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“Why are you crying, you crazy man?” Oruggio says, trying for a lilting tone to lighten the atmosphere and hopefully coax Qifrey out of the state he’s in. And work himself up into a state, he has. There, sitting dejectedly on a chair in the fanciest outfit Oruggio’s ever seen him in, is the most perfect, the most cherished man in Oruggio’s life - his soon to be husband - openly weeping.
When he walks closer Coco wordlessly steps aside and hands him a napkin. Oruggio takes it gingerly, mouthing his thanks to the girl and kneels by the chair, taking over the duty of wiping Qifrey’s tears. “I really can’t leave you alone at all, can I?” he asks, voice more fond than joking. At least Qifrey’s not shying away from his ministrations. That’s a good sign at least. His lips tremble and fat crystal tears keep rolling down his flushed cheeks even as Oruggio hushes him soothingly and hurries to brush them all away. “Agott said you were fine in the morning, what happened?”
Qifrey doesn’t answer. In fact his stream of tears only seems to intensify. The rest of the girls have also entered the room, standing a respectful few feet away: they all look varying degrees of concerned and scared, never having seen their professor in such a state before. Agott, who was the one who rushed to get him, looks like she wants to come closer and is only barely holding herself back.
Oruggio turns to them.
“You did the right thing by calling me.” He tells Agott, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. He does the same with Coco. “Can you leave us for a bit? I’d like to talk to your professor.”
Under different circumstances, Oruggio would’ve laughed at the sheer conflict showing on the girls’ faces. On the one hand, they’re clearly worried about Qifrey and understand that the only person who can make it better is Oruggio. On the other hand, they’ve been quite adamant that their professors follow the tradition of separation before the wedding.
“I won’t be long.” Oruggio reassures them with a smile. “I just need to make sure he’s fine.”
His words seem to settle their minds a little as they hurry to leave. Oruggio waits for the closing thud of the door before he turns back towards the other man.
A thousand thoughts and fears have begun whirling in his head. What could’ve possibly put Qifrey in such distress? Is he hurt? Has he been overthinking everything again? Has he had a change of heart?
The thought alone is enough to topple him to the ground right there.
“Qifrey.” Oruggio murmurs in a gentler tone now, dread eating at him from the inside. “Dearheart, what -”
“Happy.” Qifrey just barely manages to choke out, as if sensing his worry. It does all sorts of things to Oruggio’s poor heart that’s already tender and paper-thin on this special day.
Happy. He’s happy. These are happy tears.
His relief is so strong, Oruggio almost keels over from the force of it. He allows his head to fall onto Qifrey’s lap nonetheless. He needs a moment.
“Gods.” Oruggio groans, taking momentary satisfaction from Qifrey’s confused sputtering. Serves him right. Two can play this game. “Don’t scare me like that.”
Tentative fingers slip into his hair, stroking carefully and playing with the ends.
“I didn’t mean to. I don’t even remember what set me off. Before I knew it, I couldn’t stop.” Qifrey says petulantly and Oruggio smiles in spite of himself, looking up. Qifrey’s lips have twisted into a small pout as he rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand and in that moment he looks so endearing and boyish and it’s so reminiscent of the distressed young witch Oruggio met a little over a decade ago, he feels full to bursting with affection. “Ah. I’m sorry. I must’ve scared the girls too…”
“Don’t worry about it.” Oruggio dismisses the apology, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. He huffs softly, a little embarrassed when he notices Qifrey’s eyes trailing all over his form with almost greedy attentiveness, taking in his wedding attire. For the first time since entering the room, Oruggio allows himself to properly look at Qifrey as well.
He that Oruggio loves is a vision before his eyes. He doesn’t think he knows words fit enough to describe him, really. His appearance, the tender expression adorning his face...it doesn’t feel like his to put into words. There are artists and singers and sculptors toiling away day and night for this very occasion. For a muse like this to appear before their eyes. Qifrey looks absolutely -
“I’m so lucky.” Qifrey says suddenly, awed, snapping him out of his daze. “I’m marrying the handsomest witch alive.”
Oruggio blinks, feeling his face color several shades of red. Despite his embarrassment, he feels almost wrongfooted somehow. Has he magically conveyed his very own thoughts to his lover in some lapse of concentration? He almost buries his face back into his partner’s robes.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Oruggio says, sounding choked. “Obviously that’s you.” He insists, bringing Qifrey’s gloved hand up to his lips. He makes sure Qifrey’s looking into his eyes when he adds. “You’re beautiful.”
Oruggio watches, enraptured, as Qifrey positively glows at his words. And suddenly he feels like he’s the one on the verge of tears now. He feels like he’s stepped foot on sacred ground, has bowed his forehead before a temple that shines with all the brilliance of the moon and received its blessing.
I’m marrying him, Oruggio reaffirms to himself. From enduring friendship to the rest of forever with him. Anything else would be too bitter, too little.
“I’m glad you didn’t shave.” Qifrey goes on to say, as he strokes his scruffy cheek, completely unaware of the current of feelings shaking Oruggio from the inside. Then his hand trails up Oruggio’s neck and touches his earring. “And these suit you so much...You should wear jewellery more often.”
Oruggio’s smile widens as his eyes fall to half-slits, already drunk and loose-limbed from Qifrey’s love.
“If you say so.” Oruggio murmurs, touching their foreheads together gently and then sensing several pairs of eyes burning holes onto his back from behind a door he suspects isn’t quite closed, he grins sheepishly. “We weren’t supposed to see each other until much later you know…”
“I don’t care about that.” Qifrey says immediately and Oruggio snorts.
“I know you don’t.” he teases, recalling Qifrey’s baffled outrage at having to be separated from his beloved for days before the wedding. He even went as far as to declare that witches don’t have to perform the same customs as others: a pitiful attempt at wrangling himself out of that predicament, which all but went ignored. “But your students wouldn’t be too happy about it.”
“Fine. Have it your way.” Qifrey sighs, admitting defeat for the second time and shakes his head with a small resigned smile. With Qifrey’s bejeweled hair, the motion feels like a mountain wind caressing the crown of an oak tree. Oruggio can’t stop looking and before he knows it, he’s reaching into the pocket of his coat.
“Here.” he says breathlessly, pressing a black ribbon into Qifrey’s hand, who’s too surprised to do anything but accept. It’s a part of his own royal blue and black ensemble, meant to serve as a hair decoration, but with his short slick hair, he’s found it too uncomfortable to wear. “You can wear it… or just keep it with you until the ceremony.” He rubs the back of his neck, unable to meet Qifrey’s stunned gaze. “If it’ll make the wait easier, that is.”
Was this a strange thing to say? He ruminates. But then again, what is not strange about their union? Two strange lives in a strange house, a strange family near a strange town. A very strange crafty witch waiting for an answer.
Qifrey doesn’t keep him waiting for long. Nor does he give a verbal answer, however.
Within seconds he’s removed his headwear and is tying the black ribbon around his head. Oruggio doesn’t stop staring even as Qifrey finishes adjusting the head ornament on top of it, his black looking at once out of place, yet strangely fitting against Qifrey’s light hair and jewels. He doesn’t stop staring even as Qifrey stands up and extends both his hands down at him to help him rise to his feet as well.
Strange as they may be, it’s this man Oruggio wants to love until his last breath. Wants to stay with Qifrey, until he forgets what living without him was like. Wants to welcome so many mornings together until their names share the same sound and meaning in their mouths. Until no one can tell when one begins and the other ends, cause there won’t be anything dividing them anymore.
“My Oru…” Qifrey breathes, reverent and Oruggio shivers at the sound of his voice and the way he’s fixed him in his sight. “And what should I give you in return?”
You don’t need to give me anything, Oruggio wants to shout. You’ve already lent me the breath from your lungs and you don’t even know it. You’re the only reason I can sleep soundly at night. You should just learn to accept kindness when it’s given without worrying about paying it back. Especially when it’s me.
A flutter of whispers and giggles from the entrance break him out of his thoughts and he sees his own recognition mirrored on Qifrey’s face. He smiles a secretive smile that’s bordering on mischievous.
“I’ll tell you later.” he answers loudly, demonstratively and neither he nor Qifrey are able to hold back their laughter when their girls groan in disappointment. With their enthusiastic eavesdropping revealed, they do nothing to conceal their presence now and Qifrey motions for them to come inside properly.
Oruggio pats their heads as they enter, amused by how red they all look. He decides to take pity on them.
“Well, I leave Qifrey in your care then.” he says seriously. And then lifts a finger up to his lips and winks. “You didn’t see me here.”
The girls mime zipping their mouths, pulling twin amused sounds from their mentors. Oruggio takes one last look at all of them before moving towards the door. His feet feel all too heavy all of a sudden.
The sight of Qifrey kissing the tip of his black ribbon is the last thing he sees before he physically has to fling himself out the door in case he changes his mind, customs be damned.