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Alhaitham sighed as he climbed into the car, rolling the windows open to dissipate the stuffy air. He cringed as music started playing straight out of his phone’s low quality audio speakers — resenting the fact that the old machine had no Bluetooth — before stepping on the clutch.
Just his luck. The engine refused to turn on.
I just need to get you to a mechanic, he thought, tentatively pressing his foot down again. The map app said it’s a six-minute drive. That’s all I need.
As if listening to his prayers, the car finally collaborated, spluttering a suspiciously choked sound when he shifted to first gear. It had been nearly a year since he’d driven (there was no need, with Sumeru City’s extensive public transportation system), and so the car mostly just sat and looked pretty in his garage.
It did look pretty, at least; Alhaitham made sure of that. It was one of the few sentimental items he felt a genuine attachment to, given all the road trips his grandmother had taken him on in his childhood. He remembered watching the trees roll by in a blur from the backseat when he was still too short to ride in the front, brimming with excitement for a holiday. And then, later, he remembered taking his grandmother for a spin in celebration of passing his driving test.
She’d been too old to take the wheel by then, but had refused to sell the car nonetheless. It was a vintage beauty she’d spent many savings on, and going for a drive with her grandson had been one of the few pleasures she’d had the patience to ask for in her last few years of life.
Alhaitham couldn’t find it in him to sell his grandmother’s pride and joy. And so, he kept the green exterior minutely polished and the insides dusted, even if it never left the gates of his house.
Well. Almost never. It did need checking from a professional now and then — it made no sense to own a car that couldn’t move —, which was the case of that spring morning in which he found himself struggling to get the old pile of gleaming metal bones to the nearest mechanic shop.
It was tiny, he noted, rolling into the garage. There was only enough space for two cars, and he counted himself lucky for slotting himself into the second available spot. Aside from that, it looked clean — impressively clean. Most such repair shops were dark and greasy, reeking of oil and full of exposed metal. This one, however, seemed to have actually been designed with aesthetics in mind: the space was extremely well optimised and the walls were coloured with vibrant, skillful graffiti without a speck of dust.
Good. Alhaitham hated the sickly smell of gasoline that was often ingrained in these places.
“Welcome!” a cheerful voice exclaimed. “I’m finishing up with a client, but I’ll be right with you! You can sit wherever you like.”
He nodded, only locating the source of the voice by the time the man — the mechanic, presumably — had already turned his head back to the other car, blonde curls tied into a falling bun and swishing with his hurried steps.
Alhaitham didn’t mind waiting. He’d brought a book, and he’d be reading at home anyway, so it made little difference. The armchairs near the front of the shop were surprisingly quite comfortable, and there wasn’t much noise. At first.
“Found the problem!” the mechanic’s cheery voice travelled in from the back. The client’s response sounded like an incomprehensible mumble. “Yeah, as I thought, it’s the suspension. Honestly, you’re lucky some of this didn’t collapse. I’m afraid I’ll have to replace quite a few of the parts, it’s full of rust.”
The client’s voice was louder now, and charged with evident irritation. Alhaitham heard snippets like “price” and “just get the rust out.”
“I can try to get you a discount,” the mechanic replied, his tone evidently apologetic. It was followed by a detailed explanation of pistons, valves, and compensation chambers — whatever that was —, which Alhaitham barely understood a word of. When the client retaliated, there came an even more specific breakdown of things like pH levels or whatever. He hadn’t taken a single physics or chemistry class in years, and he felt like most of the terms the mechanic was using had never been said in his vicinity before.
“I’m not asking you to give me a science class,” the client snapped, loudly now. “You’re a mechanic. Fix my car.”
“Of course! I’m sorry if I spoke too much. I’ll just need to keep the car here for a few more days, because I don’t have all the parts I need.”
“I need the car by tomorrow.”
Alhaitham placed his headphones over his ears, unwilling to listen in on any more of this client’s ignorant rudeness. The world was drowned out by gentle music as the two men passed by him a couple of times, probably sorting out the details of payment. It must have been a full hour before he felt a sheepish poke to his shoulder.
“Hi,” the mechanic greeted, once again. scratching his head. He had vibrant red eyes and a number of freckles dotting a tan face, smudged with grease here and there. His hair seemed to have rebelled even further in the past hour, sticking out in curls over his shoulder. “I really am so sorry to keep you waiting for so long. I’ll make sure to give you a discount for the inconvenience.”
“No need,” Alhaitham replied, closing his book. “I’m aware it’s not your fault. There’s a problem with my car’s clutch, and I also need a general check.”
“Sure!” The mechanic stepped towards the machine, whistling as he ran a finger over the hood. “What a beauty. I’ll take a look at the clutch cable.”
Alhaitham returned to his book, listening to the occasional hum or clatter from within the car.
“Oh, sorry! I forgot to introduce myself,” he chuckled, calling out from under metal. “I’m Kaveh. How about you?”
“Alhaitham.”
“It’s nice to meet you! I have to ask, how long have you had the car for?”
A moment of silence. “It’s at least fifty years old.”
Another whistle. “It’s in excellent condition. I’m glad you trust me enough to put it in my hands.”
Alhaitham decided not to tell him that he’d picked the repair shop based purely on its distance to his house, and that he had quite literally no idea about Kaveh’s level of competence.
A blonde, beaming head stuck out of the car. “Found the issue! Just needs some lubrication. No need to worry.”
“Alright.”
He hummed an upbeat song, slightly off-tune, as he paced around the shop to pick up a bottle of, assumingly, lubricant. Alhaitham found his eyes sliding off the page of the novel on his lap and making their way towards a body hunched over a cable.
“It’s a good book.”
“Hm?”
“The one you’re reading. I really liked it.”
Alhaitham took a moment to consider his thoughts. He was only halfway through, so there was no way to accurately, fully judge the text yet, but he had an idea of his opinion.
“It’s definitely well-written. I’ll see what I think in the end, but I would say it’s one of the best unreliable narrators I’ve ever read.”
Kaveh hummed. “You gotta finish it. It’ll all fall into place.”
“I already know the ending.”
“What?” Kaveh’s head popped out, frowning. “Why? That ruins the fun.”
“I only decided to pick it up because I read an interesting literary analysis of the text.”
“Ah. You’re a literature nerd.” His eyes suddenly widened. “I mean! Not in a bad way at all! Literature is really cool. I’d say I’m a nerd too, just with other things. I didn’t mean it as an insult in the slightest.”
A hum.
“Anyway, what did you, uh, find interesting in the literary analysis you read?”
“How the narrative is constructed, generally, to skew the reader’s perception. You never hear the other side, and the imagery is very well applied to convince you that his conclusions are correct. It’s so well done that it’s hard not to be convinced.”
Kaveh let out a tiny sound from the back of his throat. “I don’t know, I wasn’t that convinced. It was very well done for sure, but it bothered me the whole book that we don’t get to hear his wife’s side.”
“You have better critical analysis than most.”
“Come on,” Kaveh chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I haven’t studied language things in years.”
“Believe me, as someone who got a degree in it, you’d be surprised at just how bad people are at interpretation.”
Kaveh tipped his head back in laughter, and the red hair tie holding his curls together fell to the floor. He didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s true that people usually struggle to look at someone else’s side of things,” he mumbled, under his breath. It was low enough that it had evidently been more so for himself than to be heard, and Alhaitham wondered if he was thinking of the previous client. “I mean, just listen to people! Why does everyone always assume everyone else is stupid? Collective wisdom is a thing!”
“We disagree on that point, then,” Alhaitham replied, raising an eyebrow. “People blinded by the perspectives adopted by the majority just haven’t found their true selves. They’re too focused on what others think.”
“Always?” Kaveh inquired, putting down the lubricant to cross his arms. “You think you’re always lying to yourself if you have an opinion that most people share?”
“Not always, naturally.”
“Then I don’t understand. Your point only stands for a selective few opinions? Decided by you? I mean, doesn’t sound very logically sound to me.”
Kaveh seemed to recollect himself after that, letting his arms drop and cringing before opening his mouth again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound confrontational. Sometimes I just get too into debates, and I’ve had a bad day, and— whatever. Sorry. I’ll shut up and look over your car.”
“No need, I’m interested in what you have to say,” Alhaitham stated, surprising himself at the realisation. People’s opinions weren’t often interesting enough to rope him into voluntary dialogue. “And to answer your question, I said people blinded by the majority’s opinions. As in, people who don’t think for themselves. We obviously all share many opinions.”
“I mean, I understand what you’re saying. And it’s definitely true that we, as a society, lack a lot of critical thinking. But I don’t like the idea of separating yourself from the ‘majority.’ You are part of the majority in many ways, we all are. I don’t think it’s… well, productive, to see yourself as separate.”
“Why? I am separate.”
“No, you’re not. You live in a community, you were raised in a community, and many of your opinions and conceptions come from your interactions with other people. No one is totally isolated.”
“I’m still an individual. I’m obviously a part of a society, but that doesn’t negate my individuality.”
“But you can’t negate the collectivity either,” Kaveh pointed out, leaning against the car. “Being too individualistic is just as harmful as being too inserted in a collective.”
Alhaitham thought this over, taking a moment to carefully consider Kaveh’s words. “I wouldn’t say ‘just as harmful,’” he started, slowly, “but it’s true that being too individualistic can be harmful.”
Kaveh grinned.
“That doesn’t mean, however, that we agree on how individualistic is ‘too’ individualistic.”
The grin turned into a pout, and Kaveh rolled his eyes with a smile. “I’ll take that as a win. As much as I’d love to tell you in detail how wrong you are,” he laughed, “I think I should get started on the car. You don’t have all day to sit there and make my job less boring with your conversation, I assume.”
“You find it boring?”
Kaveh hummed as he opened the hood, fiddling with… something. “Well, no, not really. I really love fixing things and solving problems and all, and, I mean, cars are just so cool, in terms of how they’re engineered. All the science just ties together so nicely to make a machine that’s also beautiful.” He cocked his head at the car. “Yours is… truly something. Gorgeous. And convertible too! It’s my dream to ride a convertible car.”
Alhaitham bit back an “I can take you,” surprised that he’d thought it at all. Him, willingly inviting an acquaintance to a social outing?
How… interesting.
“It’s not as pleasant as it may seem,” he said instead. “The wind is quite inconvenient.”
“I think you mean fun.”
“I’ve been told I don’t know what that is.”
“Is your idea of fun reading literary analyses?”
“Partly, yes.”
“Then whoever told you that was right.” Kaveh snickered. “No, I’m just teasing. Do whatever makes you happy.”
“That’s my point,” Alhaitham stated, standing up to step towards Kaveh. “What I said about individual opinions.”
“I don’t think anyone is really judging you for reading in your free time.”
He was right next to Kaveh by then, and a pair of ruby red eyes stole a quick, subtle glance to the side.
“I rarely ever socialise, other than when I need to for work or for hiring some sort of service. Most people do judge me for that. It’s the lifestyle I prefer, and so, it’s the lifestyle I chose.”
Kaveh frowned, elbows deep in, well, some kind of metal thing. “Well. It’s true that people as a whole sometimes expect you to socialise much more than you’re comfortable with, which sucks. As you can probably tell, I don’t really have that problem, since I never shut the fuck up, but I imagine it must be uncomfortable. But… never socialising? I mean. There’s just so much to gain from interacting with people.”
If it had come from anyone else, in any other context, Alhaitham would have disagreed. And yet, standing here genuinely invested in what had started off as small talk with someone of whose existence he had never heard of until that day, he found himself thinking that, maybe, there is much to be gained from interacting with certain people.
“What are you—” Kaveh stuttered, eyeing Alhaitham as he crouched to the floor.
“You dropped this,” he murmured, gently holding up the red hair tie. “Your hands are dirty, I’ll leave it on the counter. I’ll come back tomorrow for the car.”
“Oh—! Well, alright! But there’s nothing wrong up until now, I might still finish it today if you have—”
“No need. I’ll come tomorrow.”
“I…”
He heard a sigh as he stepped out, book tucked under his arm.
“Well, see you!” Kaveh called out.
It was long past ten when Kaveh finally locked the shop’s doors, stretching his neck in an attempt to ease the soreness from peeking into engines all day. The last client had begged to get her car back before the end of the day — even though she’d come in fifteen minutes before closing time — and Kaveh, with his damned heart of butter, had accepted with a shaky smile.
Now, onto cleaning the shop from top to bottom, then throwing in some quick reheated pasta for dinner and collapsing into heavy sleep.
The shop was, really, the ground floor of his childhood home, which he’d transformed into a small business with debt that had only been fully paid off earlier that year. It was rewarding, still, to run a business how he liked it: paint the walls in pink and blue and yellow even if it was the opposite of what you’d expect from a mechanic, answer to no boss, adjust working hours depending on personal commitments, et cetera.
The only downside, really, was that it was a lot of work. It left him tumbling into bed on many days, but seeing clients smile when he finally managed to solve a problem that other car shops had cracked their heads over warmed up his heart.
He’d definitely felt warm when that handsome new client with the gorgeous vintage convertible had gotten ridiculously close to him, then ran away before Kaveh could even thank him for the hair tie.
Handsome was, perhaps, an understatement. The man was sculpted, with a ridiculous jawline and arms packed with bulging muscle. His eyes, however, were what had caught Kaveh’s attention the most: teal with a ring of amber, the kind of which he’d never seen.
Groaning, he dissected his reflection in the bathroom mirror while the shower water heated up. Of course his face had to be fully covered in grease and his hair had to look like a rat’s nest on the day he met that Alhaitham guy. He cursed his profession for having him look disgusting when he wanted to flirt.
Not that he’d flirt with a client. Well. If that client was Alhaitham, and he seemed interested, then, perhaps, maybe, potentially, he would.
It wouldn’t happen though, unless he had the luck of having Alhaitham be his first client of the day, when he was still fresh, clean and presentable from his morning shower.
…Alhaitham came in at four in the afternoon.
“Hi there!”
“Hello.”
“You know, if you’d waited fifteen more minutes yesterday, you wouldn’t have had to come back.”
“I wanted to come back.”
Silence. Kaveh blinked at the man, willing his cheeks to not turn an embarrassing shade of red.
“Have too much fun arguing with me?”
“You think very differently to me.”
“I see,” he coughed, cheeks definitely red by now. “Anyway. The car’s good as can be, honestly. You can take it straight home, the only issue was the clutch.”
“Hm.” Alhaitham analysed the car with narrowed eyes, deep in thought. “So there’s nothing else you could possibly fix?”
“Uh. No, not really.”
“I see.”
They stood in silence, Alhaitham completely unmoving.
“Alright, well, it’s gonna be three thousand mora.”
“Only?”
“Well, it was just lubrication. It’s not an expensive service.”
“And a general checkup of the car.”
“Which I included in the price.”
Alhaitham crossed his arms. “I told you not to give me a discount.”
“You waited, like, an hour.”
“And?”
“And so you deserve a discount, because I want my clients to like my services and come back!”
“I’ll come back anyway.” Gods, those eyes. “So no need for a discount. I would like to pay a fair price for your service.”
“But it’s—!”
They bickered over the money for ten minutes straight, getting to the point of calculating how much mora per hour Kaveh’s proposed price was equivalent to and getting into a heated debate over whether the ten-minute argument should be compensated, too.
“I don’t need that!” Kaveh exclaimed, huffing as Alhaitham took out his phone calculator. “What, don’t trust my mental maths?”
“I would if it resulted in reasonable prices. How much do you even profit per month?”
“None of your business!” he retorted, scrunching his face up. “Just take the fucking discount!”
“No.”
“Yes!”
“No.”
“Yes!”
“No.”
“Y—”
“Excuse me.”
Kaveh blinked, growing an apologetic smile at the sight of a customer clearing his throat by the door. “Oh! I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be right with you. We’re just finalising payment here.”
With that, he turned to Alhaitham with parted lips, but a handful of bills were shoved into his hands before he could get a word out.
“Oh, you—” And he was walking off already. “Well, see you!”
Alahitham put a hand up in a quick wave before climbing into his car and driving off with a subtle — and extremely attractive — little smile on his lips.
Kaveh’s eyes brightened up in surprise when Alhaitham came back, a few days later.
“Where’s your car?”
“I walked.”
Kaveh blinked. What exactly was he supposed to fix?
“I finished the book.”
“Oh! What did you think?”
“What I thought I would think. Anyway,” he took a neat, folded page from his pocket, handing it over unceremoniously. “I brought the literary analysis I mentioned. I thought you might be interested.”
No, Kaveh wasn’t interested. He’d read the book years ago, and he already barely had the time to do anything other than work and chores and sleep, so a literary analysis was at the bottom of his priority list. But Alhaitham looked almost cute like that, standing with his eyes towards the floor while offering Kaveh a gift.
Not ‘almost cute.’ He was adorable.
“Thanks so much!” He beamed, carefully placing the paper on the counter. “I’ll take a look as soon as I can.”
Alhaitham nodded, and, unceremoniously, simply turned on his heel and made his way towards the door.
A huff. “Do you never say bye?”
He stopped, turning his head back. “Apologies. Bye.”
Well. That was awkward.
It wasn’t the last time.
Alhaitham returned a week later, and they’d discussed the analysis while Kaveh dealt with a blown transmission. When a client walked in, he’d simply put a pair of headphones on and patiently waited until the shop was empty again so they could continue their conversation.
Just what kind of relationship was this? Were they friends now?
Just as he was starting to think that maybe they were friends, Alhaitham didn’t come for almost two weeks. It did make sense; after all, there was no car to repair and no book to discuss, but Kaveh still found himself embarrassingly disappointed. Apart from being easy on the eyes, Alhaitham was honest in a refreshing way, and bickering with him had been the highlight of Kaveh’s week. Maybe he should start going out more.
Except, against all odds, Alhaitham drove into the shop once again, just as Kaveh was taking the time on an empty Wednesday morning to organise his tools.
“Hi!” he greeted, much too excitedly. Tone it down, Kaveh. ‘Problems with the clutch again?”
“No.” Alahitham didn’t elaborate. “How are you?”
Kaveh blinked. “I’m good! Not much work today, you’re my first client. What about you?”
“As usual.”
“Which is… good?”
“Fine. A weekday can never be good, considering the amount of hours I have to spend working.
Kaveh chuckled, leaning over the counter. “What’s your job? I don’t think I ever asked.”
“I’m an editor for a publisher.”
“That sounds fun.”
“It’s not.” Alhaitham crossed his arms. “But I have a good salary, flexible working hours and permission to work from home most of the time. So it’s a good job.”
“I see.” Kaveh smiled, unsure of how to reply. Alhaitham was clearly not well-practiced in the art of conversation, but it was endearing. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy with your career! You’re definitely good at criticising people, so you must be a killer editor.”
A slight smile tugged at Alhaitham’s lips, and it sent a coil of warmth to Kaveh’s gut. He looked soft like that, with small crinkles on his eyes.
“What’s wrong with the car, then?”
“Hm. A red light keeps shining on the panel.”
“Let me take a look.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key, only to see the gas pointer rotate to critically low.
“Alhaitham.”
“Yes?”
“Are you playing with me?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He stomped out of the car with a huff, crossing his arms and glaring at that insufferably neutral expression. “You’re low on gas. I’m a repair shop, not a gas station.”
“How silly of me,” he murmured, with the nonchalance of a cat knocking glass off the table. “Since I’m already here, however, can you fix it?”
“There’s nothing to fix, because nothing’s broken!”
“I didn’t know you were so hung up on semantics. Can you refuel the car, then?”
Kaveh’s eye twitched with feigned irritation — he was secretly overjoyed that Alhaitham had returned at all — before rolling his eyes and grunting something about “lazy clients.”
“There you go, that’s enough gas to get you to a gas station at least. Why did you even drive when it was that low? What if it stopped working in the middle of the street?”
“They’d tow my car and I’d have it brought to your shop.”
“You—!” Kaveh looked up with an amused smile, shaking his head in disbelief. “You miss me that much?”
“Something like that.”
Oh. Kaveh’s face blazed with furious heat, and it took him a while to process that Alhaitham had really said what he’d said, and— was that flirting? Or just his usual bluntness?
“Well, I’m glad you came,” he replied, sheepishly. “I was bored out of my mind.”
“I’ll come here every time I need gas, then.”
“Don’t you dare!”
Alhaitham chuckled, and gods, it was a gorgeous chuckle, and Kaveh could even see a hint of his teeth. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, and the curve of his bicep was hard not to drool over — seriously, why did an editor have such swoonworthy arms? It was rude. Kaveh worked his hand at machines all day, and although he was lean, he didn’t have that level of physique.
Unfair.
“What is it?” Alhaitham looked down at his shoulder, following Kaveh’s eyeline, and raised a brow.
He nearly died. “Nothing, I was just. Thinking.”
“About?”
“About how entitled you are! Thoughts are private, and this isn’t a gas station. Don’t you have work to do or something?”
Alhaitham hummed, and he looked amused again. “Kicking out a paying client? That can’t be good for business, Kaveh.”
He wanted to hear Alhaitham say his name a thousand more times.
“Paying? I’m still waiting on that. The gas service is seven hundred billion mora.”
“Seems like you still haven’t learned to price your services.”
“Have you ever heard of irony?”
“Have you ever heard of economics?”
“You—!” Kaveh bit back a smile, crossing his arms. “Three thousand mora.”
“Not this again.”
“You’re my first ever customer to complain about prices being too low.”
“I’m glad to be the exception. But, if you insist, fine.” He took out a credit card and offered it to Kaveh. “Three thousand it is.”
“Did I break you? How come you’re being compliant for once? Are you really Alhaitham, or just a clone?”
“I can’t imagine anyone would like to clone me.”
Kaveh handed the card back, watching Alhaitham put it back in his wallet and—
Take out the same amount in bills and place it in the tip jar.
“You’re fucking impossible.”
“You undercharge.”
“Sounds like you’re used to abusive prices!”
“Kaveh.” That made his legs all wobbly. “I assure you that even your stubbornness isn’t enough to take down mine.”
“Well, your loss. You’ll be poor if you keep coming back here.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Show-off.”
A shrug. “I’ll come back next week.”
“Oh, your car will break by then?”
“Maybe. We never know.”
Kaveh smiled, feeling his cheeks throb from how embarrassingly widely his lips had been stretching during the conversation. “See you, then.”
“Bye,” Alhaitham replied, pointedly, before climbing back into the car.
It had been over a month, nearing two, since Alhaitham had first entered that shop, and his routine had changed drastically ever since then.
At first, talking to Kaveh had been an interesting pastime, and he’d passed by occasionally when he felt like his day could use strong opinions and messy blonde curls.
But the sensation had… transformed, since then.
For one, his eyes had started to hang up on details he usually paid little to no attention to, like the curve of Kaveh’s nose, or the angle of his arm when he was manning a tool, or the tint of his lips under the bright shop lights.
Even the expanse of his abdomen when his shirt rid up from a sudden movement.
And then his mind had become more and more filled with Kaveh, Kaveh, Kaveh, as if everything was related to that neighbourhood mechanic with a bright smile and biting words: a blonde stranger at the grocery store might have been him, and that book in Alhaitham’s shelf practically screamed his name at every possible moment, and even seeing a car often had his thought process immediately jumping to that little repair shop.
What would Kaveh think of the book he was editing? Did Kaveh like candied ajilenakh nuts, like Alhaitham did? Had he grown up in Sumeru City? What did he do outside of work? Was he a natural blonde? What was his favourite colour? Did he have one?
All irrelevant questions that Alhaitham normally wouldn’t spend time concerning himself with. And yet, with Kaveh, he wanted to.
It obviously didn’t take long to realise that the stirring warmth he felt when his words made Kaveh laugh was something like the love every novel seemed to be always talking about.
“You’re cruel,” Kaveh groaned, watching Alhaitham’s car pull up at 16:58 on a Saturday. “I was just about to close up.”
“I know,” he replied, calmly. “Want to go for a ride?”
Kaveh’s eyes remained blank. “Like, with you?”
That wasn’t a very promising response.
“You said you wanted to drive a convertible at some point.”
“Oh!” His eyes lit up with excitement, and it was adorable to see. “Okay! Now?”
“If you like.”
Alhaitham moved to the passenger seat, waiting as Kaveh ran to the bathroom then locked the gate before climbing in.
“I really hope you’re not a serial killer,” he mumbled, smiling. “Where do you wanna go?”
“Wherever you like.”
Kaveh had changed his outfit, opting for a clean set of clothes rather than the grease-stained overalls he wore everyday. Alhaitham examined the new outfit with scarcely-veiled curiosity, since it was his first time seeing Kaveh outside of his work attire.
“What is it? Surprised I don’t always smell like oil?”
“You still smell a little like oil.”
“Your fault for not giving me a heads-up. I would’ve showered.”
“I don’t have your phone number.”
Kaveh’s hands gripped the steering wheel more forcefully as he turned a corner, cheeks tinting pink. “Do you want it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Alhaitham pulled down the roof as Kaveh drove on with palpable excitement, making his way to the seaside road where the speed limit was higher.
“If you get us into a crash, you’re fixing the car for free.”
“Don’t joke about that!” he huffed. “And I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver. You’re the one who didn’t know you had to refuel your car.”
“I thought it was clear that that was just an excuse to see you.”
That made Kaveh blush again, this time accompanied by a dazzlingly bright smile with asymmetrical dimples dotting his cheeks.
The ocean peeked at them from the end of the street, and Kaveh pressed down on the gas pedal as they reached the seaside. His braid swirled around in the wind, capturing little fragments of dancing sunlight, and he laughed delightedly at the delicious sensation of wind and freedom and fresh air.
Gorgeous, Alhaitham thought.
He, on the other hand, was spluttering and coughing at the unruly grey strands covering his face in a whirlwind mess, tickling his skin and obscuring his view.
It made Kaveh laugh even harder, and Alhaitham found that he didn’t mind the discomfort if he got to hear that.
Regardless, they pulled over a moment later, right at a viewpoint overlooking the bay.
“Silly. Didn’t you bring a hair tie?”
“I never use them.”
“Lucky you that I’m here, then,” Kaveh hummed, taking a handful of red clips from the pocket of his cargo pants and leaning forward. Alhaitham’s breath hitched as he felt fingers against his scalp, gently threading through locks and pulling the bangs off his face.
“Lucky me,” he whispered, watching the careful focus in Kaveh’s eyes.
Eyes that immediately ran to his own after the statement, with lips slightly parted. Kaveh’s hand was still softly pressed against his hair, and Alhaitham felt the urge to tell him to keep it there.
“Is this a date?” Kaveh asked, edges of his lips resisting the urge to smile.
“I hope so.”
His lips gave in then, growing into a genuine beam while his hand smoothed down Alhaitham’s hair — it felt soothing in a way nothing had for years —, and a light breeze passed by. Kaveh stole a glance at the unending deep-blue sea in front of them before lying his head on Alhaitham’s shoulder, golden curls against grey, and their hands, now, intertwined.
It was a peaceful moment, silent if not for the rolling waves underneath and the car engine, and Alhaitham couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.
Things changed after a few more dates, then several more, and after several months of seeing each other everyday — Alhaitham would hang around the shop during the day and cook a hearty meal for Kaveh at night —, they moved in together.
It gave Kaveh the space to expand his shop towards the top floor as well, and he finally gave in and hired another mechanic, Aino — after much insistence from Alhaitham —, which meant he could finally come home before nighttime on weekdays for the first time in years.
“Good day?”
“Hm,” Kaveh grunted, collapsing onto Alhaitham on the couch. “Tired.”
“Want me to drive today?”
“No.”
“Stubborn.”
“Just give me a few minutes to recharge.”
“On my lap?”
“Yes.”
Alhaitham pressed a careful kiss to his temple. He’d asked his boss for a week off and Yae, having somehow heard about the new romantic development in his life, had quickly granted it with a sly smile and a wink. It would be his first road trip in years, and Kaveh had been bubbling with excitement.
“We can’t have you fall asleep on the wheel. Let me drive today.”
“You drive like an eighty-year old at two kilometres per hour. Not gonna happen, I’ll just have a coffee.”
“Just admit you like driving.”
“Fine, I like driving.” Kaveh wrapped his arms around Alhaitham’s neck, leaning in for a smooch. “Especially when I’m driving a cool-ass car I didn’t pay a cent for. Thank you, sweetheart.”
The teasing was lost on Alhaitham’s ears. Even after so many months, it was as if his hearing drowned out everything except for the “sweetheart,” sending his heart thumping with melting affection.
“Sweetheart,” Kaveh repeated, smiling amusedly. He’d caught on to the effects of his mouth early on, and had never stopped using it to his advantage. “Angel. My darling.”
“Yes?” Alhaitham muttered.
“Your cheeks are red, my love.”
“And your face is full of grease and you reek. I’ll have to take another shower,” he replied, standing up in one swift movement.
“You can wash my hair.”
“We’ll never leave the house at this rate.”
“So you don’t want to wash my hair.”
“I never said that.”
He followed the trail of Kaveh’s laughter down the corridor, lips wound in a soft smile. Washing the grease off blonde locks also came with kissing the freckles dotting Kaveh’s face, tickling his tummy to hear that bubbly laugh again, and listening to a dedicated shower singing performance, complete with applause at the end and even a kiss for Kaveh’s number one fan.
When they finally loaded their bags into the car and climbed in, Alhaitham peeled Kaveh’s hand off the gear stick to meet his lips in a loving peck. His grip didn’t let go.
“I can’t drive with one hand.”
“Maybe you just have to practice.”
“How very safe.”
“I believe in you, angel.”
“Let go.”
“No.”
Kaveh leaned over to cup his cheek and kiss him, passionately, tenderly, for one smooth second. It was enough to leave Alhaitham’s mind blank and let his hand slip.
“Let’s get going. I’m excited for my first holiday with my boyfriend.”