Chapter Text
The Akademiya still smelled exactly the same: old paper, damp ink, wood warmed by the sun, and that dry scent impossible to describe that seemed to seep into every corner of Sumeru for centuries. Kaveh only had to step through the main gates to recognize everything immediately, even after the academic break. The same endless hallways. The same discussions elevated to absurdly dramatic levels between exhausted students. The same groups occupying entire staircases as if they were natural extensions of their faculties. Some faces were familiar from the previous year; others seemed to have multiplied spontaneously over the summer. The Akademiya had that uncomfortable quality of making everyone seem temporary except the building itself.
Kaveh walked through the flow of students, absently adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He caught fragments of conversations about research projects, unbearable professors, absurd rumors related to a strange illness in the northern suburbs. Someone mentioned corpses found completely pale in a remote village; someone else responded with a laugh, mocking old vampire stories. Kaveh barely paid attention. Stories about vampires were exactly that: stories. Things grandmothers whispered to keep children indoors after sunset. Absurd legends recycled by overly enthusiastic medical students and superstitious scholars incapable of accepting rational explanations for common diseases.
Though, he had to admit, some illustrations were quite interesting from an aesthetic standpoint.
Anyway, the real novelty for him was something else. The residence. Until now, he had always lived with his mother, even after entering the Akademiya. But Fontaine had taken her away with uncomfortable speed; only a few months ago, the house his mother and he shared had still been full of boxes, blueprints, forgotten tea cups, and the persistent feeling that she would come back soon. Now it remained empty.
So, out of necessity more than desire, Kaveh had applied for residential housing. And honestly, he had expected something much worse. The Akademiya’s residential district had a completely different atmosphere from the rest of the academic complex. How to put it? Less solemn, less oppressive. The buildings still preserved traditional Sumerian elements: geometric arches, carved panels, polished sandstone… but the design was noticeably more modern and functional. Kaveh noticed it immediately. The rooms were arranged around narrow inner courtyards that favored cross-ventilation; the lattice screens cast angular shadows over the floor, and the wall lamps had been strategically placed to make use of warm reflections at night. Even the corridors seemed designed to avoid heat buildup. It was clever, very clever even.
Kaveh slowed down without noticing, observing the transitions between common and private spaces. The residential modules followed a simplified reinterpretation of traditional iwan design: apartments with double rooms, connected through a central shared living area, intended to encourage coexistence between students without sacrificing too much personal space.
Ah. That explained the noise.
Laughter echoed from some nearby courtyard. A door slammed violently two floors above. Someone ran through the corridors pursued by insults in at least three different languages. Kaveh smiled faintly. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible.
He was so distracted analyzing the structural distribution and interior finishes that he did not notice how far he had walked until he found himself in front of the door to his assigned room. He adjusted the boxes in his arms and carefully pushed the door open.
– “Hello?” he said automatically as he entered. “I have permission to come in, I assume.”
There was silence; it didn’t seem like anyone was there. Better for him, he told himself.
The shared room was dimly lit by the orange sunset light filtering through the lattice screens. There were already a few books carefully arranged on one of the shelves, “far too aligned to belong to a normal person,” in his opinion.
The rest of the space remained spotless. Kaveh let out a sigh. Maybe his roommate hadn’t even arrived yet. That made things easier, then. He began unpacking absentmindedly while continuing to observe the place. The internal structure was elegant: clean lines, modular furniture, slightly raised ceilings to allow thermal circulation. Everything definitely looked recent. He could notice influences from Fontaine architecture in certain functional decisions. Subtle, but present; he found it curious and continued drifting in his own thoughts while inspecting the apartment. He set a stack of notebooks on the table and walked toward the second room, more from architectural impulse than any real intention to invade someone else’s space. The door was half-open and dark.
Kaveh frowned slightly.
“How strange,” he thought to himself. He reached for the switch by the frame, and the light flooded the room all at once. Suddenly someone looked directly at him from the other side. Fuck, Kaveh swore his heart was trying to leave his body.
A tall man stood in front of the open wardrobe, completely still, a black shirt half-folded in his hands; he had been organizing clothes in total darkness. The realization hit Kaveh one second too late.
The stranger barely turned his head toward him with an unreadable expression. He did not seem surprised, annoyed, or confused, only watching him. His eyes were strangely clear under the warm light of the room. The silence remained.
Kaveh opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
– “By all the archons?!” he finally blurted, pressing a hand to his chest. “How long have you been standing there?!”
The other blinked once, far too slowly for Kaveh’s patience.
– “Since before you came in.” His roommate spoke. His voice was calm, far too calm for someone who had just appeared to another person like a nocturnal apparition. Kaveh took a deep breath.
– “Ah, got it.”
He let the silence return. It wasn’t like his apartment companion was fighting to prevent it anyway. His roommate carefully placed the folded shirt on the bed.
– “Yeah…”
Kaveh looked at him more carefully now that his nervous system was beginning to restart. The guy was probably his age; maybe a little younger. His grayish hair was carefully arranged, posture too straight, movements silent to an uncomfortable degree. He had heard absolutely nothing, not footsteps, not breathing. “What a weird guy…”
– “You’re my roommate, I assume,” Kaveh said finally, still recovering from the scare.
– “Yes.”
After a silence, he spoke again…
– “And do you have a name or…?”
The boy looked at him for exactly two seconds before replying:
– “Alhaitham.”
Kaveh let out an involuntary laugh. Well, at least he talked.
– “Kaveh. Architecture.” he introduced himself, offering a hand politely.
– “I know.”
That made him stop.
– “What?”
– “Your blueprints have your name written on them.” Alhaitham gestured vaguely.
“Ah. Right…” he thought. Kaveh felt a little embarrassed for reasons he could not immediately identify. Kaveh laughed awkwardly, not exactly uncomfortable yet. As if they were participating in a conversation whose rules Alhaitham knew and Kaveh didn’t. He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe.
– “Alhaitham,” he said slowly “important question. Is there any specific reason you were organizing clothes completely in the dark, or do you simply enjoy shortening people’s life expectancy?”
For the first time in several minutes of conversation, something tiny changed in Alhaitham’s expression. It wasn’t exactly a smile, more the slight confusion of someone facing a question whose answer seemed obvious.
– “I could see fine.”
Kaveh simply sighed and returned the intense stare his new roommate was fixing on him before going back to his room. He misses his home.
Kaveh quickly discovered that sharing an apartment with Alhaitham was comparable to living with a particularly polite household spirit. The next morning, when he opened his eyes still dazed by sleep and the disorientation of a new room, the other side of the apartment was already impeccably tidy. There were no visible signs of activity; no forgotten cup, no open book, no evidence of movement. And yet, someone had boiled water. Kaveh knew because the faint scent of tea leaves still floated in the warm air of the shared room.
Alhaitham, however, was nowhere to be seen, so Kaveh remained sitting on the bed for a few seconds, hair messy and still processing the fact that he officially had a roommate. A very strange one. Still, there was something curiously unthreatening about him. Disconcerting? Yes. Uncomfortable? Depends who you ask. If anything, he gave the impression of someone who had read conversations in extremely old books and was now trying to replicate them, while being painfully obvious that he was doing so without quite understanding them.
Kaveh finished getting ready for class relatively quickly. Familiar routine helped. Choosing clothes, organizing blueprints, checking materials, making sure he didn’t forget drawing tools; familiar actions that managed to slightly order the constant noise in his mind. By the time he left the residence, the sun was already illuminating the Akademiya’s pale stone corridors in golden tones that reflected across the geometric latticework.
The campus was unbearably alive. Students were running between faculties carrying mountains of books, professors arguing about research too loudly, and street vendors already occupied several sectors near the main courtyards selling spiced coffee and fresh bread. Kaveh descended the residence’s exterior stairs, weaving around sleepy groups of students while trying to remember the exact schedule of his seminars.
Third year. The idea still felt strange.
The previous year had been exhausting in ways difficult to explain. He had learned more than expected, slept considerably less than recommended, and developed an almost romantic relationship with academic stress. And yet, part of him could not help feeling excited. Kshahrewar was still Kshahrewar. He still felt that awkward, almost childish excitement every time he entered a design workshop or saw blueprints spread over huge tables full of chaotic annotations. Architecture had something dangerously absorbing about it; a way of reorganizing his brain until it made him temporarily forget any other concern.
Even academic arguments stimulated him…
Especially academic arguments.
– “Kaveh.”
He immediately looked up at hearing his name. One of his professors was walking toward him along the central corridor accompanied by other faculty researchers. The man smiled faintly in recognition.
– “I heard about your final project from last semester. Congratulations.”
Kaveh smiled automatically.
– “Thank you, professor.”
– “Although I also heard you tried to redesign half the structure three days before the deadline.”
Kaveh grimaced.
– “Technically it was still within the allowed timeframe-”
– “Technically you are an administrative headache.”
That drew an involuntary laugh while his professor shook his head, clearly amused.
– “Even so, the project was excellent. I hope this year you’ll be a little more responsible with your health.”
– “I can’t make irresponsible promises this early in the morning. Let me have coffee first.”
Just as stubborn as always. Receiving an “at least you’re honest” in response.
Conversations like that continued through much of the morning. Some lecturers recognized him immediately, others remembered his projects, his presentations, or the particularly passionate arguments he had during certain seminars. Kaveh tried not to show how much that meant to him. Academic validation remained dangerously effective on his emotional stability.
Classes began normally enough. Design workshops, structural reviews, debates on functionality and aesthetics. Kaveh let himself be absorbed by it with the ease of someone who genuinely loved what he did. He drew until his hands were stained with graphite, argued with another student about spatial proportions, and ended up completely involved in an unnecessarily intense conversation about the relationship between public architecture and social behavior. Everything felt familiar, and consequently, comforting.
The Akademiya’s main cafeteria was exactly as chaotic as Kaveh remembered. The noise of conversations bounced against the high ceilings while students from different faculties silently competed for free tables and decent food portions. Kaveh moved through the crowd carrying a precariously balanced tray while trying to spot any available seat.
Then he saw him. Alhaitham was sitting completely alone at one of the farthest tables, partially hidden by a stone column decorated with ancient geometric patterns. An open book lay in front of him and an untouched cup of tea at the side. There were no traces of food. Kaveh hesitated for barely a second.
He had no social obligation to sit with him. In fact, considering the interaction from the previous night, probably the smartest thing was to leave him alone. However… the rest of the dining hall was practically full, and besides, it would be strange to deliberately ignore someone with whom he literally shared an apartment. So he walked to the table before he could reconsider.
– “I’m going to assume this seat isn’t reserved.” he said as he placed the tray in front of him.
Alhaitham looked up from the book.
– “It isn’t.”
Kaveh sat down. For a few seconds, silence settled between them while he absently arranged his utensils. Alhaitham returned to reading. Kaveh watched him over his drink. Was he really not even going to try to talk now either?
In broad daylight, he still looked strangely… strange. Not ugly, not at all. Not even intimidating exactly. Simply difficult to place within comfortable normality. There was something too precise about him; the impeccable posture, the almost unnatural stillness, the way his eyes seemed to focus on things with absolute intensity, and he still moved too silently. Kaveh couldn’t help comparing him to himself. He did not understand how someone could exist without producing normal ambient noise; Kaveh produced too many sounds too loudly all the time.
– “What do you study?” he finally asked, more out of need to break the silence than genuine curiosity.
– “Linguistics.”
That actually surprised him a little.
– “Seriously?”
– “Yes.”
– “You don’t look like someone from Linguistics.”
Kaveh rested his chin on one hand and Alhaitham calmly turned a page.
– “…And what is someone from Linguistics supposed to look like?”
– “More emotionally exhausted.”
That provoked something tiny in Alhaitham’s expression. Again that almost imperceptible micro reaction that maybe equaled humor in his personal language.
– “I’ll consider that useful feedback.”
Kaveh smiled faintly before finally starting to eat. For a few minutes they remained in shared silence. Curiously, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Or maybe it was, but in a strangely sustainable way. Then Kaveh noticed the book and frowned slightly.
– “That doesn’t look like linguistics.”
Alhaitham barely looked up.
– “It isn’t.”
Kaveh tilted his head, trying to read the upside-down title.
“Comparative Medical Treatises on Atypical Hematological Conditions.” …What a horrible title.
– “Why are you reading that?”
– “Academic curiosity.”
Kaveh snorted a laugh.
– “I should have guessed you’re one of those people who likes knowing about everything.”
– “Not really.” The response came too quickly. Kaveh raised his eyebrows slightly. Something in the tone had changed just a little, probably not visible to most people, but Kaveh had always noticed more things than most people.
– “Kaveh?”
He immediately turned his head.
– “Oh, hello!” Two students from Rtawahist had stopped beside the table. Both seemed to recognize him from some class the previous semester.
– “We heard you got into the advanced urban design seminar this year.”
Kaveh made an exaggerated grimace.
– “‘Got in’ is generous. I mostly survived the selection process through sheer stubbornness.”
One of them laughed. The conversation continued for a few minutes. Comments about new professors, impossible schedules, and ridiculous academic rumors. Kaveh joined naturally while barely noticing how Alhaitham returned to his book without intervening once. Until one of the students looked toward him.
– “Oh, is your friend also in Kshahrewar?”
Silence. Kaveh opened his mouth to answer automatically out of instinct, but stopped. Alhaitham did not correct the word. He did not say “no.” He clarified nothing, did not even visibly react. He simply looked up from the book and watched the student for one second too long. The atmosphere shifted just slightly, enough for the other student to seem uncomfortable without understanding exactly why.
Alhaitham looked back at Kaveh, meeting his intense gaze, then answered calmly.
– “No.”
And returned to reading. The two students exchanged a quick look.
– “Oh, okay. Well… see you later, Kaveh.”
– “Yeah! Sure.”
They left almost immediately after that. Kaveh watched them go before slowly turning back to Alhaitham.
– “Okay..? That was weird.”
– “What was? You seemed entertained talking.”
– “I mean the part where you made a normal conversation feel like a legal interrogation.”
– “That wasn’t my intention.”
Alhaitham said it genuinely, and honestly, Kaveh believed him.
He did not seem aware of the strange effect he had on people. Or maybe he simply did not know how to avoid it. Kaveh set down his fork and studied him more carefully. There was something deeply contradictory about Alhaitham. He seemed like someone used to constantly observing others and, at the same time, completely lost regarding how others perceived him, as if he had learned social interaction from the outside. The idea felt unexpectedly sad.
– “Well,” he finally said, “for future reference, it usually helps to smile a little when talking to people.”
– “Why?”
Alhaitham looked up from the book again.
– “Because it makes you seem less threatening.”
Kaveh watched his expression, still impossible to decipher.
– “But I’m not threatening anyone.”
– “I know. That’s not the problem.”
Alhaitham remained silent for a few seconds.
– “Then the problem is incorrect social perception.”
Kaveh let out an incredulous laugh.
And for the first time since meeting him, Kaveh thought he detected the approximate equivalent of a real smile on Alhaitham’s face, accompanying his laugh. It was very small and brief, barely visible, but it was there. He would never admit it, but it did not feel enough for him. He would make sure to see a bigger smile than that.