; cogito, ergo sum.

      that's what he tells himself, despite having drank scarcely a flute of champagne. it's a bit too dry for his tastes, and reaching for juice to pour into it to soothe the taste doesn't seem like an acceptable solution. so he has found refuge in a mango cake with a topping of wild berries, the sweetness still in his mouth.

      still, midnight approaches. and he's feeling bold, ready to plunge into an occasion.

      it happens near midnight, to his good luck. 

      him and kaveh are celebrating on the balcony, looking at the fireworks about to go off. al-haitham can hear excited hushed voices from downstairs, and rolls the golden bubbles of his drink as he attempts to take another sip. it'll be mitigated by the cake, he can take it.

      a minute before midnight.

      he sees kaveh smiling, moonlight glittering on his features, and does a thing he should do more often: he gives in on the impulse.

      a finger tips kaveh's chin up, and their lips touch just as the first firework explodes in the sky.

      it's a featherlight thing, that kiss.

      ' happy new year, ' is all that al-haitham says on the matter when they part, a soft expression on his face.

      Let the moonlight catch his eyes, its shine painting the night a special color Kaveh doesn't remember ever seeing. It's the hours preceding a new milestone, the roads below bustle with youthful excitement — in the few times he remembers indulging, it's never quite been like this. It's differente, lighter; the weight pushing his shoulders to slump seem to have been lifted, temporarily granting him a moment of reprieve. If it's deserved or not, it's a worry alcohol has stolen away from the mind of an architect, allowed for tranquility to seep through and swirl over his tongue like the sweetest of nectars.

      This time, when his head lowers, it's not in defeat but in gleeful curiosity: kids rush way ahead of their parents, carrying little sticks from which sparkles jump haphazardly. They play and draw in the air, loudly announce their plans for the future, and the way they speak so freely about it makes Kaveh believe them to be certain, that there's no bigger concern to be had.

      It's a minute before midnight, Kaveh's glass has gone empty and he remediates it with a pour of liquid gold, its bubbles quick to rise to freedom. If he's to be honest, a fresh new start has come for him a bit before the end of another calendar. And it's a silly thing, isn't it? The wonder of a colorful sky starting to be outlined with the shapes of collective joy.

      His smile is almost as wide as his eyes when it's time for a toast. His body turns, pauses at the lightest of touches before any word dares to spill past parted lips, and how perfectly sweet it is that he accepted to receive it this way — his breath stills, the phantom feeling of a touch lingers and Kaveh has forgotten to stop staring.

      Yes. Novelty is often entertaining, even more so when it comes from someone like the Scribe. Kaveh snorts, retreats his hand in favor of stifling that sound. ❛ I'll be sure to think of him if, specially if, one of these end up in my possession. ❜ The absurdity of it all compels him, it cushions any potential frustration over getting his guess so wrong it came close to stunning. His laugh is still present with each new element he finds in this gesture.

      ' i don't expect you to eat it. '

      he's straightforward with that, as if he knew all along. ' why do you think i got two made? ' he asks, deadpan almost. ' so you can eat... well. ' there's an awkward stammer. ' -so you can eat me. ' a pause. ' i guess you could put it that way. '

      This is unusual. No, not the other's stupid and self-satisfied demeanor, but his game. Silly little game involving cards of some sort. ❛ Forfeited your position as Grand Sage to pursue a career in the entertainment industry? ❜ He laughs, short and amused. There isn't much he can infer from the back alone, but the choice of colors doesn't escape him. ❛ The red one. ❜ Those of the same hue as mentioned peer up from over the edge of the chosen card. Kaveh's pointer also touches it, and taps lightly with the back of his knuckle. ❛ Is it the new Eremite Scorching Loremaster card? ❜

      he spins the card around with his fingers to reveal...

      ' the correct answer is: gingerbread man. '

      ❛ I have been doing this for the longest. You know I can't stop, I don't want to stop. It's what I have to offer and if I don't then... I don't know, okay? ❜

      In the end, it's pointless to argue about this topic when it delves to points like these. Kaveh is well aware that al Haitham is not without reason in what he proposes, but, at the same time, there's too much to lose otherwise. It's a bargain the architect has with and to himself and, though the cost may be high, there's hope that the results will pay off.

      Given the natural course of things between them, Kaveh also expects new jabs after his final comment, something that would spark the fire and incite him to keep this discussion. It comes as surprise to see the Scribe shift, pull something from his pouch — more than curiosity, confusion moves him to watch intently until the item is in his hands.

      Mango slices? When did he— Regardless, it reframes all of the blond's stance. The container is cradled in his hold, and he sighs, replays al Haitham's recent and stern claim of open verbal concern. Except that it isn't solely verbal, not with these fruit slices, not with the shadow of a taller man strolling around his hunched form to pick the balled sketches that had been discarded in rapid fits.

      he gets it: all of kaveh's life has been as an architect. it's like trying to put a square-like object in a circular space- the figure just won't fit, because it's not his the space it can fit in. could it? possibly, with some efforts. but it'd leave the square figure mangled, and the one pushing with some pain in their fingers for the excessive pushing force, and all due to thinking that they know best.

      by now, al-haitham has figured out that some of arguments need to be de-escalated. it's good to bicker, but it's good to know when it isn't going anywhere, and needs to stop before it gets to their heads. he has already made a point, the one that he is concerned, and as kaveh has gotten it, now he can provide a proper de-escalation element.

      and thus, the Distraction Number 1: Mango Slices was born.

      it's so simple and effective that he looks smug for a moment- but just one, and it doesn't unsoften his features. more than anything, al-haitham momentarily looks pleased with himself. of course, kaveh won't let it last.

      before it registers what he's doing, his partner's voice is muffled in a quiet, sweet thank-you against the side of his cheek, a gentle push into his hair having brought their faces close. it takes him some seconds and a few owlish blinks before he registers that kaveh has kissed his cheek-

      kaveh has kissed his cheek and thanked him.

      it's almost against his will that the skin under the blond's fingertips starts to burn, that ears grow hot and hotter, concealed under... ha! unfortunately for him, there's no concealing, as he picked this very moment to discard his headpieces around the house. his burning ears are in full display, and so is al.haitham's almost troubled expression as he resembles a mercury-filled termometer registering an high temperature: his.

      ' you're... you're welcome. '

      it's that little stutter, the little throat clearing, the heat wafting off his face that should give kaveh a clue of what he just did.

      ❛ Life is not always this objective, Haitham. Sometimes, two plus two does not give us four; textbook definitions of any human condition don't come close to breaching the breadth of the real thing. It is not that simple, I can't always sacrifice my time! Seldom, even.

      The clock ticks and it'll keep ticking and it'll never stop. You can choose to sit and read a dozen books until your legs go numb from being still for too long, everything will likely be unchanged when you're done; were I to do the same as leisurely, it'd cost me too much, the cost is too high and I can't afford it. It's comfortable to put your finger in my face from your cushy position, when I'm the only one who remembers what it was like to—

      ...Hm. Your facts don't upset me. It's how, or so it seems, most times it's all you have to offer. ❜

      ' i have a cushy position because i worked towards it. i can allow myself to sit down somewhere comfortable and read a dozen books- my legs don't cramp or go numb because i would take breaks when i feel that my body isn't doing what i want it to. time will be unchanged- but i would have learned something out of these books, made them useful to me. you're essentially giving me a snake that bites its own tail, i hope you're aware of that. '

      ' hmm. that's all i have to offer━ ' his hands go to unzip his pouch, taking out a small, transparent container that he puts in kaveh's hands. 

      ' ━that, and a mango for you to eat. ta-da. '

      ❛ Ugh, not this speech again. For the record, I have to. My livelihood depends on my craft, on what my hands are capable of and— you're wrong, I don't resent it nor my body. I'm proud of it, I may ache, but I ache because I've created. The day the later is true but not the former will be the day I resent it. It's not today. ❜

  ❛ Why am I not a ten? What are the points I would, theoretically, need to improve to receive maximum rating?❜

      ' you want a ten? stabilize your sleeping schedule, starting from tonight. set an alarm for regular breaks, and spend some time eating the fruit i cut up and peel for you and stretching for at least fifteen minutes before you try to move and realize that you resemble a pop-corn pan. a better routine and regular resting are guaranteed to boost your mood, and thus your productivity too. '

  ❛ SEVEN out of ten? ❜