Alhaitham - Blog Posts

the mask goes on the minute other people look.

make eye contact. too much, look away. now smile and nod. stop bouncing your leg. make them like you.

those are his thoughts. because too many people have called him weird. too many people have pointed and laughed. too many people made fun of him for just being himself.

oh, but you..

you remind him it's okay to unmask. you smile, listening to him ramble about his interests. you could listen for hours and never get bored.

when you notice his discomfort in a crowd. when you help him communicate when he's too overwhelmed to talk.

with you, the ribbon that holds the mask together comes undone. with you, his mask falls to the ground.

POE, RANPO, dazai, GIYUU, kenma, l lawliet, near, WANDERER, AL HATHIAM, kaveh, LYNEY, and any of your autistic favorites!

i visited idiot street and everyone knew your name!

part i, part ii, part iii

a/n: the well awaited end to this fic is here! enjoy :)

synopsis: the three times you friendzoned Alhaitham, and the one he made damn sure you didn't.

tags: alhaitham/reader ; school setting ; valentine's day special ; reader likes sewing, miscommunication

It’s Valentine’s Day, and the most unusual thing to ever happen to you—happens.

A pristine white note falls out of your locker, and you never thought you would see the day. You’d assume, being a workaholic and being relegated to tasks (due to people pleasing tendencies you can’t seem to shake off), that you’d finish off the school year without falling victim to Valentine’s day sickeningly sweet confessions.

Please meet me in the homeroom lab after classes. – H

If it was any other day, you’d assume one of the teachers wrote you this note, and that you were going to be subjected to a ruthless talking-to. Yet, coincidentally, it’s that time of the year, and everyone else is getting notes like these too.

For the fun of it, you still decide to go where the note directs you. Mostly because you’re deathly curious to who this H person is. No expectations, of course.

When the dismissal bell rings, you quickly scramble out of your classroom, pointedly ignoring your friend’s confused call of your name. Leaving your bag and belongings behind. You’ll get back to her later—but now, the curiosity is killing you.

You navigate the sloppily decorated hallways; passing by lovestruck couples and through streamer paper decor of pinks, whites and reds. Cupid balloons and the overwhelmingly sweet scent of roses suffocate your senses.

The homeroom lab is at the end of the hallway, where all the decorations dwindle or are practically deflating with the lack of attention to detail—it irks you slightly, if this is a confession like you suspect, the surroundings could afford to be somewhat romantic. Not this cheap, unenthusiastic mess, it certainly wouldn’t be helping your case.

Your eyes lock onto one heart helium balloon, it drifts aimlessly across the floor—not enough to float up but not completely deflated. You glare at it, like trying to pop it with only your gaze, then to the door.

Steeling yourself, you take a breath then slide it open.

The last person you ever expect to be there, is there too.

“Alhaitham?” you ask, breathless and puzzled.

Was it him that sent you the note?

You shake that thought away, although you got your hopes up the tiniest bit, it’s probably unrelated to anything hearts themed. You’re pretty sure he’s been actively avoiding people confessing to him today. Maybe that’s why he hid in here, you muse.

“It’s me, yes,” he nods. “I assume you read my note?”

You laugh, shutting the homeroom lab door unceremoniously behind you. “That was you? Dude, you could’ve just told me, what’s with all the secrecy?”

“There’s something that I need to discuss with you.”

“Discuss with me,” you repeat, walking over to lean against the working table. Which, thank heavens, is pristinely clean. “Am I in trouble?”

“No,” he responds and you hum in faux relief. “Though there is something else.”

Alhaitham produces a sleek black chocolate box from seemingly nowhere—or maybe you hadn't seen him hold it—and holds it out to you.

“Sweet!” you grin, snatching the chocolates and examining the box. “This is some really good chocolate, Haitham. Who gave you this one?”

“No one,” he says. Alhaitham picks at his black painted nails—ones that you yourself painted a few weeks ago in his apartment. The polish is immaculate, almost looking freshly painted if it weren’t for the new nail growth starting underneath. “Those are completely from me, for you.”

You double take, taking a long lingering look at the gift. On the smack middle of the box, is the same type of note from earlier in your locker, but this has your name written in elegant cursive:

Happy Valentines. It writes, and you feel strange tingles travel down your spine. Not entirely unpleasant.

“You shouldn’t have,” your eyes widen. “I didn’t get anything for you, I never thought we were getting each other friendship chocolates!”

There’s a lengthy pause before you hear any reaction from him. Alhaitham makes a strangled noise from deep in his throat. “Friendship chocolates?”

He stresses your name, while massaging his temples. “...I wrote you that note, I waited in here for you and have the audacity to think what I gave you are friendship chocolates. Does that sound logical to you?”

“Of course,” you snort, putting down the chocolates to rest on the low table. “The only other reason I can think of would be because you like me, which I doubt—”

His lips flatten in unamusement. “So what if I do?”

“Wait, what?”

He inhales deeply, and you swear you see the slightest hints of pink on his ears that peek from underneath silver hair. The silence now is absolutely deafening, and the anticipation even more so. To you, the knowledge of his bashfulness makes the situation feel all the more real.

Alhaitham utters your name softly, like he’s pleading you to understand so that he needn’t repeat himself. Which he never does, the damn prideful man.

You’d make a teasing remark if you weren’t so frozen with nerves, the sound of your name from his lips is causing ticklish shivers up your spine. It sounds so intimate when he says it.

Like a secret, even. Although Alhaitham might be the most self-preserving and unambitious person you know, when it comes to the things that matter to him—he takes initiative right away.

“So you like me–” you breathe, the button up collar of your shirt feels all too tight all of a sudden, you tangle your fingers together and squeeze tightly. “Like, like like me?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” he sighs, low and long-suffering. “For three whole years.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Your eyes widen and you feel a low simmering heat spreading all over, even till your fingertips. You recall all the other times, past Valentine's days and recounting his strange behavior. All the dots start to connect together and you wonder how you never noticed. “What the hell.”

“So that one time last year when you were offering me your button—” you gasp. You remember, it’s a stupid highschool tradition, a boy would offer the second button of his uniform to a girl if he liked her. It’s the closest to the heart, but to you, it’s a thoughtless way to ruin perfectly good clothing. “Haitham, did you ask Kaveh for advice or something?”

“Matters like these are irrelevant to argue with him about,” he scoffs. Alhaitham folds his arms across his chest. “He ran off and came to the conclusion himself. Ever since then, he’s been bothering me with trying all types of confession tradition.”

Laughter starts to bubble out of you, disbelieving and flustered to the maximum level. “Dude, I basically friendzoned you and had no idea! You should’ve told me.”

His shoulders stiffen and he gives you such a disarmingly attractive look. And if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks the teensiest bit hopeful too. Right now, you feel like your heart is beating right out of your goddamn chest. The sound is so loud, the quickening thumping sound of your chest that you swear he might hear it too.

“...I see that now,” he says, his expression is exasperated—but so unbelievably soft. You feel yourself melting like butter under his gaze. “Though I am disappointed in your lacking ability to identify context clues.”

“Oh whatever,” you bump your shoulder against his, though you don’t move back away. The warmth of him is all consuming and comforting as hell, you could burrow yourself in him and never resurface, you think. He accepts your closeness with a strong arm wrapping behind you to hold you by the hand. Your stomach does somersaults in your stomach. “It’s all your fault. You’re an idiot for not telling it to me straight.”

“Does that mean you reciprocate?” he murmurs, leaning closer to whisper in your ear.

You pull back enough to take the box of chocolates, opening it and popping one in your mouth. “This chocolate is pretty good. Guess I’ll have to let you stick around for more.”

I like you too.

He nuzzles into you, leaving a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. “I guess you do, don’t you?”

i visited idiot street and everyone knew your name!

part i, part ii, part iii

synopsis: the three times you friendzoned Alhaitham, and the one he made damn sure you didn't.

tags: alhaitham/reader ; school setting ; valentine's day special ; reader likes sewing ; miscommunication

Valentine’s day comes rolling around the next year, and you are sadly not present to witness Alhaitham lengthen his trail of broken hearts. A shame, really. This year, you were looking forward to bringing popcorn for the occasion—just to see him squirm.

You’ve been cooped up in the homeroom lab for the better part of the week, sewing and snipping away at one of the costumes for the school’s fair. Unlike last year, you don’t have your seniors to help you pin fabrics right or to assist in hand stitching plastic beads, as the newly appointed tailor's club head you have a lot more duties to take on.

It’s exhausting, you feel the deep creases underneath your eye—dreading to head to the bathroom and accidentally look into the mirror to face your own haggard appearance—and the dull ache in your hands and back is blocking any sense you could have.

The club room is otherwise quiet if not for the lo-fi beat playing from your phone’s speaker and the rhythmic snips of scissors gliding over fabric. You focus all your brain power on the task—fabric is not cheap and you don’t have enough mora in your wallet if you lose focus and mess up—and remain blissfully unaware of any potential distraction.

To be honest, it hadn’t even registered in your head that you weren’t alone in the room anymore, until the gentlest tap on your shoulder has you snapping your focus away from the brocade.

The sight of just who has you unconsciously gaping your mouth like a blubbering fish in shock—Alhaitham.

He stares at you blankly, his gaze is so intense it’s a little unnerving, you freeze up before him, and probably make yourself look like an idiot in the process.

Suddenly, the state of your appearance becomes a presiding worry. Having skipped lunch in favor of patterning tulle perfectly on the dummy mannequin. Your uniform is crumpled, creased with the lack of motion, stray threads and fabric fibers cover you head to toe similar to lint. It’s almost humiliating to be seen so disheveled by Alhaitham—when he himself looks like the epitome of put-together flawlessness.

“Haitham,” you start, smoothing out the fabric laid out on the table, it’s soft and smooth under your fingertips. “Need something?”

He spares a glance to whatever you’re fidgeting with behind you then to your face, which in turn makes you fist the work-in-progress fabric tighter in your hand.

Alhaitham seems to search for something in your expression, his gaze feels like it’s poking and prodding in your soul. Your hands itch to cover up whatever’s he’s fixated on, but you settle on the second best option; staring back just as hard and ten times more intensely.

“The second button of my shirt,” he says, Alhaitham points at his stark white button up, right where a button lay missing. You arch a brow at that, he’s most definitely only here to ask you to mend his shirt. No other reason.

And you are definitely not disappointed right now too.

Swallowing hard, your eyes drift to his face. “Do you need a replacement button?”

A crease forms between his brows. “No.”

Well.

“O-kay,” that stumps you, “What about it then?” you shoot him a puzzled look, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

That makes him pause. “I wanted to check if you wanted it.”

“…your button?”

“Yes, that’s why I came over here.”

He must be kidding. The two of you are standing in the homeroom lab, there’s a surplus of small white buttons, you’d rather pick from there than have him ruin a perfectly good shirt.

“Uh no thanks,” you scratch at the back of your neck, extremely confused. “I have a lot more buttons in the drawer, there’s no need to take one off your back.”

Once you said that and saw the expression on his face, you knew immediately that it was the wrong choice—even if it wasn’t a test question. Alhaitham does not pout, but that’s something he would say. If you were asked, the way his lips twitch downward slightly is pouting.

“I understand,” he says shortly and starts to turn back and reach for the door. You cannot hide your bewildered expression, pinching your brows in confusion.

“Wait—hold it right there,” you call, stepping a step or two following him. You, not wanting your conversation to end on such an unusually awkward note. “What’s up with you?”

“It’s nothing,” he says and you practically hear the sulky edge to his voice—something you swore he left back in middle school—still, he turns back to face you. “If you don’t want it, I won’t give it to you.”

Sighing, you step even closer to close some of the distance, holding your palm out impatiently to him. “Come over here, grumpy. I’ll take the button.”

He eases up slightly. “Don’t force yourself.”

Why you ought to wring this man by the neck. You place your free hand to rest on your waist. “You’re not forcing me, now hand it over.”

Alhaitham stands his ground, but eventually cracks, offering a compromise. “...I’ll leave it on the table.”

“Okay,” your eyes flutter shut in exhaustion and slight irritation—confusion more than anything. “See you, Haitham.”

He bids you goodbye, calling your name softly.

You hear the door slide open, then shut.

When you open your eyes, a singular translucent white button sits on your working table—along with a box of fine confectioners chocolate.

What a loser, you think. Though your smile betrays that thought.

You skip back to your work and suddenly, you aren’t so exhausted anymore.

i visited idiot street and everyone knew your name!

part i, part ii, part iii

a/n: i wrote this for valentines last month and only got around posting it now, here you go!

synopsis: the three times you friendzoned Alhaitham, and the one he made damn sure you didn't.

tags: alhaitham/reader ; childhood friends to lovers ; school setting ; valentine's day special ; reader likes sewing

“S–sorry! These are for you!”

A breathy utterance, the girl speaking is shy and completely red in the face, while holding out the pink paper bag like an offering to some higher being—and maybe to her, he is.

You swear you can almost hear the cheesy background music that television shows play with these types of scenes, you lean in as much as your desk will let you and strain to hear his response. Gripping the wood of your desk tight. Some of your other classmates are tuning in too, drama hungry vultures they are, you can feel the buzzing energy of anticipation waiting for his answer.

Without missing a beat, he offers her a shallow nod of his head.

“Thanks.”

…and another one bites the dust.

Slumping back in your chair, you gaze at a disheartening confession scene from your seat across the room, picking idly at your sandwich’s crust, sighing to yourself and for the poor girl that has been plainly rejected by Alhaitham.

The whole class either lets out sounds of disappointment—they only wish that once Alhaitham is off market, they’d have their chance, though you doubt it—or loud sighs of relief—aka, those who, too, wish to make themselves known to him. They all don’t register much to you though. All you can see is her crushed expression.

He isn’t even looking at her for goodness sake. Poor girl.

Valentine’s day is not only a day of cheesy confessions and plush teddy bears and chocolate (though you especially enjoy those), for those lonely souls without a valentine it is the perfect day for witnessing the drama unfold. It’s like watching a telenovela in real time.

Alhaitham is that telenovela’s perfect lead.

He’s breathtakingly handsome even as he delivers the driest response to whatever-her-name’s confession. His gray-silver hair tumbles artfully on his head and glints as the afternoon sun outside hits just right. The aquamarine of his eyes are enrapturing and absolutely intense as he stares down his new goodie bag.

It’s a little silly to see such a stoic man gripping heartsy pink gift bags that are filled with the high quality chocolate you can only dream of. His marble-carved physique and top tier face makes up for it though, it makes it all the more endearing to you. You understand wholeheartedly why he’s such a magnet for so much romantic attention. Not that you’d fall victim to it yourself.

You find yourself unable to conceal the way your lips turn upwards in amusement, a little cruel knowing the situation. Taking a generous bite of your sandwich, you laugh to yourself quietly (honestly, you’re making it seem like you’re not all there).

“What’s so funny?”

Summoned by your laugh—or the thought that you are laughing at him, for some not-so-crazy reason—he stands tall in front of your desk.

You’ve known him since your bratty elementary school phases, you’ve fought, pulled at each other’s hair but you consider Alhaitham to be your closest and oldest friend. Before he was a stunning romantic magnet, he was an insufferable book worm in junior high.

When you started exploring your interest in sewing and fashion design, he was by your bed and bluntly critiquing any piece you’d show him. You have come a long way since then, having become an integral member of the fashion design club.

You crane your neck to look at him, giving him a lazy grin, you kick blindly at his shins from underneath the table in an attempt to draw some form of reaction (though he doesn’t even bat an eye).

“Nothing, nothing,” you wave him off, speaking through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. “As long as you’re on the market, there won’t be enough for the rest of us.”

He gives you a look, though you can’t take it as seriously, he’s still holding all those valentines. “Irrelevant. Your sense of humor needs fixing, not even Cyno would find you entertaining.”

“First off, I do not appreciate all this sass.”

His lips twitch. “I had quite the persistent teacher.”

This time, you flat out laugh at him. “Whatever,” you snort. “Anyway, you should consider taking up acting. Pretty boys like you will have people salivating like starving wolves.”

He pauses and just stares at you, it’s a little peculiar and totally out of character for him, you tilt your head in confusion.

“Pretty boy?”

You almost choke on your sandwich, bringing a fist to your mouth through coughs. Out of everything you said, that’s what he chooses to focus on?

“Uhm, yeah,” you mutter, laughing sheepishly, and suddenly feeling out of place. Internally, you cringe at yourself. “Have you ever looked in a mirror or something?”

Once the words tumble out of your mouth, you feel the heat of mortification crawling up on the expanse of your skin. Oh my god, do you ever stop talking?

Alhaitham says nothing, he stares you down with the intensity increased by tenfold. If anything, the expression on his flawless face looks displeased.

“I meant platonically, of course,” you blather on, pointedly avoiding eye contact. The table looks especially interesting as of the moment. “I mean—I would never—”

He puts his free hand up, sharply stopping you from going further on your flustered tangent. Something you are all too well acquainted with, Alhaitham does not have much patience for dalliances. Immediately, your jaw locks shut—you’d rather not start a fight with him if you wanted to mooch off all the valentines chocolate he received.

You take another big bite of your sandwich.

You roll your eyes, mumbling. “Okay, whatever. Don’t be a pretty boy, then. As long as I get a share of your chocolate, it’s whatever you want.”

“I didn’t say anything about that,” he deadpans. In his arms, the goodie bags shift as he moves closer.

A small plastic-wrapped chocolate box is dropped inelegantly on your table, resounding with a heavy thump. It’s pink and smells heavily of chocolate and cinnamon. Your eyes widen at the pleasant surprise—but more importantly, the price. A crazed smile curls from your lips, and you clutch the chocolates to your chest.

You gasp. “Oh my—fuck! Haitham, these are like a thousand mora a box!”

Alhaitham raises a perfectly arched brow. “Is that so? I should get it back then.”

Even if you’re pretty sure he’s only messing with you, your hold around the chocolates tightens into a death grip. You turn your chest away from him, shielding the box away from his view.

“That’s too bad,” you sing-song. “No take backs.”

A smug smile tugs at his lips before it completely melts away—the thing that growing up with a boy so ungenerous with his expressions makes these small moments all the more special.

“Then I’ll just have to keep the rest of these for myself.”

“Haitham, no! You promised to share—”

The funniest thing about Alhaitham living with Kaveh is that this smug scholar must have realized, at some point, that every day Kaveh comes home, the man is disproving Alhaitham's fundamental beliefs about the world. People are primarily self-motivated; find out what everyone in the room wants, and play them against each other to achieve your objective.

Meanwhile Kaveh comes home like "hi idiot I brought you a loaf of your favorite 1000 grain bread from that one baker you like. It took an hour out of my afternoon, where's my thanks? Alhaitham? I know you can hear me through those-" and under alllll that sass, what he's saying is, my love for you is eternal. I came home once and I will come home forever. My objective is to make you and everyone else I love happy and safe, at the cost of my own time and well-being. Game theory that, dumbass.

Would love to see the look on Alhaitham's face the next time he opens his mouth to claim that humans cannot love unconditionally, remembers that "people like Kaveh" somehow "survive," and he just. Stops before he even starts. Crosses his arms. "Hm."

I saw a theory (more of an idea, really) on Reddit that Kaveh might become the next Grand Sage, and I just wanted to squeal about that for a hot minute.

(And for clarity cos I feel like it'll come up: Kaveh doesn't have any reliable leaks relating to his kit nor his rarity (whether he's a five star or four star), and even if he is a four star he could very well still be super important to Sumeru's chain of authority (see Ningguang and Kujou Sara if you're doubtful)).

Anyway, my squealing:

It actually makes a surprising amount of sense for Kaveh to become the Grand Sage based on quest info alone - Alhaitham says at the end of Act 5 of the archon quest that he "wouldn't be surprised if Kaveh was appointed as a sage":

While his tone sounds sarcastic, Alhaitham is typically quite honest with his words. His deceits always come by omission, not by lying. Of course, Kaveh assumes Alhaitham is being mocking here, but then in Alhaitham's story quest Kaveh says himself that he should have been made Grand Sage over Alhaitham -

So we have examples in both of Kaveh's in game scenes that convey a desire (or, at the very least, a capacity) to be a Sage. These exchanges are rather comedic though, so I think we should take evidence from Nahida herself; specifically, her "About Kaveh" voiceline:

(sorry for the poor quality)

Nahida herself praises Kaveh's understanding of their Nation and of wisdom itself, whereas she admonishes Alhaitham's viewpoint in her corresponding voiceline about him. This implies that Nahida would choose Kaveh over Alhaitham as Grand Sage.

Lore wise we know that Kaveh is an accomplished graduate of the Ksharewar Darshan, widely known and well-liked. He built the Palace of Alcarazy(?) and the NPCs there sing his praises. While his interactions with Alhaitham are goofy, he can evidently keep up with him in debates and in Alhaitham's voicelines he says that Kaveh's intellect is equal to his own.

Also, there is a pattern in the game so far: each non-archon 'leader' or 'authority' has the vision matching their archon. Jean for Mondstadt, Ningguang for Liyue and Sara/Yae for Inazuma (depending on your perspective). It seemed that Alhaitham would fill this role in Sumeru, seeing as he's dendro and did take over as the Acting Grand Sage, similar to Jean's title. However, his time in that position is incredibly short-lived since he resigns at the end of his story quest (well, technically before it even starts). It is likely that "who will be the new Grand Sage?" will be an ongoing plot thread in Sumeru, much like "when will Varka return?" is in Mondstadt.

Since Kaveh is dendro, he would suit this pattern very well.

I also do just love the vibes of what it would mean for his character, and I think it would be very fun for Sumeru to be led by someone so wholeheartedly compassionate for everyone around them. Kaveh loves the arts and cares a lot about other people, so he matches Nahida's vision of Sumeru much better than Alhaitham does. Which isn't to say Alhaitham is cruel or uncaring, but that he is (as he says himself) not suited to the responsibility of leadership.

And, speaking of Alhaitham, the way this would develop their dynamic is actually rather funny. Technically Kaveh would become Alhaitham's boss, but everyone around them would be aware that Alhaitham saved the country and that Kaveh has only received the position because Alhaitham passed it over first. Can you imagine how frustrating that would be for Kaveh? Technically in charge, but with this information looming over everyone's heads?

Since Hoyo does like to keep a certain status quo, especially in voicelines, it's likely that Alhaitham and Kaveh will remain roommates. This still works even if Kaveh is promoted, with four possible explanations:

Kaveh's debt to Dori is so huge that he's financially screwed for life regardless of his salary

Kaveh is so bad with money that even once he's paid off his debt he still fails to save up for his own house

Because technically Alhaitham's house should also belong to him, Kaveh is stubborn and refuses to move out

Alhaitham and Kaveh reconcile/figure themselves out enough that they actually want to live together even if there's no financial incentive to

Also, I cannot overstate how amusing it would be for the Kavetham dynamic shift of Kaveh getting to fuck with Alhaitham a little as payback for all Alhaitham's trolling.

Anyways, this is a theory/hc that I really like, so I hope we don't get a mystery Sumeru character in 4.6 or something that we've never heard of before who gets to become Grand Sage.

I want Deshret Alhaitham to be canon because it would be hilariously ironic for Rahman.

Hello I’m back after months 💀💀 (Legit deleted the app)

More Arahaitham content just dropped. Istg even doodling their outfits is difficult I wish the designs were more simpler 😭

-

For those who don’t know; Arahaitham is an AU where Alhaitham is Nahida’s familiar and an aranara that can talk and have mannerisms of a human. Being granted a human form, his job is to be the middle man between the Dendro Archon and her people, being her set of eyes and first responder. Nobody knows he is an aranara because not only will jeopardize their plan if people find out.. It’s just his aranara form is embarrassing! His friend group doesn’t know, the akademiya doesn’t know, not even the traveler (Lumine) knows… until later on…

I want them to interact.

That would be so interesting

Alhaitham🌱 fanart i did for his birthday but didn't have the chance to post here