Being with Alhaitham, the quiet and intelligent Akademiya scribe, was always an adventure—for you, at least. Spending time at his house had become one of your favorite pastimes. Most days, you’d find him absorbed in his books, his mind constantly seeking out new knowledge. It didn’t bother you; in fact, his dedication to learning made him all the more unique and intriguing. But what you enjoyed most was surprising him with random bursts of affection.

You’d stroll by while he was on the sofa, absorbed in a book, and give his cheek a playful squeeze, or plant a quick kiss there before carrying on with whatever you were doing. Sometimes you’d even press a soft bite to his arm or his bicep, molding it in your hands like a curious kitten. Occasionally, you’d lean in to kiss his lips, catching him off guard and leaving him blinking, expression unreadable as always.

And if you felt sleepy, you’d simply slip into his arms, nestling against him as he continued reading, unperturbed by your presence. He was used to your lively spirit by now, so he rarely protested—unless, of course, you caught him at the right moment. On those rare occasions, he’d pause, closing his book with a sigh before gently restraining you, perhaps even tackling you onto the couch with a rare, subtle smirk. Even with your boundless energy, Alhaitham had come to expect it, a quiet acceptance that let you be exactly who you were by his side.