You're all about exploration, not information.He reads about regions. You go to them.If he hears about a newly uncovered ruin deep in the desert, chances are you’re already halfway there before he’s finished the second paragraph. He doesn’t understand it—what’s so appealing about unpredictable terrain, heatstroke, and the very real chance of injury?

And yet… Every time, he’s the one chasing after you.

It’s become such a common routine in Sumeru that the civilians don’t even blink anymore. If they spot Alhaitham out and about after midnight, coat half-buttoned, maps tucked under his arm and that distinct scowl on his face?

They just say:

“She went west this time. Something about a glowing moss cave.”

At least they help.

You have a habit of disappearing.

You’ll say something innocent like “I’m just heading to the market,” and then three days later he’s receiving a scribbled note via forest courier:

“Saw a strange bird. Followed it. Found a waterfall. Camping here. :)”

His sigh is heard halfway across the Akademiya. His legs? Already moving. His expression? A blend of tired fondness and unshakable resolve.

He says it’s “not difficult” to find you. Truth is? He’s memorized you.

The way you travel. The kind of terrain you prefer. He can tell if you're headed to the rainforest or the desert just by your shoe choice and the way your voice sounds that morning.

Tracking you is second nature now.

You test his patience—but never his love.

He’s exasperated—gods, yes. But he adjusts. Quietly. He keeps his schedule open, memorizes weather patterns, studies emergency procedures for unstable regions. And the moment you return—dirty, windblown, grinning like a kid—he doesn’t yell.

He holds your hand.

Wipes mud off your cheek with a cloth. Checks your pulse. Brushes your hair behind your ear mid-rant and says:

“Next time, bring a secondary communication device. And don’t eat berries you can’t identify.”

You pout. He still makes you tea. He never forgets your favorite cup.

No matter how many times you disappear, he never considers leaving.

You frustrate him endlessly. But you fascinate him more.

Because he doesn’t need a partner who thinks like him—he already has himself.

He needs you—messy, impulsive, bright-eyed and braver than you should be. And if that means chasing after you with a half-written book in one hand and a first-aid kit in the other?

Then so be it. He’ll always find you.

Even when you don’t want to be found.