Alhaitham sat in one of the high-backed chairs near the bookshelf, legs crossed, a heavy tome resting open in his lap. His eyes moved steadily over the text, each turn of the page deliberate, controlled. The world outside of his reading barely existed. At least, until the tranquility fractured.

The front door opened with a bit more force than necessary.

Footsteps echoed through the hall, ungracefully loud against polished stone. Without lifting his gaze, Alhaitham registered the arrival of his roommate. Keys dropped onto the entry table with a metallic clatter. A satchel hit the bench. Fabric rustled as a coat was carelessly tossed onto the balustrade this time, not even the hook.

He exhaled through his nose, silent.

“You’re stomping,” he said after a pause, voice measured, the edge of disapproval barely masked beneath his usual flat tone. “Which usually means something has gone wrong. I’d ask what it was, but we both know you’ll tell me even if I don’t.”

There was no answer, at least not one he could hear, just the distant sound of footsteps retreating into the kitchen. Alhaitham turned another page with practiced ease.

“I also noticed you left your papers on the table outside this morning. I brought them in before the wind blew them away,” he added without inflection. “You’re welcome.”

A few beats of silence passed before he slowly, deliberately looked up. His gaze found you standing near the doorway to the study, expression tight, like you were biting back a comment.