Chapter Text
The crisis begins with a knock.
Not just any knock— rapid, panicked, and clearly from someone who thinks their entire academic career hangs in the balance.
You have only just stepped into the living room when the door swings open and a breathless junior researcher stumbles inside.
“Advisor Alhaitham! Architect Kaveh— ah, Senior Researcher Y/N—! There’s an issue— a serious issue— in the Spantamad labs!”
Alhaitham’s expression shifts immediately— not alarmed, but sharply focused.
Kaveh’s shifts too— but into something more emotional and concerned.
You ask the most important question: “Is anyone hurt?”
“No,” the researcher wheezes, “but… the data from last month’s elemental correlation trials is contradicting itself. The algorithm is producing impossible outputs. It’s… it’s unraveling the whole project!”
Your anemo Vision flickers anxiously.
You don’t even have to ask if you’re all going. Alhaitham is already reaching for his coat. Kaveh is already cursing under his breath and searching for a pencil. And you— your pulse is already steadying, falling into an old rhythm.
Just like years ago, before the fight. Just like before everything broke.
The three of you move together without thinking.
When you arrive, the atmosphere is thick with confusion. Students gather around projection screens flickering with unstable elemental graphs.
Kaveh immediately kneels beside a student’s desk.
“Show me exactly where you started losing structural consistency.”
You and Alhaitham head toward the main console.
He gestures you forward. “You’ve done more recent fieldwork than I have. You interpret.”
You skim the projections. The error is cascading— feeding itself with each new correction attempt.
“It’s not the data that’s wrong,” you say slowly. “It’s the indexation.”
Alhaitham nods. “The Archon signature variables?”
“Exactly.”
Kaveh overhears, popping up from across the room. “So we need to rebuild the entire elemental index from scratch?! Tonight?!”
Your Vision hums with irritation. “No. We just need to isolate the corrupted variables and reconstruct the environmental modifiers.”
Kaveh stares. “That’s— actually possible?”
You grin. “With the three of us? Yes.”
And something warm flickers across both their faces. Not pride or nostalgia. Something new.
Hours pass, but they don’t feel heavy.
You sit between them at the long lab table, diagrams spread across the surface, lantern light soft around the edges.
Alhaitham handles the logical framework, calmly recomputing the baseline harmony equations.
You sketch the elemental field variations you witnessed during your travels. The way winds shifted in Mondstadt, the archon resonance in Liyue, the dormant pressure beneath Inazuma’s soil.
Kaveh drafts the stabilizing matrix, muttering to himself, hair falling over his face, brushing your arm each time he leans in.
The three of you argue. You debate. You fix each other’s mistakes. You reference memories you thought you’d buried.
And it just feels so incredibly right.
When someone’s hand brushes yours— you don’t know whose— your Vision glows softly.
No one comments on it. But neither of them pull away.
“It’s shifting,” Kaveh murmurs, eyes wide as the projection stabilizes.
“All output variables are realigning,” Alhaitham confirms.
You add the final correction sequence— the data stream hums— the elemental signatures converge.
Then—
Stability achieved.
A cheer erupts from the students.
You exhale and slump forward, suddenly feeling how long the night has been.
Kaveh pats your back. “We did it!”
Alhaitham adds, quietly but with unmistakable warmth: “Of course we did.”
Your heart flutters.
Your Vision sparkles.
You don’t even question it.
It’s half past midnight by the time you finally pack up.
The walk back home is slow— your shoulders brushing, your steps matching pace, Kaveh leaning into you with tired warmth, Alhaitham walking close enough that your sleeve occasionally grazes his.
When you reach the house, the three of you collapse not on beds, but in the living room, surrounded by papers and diagrams you brought home “just in case.”
You sit down first. Kaveh leans against your shoulder. Alhaitham sits on your other side, entirely too close for someone who pretends to dislike contact.
You talk for a bit— about the project, about old times, about nothing at all.
Somewhere in the middle of Kaveh rambling about ceiling vaults and Alhaitham quietly correcting him—your eyes slip closed.
You barely notice the moment sleep takes you.
You wake to warmth.
Lots of it.
Kaveh’s hair is tickling your cheek. His arm is wrapped firmly around your stomach— not loosely, not accidentally, but like he didn’t want to let go.
On your other side, Alhaitham is asleep with a book facedown on his chest. Your hand is loosely tangled in his, fingers curled together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Your Anemo Vision glows softly— content.
Kaveh stirs first.
“…morning,” he mumbles sleepily into your shoulder. Then he freezes. Then sits bolt upright. “WAIT—did we—? Did this—?!”
Alhaitham opens one eye.
“Calm down. Nothing happened. We fell asleep.”
“TOGETHER?!” Kaveh sputters.
Alhaitham yawns and deadpans, “You’re very warm. It was practical.”
Your face burns.
Kaveh splutters. “PRACTICAL?! You were holding Y/N’s hand!”
Alhaitham glances down. Sees the intertwined fingers. Tilts his head.
“…Yes. I was.”
Your heartbeat stutters.
Your Vision flickers.
Kaveh groans into his hands. “This household is going to kill me.”
But he’s smiling.
You’re smiling.
And even Alhaitham’s lips curl just barely.
Somehow, somewhere along the line, the space between the three of you began to close. And now, waking in this warm, chaotic pile you’re not sure you want it to open again.
You are exhausted in that bone-deep way that comes from mental strain, emotional tension, and sleeping improperly on a stack of research notes.
Kaveh insists you stay home and rest.
“You almost burst a blood vessel last night,” he scolds gently, pushing you toward the sofa.
Alhaitham adds, “You won’t be helpful if you collapse again.”
“I didn’t collapse,” you protest.
“You were unconscious,” Alhaitham corrects.
“On my shoulder,” Kaveh adds proudly.
You groan. “Just go. Both of you.”
Surprisingly, they do.
The door clicks shut behind them, and the house goes quiet. Sunlight slanting across the floor, the faint rustle of papers, the soft hum of your Anemo Vision.
You sink into the cushions, exhaling. You don't know how long they’ll be gone… or what they’ll talk about.