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In truth, Al Haitham didn’t really know why he was here. Actually, no. That wasn’t it. Rather, he doesn’t even know what has gotten into him, because for the first time, in all the years he’s been alive, he did not know what he was doing—let alone why he was doing it.
As he silently questions his own actions, he deduces that he could not blame Nilou for staring wide-eyed at him, completely dumbfounded by what he had just said—or asked. Even he, himself, was dumbfounded.
“You… You want me to teach you how to dance?” Nilou asks again, tilting her head to the side. “Uhm, are you sure?”
Was he sure? He certainly was not. Did he want to learn how to dance? Not really. He doesn’t even know why one moment Nilou had been conversing with him about something mundane—he didn’t really mean to, but whatever she had said earlier had already flown over his head—and the next, he had blurted out that he wanted to learn how to dance.
He may not see it now, but he knew somewhere, in a far corner of Sumeru (most probably their shared place), Kaveh was already laughing his ass off at whatever was happening to him—whatever this was supposed to be.
In an attempt to play it cool, he nods his head in reply, confirming. Thus, further and willingly was he dragging himself into something he wasn’t even entirely keen about. To make things much worse on his part, he says, “Yes. I find dancing intriguing, I do not see the harm in learning.”
It was as if he had no control over whatever was coming out of his mouth. This was horrible, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.
When Nilou smiled brightly at him, there was this small voice in the back of his head that said maybe, he didn’t regret all his life choices—though, that didn’t really matter. All he wanted to do now was walk away and perhaps never show her his face ever again.
“I’d love to teach you if that’s what you want.” He could practically feel the joy radiate from Nilou. “Just let me know when you’re free. I know it often gets busy at the Akademiya…”
“Thank you,” He tells her curtly—as if it would take him back to before this whole ordeal even started. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
He wasn’t seeing her tomorrow! What in Teyvat has gotten into him?
“Huh?” There was that look of shock on her face again, and Al Haitham couldn’t help but think Nilou looked… nice. Perhaps, decent, and much more tolerable than most. “O-Oh! Sorry. Okay… okay! Let’s meet outside Puspa Cafe, same time tomorrow?”
“That works for me,” Why would you say that?
“I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“Okay.” Was all he said, and then she waved him goodbye.
Dear Archons.
He stands still, unmoving from his place, staring at her as she makes her way towards the Grand Bazaar. As he observes her, he couldn’t help but wonder: Has her hair always been as red as the sweetest Zaytun Peaches?
The sun starts to set, emitting a warm glow, painting Sumeru City in a beautiful shade of gold. He furrows his brows, suddenly realising it was time for him to head back home. As he leaves, he grumbles under his breath. This was all Kaveh’s fault. Had it not been for his constant babbling about Sumeru’s beloved star dancer, the thought of dancing would have never piqued his interest.
Sometimes, Al Haitham asks himself why he ever allowed himself to decide to take Kaveh in. It’s not that he hated his now-housemate, and yes, it was the right thing to do, what with the architect going bankrupt, but sometimes, the question lingers in his mind. Like now, for example.
His hypothesis—or a simple guess, rather, from earlier was right. Kaveh would be laughing his ass off if he ever knew about his conversation with the dancer; but instead of Kaveh doing it somewhere in a far corner of Sumeru, the man was laughing right at his face.
At that moment, Al Haitham concludes that he never should have told his housemate about it. Granted, telling Kaveh about anything important will never be the wisest decision—It never should be an option in the first place, He thinks—as more often than not, it backfires. But, alas.
In his defence, though, all he wanted to say was that he might be home hours later than usual. But then, one follow-up question turned into two, then into a whopping twenty, and the next thing he knew, Kaveh—this doesn’t happen usually, he swears—has gotten him to spill all the beans.
Which brought him to his current situation. A laughing Kaveh, whom he was very very close to kicking out.
“Just like that?” Kaveh asks, still laughing, much to his great dismay. “You asked Miss Nilou to teach you how to dance…? What even for, Al Haitham?”
I don't know, okay?! Was what he wanted to say—the only rational, albeit seemingly irrational thing he could think of; but no, that won't do. He did not need a laughing Kaveh worse than the one standing before him now, and he most certainly did not need a Kaveh who'd remind him of this situation every other five minutes for the rest of his life. Or at least, for the rest of his life while sharing a place with the (self-)renowned architect. He was bound to move out someday, anyway.
"It’s simple,” Al Haitham starts, making sure he sounded as confident as possible. “As a scholar—something I hope you are still familiar with because Archons knows what you’ve been up to recently—” Yes, his usual jesting would surely make the other buy his next lie.
“Huh? What are you talking about? I’ve been trying to get funding approved, that’s what I’ve been up to!” Kaveh interjects—bingo. “Come on, you, as the scribe should know that.”
“Will you let me continue now?” He raises a brow, and Kaveh, finally, finally shuts his mouth. “As I was saying, as a scholar, life-long learning does not stop with mere academics alone. Learning extends to the arts—what I meant to say is, I find dancing intriguing enough to allot time for it.”
“Hah?” Kaveh asks again, likely still confused.
Al Haitham did not have the time, nor did he have the answers to his housemate’s questions. An act of desperation, “This is none of your business anyway, why do you keep bothering me with questions?”
Though, it seemed like not even desperation could save him as a shit-eating grin appeared on Kaveh’s face—which was growing more and more irritating to Al Haitham as they spoke.
“Ohh. Ohh…” Kaveh says in a sing-song manner. “I get it now.”
“What?”
“I am no expert in this field, my friend,” Kaveh starts, making his way towards him. He places a hand on his shoulder, and Al Haitham could see a glint dancing in the other’s eyes. What it was for, however, he did not know. “But, helping out a friend in need is a just thing to do!”
“I don’t need help with anything.” Al Haitham says. “What are you even going on about?”
Kaveh laughs, “Oh, you poor, poor, clueless man.” Now that was just an insult to him. “You, my friend, have found yourself a certain someone to be smitten with. In other words, you’re growing up—you’re falling in love!”
What in Teyvat was he talking about?
“Where did you even get that conclusion from?” If he had any valuable take-away to whatever insanity Kaveh was subjecting him to, it was that his housemate was a disgrace to the scientific method. “You sound incredibly stupid. Do you even hear yourself?”
Insane. This was insane.
“One, I am not stupid, I’m Kaveh.” Case in point. “And two, don’t think I’ve never noticed it. On all occasions where you’ve met with Miss Nilou—heck, on all occasions when you’ve seen Miss Nilou, you come home in such a good mood, and you’re all chipper. You’re never chipper!”
“You just don’t know me enough.”
Kaveh shushes him, “Three! Your new-found interest in Padisarahs, Miss Nilou’s favourite flower—”
Al Haitham cuts him off, “How do you know that?”
“She has many, many admirers if you would like to know. Some fans, others vying for her hand. How do you know?”
“She mentioned it to me in passing, once.”
“Okay… anyway, as I was saying, you don’t like flowers, man. Now, dancing lessons? From Miss Nilou herself, no less! Now, riddle me this, what do you think of Miss Nilou?”
“I’m not answering any more questions from you. Good night.”
“Not wanting to answer me only proves my point!”
Al Haitham knows he does not owe the architect an answer, or an explanation, but this time around, he needed to be right. “I find her admirable. There. Would you please drop this stupid idea of yours now? You don’t even have a proper hypothesis, let alone data to back such a claim.”
“Not every question should be answered in such a roundabout way. And, see! You don’t simply find anyone admirable.” Kaveh pushes on.
“I find you admirable, but that doesn’t mean I fancy you in that kind of way?”
“Of course you do, I am rather admirable.” His second conclusion for the night was that Kaveh had his head far up his ass. “But this is not about me. We’re talking about Miss Nilou. You’re Al Haitham, the stoic and cold Grand Scribe, someone hard to please, but finds himself weak at the knees for a lovely lady.” Kaveh laughs again, “I never thought I’d ever see this day.”
“If you don’t shut it, you won’t live long enough to see the sun shining tomorrow.”
Kaveh only nods, unafraid. “Good luck tomorrow. Remember to bring her flowers!” Then disappears into his room.
Al Haitham was not in love, or whatever it was that Kaveh had been insinuating since the night before (the morning after was even worse). No, he was definitely certain he was not. It was only polite to bring Nilou something to thank her for all the trouble he has caused thus far. Flowers were a good way to thank people, and gifting the woman flowers she was fond of would further illustrate his sincerity. That was everything there was to the bouquet of Padisarahs he was holding on to.
He stands in front of the cafe’s message board, reading the scribbles of little notes to pass the time as he waits for Nilou.
‘Even the owner predicted I’ll get into the Akademiya this year!’ One message read. Exams were ongoing, and scholar selections were very selective. Sumeru was the land of wisdom, its citizens were free to pursue knowledge, but the Akademiya has its own set of criteria. Though there was one exception years back, when a certain pyro wielder from a noble Liyuen family got in for her peculiar elemental attunement, that was an entirely different situation.
Al Haitham could only hope the best for whoever penned the note.
Below that, was another note in neat handwriting, ‘Hehe… Gata, hehehe…’ Weird. And below that was a reply from the store manager, ‘Gata seems to be really fond of you too, Miss Nilou.’ Oh. Gata… Al Haitham makes a mental note to look into that Gata fellow later.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice calls out to him. He turns around to see Nilou, and his eyes dart towards the bouquet in his hands, and then back to her. The sooner he gives her this, the sooner they could start, and the sooner he could get this over with.
Of all things Al Halitham could start with, he begins with a simple “Hello.” It should suffice—he hopes it does.
“Hi,” She replies. He stares at her, she stares at him, and it goes on for a minute or probably two. A minute of awkward silence, if you will.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” Nilou says, flashing him a shy smile. “Something came up at the Bazaar, and I couldn’t just leave it be. I’m so sorry about that.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He replies. “I just got here anyway, so I haven’t been waiting long.” Liar. He’d been waiting for half an hour. He clears his throat, offering her the bouquet of Padisarahs. “Here, these are for you.”
“Oh, thank you.” She takes the bouquet from him, and the shy smile that was just on her face moments ago turns into a blindingly radiant one.
The afternoon sun was about to set, painting the city of Sumeru in glimmers of gold, and yet, in his mind, Nilou’s smile bested its beauty. Her smile was akin to that of the rising sun, the early morning rays kissing the land in new hope.
What was he even thinking?
“I did not know what would’ve been appropriate to give you as a token of gratitude.” He half-confesses. On one hand, it was true that he did not know what to give her, and on the other, he had been intending to give her Padisarahs the moment they began to bloom. “You’ve agreed to teach me on such short notice, and I am grateful for that.”
“You really didn’t have to!” She says, bringing the bouquet close to sniff every once in a while. “These are hard to find outside of Pardis Dhyai… it must have been troublesome for you to get these… Being able to teach people how to dance is enough of a thank you. So really, you didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”
I’ve been cultivating them myself, he wanted to say but decided against it. “So… should we begin lessons?”
“Sure!”
In the span of a day and a half, Al Haitham has lied more times than he could count on two hands. Well, it wasn’t a lie so bad he’d put his own reputation and integrity as a scholar in jeopardy. Just… white lies, to escape further embarrassment. He lied when Nilou asked him what enticed him to learn how to dance. His new reasoning was far from the one he had used on Kaveh. This time around, it was because he was bound for Mondstadt. It would’ve been embarrassing if he, as a scholar, was not familiar with the Nation’s waltz.
He lied again, when he said he has never seen the dance live. He has, on multiple occasions. Then, he lies again, when she holds his hand and he stiffens. He felt abashed by the sudden touch, but he told her he was just naturally stiff.
She giggles at him, and he wonders if lying was worth it after all.
“Relax,” She tells him. Believe him, he was trying his best. “Mondstadt’s waltz is like the nation’s element. Freely flowing like the cool breeze of the wind.”
Al Haitham was far from gentle. At least, when ancient relics and texts were out of the question, he was far from gentle. But, miraculously, as he takes her hand in his, and places the other on her waist, he was like a mother to a newborn. Slowly, but with certainty, he followed her lead, and as she had described it, flowed freely like the breeze.
“You’re a natural at this. Are you sure you aren’t a beginner at all?” She asks him, after a couple of rounds of box steps and spinning. He shakes his head no—another lie. He wasn’t a pro, per se, but decent enough to be more than a beginner. “I suppose you’ve got the basics, but I can still teach you if you want…”
He wouldn’t be needing any more lessons, but…
“If you’ll have me, then I see no reason to refuse.”
“Of course! I’d be glad to teach you more.” She pauses, and Al Haitham assumes she was probably choosing the right words to say—something he hadn’t been able to do since yesterday—then she smiles at him again, “It’s nice, being able to freely perform now… but I think, being able to share dances with someone else, I believe there’s more joy to that. So, as long as you’d want me to, I’d be happy to teach you.”
“I would like that.” He says, before realising what his words could entail, so he adds, “After all, being well-prepared is a must.”
She reminds him of a few more points—ones he was already aware of—and then offers to walk her home.
The sun had long set, and there was a moment of comfortable silence between them—completely juxtaposed to the awkward silence they had shared earlier. It was nice if he was being honest. Nighttime in Sumeru City has always been a sight to behold, but being able to share it with someone else… well, everything good becomes better tenfold.
A thought comes into his mind, and he looks at Nilou, “Miss Nilou?”
She hums in reply.
“Are you free tomorrow evening?” Once more, Al Haitham finds himself completely oblivious to the reasons for his actions.
“Would you like to continue lessons then?” She asks him.
“No, not lessons.” Al Haitham glances at the bouquet of Pardisarahs in her arms. “Actually, I would like to take you somewhere. I’d like to show you something.”
“Oh?”
“The Padisarahs I gifted you, those are ones I grew myself—with much assistance from Tighnari, of course.” Finally, a truth from the Grand Scribe. “I remember how you mentioned you were fond of them. Pardis Dhyai closes before the sun sets, and those flowers are much more breathtaking under the moonlight.”
“It’s a shame I never get to see them when they’re supposed to look the most beautiful,” Nilou says, a sad sigh that does not go unnoticed by Al Haitham, escaping her lips.
“Well, I think that will change soon…” He trails off, gauging her next reaction. She looks up at him expectantly, perhaps afraid to draw presumptuous conclusions. “I was able to borrow an old friend’s greenhouse for those Padisarahs… would you—of course, only if you want to—would you like to see them?”
“Would I not be intruding on your friend…? I mean, it’s their greenhouse after all.”
“Of course not.” He says, a little too quickly for his own liking. “He likes showing his greenhouse off. If anything, he’d be ecstatic to know that someone other than myself is able to see how grand his greenhouse is.”
“If you say so…” She starts, “I’d love to see the Padisarahs.”
“So, that’s a yes?” He asks again, and she replies with an enthusiastic nod. “Tomorrow… I’ll meet you at the Bazaar.”
“I promise not to take longer this time!”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He laughs. He laughs.
“Oh! This is me,” She says, coming to a stop, and nodding towards an apartment. “Thank you for walking me home, Al Haitham.”
“Don’t mention it.” Another pause, before he clears his throat. “Thank you again, for the dance lessons… Good night, Miss Nilou.”
“It was nothing… and, good night to you too.” She retreats into her own home, and Al Haitham is left to ponder on his own thoughts as he walks back home.
In truth, Al Haitham does not know what he was doing. Or feeling. Or what has gotten into him; because for the first time, in all the years he’s been alive, he has never felt the way he does now. It was like a push and a pull within him. It was warm and fuzzy in his chest, but he could feel his guts doing summersaults. It was odd, but at the same time, it was a feeling he did not hate.
He silently reflects on his own actions and comes to a conclusion. Perhaps, Kaveh had been right all along. Though, of course, he would never admit that. Kaveh would never let him live it down.