a statue overrun with roses; kavetham brainrot but make it angsty

his golden hair

I was greeted by flustering scoffs from the end of the line. "Jesus Christ, I was about to send out a search party!" Kaveh sniffled a little, his tone becoming a little quieter. "Come home please, I haven't seen you since morning and my day has been shit and I just want—" he sniffled again, this time a bit louder. "I just want you." Fumbling came over the speaker, and then some muffled crying and some footsteps. "I made tacos."

A soft smile spread across my face as I drove and listened to him like he was a dramatic podcast on the radio. "Don't cry," I said gently. "Why was your day shit?"

"My master thesis was fucking—" something crashed in the background and there was a little more crying. "—rejected, and I'm an absolute failure and I don't deserve to be at this goddamn school but— but I know I have talent and I've tried so hard to make my work stand out but my professor just won't see me and—" his voice broke suddenly, and trickled into a sort of crying that I almost never heard from Kaveh. A gut-wrenching, borderline-silent, completely-devastated sort of tears— the ones that stream down his face like rivers after the build up of strenuous emotions that takes weeks to form. This was the sort of time where Kaveh's facade of drama and charisma unconditionally collapsed in on itself; beneath it all was... such a beautiful, raw, rich, thing... but at times it was tainted with inexplicable sadness and frustration.

The artist's ego. The artist's disappointment.

My heart lurched a little in my chest, my breathing caught slightly. "Oh, Kaveh..." I murmured.

"And— and I tripped in the courtyard and I— you know those nice Birks I have?— the stupid fucking cork rim of one of them caught on a stupid fucking stone in that goddamn courtyard and I— my toe is swollen and puffy and I sorta think I broke it," he choked in between sobs.

I looked down sadly, trying to hold back the small part of me who was laughing. "It's alright, I'm heading home right now," I murmured calmly. "Take a deep breath."

He sniffled and cried. Taco meat fizzled in the background. He sounded almost like he was depressive. "I can't," he stifled out.

"Yes you can, Kaveh—"

"No I can't, Alhaitham."

"Hush. Listen to me—"

"I can't listen to you when you're just a voice in my fucking phone," he said in upset.

His end of the line beeped a few times, and sooner or later I realized that he'd hung up. I sighed heavily as I pulled into the campus parking lot, braving myself for the hurricane that was raging in my dorm.

***

The place was a bit of a mess when I walked in the door. Kaveh was not in sight in the living room, but his muffled voice suddenly came from back in his bedroom. "Come here, come see if this is straight," he cried, sniffling.

I set my stuff on the counter and had a spoonful of taco meat before walking down the hall to his quarters. Things were strewn everywhere; various papers, sketches, notes, clothing. Kaveh was standing in the middle of it all, his hair all mangled. He pointed aggressively at a painting, which was wobbling slightly on his off-white wall. He looked upset. Not just upset. Upset.

I stood there, looking at him for a moment; he'd gotten a haircut, which was adorable. His golden locks were cut into short layers, the longest falling down to rest on his neck, but most framed his face and fell slightly below the chin. It was a bit mulletish, but the slight wave in his hair helped him pull it off with a sort of luxurious simplicity. As far as his clothes were concerned, the collared blouse he was wearing was halfway unbuttoned, and he was sporting one of his many pairs of baggy ripped jeans. And of course, his face was wet with tears.

We stared at each other until I put my arms out and murmured "come here, honey." He sniffled and gasped for breath through his quiet tears, looking at me with red eyes.

"No, no, the painting," he squeaked out, pointing again.

I just walked over, enveloped him in a hug, and carried him over to the couch in the living room. He squirmed a little, and then cried on me for a while. I tried to get some more food into his mouth.

"I love your hair," I murmured, gently combing through it with my fingers. He sniffled, turning his head on my chest.

"I look— I look like some sort of fake. Because I am."

"Hey, stop that," I replied, adjusting him in my arms.

"Just wait til I walk you through what happened," he grumbled sadly.

"Alright, Kaveh, 'walk me through it' then."

He put a hand to his face. "I can't right now, it's too traumatizing."

"Okay," I chuckled a little, braiding a little section of his hair.

"This is not funny, Alhaitham, my dreams were just crushed." He pressed his face into my stomach and sobbed quietly.

"Alright, if it's that serious, then I won't laugh." I smiled, gently shifting his head into my lap and bending over a bit to look at him. He gazed up at me with those pretty red eyes, which were consistently watering. His nose was all red and runny, and he crinkled it at me as he frowned.

I leaned down and kissed him. He smiled a little and smoothed down my hair. "I like it when you don't wear beanies," he murmured, "although I like you in beanies too." I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted when he grabbed the collar of my shirt and brought my lips back to his. "You have this intelligent goth sort of look," he said between kisses, grinning against my lips. "I like it."

Right as he leaned in again, I pulled back and smiled down at him, gently drying the tears on his cheeks with my thumbs. "Actual dinner tonight?"

"You don't have Philosophy?" he frowned curiously, sitting up.

"No, the professor is sick," I shrugged. "And she won't take a sub."

"Alright," Kaveh murmured, smiling and sleepily hugging my chest. "Will you be my wallet, this time?"

I chuckled. "Yes, sure. I'll be your wallet."

He gently kissed me, and then buried his head back down into my shoulder. "Good."

"Maybe I'll take that back," I shrugged.

He scoffed. "You're so difficult."

***

He actually got dressed up for dinner, despite his insufferable moodiness. His earrings glittered in the soft candlelight as we sat at the table, some of his golden hair pulled back in pins. I smiled as the waiter put water beside us.

"Well, why are you looking at me like that?" Kaveh chuckled, grinning. "I feel like I'm going to get proposed to or something."

I turned a bit red at the thought of that, but pushed it aside and shrugged. "I don't know. But I can tell you that you're definitely not getting proposed to any time soon."

"How sad," he mused sarcastically, playing with his hair and shooting me a seductive red eye.

***

The restaurant we were at was called Trattoria Trecolori, and was in Midtown Manhattan, sort of off the bay. Kaveh loved this place. He always begged me to take him, but it was sort of expensive for just the two of us, so it was only for special occasions.

This occasion was only special because I said so. And maybe Kaveh's thesis rejection called for some rich pasta dishes with parmesan cheese on top.

***

I blinked slowly, smiling. "Well, do you think we'll be... like this... after college?" I murmured. 

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another oneeeeeeee

idk about u guys but i think they're bfs

kaveh freaking out makes me laugh