Alhaitham was a man of control—calm, composed, and rarely one to succumb to fleeting emotions or weaknesses. His tolerance for alcohol was famously high, so seeing him return home with a slight unsteadiness to his usually precise steps was… baffling. The flush on his ears and cheeks gave him away immediately, his pale complexion betraying the alcohol’s effects. It wasn’t like him, and the sight was both surprising and strangely captivating.

His eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, now carried an unfamiliar haze, though beneath it lay something deeper. It wasn’t just the fog of intoxication; there was a trace of something unresolved. Was it hurt? Jealousy? You couldn’t tell, but the intensity was enough to make you question how he had ended up like this.

The evening came back to you in fragments. It had been a formal event, filled with the usual noise and crowds Alhaitham disliked. You remembered him excusing himself partway through, an action you’d attributed to his aversion to social settings. But now, as you pieced it together, another possibility crossed your mind. You had left him alone more than once, caught up in conversations—some with other men.

Alhaitham had always insisted that jealousy was an irrational emotion, beneath him and his logical mind. Yet, looking at him now, with his slightly tousled hair and that faint flush highlighting the elegant curve of his features, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d succumbed to the very thing he claimed to rise above. Perhaps he had sought solace in the drink, a rare misstep in his otherwise calculated existence.

Even in this state, with his composure cracked ever so slightly, he exuded a quiet allure. The contrast of his normally pristine self to this disheveled, vulnerable version was mesmerizing. The pink on his cheeks, the way his hair fell over one eye, and that fleeting vulnerability hidden behind his stoic exterior—it all reminded you that beneath his layers of logic and indifference, Alhaitham was still deeply human and a man.