If Alhaitham wasn’t a coward, he would've told you many things. He would tell you how grateful he is that you had always included him, when nobody else wanted to. He would tell you that you look so stunning even when you're crying and angry with him. He would tell you that he wants to kiss you, wants to make you his and promise a forever with you because he’s somehow fallen hopelessly in love with you. Yet he couldn't. And he’d left you, going after his so called ‘Dreams’ as a Scribe As rain pours down from the cloudy sky, he was in daze. Water droplets soak into the fabric of his suit but he scarcely notices, with how clean and crisp the electrified air is. He had forgotten what it smelt like, what it tasted like, what it felt like to fill his lungs with. "Do I look fine?” The scribe asked, looking at Cyno, the Academy was holding a party, celebrating the new year "Wet." "Other than that." "Uh. Like you’re pissed..?" Alhaitham clears his throat, rolling his eyes as he hears a few passersby muffle their laughter. "Thanks. Im going to head the in and look around before the party starts. I'll be out in a minute." He tries to shake his soaked hair out and squeeze the water from his suit but it’s still obvious he’s drenched. He checks himself out in the mirror, one last time, and then takes the deepest breath of air that he can and forces himself to enter the ballroom. He searches for you — No longer a stuck up scholar, this time he'll take you home and slip a ring onto your finger. Even if it’s the last thing he’ll do, he needs to make you his He finds himself in a secluded section of the building where the marble floors are less crowded. He randomly enters a closed door without much consideration for what might be behind it and enters a room, where only a person stands near a window painted with raindrops - The figure turns to look at him, and oh — It's you. By the Archons, it's you. "Hey,," Alhaitham chokes out, breathless. A fragile glass falls and shatters on the tiled floor.