regretting all of it, are you just jerking me around—”

“Jerking you around?” he echoed in disbelief.

“Do you even actually like—”

And then he cut you off by tugging you into a nearby alcove—a short hallway to a staff area by the looks of it—and kissing the ever-loving hell out of you. You gasped in surprise, stumbling into the wall as his hands tightly gripped your waist.

“My lipgloss,” you said in a blind panic.

Sure enough, when he pulled back to stare at you, his lips were smeared with coloured gloss. You frantically dragged your thumb across his mouth in an effort to clean it off and he caught your wrist.

“I’m not exactly itching to do that with anyone else,” he whispered, causing you to scowl.

“You know, you’re really good at beating around the bush. ‘Not hideous, not a chore to kiss you, not really wanting to kiss anyone else’—”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, effectively shutting you up, and while that would normally be pretty insulting from anyone else, it was the words he murmured in your ear afterwards that sparked an inferno in your chest.

Everything after that was a bit of a blur. You ended up entering some kind of blackout flow state while presenting that didn’t really flood out of you until the room broke into enthusiastic applause at the end.

Even now, standing in the hall with a giddy, chattering Lisa, your head swims with the dwindling embers of adrenaline. Alhaitham’s murmured words continue to echo through your brain like a broken record.

Call it whatever makes you happy. Either way, I’m yours.

“The Akademiya is going to be thrilled,” Lisa goes on. “I think you’ll be receiving accolades for this for sure. I might even be able to squeeze some funding out of them for your thesis! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I’m sure she agrees,” says Alhaitham, since you’re still barely present in the conversation.

Lisa checks her watch. “Well, I have to go set up for my own talk. I’ll see you both there, okay?”

Alhaitham waves her off.

“Coming?”

“Hm?” You snap out of your daze, realizing you’ve just been staring into space with a dumb grin on your face.

“Lisa’s talk is in a few minutes,” says Alhaitham in a slow, patient voice. You can tell he’s fighting back a smirk. “Are you done daydreaming?”

I’m yours.

“Not even close,” you reply, holding out your hand. “You’ll have to help me along.”

He rolls his eyes and takes your hand, firm and deliberate like a businessman’s handshake. It’s the furthest thing from a romantic gesture, but all the same, it makes that dumb grin even worse.

Lisa’s presentation is surprisingly well done. You’d sort of just assumed all of her “intensive preparations” leading up to the conference were code for slacking off, but it’s obvious that she put an immense amount of effort into it. It’s easy to forget when she’s being a royal pain in the ass that Lisa is actually extremely qualified to be in the position she is, and that she’s one of the most awarded scholars the Akademiya has ever seen.

High on the success and praise of the day, the three of you decide to skip the complimentary dinner that night and grab a table at one of the local taverns. Lisa is feeling particularly generous (or rather, generous on behalf of the Akademiya’s budget) and she keeps continuous rounds of wine coming to the table. Granted, she seems to be clearing through most of it herself, but that doesn’t stop you and Alhaitham from getting a healthy buzz on yourselves.

“I just still can’t believe it,” she gushes as the waiter opens up your third bottle. “It’s rare that my matchmaking schemes actually work, let alone with how much you two seemed to hate each other. I was banking on a few hookups, not a full-fledged relationship.”

“Is this really an appropriate discussion?” asks Alhaitham dryly, but his hand finds your knee under the table and squeezes. You’re grateful that your face is already burning from the wine. “I don’t think most professors talk about hooking up with their students.”

“I would never hook up with a student,” she says with a confused frown.

Alhaitham sighs impatiently, but it’s halfhearted, like the alcohol allows Lisa to be less of a pain in the ass and more of a lovable nuisance.

Lisa gives a dreamy sigh. “Oh, I’ve held off for too long! I just need to know all the details. Who made the first move?”

“Alhaitham,” you say without missing a beat, to which he barely stifles a scoff.

“Really?” says Lisa in surprise. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Me either. But he was very insistent. When he found out I needed a date to my friend’s wedding he practically jumped at the opportunity.”

“Is that how you remember it?” Alhaitham muses. “I seem to remember you begging me to come to your rescue. Something about needing a…how did you phrase it? ‘Hot piece of ass’ to make your ex jealous?” The words sound stilted and ridiculous coming from him, which is the only thing that stops you from jumping straight to indignant.

It is a steady climb, though. Your jaw drops.

“I did not say that.”

“Really, how could I refuse?” Alhaitham goes on like you haven’t spoken. “I was already falling victim to that smile of hers.” And then he laces his fingers through yours, bringing your hand to rest idly against his lips. The words are so similar to what he once mockingly told you in the cafe, and even though there’s a faint trace of that sarcasm still, it’s totally eclipsed by how…gentle he sounds. “It was only a matter of time before someone else thought the same. I suppose I’m lucky she asked me before that happened.”

Lisa is practically weeping across the table, drunk and emotional, but you hardly hear it. Normally you’d be avoiding Alhaitham’s gaze at all costs, but that embarrassment is somehow nowhere to be seen. You can’t tear your eyes away from him, and as he holds your stare, you worry that your heart might be swelling past the confines of your chest.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice coming out in a slight tremble. “Well, all of my other options said no, s-so…”

He squeezes your hand once, still pressed against his mouth. You feel, more than see, his lips curve into a faint smile.

“Like I said. Lucky me.”

𖧷𖧷𖧷

It’s nearing midnight by the time you all make it back to the hotel, though trying to escort Lisa back to her room definitely pushes you past that checkpoint. You and Alhaitham are tipsy enough as it is, so trying to corral a belligerent Lisa is about as troublesome as you’d expect. She keeps stopping to chat with strangers, to flirt with most of them, and even when you finally make it up to your floor, you have to drag her to keep leading her past your room towards hers.

“Oh come on,” she pouts. “Why end the night so soon? We’re having so much fun! You haven’t cracked open that bottle I’ve gotten you yet, right?”

“Lisa,” Alhaitham says patiently. “You’ve already had enough as it is. And besides, I’d like some alone time with my girlfriend.”

The word sends a swarm of butterflies fluttering to life in your stomach. So casually spoken, so effortless. And even though he’s likely just playing that card to get Lisa out of your hair, you still can’t help the stupid, tipsy smile from creeping across your face.

It seems to do the trick with Lisa, too. She sighs in defeat.

“Oh fiiiiiine. The last thing I want is to keep you from spending some quality time together.” Her voice lilts suggestively, causing you to groan.

“Good night Lisa.”

She blows you both a kiss before turning and heading down the hall towards her room, stumbling slightly as she goes. You both linger outside your own door and wait until you see her safely retreat into her room before heading inside yourselves.

“What a day,” Alhaitham sighs, tossing his keycard onto the nearby counter and kicking off his shoes.

“Mm,” you agree. That buzz in your chest won’t leave, a giddy, bubbly sort of feeling that has quite little to do with the wine. “Glad it’s over with.”

Alhaitham leans against the wall and as he loosens his tie. “And you had nothing to worry about. You were brilliant.”

You fidget with the hem of your top. “I mean, you did all of the technical stuff. It would have sounded stupid otherwise.”

“But because of your delivery and the flair you put into the slides, it was more than ‘not stupid’. It was highly professional and engaging. And the improvisation? That part about the benefits of translating word for word versus keeping the original spirit of the text was incredible. Where did that even come from? I don’t recall—”

“Do you wanna make out?” you blurt. Alhaitham’s lips snap shut, his eyes widening a fraction. You’re not even sure where that came from, just that it feels like a natural outcome of that buzz in your chest and Alhaitham heaping you with rare, delicious praise. You clear your throat and lift your eyes to the ceiling. “S-Sorry. I mean…I just meant, we could make out, a-a little. If you wanted.”

When he doesn’t answer right away, you caution a glance to find him watching you with the barest hint of a smile.

“Oh?” he asks, pushing off the wall to step towards you. “Is that all I’m good for now?”

You give an innocent shrug.

“I don’t know,” he goes on, crossing the room to perch on the edge of the mattress. “Maybe you’ve also had a little too much to drink.”

“N-No.” You’re quick to follow him, frantically shaking your head. “I swear, that’s not it. I just…it’s the success from the presentation and the relief that it’s over and all of those things you’ve said—and okay, maybe I’m a little tipsy, but so are you, so it sort of balances out and—”

“Fine,” he says, tugging you into his lap. “You’ve convinced me.”

You give a long, relieved sigh, one that’s quickly swallowed up by Alhaitham’s mouth against yours. He keeps a tight hold on your hips, providing balance for you to shift your position and lock your legs around his waist. It doesn’t seem possible, how quickly the kiss descends into sheer, overwhelming heat, but in what feels like a blink, your breath is coming in ragged gasps through your open, needy mouth. There’s less lips involved than there are tongues, both of you hungrily lapping at each other like it’s a competition.

When you begin to blindly pull at his shirt, untucking it from his pants before fumbling at the buttons, he catches your wrists.

“You’re bolder than usual tonight,” he says, not sounding entirely unpleased at that fact. “Are you that eager to start something we can’t finish?” His scolding tone sparks something borderline feral in your blood.

“Can’t we?”

Alhaitham almost seems to consider it, gaze heating a fraction as his fingers tense on your wrist.

“No,” he says firmly. “I already told you—not prepared. Unprotected sex is about the most idiotic risk a person can take.”

“I’m not saying that,” you insist. You shift backwards a bit so that you have plenty of room to tug one of your hands free and lightly run it down his abdomen, coming to a rest against the very blatant evidence of his arousal. He jerks his head to the side, sucking in a shuddering breath. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“You know….” But despite how emboldened you’ve grown, it’s still a bit daunting to speak plainly to him about this. He seems to realize that, because his gaze flicks pointedly to your hand.

“Why should I let you do it if you can’t even say the words out loud?”

“Why should you let me?” you scoff, then fake a pout, clasping your hands into a fist beneath your chin. “Oh, please, pretty please can I suck your dick Alhaitham? You’re so smart and sexy and cool and I’d love nothing more than to—”

“Enough,” he says, trying to feign calm annoyance, but you can tell it did the trick. His face is redder than you’ve ever seen it, and he’s looking anywhere but at you. “Then…go ahead.”

“Go ahead and what?” But you’re already sliding sideways off his lap to give yourself better access, already working at his belt, his zipper. You push at his chest, urging him to slide further back on the bed. “What do you want me to do to you?”

Finally, he meets your eyes. It startles some of the adrenaline out of you, embarrassment creeping up your neck at how utterly bold you’re being. His jaw locks.

“Are you just doing this out of spite?”

“Maybe.” You give him an innocent smile. Something about the way his chest heaves as you run your fingers against the tight black waistband of his briefs makes you decide to take pity on him.“But there’s no need to beg me. I was already offering.”

Before he can bite out a no-doubt scathing retort, you tug him free from his briefs. You’re almost annoyed when his erection springs free. Of course, Alhaitham has a big dick. So typical. It would have been nice for some of that unwavering arrogance to be unearned, but you shouldn't be surprised that there's a reasonthere's nothing humble about him.

Now, you can feel your bravado waning as nerves start to set in. In fact, despite the confidence buzzing through your veins, you can’t find it in yourself to be earnest in that moment, instead clinging to humour like a shield.

“Wow,” you say in an exaggerated croon. “It’s so big.”

“What…what are you doing?” he asks, confusion breaking through that heavy-lidded stare. “What the hell is that?”

You give a nervous giggle. “Isn’t that how you’re supposed to talk in situations like this? Is that not what men like?”

His lips twitch. “Leave it to you to crack idiotic jokes while your hand is around my—” He cuts off with a sharp groan as you squeeze, gently pumping your hand up and down his length.

“Can I?” you ask again, breathless with anticipation, excitement. Somehow, just like that, the nerves are gone. You don’t quite recognize yourself in that moment, only that you might be addicted to the feeling of making strict, rigid Alhaitham unravel.

Especially since, for once, he’s beyond his usual quips. In fact, you’re shocked that a borderline needy, “Please,” is all he manages to breathe out before you lean down and take him into your mouth. That single word tapers off into a moan that warms your chest more than any shot of liquor ever could. Because you know he’s not new to this, know he’s actually quite skilled at this, but it still somehow feels unnatural—rare, even, for him to not be the one in control, the one making someone else fall apart.

Definitely addicting, you decide, as his breathing grows more and more laboured at your steady, methodical pace. You lay a palm flat against his thigh, trying with what little strength you have to keep his bucking to a minimum. The other hand takes care of the rest of the length you can’t quite fit in your mouth. He’s keeping quiet for the most part, a hand pressed tightly to his mouth to muffle that quiet but certain hum.

Maybe you really are doing this out of spite, because you’re determined not to let him get away with acting calm and collected through something like this. You swirl your tongue, taking him a bit deeper, and get a rush of satisfaction when he lets out a strangled groan. His body tenses beneath you, and that quickly, you can feel and taste the signs that he's about to come undone.

“Wait,” he pants, blindly swiping at your hair. “Wait, come here.”

You pull back, dragging a thumb across your spit-covered chin.

“Huh?”

He’s all scrambling limbs as he practically crawls towards you, flinging himself into a frantic kiss.

“Keep…keep going,” he urges.

“Such a romantic,” you say with a breathless giggle, but you can hardly get the words out with the way his tongue is so insistently stroking your own.

He lets out a long groan into your mouth when your fingers close around him again. He really must have been already close, because you barely have to do anything. In less than a minute, he’s spilling into your hand, and it just seals the deal—you could subsist on that sweet sound alone, that moaned string of curses as he shudders against you. It’s why you don’t say anything at first, idly stroking him through those last few waves.

“You could have, um, finished in my mouth,” you say eventually, but you’ve already begun to come down from that confidence high, so the words come out more shy and self-conscious than you mean them to. “I-If you wanted.”

He shakes his head, still panting. “I figured it would be better for your own comfort if I didn’t.”

“Such a gentleman,” you tease. “Are you sure it wasn’t just because you wanted to kiss me while you–”

“I think you already know the answer to that question, so let’s just move on.”

A giddy grin splits your face as he all but stumbles off the bed and, tugging his pants back up, quickly heads to the bathroom. Embarrassed Alhaitham is also a rare sight to behold, which is probably why he spends longer than needed in the bathroom before coming back and tossing a hand towel at you.

You’ve barely cleaned your hand off before Alhaitham is crawling on top of you, plucking the towel from your hand and throwing it across the room.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you ask with a startled gasp as he begins trailing his lips across your throat.

“I told you last night,” he says in a low voice that turns your insides molten. “I wasn’t finished. And after that performance, you’re making me look incompetent. That’s something I plan to rectify.”

Such stuffy language is exactly what you imagined he’d actually be like in the bedroom. Still, you can’t say that it’s entirely unattractive, especially with the compliment he’s buried in the words. You give a shaky laugh, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach that’s making it entirely too tempting to give in to him.

“It was that good, huh?”

Alhaitham lifts his head to give you a dry look. You take the opportunity to roll out from beneath him and off of the bed, nearly landing flat on your ass.

“And what are you doing?” he asks, giving you a bewildered stare.

“I’m beat after that.” You stretch your arms and fake a yawn. “Best not to tempt fate more than we already have, don’t you think?”

His gaze darkens. “I disagree. Get back here.”

You shake a finger. “Nope. Sorry. Guess you’ll just have to live with the knowledge that I apparently ‘one-upped’ you.”

“Fine.” He rolls onto his back so he can prop himself up on his elbows. The look he rakes down your body is like a physical touch, setting every nerve ending you have on fire. “I’ll remember that.”

The threat is so loaded that it takes an immense amount of willpower not to pounce on top of him then and there. But you’re getting a sick, competitive thrill from not letting him get his way, so you give a tiny, innocent shrug before waltzing to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

𖧷𖧷𖧷

Getting home from the conference feels strange in a way you can’t really explain. It almost feels like Mondstadt was one big dream, that the moment you step off the plane, your life is going to return to a strange chess match between you and Alhaitham, neither really sure where the other stands.

Even when he kisses your cheek goodbye as Cyno drops you off at your house, it feels like a return to form—scripted, part of the act.

It’s why it feels oddly illegal when you stammer out, “I’ll, um, I’ll see you this weekend, maybe?”

“Sure,” he says. “I can swing by on Saturday.”

You shouldn’t feel as relieved as you do. “Okay, great.”

He gives a short wave, then heads back towards the parking lot.

Your roommates are waiting to accost you the second you step through the front door. The kitchen is filled with the smell of fresh cookies, and Navia purposefully taps the cooling rack while Yae loops her arm through yours and leads you toward the table.

“Sit,” she commands. “We need to know everything.”

“I’m pretty tired,” you admit, though you obediently accept the cookie Navia hands you. “We were out late with Lisa last night, and then—”

Layla’s eyes grow wide. “And then?”

That was your first mistake. You sink into the chair Yae pulls out for you and proceed to recount the whole conference—several times, actually, since every time you tell the story, your roommates deem you haven’t included enough detail. By the time they’re finally satisfied with the details, you feel as though you’ve relived it a hundred times.

“Well, well,” says Yae approvingly, crossing her arms. “Who knew you had it in you to be such a little seductress? Was it because of my gift? What did he think of it, anyway?”

“I’m not answering that.”

She stage-whispers to Navia behind her hand, “That means he loved it.”

“I just can’t believe you told him that you told us, ” says Layla, looking a bit dizzy trying to keep track of the logistics of it all. “Then…no one has to tiptoe around anymore, right? Everything’s normal?”

“I guess,” you say. “Though I mean, none of my high school friends know, and I think if Childe finds out I did this in the first place to get back at him I might just crawl into a hole and die. So let’s just keep it between us for now.”

“You have a boyfriend now,” says Navia, excitedly clapping her hands. “For real, this time. Wait, he is your boyfriend right? You never did answer that.”

You shrug, suddenly shy. “I…I guess so. I mean, he’s still calling me his girlfriend, and he said it was exclusive, s-so…”

Navia and Layla swoon over that, but Yae doesn’t look entirely sold.

“Did he say that or did you infer that?”

“Stop that,” you say with a scowl. “There’s nothing nefarious going on. Put your claws away.”

She lifts her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine! I’ll behave. Let me just say this—it wouldn’t be the first time a boy’s used some flowery words on an exciting trip to get into a girl’s pants.”

“Yae,” Navia groans, while you bristle defensively.

“It’s not like that at all. We didn’t even have sex.”

“ That’s your argument? It sounds to me like you had quite enough fun regardless.”

“Alhaitham is not the type,” you insist. “It’s not like he’s going to just ghost me. We still have this project, the wedding—hell, he’s coming over this weekend. If you’re so skeptical about his intentions, then I give you full permission to interrogate him.”

“You’ll regret that,” Layla mutters.

“Fine,” says Yae. “Then, in that case, I’m quite looking forward to it.”

“Fine. So am I. I’m going to unpack.”

“Fine.”

You stand in an angry huff, grab your luggage, and storm towards the stairs. As you head up to your room, you can hear the muffled sound of Navia scolding Yae and Yae calmly defending herself.

You try not to take the words to heart. Yae can be a bit too blunt and callous with her words sometimes, but you know that in cases like these, it’s coming from a place of love. Really, you’re grateful to have such a protective friend in your corner. God only knows it’s helped you out countless times in the past.

Which is why, as Saturday approaches, the only dread you feel is at the inevitable tension that’s going to spark between Yae and Alhaitham as she grills him within an inch of his life. Classes are officially finished for the semester, and since you’ve decided to hold off on project work until the following week, neither of you have seen each other since Thursday. Your text chain has been a little dry, but that’s not so unusual.

Then, Saturday afternoon, you get a text from Alhaitham.

Alhaitham: I think I’m coming down with something. It’s probably best if I don’t come over.

Your stomach sinks.

You: That’s okay! Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything?

Alhaitham: I suspect it’s just the beginnings of a cold. I must have caught it at the conference. I’m sure it’ll clear up in a few days, but in the meantime, I’d rather avoid passing anything on to you.

Okay. Thoughtful and to the point. He just doesn’t want to get you sick. Granted, you were under the impression that Alhaitham probably had a pristine immune system, since you’ve never once seen him even suffer from something as trivial as seasonal allergies. But still. Totally normal.

Or at least, it’s totally normal until Yae gets involved.

“He’s…sick,” she echoes after you break the news that Alhaitham isn’t coming. “Hm. Is it terminal?”

“I don’t want to hear it, Yae. People get sick.”

“Oh, sure they do. At the most inconvenient of times, too, wouldn’t you say?”

“Don’t listen to her,” says Navia. “You know Alhaitham better than we do. Does he really seem like the type to play mind games like this? If he didn’t want to be with you, wouldn’t he just be direct about it?”

“A little too direct,” you admit.

“But weren’t you the one who told us that he ignored your texts for a week after you made out at that party?” Yae counters. “He doesn’t seem to be the best at expressing himself. Sure, he can be cruel, but maybe even that’s not worth the effort.”

“That’s too harsh, Yae,” says Navia, a rare hint of temper flaring.

Yae shrugs. “I’m just being realistic. If you prepare for the worst outcome, you’ll always be pleasantly surprised, don’t you agree?”

They really are the devil and angel on your shoulder. Maybe you should just start exclusively talking to Layla about these things. Most of the time, she’s too sleepy to offer anything coherent in response anyway.

“I’m taking a nap,” you mumble, then head upstairs to collapse into your bed.

By the time Wednesday rolls around and you still haven’t met up to work on the project, you’re starting to get nervous. You try your hardest to quash that seed of fear Yae’s planted, especially since Alhaitham actually is responding to you. Granted, his responses are extremely sporadic and vague, but if he was really over it, would he even bother responding at all? Every time he tells you he’s taking another day to himself, he insists: It’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few days.

You’ve been fighting the urge all week to press a bit further, but ultimately stop yourself every time. There’s no sense in being clingy. Alhaitham would hate that. Hell, you’d hate that, if the roles were reversed. God, how is this something you're worried about again? Are you seriously that emotionally volatile that you're justlookingfor excuses to write off Alhaitham's very clear feelings for you? Did Childe seriously dothatmuch of a number on your self-esteem?

No. You're not putting yourself through this again. You bite the bullet and text him.

You: Hey! Just checking in on how you’re feeling. You’ve been out all week, so I’m just a little worried. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.

His response comes a full hour later, and doesn’t make much sense.

Alhaitham: Sorry. Morning night congest. No worries.

You squint at your phone. Huh? A few minutes later, while you’re trying to figure out how to respond to such a riddle, he sends a follow-up.

Alhaitham: I’d just like to see you.

You slump in your seat as a nearly euphoric wave of relief sweeps through you. Oh, thank god. You don’t want to seem too eager, so you wait a full, agonizing two minutes before responding.

You: Really? I mean, I can stop by, but I thought you were too sick.

Alhaitham: Not so bad. Really. Stop by.

You: Okay, sure. I’ll pop by after dinner.

He doesn’t respond after that, which makes you a little uneasy, but the proof is right there on the screen. He told you to stop by.

Dinner isn’t too far away, so you stop for a bite to eat at a takeout place en route to Alhaitham’s apartment. As a last-minute impulse, you grab a container of soup to bring him. That’s the sort of thing people like when they’re sick, right? By the time you’re finished up at the restaurant, you assume it’s a suitable time to head over, so you start the short trek to his building.

You’ve only been here a handful of times, and never actually inside. It’s in a nicer residential part of town—less for student housing and more for professionals and even a few grad students. You always wondered how Alhaitham afforded to live in a luxurious building like this, but it’s never really come up enough to ask.

You find Alhaitham’s name on the listing and buzz his door. A few moments later, the front door swings open, and then you ride the elevator up to his floor.

Kaveh opens the door after you knock, his face brightening when he sees you.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? Oh, let me guess.” It’s impressive, really, how abruptly Kaveh’s sunny smile drops into a scowl. “You’re here to check on him. If I were you, I’d turn around and run in the opposite direction. He’s in a bit of a foul state right now.”

You frown. “Really? He mentioned he was feeling under the weather, but it didn’t seem so serious.”

“Of course he would downplay it to you. God forbid he show an ounce of weakness. Meanwhile, with me it’s ’Kaveh, fetch me this. Kaveh, fill my water. Kaveh stop breathing so loud’.”

You fight a smile. “I mean…you could just say no.”

His scowl deepens. “That’s not the point. Ugh, whatever. Come in, come in.”

You follow Kaveh inside, slightly tuning out his continued ranting as you gawk at the interior of the apartment. It’s huge. You knew from the building and the location that Alhaitham lived in a nicer place, but this is a step above most student housing. Either he’s paying an exorbitant amount of rent, or he somehow already owns the place. Both seem just as unlikely.

The main room is relatively open-concept. A spacious kitchen is separated from the living room only by a lattice-work half wall. The living room itself is filled with towering bookshelves and overflowing with plants. Kaveh’s expert touch is definitely apparent, because the furniture and decor are stylish and trendy. Two hallways branch off from either side of the room, likely leading to their bedrooms and the bathroom.

“Your place is really beautiful,” you say.

Kaveh doesn’t seem to care that you interrupted his laundry list of insults towards Alhaitham. His face lights up with excitement.

“ Thank you. If it were up to Alhaitham, the place would be completely bare other than a few shoddy bookshelves, but I’ve done what I can to make the place look passable. Some of the furniture is designer, but most of it was gifted by various clients.”

“Well, it’s obvious you have an eye for aesthetics. I can see why your work is so popular.”

He looks like he might tear up. “Thank you. Thank you so much for saying that.”

“Is, um, Alhaitham around?” you ask, scanning the apartment. “I told him I was coming, but maybe I should have texted him on my way or something.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “He’s been locked up in his room for days. I’ve hardly seen him, save for when he decides he wants to order me around. He’s probably asleep.”

“Ah. Well, maybe I should come back another day.” You lift the bag in your hand. “I brought him some soup though. I’m sure he hasn’t been eating much.” But then Kaveh’s face falls, and something in your chest sinks. “What? What’s that face?”

“N-Nothing…just…” He flicks his eyes towards the ceiling. “Alhaitham really hates soup. He always complains when I make it for dinner, but if he’s going to be so picky then he can just cook his own meals. It’s like the one time I try to do something nice for him and he has to nitpick—”

“He really doesn’t like it?” you ask, unable to hide the disappointment from your voice. Kaveh’s face softens with sympathy.

“Maybe he does! Maybe he just pretended not to so he could piss me off, you know? I’m sure if it’s coming from you—”

The sound of a door opening then tears both of your attention towards the hall. The heavy plodding of bare feet slap against the floor, and then Alhaitham’s tall frame comes into view.

Your mouth falls open. In the time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him look this miserable. His eyes are barely open as he makes his way into the kitchen, and bordered with dark circles besides. His hair is in complete disarray, though pushed back from his face by his gleaming gold headphones. And though you know you should feel thrilled that he’s wearing a pair of alarmingly short workout shorts and nothing else, the thick, sage-green duvet he’s wrapped in keeps you from getting too much of an eyeful.

It’s clear that he doesn’t see you and Kaveh talking, because he shuffles straight past you in favour of opening the fridge and peering inside with a frown.

“Um, hello?” Kaveh calls out. You wince at the volume. “Your beautiful girlfriend whom you’re not even close to being good enough for is standing right here.”

You know for a fact that those headphones are noise-cancelling, so you’re impressed that the words actually catch his attention. Kaveh’s voice must operate on a frequency that Alhaitham is especially attuned to. He startles, pulling the headphones off and slowly turning to face you both.

You give a short, nervous wave. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi…” He blinks, hair now falling into his eyes. His lips tug downwards into a confused frown. “What…why are you here?”

You try not to let the question sting. “You, um…told me to drop by?”

“I did?” He blinks some more, squinting at you. Then, after several humiliating moments of you combing back through every word of his message, certain you misread something, he lets out a groggy hum. “ Oh. I did.”

Kaveh wasn’t kidding. He even sounds sick, his voice muffled and pained like he’s so congested that he has to gasp his breath in between each word.

“I can, um…I can go if you—”

“No, no. I just forgot. I was half-asleep.”

That makes sense too—explains the sporadic, nonsensical replies. You grab the bag from the counter and give it a little shake, careful not to upset the contents.

“I brought soup. I thought it would help, but Kaveh, um…he mentioned you don’t actually like soup, so it’s fine. You don’t have to eat it—”

“I’ll eat it.” He shoots Kaveh a withering glare, made all the more threatening by the lifeless pallor to his face. “Kaveh doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Kaveh scoffs, indignant, “Of course I do! I’ve been berated by you one too many times to not know—”

But it’s clear that Alhaitham’s done listening. He crosses the kitchen and, without breaking his stride, lifts the comforter and tucks you under its cover like a vampire trapping a victim in his cape. You let out a surprised yelp as he begins dragging you towards his room.

“Utensils in the bag?” he asks.

You’re so busy trying to ignore the feeling of so much of his bare skin pressed against you that you nearly forget that you’re still holding the takeout bag.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak.

“Mm. Good, good.”

“I-It was nice seeing you, Kaveh!” you call out, though you’re certain it’s muffled through the thick layer of down and cotton. His answering grumble certainly is, and you can’t make out anything apart from a few choice expletives.

Alhaitham only bothers releasing you from his clutches when the door is safely shut behind you. You stumble free, careful to set the bag down on his nearby desk the moment you regain your balance.

You’re hyper-aware of Alhaitham watching you, but all the same you take the opportunity to examine his room. For the most part, it’s exactly what you pictured—impeccably neat, with books crammed into any open shelf or stacked on any available floor space. The large windows are currently blocked by thick black curtains, the only light coming from a dim lamp on his bedside table. There are a surprising amount of plants in here as well. You’d assumed the greenery spread throughout the rest of the apartment was Kaveh’s doing, but perhaps it’s more of a joint effort.

The longer you look, however, the more you catch signs of his sickness. You expected him to be the type to always have his laundry neatly folded and hung, but a few hoodies and a pair of pants are haphazardly flung over the back of his desk chair. His suitcase from the conference still sits in the corner, half unpacked. A small wastebasket is pulled up to his bedside and overflowing with crumpled tissues and empty bottles of cough syrup.

“I knew it would be green,” you joke weakly, motioning to the plants, his rug, the bedding that’s left in a state of disarray. You try not to look too closely at the last one, warmth creeping up your spine.

“You’ve been picturing my room?” he asks. The weakness of his voice makes it sound less teasing and more accusatory.

You shrug. “I was expecting something more akin to a vampire’s crypt. Maybe a robotics lab where you unplug for the night.”

He lets out a huff that might be meant to be a laugh, but it’s clear that he doesn’t have the energy to fully commit. Then he crosses the room and gingerly lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. He pulls his headphones off and tosses them onto his nightstand.

“You really don’t have to eat the soup,” you say, awkwardly folding your arms across your chest. “I-I can bring it home for leftovers or something. I just thought—”

“I’ll eat it,” he grumbles, glaring at you from within his green cocoon. “It’s not the taste that bothers me. It’s a pain to eat.”

“I could feed it to you."

Alhaitham’s posture stiffens slightly. He coughs, burrowing a bit deeper behind the blanket until just his miserable eyes are visible. You’re sure, before they became hidden from view, that his cheeks had gone pink.

“Not necessary.”

You pretend not to notice. “Fine, fine. You know, you should have told me you were this sick. I wouldn’t have bothered you. Were you just trying to seem cool and unbothered as usual?”

You think he shrugs. It’s kind of hard to tell with the blanket.

“Of course not. I just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Who says I would have worried?”

“You worry about everything."

“That’s…fair.” Considering you worried that he’d gotten sick of you and was trying to ghost you. As usual, Navia’s advice is the most sound—stop overthinking things. "Well, anyway, I won’t keep you long. You’re probably happy rotting away under the covers in here.”

“No, it’s—”

Your phone buzzes then. As you glance down to read it, you let out a loud groan.

Navia: Ei surprised Yae by coming home from her retreat early. I’d suggest steering clear of the house if I were you.

“What is it?” asks Alhaitham.

“Well, Yae’s girlfriend has been off on this trip for months,” you explain, resisting the urge to slam your forehead against the nearest wall. “And apparently she just got home.”

“And you don’t like her?”

“I like her. That’s not the problem. The problem is that Yae likes her. Like…a lot. And since they’ve been apart for so long…” You trail off, face growing warm. This shouldn’t be such an awkward subject for you considering what happened at the conference, but you haven’t exactly been chatting away about that either.

“Ah. Well, you’re certainly welcome to hang out here until they’re done…catching up.”

“Not unless you and Kaveh are looking for a third roommate,” you say dryly.

He doesn’t laugh, mostly because he probably knows you’re only half-joking.

“Impressive stamina,” he says instead.

“It’s fine,” you sigh. “I’ll just…put on my headphones and blast music or something.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s not like we have classes to worry about anymore—just stay the night.”

You blink, face growing warm again at how blunt the offer is. “I couldn’t. I mean, I don’t have anything with me—”

“I could lend you a change of clothes,” he offers. “Not sure how they’ll fit, but…”

“N-No, it’s fine. Really. You’re sick, a-and—”

“What’s the issue?” he asks, cutting right to the heart of things as usual. “It’s not as though we haven’t shared a bed before. Several times, in fact.”

But a hotel bed is completely different. Neutral ground, bedding stripped of personality and colour, pillows that smell like fabric softener instead of Alhaitham. And sure, the first time you ever shared a bed was your own, but that was a total fluke, and way before anything had transpired between you.

You don’t say any of that, certain it would come out sounding childish and stupid. But Alhaitham seems to read it all on your face anyway.

“If you’re worried about me taking advantage of you, I’m currently under the influence of enough cough syrup to kill a large child. If anything, I should be worried about my honour being toyed with.”

“That’s not it at all,” you scoff, but the colour in your cheeks tells a different story. “I just…”

“You don’t have to stay,” Alhaitham quietly interrupts. “But…I’d be happy if you did.”

Your mouth falls open. Alhaitham doesn’t break eye contact with you, but the flush on his own face tells you that it’s a feat not easily accomplished.

“Maybe I could,” you relent, drifting closer to him. “Give Kaveh a break and take care of you myself.”

He rolls his eyes. “He said that?”

“Yeah.” You’re directly in front of him now, hands on your hips. “And I believe him. You're like a big baby right now.”

He opens the blanket, cloth spreading wide on either side of him like—again—a cape. The growing theory that he’s secretly a vampire is so absurd that you can’t help the giggle that bubbles up.

But that giggle dies when he grabs you by the waist, tugging you to the front of him before wrapping you both up in the comforter. His knees cradle either side of you as he presses his face against your chest—not in a sexual way, but in the natural result of the sleepy embrace he has you trapped in.

“I think I’d like it,” he mumbles into your shirt. He sounds like a completely different person his drowsy, pathetic state, almost childlike, if not for the deep rasp of his voice. “You taking care of me.”

Your heart races. “A-Alhaitham—”

He pulls back for one moment, chin hovering above your collarbone as he stares up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“I’m delirious with fever. Give me a pass this once.”

He rests his head against you again, this time turning onto his cheek. Your lips curl into a smile—wider than they might have if he’d been able to see it. Arms still resting on either of his shoulders, you begin combing your fingers through his hair. Alhaitham lets out a low, content hum. His grip around you tightens.

“How much cough syrup did you drink, anyway?” you ask softly.

“Too much. I’ll deny this ever happening once it wears off.”

“Shame.” You continue stroking his hair, nails lightly scratching against his scalp. That hum in his throat now sounds suspiciously like a moan, and the sound of it warms your blood. “You’re actually sort of cute like this.”

He scoffs, but he tilts his head to brush his lips against your throat, fingers tracing circles against your back.

“How attached are you to your pristine health?” he murmurs.

Even though you’ve already begun to lean into his touch, can feel that throaty hum of his in your stomach, you firmly say, “Extremely. Keep those sick lips away from me.”

“Are you sure?” Alhaitham’s breath is hot and laboured against your neck, though you know it’s probably because he can’t breathe through his nose right now. He pulls you closer, and you suddenly remember just how little he’s actually wearing, how much skin is pressed against you right now. “I don’t have to kiss your mouth, you know. I can think of plenty of things to do that won’t get you sick.”

“I…” The word comes out in a shuddering breath as his tongue darts along your neck. It's so warm, tucked into this blanket with him. He must have a fever, with the way his skin is hot and damp with sweat. “I can think of one thing you can use that mouth for.”

His hand creeps beneath your shirt. “Oh?”

“Eating your damn soup,” you say, then shove yourself free of his blanket prison.

“Such a tyrant,” Alhaitham mutters. He’s quick to wrap himself up again, taking extra care, you note, to make sure his lap is suitably covered.

If you were in a more merciless mood, you might poke fun at that, but you decide to show restraint. Instead, you transport the takeout bag from the desk to his nightstand before gesturing to the room at large.

“Why don’t I clean up a little in here while you eat? Gather up some laundry, unpack your suitcase.”

Alhaitham lets the blanket fall around his waist so he can freely rummage through the bag. You try not to let your eyes cling to his pectorals as he pops the lid off the soup container.

“Why would I let you do that? You’re not my maid.”

“Neither is Kaveh,” you retort. “At least I’m offering.”

He scowls. “Why are you so quick to believe Kaveh?”

“Because I’ve met you. I think it’s more likely that you’re being demanding and rude than it is that sweet Kaveh is trying to tarnish your good name.”

“Isn’t that a little harsh?”

You give him a dry look. He doesn’t bother pretending to look offended, instead tentatively sipping at the broth.

“Well?” you ask. “I know you like spice, so I got them to add a little extra. I figured it would be good for the sinuses.”

“It’s…good.” There’s a strange quietness to his voice. “Thank you.”

You wave a hand, busying yourself with the clothes on his chair so the sincere moment can comfortably settle. A hamper rests just outside of his closet, so you begin tossing any stray clothes you find inside. The plastic bag from the takeout is the perfect size for his wastebasket, so you tie up the existing one and set it by his door before replacing it with the fresh one. You even tug the curtains open and crack the window to let some air and light in, much to Alhaitham's chagrin.

That just leaves his suitcase to deal with. You dump most of the clothes in the hamper, which just leaves basic things like toiletries and some personal items he brought with him. You stack anything that will need to be transported to the bathroom on his desk, and then start to take stock of the rest.

You nearly miss the book tucked into a side compartment of the suitcase. It looks well-loved, with yellowed pages and a dark green cover that’s frayed at the corners.

Alhaitham slams the takeout container onto his nightstand, soup sloshing over the side.

“Don’t read that.”

Your lips curve into a devious smile. “Oh. So you can read my smutty literature, but yours is off-limits? I think we’re past that, don’t you?”

“It’s not—”

But you’ve already begun thumbing through the pages. Your grin fades into a puzzled frown when you realize that there’s nothing particularly interesting about the book, just more of the head-scratching literature Alhaitham usually enjoys. But a scrawling inscription inside the front cover catches your eye.

May my child Alhaitham lead a peaceful life.

You snap the book shut in a panic, just as Alhaitham seems to materialize behind you. He snatches the book from your hands.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, guilt and embarrassment duking it out in your stomach to see which will make you puke first. “I didn’t…I shouldn’t have…”

The sudden lunge Alhaitham must have had to do to cross the room so quickly hits him all at once. He groans, pressing a hand to his forehead as though plagued by a dizzy spell or a splitting headache.

“It’s…” He grinds the word out between his clenched teeth. After a moment, he peels his eyes open, though his brow is still pulled tight with pain. “No. Don’t apologize. I overreacted.”

You watch him place the book on his desk before shuffling back towards his bed. He’d flung the comforter away in his haste to cross the room, and he now sets about bundling it around himself again.

Your feet feel frozen to the ground, trapping you in a state of panic like a deer in headlights. It hits you all at once that, despite everything that’s gone on between you, Alhaitham’s personal life is still shrouded in mystery. You’ve never even thought to ask about his family, his parents. A scrap of a conversation floats back to you, as though on a salt-soaked wind.

Just the ability to lead a peaceful life. That’s all I need.

It’s not like Alhaitham would easily tell you these things if you asked, but it’s not the first time you’ve felt guilty for being so selfish about your own problems.You don’t even want to know what sort of expression you’re wearing right now, but it’s clearly distressed enough that Alhaitham sighs and pats the bed beside him as he settles back against his headboard.

“Come here.”

You wordlessly obey, carefully lowering yourself onto the mattress at his feet. Alhaitham’s jaw works furiously as he tries to find the proper words, but every time you think he’s about to break the silence, he doesn’t.

You decide to take the risk and break it yourself.

“Your parents?” you wonder at last.

The risk pays off—he slumps in relief at the lifeline you’ve given him.

“They died when I was quite young.” Before you can stammer through an apology, Alhaitham shrugs. “It’s fine. I don’t remember much about them, to be honest. I was raised by my grandmother, so I was always used to it just being the two of us. Nothing ever felt…missing. She’s the one who gave me my love of learning, of reading. She actually homeschooled me up until I got accepted into the Akademiya.”

Your jaw drops. “You were home-schooled?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Well, with your social skills, I guess not…”

He gives a soft chuckle, but it’s so halfhearted, it might as well just be a sigh. It’s easy for you to put the pieces together at that point, and since he seems to appreciate you coaxing the facts out of him, you keep going.

“Then…the book is from her?”

He nods, but this time, he’s not so quick to continue. After what feels like an eternity, he says in a shaky breath, “When I was in the last year of my undergrad at the Akademiya…my grandmother passed away.”

Your throat tightens. “Oh, that’s…Alhaitham, I’m—”

He waves a hand. “She was old. These things happen. At least…that’s what I tried to tell myself at the time. I thought I had a handle on my…sadness. Grief. Anger. Whatever it was. We had no one else, so I was forced to take care of all of the funeral arrangements—” He cuts himself off at that, shaking his head. “Not forced. No, I was more than happy to do it. Everyone told me how I handled it surprisingly well. And maybe I did, but…”

You pull your knees up to your chest. “That sounds horrible. No one should have to go through something like that so young. And to do it alone…” You feel yourself getting choked up on his behalf, since even now, when recounting what was probably the worst moment of his life, he seems totally stoic.

“I wasn’t entirely alone,” he says. “Kaveh, and the others. They all showed up to pay their respects—not that I showed them any gratitude at the time. In fact, I’m surprised they’re still friends with me after how I treated them all during that time. Especially…especially Kaveh.”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that. You were grieving. Of course they’d cut you some slack.”

“Cyno and Tighnari, maybe,” he concedes. His eyes go a bit unfocused, as though lost in thought. “Kaveh was a different story.”

Oh. The pieces are filling in faster than he can supply them.

“The project,” you whisper.

He nods. “We were working on a project together, along with two others. One of our partners was going through a rough time—I don’t know what, to be honest. I didn’t care enough to ask. All I remember is that he wasn’t pulling his weight, and Kaveh wouldn’t stop coddling him about it—doing more than his share of the work to compensate, defending him when I would challenge his lack of contribution. It all snowballed until one day, I snapped. I lost my temper with him, told him that everyone has sh*t to deal with and if I wasn’t letting my personal life affect the work, then neither should anyone else.”

You obviously know that Alhaitham has a temper, but it’s always manifested in cold fury or biting remarks. You can’t picture him actually exploding at someone like that.

“Naturally, Kaveh didn’t like that. He called me cold and heartless and every name under the sun. He said he was sick of defending me to everyone, sick of being my verbal punching bag whenever he caught me in a bad mood. We’d gotten into arguments before, but that was different. I was cruel to him.”

There’s not a shred of emotion in his voice. He’s telling the story not like it’s his own, but like he’s reciting a biography he read once—detached, uninterested. Perhaps it’s easier that way, to treat the incident like something he witnessed rather than something he inflicted on another person. You fight to find the words to justify it, to assuage his guilt if only a fraction, but you know him well enough by now to know that it went down exactly as he says.

And indeed, Alhaitham seems to catch what you’re trying to do, because he shakes his head and firmly insists, “I was. At first, I thought it was another argument, that we’d blow past it. But the next thing I knew, he’d dropped the project. All four of us ended up failing the whole class.”

“Wow…” You blow out a shaky breath. “That definitely sounds…bad.”

He nods. “We didn’t speak for a long time. In fact, the first time we did was when Tighnari mentioned Kaveh needed a place to live. He’d just fallen into some serious debt, and since this apartment is paid off thanks to my grandmother’s inheritance…”

“You offered him a deal.”

Your heart pangs at the realization. That’s so like Alhaitham, even now—acting like his help comes begrudgingly, slapping a cheap rent on the deal to make it seem like he’s only doing it to profit, to hold something over Kaveh. When in reality…

“You still care about him,” you say softly, before you can help it. Alhaitham stiffens like you’ve flung an accusation at him, but he doesn’t deny it.

“Despite our differences, Kaveh was the first real friend I ever had. But he always acted like he saw me as some project to fix. It was difficult not to resent that.”

“Don’t you think maybe he was just able to see that you needed someone?”

His jaw tenses. “Yes. Logically, of course I knew that. But…” He doesn’t have to finish the thought—he’s Alhaitham, exceptionally competent in all facets of lifeexcept for human emotion. "It was a messy, complicated dynamic. It’s why, even before that fight, things were always a bit…”

“Intense?”

“Yes.”

A question sparks on your tongue. You almost swallow it down, not wanting to risk shattering this rare moment of Alhaitham opening up to you, but you’ve already risked this much so far. You trace a circle against the sheets of his bed, as you ask the one question that’s been eating at you.

“Did you…love him?”

His lip curls in disgust, though you’re not so quick to attribute that disgust to one thing in particular. To you, for asking that question? To the mere suggestion of it? Or perhaps to himself, for so carelessly disregarding that as a possibility in the first place? For getting in the way of his own happiness? All of it seems possible.

So you’re surprised when he doesn’t immediately refute it, instead shrugging and saying, “I don’t know. It hardly matters now.”

“Doesn’t it?” you press. “Unresolved feelings, living in the same apartment—it can’t be easy.”

He fixes you with a look that’s loaded with meaning and says again, with quiet firmness, “It doesn’t matter.”

You’re tempted to let that be enough, to swoon at that implication— you’re why it doesn’t matter now. But this is the first time you feel like you’re actually getting somewhere with Alhaitham, even if it doesn’t necessarily involve you or your relationship. So you double down, setting your jaw and giving him a defiant look.

“Of course it does. You’re never going to be happy with yourself until it’s resolved.”

“How do you suppose I do that? You’ve met Kaveh. It’s impossible to have a conversation with him. He gets defensive and petulant the moment you start to criticize him.”

“I’d maybe start by not criticizing him,” you say dryly. “I mean, these things are delicate. Even when you apologize, it doesn’t always make it go away. You have to show actual remorse and a desire to change your behaviour.”

Something about the way he hesitates makes you pause. You furrow your brow.

“Alhaitham…you did apologize, didn’t you?”

His tongue prods the inside of his cheek. “To be fair, he’s the one who—"

“Oh my god,” you say with faint disbelief. “You didn’t even apologize to him?”

Alhaitham makes a sweeping gesture to his room. “I’m letting him live here for next to nothing. Does that not constitute an apology?”

“Absolutely not. If anything, he probably just thinks you’re looking at him like a charity case so you have something to hold over him.”

He sinks back against his headboard, as close to sulking as he can get. “Well, that is what he tells people. It’s a bit of a sore spot for his pride.”

“Mm. Shocking.”

He bristles at your sarcasm. “Am I going to regret telling you all this?”

“Not at all. In fact, I have the perfect opportunity for you to apologize to Kaveh.”

“And what’s that?” he asks, almost warily.

“The gallery opening obviously.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t immediately shoot it down, but he does seem less than enthusiastic about the idea. But after a long pause of clear deliberating, all he says is, “I’ll think about it.”

You give him a smile that’s meant to convey just how inevitable you plan on making this conversation, but after a moment you remember to soften it.

“Hey…” You reach out a hand to him. He hesitates before leaning forward to take it. “I’m…I’m really glad you told me all this. I know it wasn’t easy for you. You didn’t have to tell me at all. It…means a lot that you trust me with it.”

“I know.” It’s the first time throughout the conversation that he shows a sliver of emotion. His expression hardly changes, but his throat bobs as his grip on your hand tightens. “I wanted to. I’m coming to discover that you’re annoyingly easy to talk to.”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with you being high on cough syrup,” you say with a tiny smile.

His mouth quirks upwards slightly. “The cough syrup. Right.”

You sigh, giving his hand a final squeeze before pulling yourself off the bed.

“Finish your soup. I’ll throw some laundry in for you. I’m guessing this rich person apartment has an in-unit?”

“I’m not letting you do my laundry.”

“You’ll be too busy finishing the soup I spent my student loan money on to stop me.”

His jaw locks. “It’s in the bathroom.”

“Thank you very much!” You lift the hamper by its handles and head out into the hallway before he can protest further.

Kaveh is seated in the kitchen, leafing through a home decor magazine and nursing a glass of wine. He perks up at the sound of your approach, but then his expression sours when he hones in on the laundry hamper.

“Unbelievable. He has you doing his laundry? Does he not have an ounce of shame in his body?”

“Don’t get worked up,” you lightly scold him. “I offered. In his delirious state, he might do something unthinkable and mix his whites and darks.”

He still doesn’t look convinced, which is why he huffs, “At least let me help you with the machine. I could barely figure out how to work it myself when I moved in.”

He seems determined enough that you know you couldn’t refuse, so you allow him to lead you down another hall and into the bathroom.

You smother a sound of shock as you step inside. The bathroom is huge— easily double the size of yours, if not bigger. There’s a large, glass-walled shower tucked into one corner, as well as a clawfoot tub tucked beneath the far wall windows. The laundry unit is tucked into an alcove just inside the door, expensive-looking appliances sitting side by side beneath shelves filled with extra towels, detergent, and dryer sheets.

“Do you guys need a third roommate?” you ask, to which Kaveh chuckles.

“I’d gladly take you up on that. Maybe then I’d stand a chance whenever Alhaitham decides to pick a fight over something stupid.”

You giggle, but when Kaveh turns to start fiddling with the countless buttons on the washer, your smile slips. All you can think of is the conversation you just had with Alhaitham, the years of built-up hurt between them that you now, inexplicably, feel responsible to fix.

It’s why the words come spilling out before you can stop yourself.

“Alhaitham told me what happened. With, um, with the project.”

Kaveh stiffens, his hand freezing on the washer door.

“He did?” His voice comes out steady, if slightly thin. “I’m surprised. That story doesn’t exactly paint him in the best light.”

“It doesn’t,” you agree. This is a stupid, stupid idea. Alhaitham will kill you if he finds out you’re having this conversation with Kaveh, but it’s not like you can take the words back. “I know he said some pretty hurtful things to you, and I just wanted to say…even if he doesn’t show it, he regrets it. I can tell. And if you can give me some time—”

“Y/N.” You’ve never heard him sound so somber, so serious. He takes the hamper from you and begins tossing the clothes into the washer. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’ve long since stopped hoping for an apology from him. I just don’t think he has it in him.”

You lean against the dryer. “I’m not so sure.”

“Of course you see the best in him,” he says with a rueful smile. “You’re in love with him.”

You have to swallow the instinct to deny it, especially since it sounds like he’s speaking from a place of commiseration. The words cause a strange knot to form in your chest. You rub at your collarbone and frown.

Kaveh slams the washer door shut before turning to face you. His sharp red eyes are soft with sympathy, but there’s a pull to his mouth that makes you nervous.

“Obviously I want the best for the two of you. I’m being completely honest when I say I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Happy.”

That does nothing to help the knot in your chest.

“But he’s not an easy person to love,” Kaveh goes on, and at this, his tone turns more resigned. “Believe me. I know. So I just…I hope you’re right about him. That’s all.”

“Kaveh…”

He heaves a weary sigh, reaching up onto the shelf to measure out a capful of detergent and add it to the machine. When he turns back to you, there’s a strained smile on his face.

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that look! If you walk back into his room looking like that, Alhaitham will find a way to blame it on me for sure.”

“S-Sorry, Kaveh. I’m…” You shake your head as your voice begins to waver. “I’m really sorry.”

“I mean it,” Kaveh insists, his tone turning more serious again. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. It’s between me and him.”

You drag your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. “Okay…”

Kaveh still doesn’t look convinced, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He plasters that smile on his face again, but this time it almost looks convincing.

“Well, okay! There are snacks in the cupboard if you get hungry. I’m sure Alhaitham isn’t being the best host right now, so just let me know if you need anything, okay?” He waves and swiftly exits the bathroom before you can say anything else.

You wait a few moments in silence, giving Kaveh the time to put distance between him and the bathroom if needed. That familiar guilt is creeping up your throat, but you do your best to swallow it down and then, doublechecking the washer is going, leave the bathroom as well.

By the time you make it back to Alhaitham’s room, he’s finished his soup and is dozing face-down on his pillow. He doesn’t wake up when you enter, so you continue straightening things up in his room. You should have learned your lesson from the first book you snooped through, but you take the opportunity to browse his personal bookshelf, hoping for a familiar title to pop out.

Naturally, none do. As expected, Alhaitham’s personal collection ranges from philosophy to physics theory to biographies of countless famous Akademiya alumni. There are also several dictionaries and thesauruses, which also doesn’t surprise you.

Eventually, you find one that’s only semi-difficult to digest—something about art and history and pop culture. Strangely contemporary for Alhaitham’s tastes. You pluck it from the shelf and settle at his desk to read it while you wait for his laundry to finish.

By the time his clothes are warm and folded in a basket, you’ve made it through about half the book. The sun is starting to set, golden sunlight seeping into the room. Alhaitham is still sleeping peacefully, so you curl up beside him, careful not to disturb him.

It’s strange, you think, how different he looks when he’s sleeping. Every harsh line is softened, not a trace of his usual trademark frown. The absurdity of your life still hits you even now. If anyone told you mere months ago that you’d be lying beside Alhaitham like this—

“I can feel you staring at me.”

Alhaitham’s groggy mumble startles you out of your daze.

“I’m not.”

“You are. What time is it?”

“I dunno, really. You’ve been asleep for a few hours.”

He turns onto his side so you’re perfectly mirrored—both with your hands tucked beneath your pillows, both staring intently at each other. It sends you back to that hotel room, but at the same time, it’s also somehow completely different. There’s no heat coiling through the air between you, no lust fogging your brain and making it hard to think straight.

“What are you thinking about?”

In the soft, buttery light of sunset, all you feel is an overwhelming wave of safety. You’re not sure how such a feeling can coincide so closely with the fear mounting in your throat, but somehow, inexplicably, it does.

It’s what gives you the courage to softly sigh and murmur, “I think…I think I might like you more than I bargained for.”

As straightforward as you’ve ever said it. And yet somehow it still doesn’t seem like enough, still feels like a mere distraction from that growing knot in your chest.

Alhaitham’s mouth quirks to the side, but his posture tenses. You’re wary to think that he might be nervous, but his usually calm, self-assured eyes are darting all across your face, like he can’t quite bring himself to look you in the eye.

“Were you bargaining on liking me at all?” he asks.

You scrunch your nose. “Hell no.”

A real laugh slips out at that, so abrupt and so sharp that it immediately sends him into a coughing fit. You smother a giggle while he buries his face in the crook of his arm. He flops his head back down on the pillow after a moment, eyes watering.

“Anyway,” you say, fighting back a smile. “I’m only admitting this because I think we might be lying on your deathbed. And I’d hate for you to…y’know, die without me getting the chance to say that to you.”

“Well, since it might be my last night alive, I suppose there’s no harm in me admitting the same.”

You find yourself nestling closer. “Admitting what?”

“Is your memory failing? Have you really forgotten what you just said sixty seconds ago?”

“You know, for a self-proclaimed language expert, you’re pretty lousy at using it to say how you really feel.”

“Really? I’ve been told I’m far too honest.”

“Sure. And when was the last time you used that honesty to tell someone you care about them?”

There’s a long pause, until finally, he says in a quiet voice, “Never. You’re about as close as I’ve ever gotten.” He reaches out a hand, resting it in the crook of your neck. His thumb traces soft circles against your cheek, and you know that the single action is worth a thousand words.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” you admit.

“No you don’t,” he sighs. “I’ll probably sneeze into your mouth.”

“That’s kind of sexy.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying his hardest not to laugh and risk another painful coughing fit. Just the thought that he even wants to though, that you’re capable of getting under that stony exterior, is like a drug. You’re fully willing to devote your entire life to chasing that rare high.

“When I’m not highly contagious,” Alhaitham says once he composes himself. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“Oh?”

“With the proper precautions, of course. Perhaps I’ll research local bomb shelters for us to rent out for the night. Something hardy and weatherproof.”

You choke out a shocked laugh. “Someone thinks highly of himself.”

“Of course I do. A girl told me recently that she’s never seen a bigger—”

This time, he can’t control the laugh he lets out as you shove him hard, and when he devolves into pained coughing, you only feel a little bad.