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Kaveh knows he pushes the boundaries of Alhaitham's forgiveness. The glint in his eye that signals this is not Kaveh's victory always has him telling the other man he should not forgive him so easily.
"Don't you want me to forgive you?" Asked with an undertone of confusion.
Most people would be happy. Grateful, relieved to be forgiven. Not Kaveh. Kaveh is indignant at how easy it is.
"It's not about what I want! It's about how you feel."
Alhaitham is unsure if there is anything Kaveh could do, he would not eventually forgive. Reliance on objectivity and truth rather than his subjective opinion allows him to see that the action often has very little to do with him in the end, therefore he has no difficulties. It infuriates Kaveh to no end, causing him to push and push and push, little by little, until something cracks. He wonders if Alhaitham knows, in those moments, Kaveh wants to hurt him. Even if he regrets it immediately. Even if it's just to make him feel as sore as he does.
Their arguments guarantee a mutual understanding. No matter how much they may push and bend that thread, it will never break or snap. Which is why Kaveh could confidently fray its edges without fear of consequence. Consequence that would come all too soon from a simple action. Everyone has their boundary. A push too far over how much they can take.
This argument is different. It guarantees nothing but pain and heartache. It started off simple enough. They alway do. Then, they veer into dangerous territory, always with the mutual agreement to not go too far into treacherous waters, but it seems they forgot this time. So, Kaveh leaves. He gathers up everything he can carry in his arms and storms out into the chilly night under the voyeuristic gaze of stars watching him retreat without looking back.
If he released some of his anger, he might realise the impulsiveness of his actions. He might have looked back and realised the weight of them. Instead, he keeps walking, aimless, if only to make a point. Kaveh doesn't return for days. Not when it dawns on him he left many necessary items there. Not when he misses the feeling of strong arms keeping him tucked away comfortably through cold nights and lazy mornings. Not until that righteous anger sloughs off and leaves behind unbearable regret.
Someone, once upon a time, told Kaveh his pridefulness would be his downfall. He didn't give it much thought until he's knocking on the door - *knocking* - and greeted with Alhaitham's usual impassivity. Impassivity usually softened for him. He says nothing. His eyes, however, never lie. Kaveh finally sees the weight in them. The shimmer of pain, the twinkle of raw hurt; completely unmendable. Kaveh knew better. Knows better. Knows every loss of Alhaitham's is scarred on to his heart and cautiously bandaged over. Kaveh promised he wouldn't become one.
Again.
They left each other. It didn't matter who walked first, because that day, they left each other; walked away from each other.
Kaveh is the only one to have done it twice.
"Alhaitham-" No words are exchanged between them before Alhaitham closes the door.
The brutality behind such a gentle, normal action cuts through him like a knife. Everyone has their boundary, everyone has their limitations, and things they refuse to take. Standing there, in front of that door, Kaveh knows he has finally found Alhaitham's - and that there is no coming back from it.
Behind that door, there is no one to see, and tears are silent, so no one to hear, either. Hidden away from the prying gaze of the stars, covered by the privacy of these suddenly lonesome four walls... well, that's his business, isn't it?