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The sun has only just begun rising when Oruggio feels himself being dragged to consciousness from the clutches of sleep. He keeps his eyes resolutely shut, grateful that he has but one small window in his bedroom, which doesn’t allow for more than a few narrow streams of sunlight to slip in. Keeping his eyes closed, he stretches his limbs, letting out a soft grunt at the way his bones crack. He frowns. The movement suddenly makes him aware that he has far too much space to move around in his bed that feels far too cold the more Oruggio shakes the last clinging remains of sleep.
He automatically reaches out to his right for Qifrey and as expected his hands skim over nothing but sheets and pillows. He finally opens his eyes. His frown deepens as he doesn’t find his husband on his designated side of the bed, his very overworked husband, who fell asleep the second they settled into bed the previous night. There’s no way Qifrey’d awake at this hour voluntarily unless there was some sort of emergency with the students. Moreover, Qifrey doesn’t typically get up earlier than Oruggio on the occasions they spend the night together. Even if he does wake sooner, he prefers to stay tucked by Oruggio’s side and relish the other’s company: rare as Oruggio’s breaks from work are.
Oruggio reaches to flick on the lamp and blinks in rapid succession, eyes adjusting to the light.
“Qifrey?” Oruggio calls, voice raspy from sleep. The bedroom answers him with silence. He must’ve gotten up a while ago too, since the bed hasn’t retained any of his body heat.
Well, that decides it. Oruggio gets out of bed with one final stretch and quickly puts on his clothes. Might as well get a head start on his day.
The first thing he does is quietly check on the kids to make sure they’re alright. After finding them sound asleep he patters off into the kitchen to make some tea. Qifrey did go to bed unusually early last night: typically he’d be burying himself in various books and making notes in preparation for next day’s lesson. Maybe he got up early to get everything set and ready for the day. That would explain his absence.
Oruggio rubs at his eyes as he waits for the water to finish boiling. The atelier is almost never this peaceful. And he’s certainly never up at such an unspeakable hour. The strange silence settles heavy and sad in Oruggio’s chest, making it ache a little. He’s not used to being alone anymore. Even now he moves around the kitchen with careful movements as if expecting for one of the kids to spring at him abruptly in their enthusiasm and curiosity, Qifrey trailing not too far behind them with a soft greeting on his tongue.
His life has gotten so terribly domestic. Oruggio loves it.
He pours two cups of tea and sets off to find out where his husband has wandered off to.
As it happens, he doesn’t have to search for too long. He finds the man curled up by the hallway window, on the sofa he has the terrible habit of falling asleep on the days Oruggio’s too busy to drag him to bed himself.
He steps closer, mouth opening around a greeting but he falters when he takes a closer look at the man. Something doesn’t feel right. For one, Qifrey’s still not reacted to his presence at all, which in and of itself is worrying. Secondly, he doesn’t seem to be reacting to anything at all, as he gazes out the window and into the valleys with an expression Oruggio can only describe as lifeless.
The only movement from his vicinity is initiated by the brushbug who, as if sensing its master’s distress, keeps bumping its head softly against Qifrey’s arm and whining. Qifrey doesn’t acknowledge the movement, nor Oruggio’s presence. He looks lost in thought, his eyebrows knit in a troubled grimace as he stares into the distance. It’s in these moments that Oruggio wishes he were able to read his mind.
“You’re up early.” Oruggio says gently, words coming out more like a question than a statement. His husband finally shows signs of life as his shoulders draw up in clear surprise and he lets out a tiny sigh. If he replies, his words are too quiet for Oruggio to hear.
Oruggio sits down beside him. Qifrey doesn’t turn to look at him.
“Come on, let’s go.” Oruggio prompts, patting softly at Qifrey’s shin, hesitant to initiate more contact when Qifrey seems so tense. He’s not sure if his touch will be welcome at the moment. “I made tea. It’ll go cold if we don’t drink it soon.”
Qifrey doesn’t make any move to get up, nor does he show any sign that he’s interested in tea. He does wrap tentative fingers around Oruggio’s own though. His hand feels cold.
How long have you been sitting here all alone? Oruggio wonders, a lump forming in his throat. Why didn’t you wake me up?
“Later.” Qifrey says apologetically and Oruggio’s so ecstatic to hear his voice he physically sags from relief. “Can you just... stay with me?”
All of Oruggio’s instincts tell him that Qifrey doesn’t mean just for now.
“Of course.” Oruggio reassures quickly, just barely holding himself back from asking more questions now that his husband is finally speaking. Oruggio moves to make himself more comfortable on the sofa and almost immediately Qifrey tightens his grip on his hand. It’s like he’s afraid Oruggio will slip right out of his grip and into thin air. Oruggio squeezes his fingers back in reassurance.
They sit side by side wordlessly long enough for the sun to rise fully. Oruggio knows that the kids will rise soon as well, but he doesn’t dare be the one to break the silence first. When his husband finally turns to look at him, Oruggio doesn’t think he quite manages to mask his worry. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said Qifrey looked devoid of life and spirit. Whatever’s tormenting him, there isn’t even a trace of sadness on his face to show for it and this terrible neutrality makes his heart fill with dread.
Qifrey has taken to staring at him now with the same intensity he granted the scenery down below and Oruggio feels goosebumps run along his skin. Qifrey’s eye is unnaturally dark today… like the sky before a brewing storm
Qifrey suddenly uncurls his fingers from between Oruggio’s and brings them up to the witch’s cheek, gently cradling his face with a ghosting touch that barely feels there. Oruggio keeps on surveying his face, desperate to catch the smallest change of expression. His eyes widen a little when he notices something else: the faintly visible dried tear tracks on Qifrey’s cheeks.
Without thinking, he reaches out to touch them.
“You’ve been crying.” Oruggio says, heartbroken and the hitch in Qifrey’s breath is the only confirmation he needs. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” Qifrey denies and then deflates at the disbelieving look his husband aims at him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s … it’s stupid.”
“I’m sure it’s not if it’s made you so upset.” Oruggio insists, voice soft but steady, not permitting argument. He doesn’t hesitate to press when Qifrey’s being unreasonable like this and resistant to receiving any type of help. It’s a push and pull Oruggio’s learnt to win over time.
As expected, after a prolonged moment of silence, Qifrey spills, eye trained on a spot above Oruggio’s head. “I had a nightmare.”
Oruggio blinks. That’s not exactly...surprising. But it’s the first time Qifrey’s admitted to having one. If he’s been plagued by terrors before, he’s never shared with Oruggio.
“Was it bad?” Oruggio asks sympathetically, stroking under Qifrey’s eye, encouraging.
“Very bad.” Qifrey confirms, voice small. He draws his knees up to his chest, curling in on himself protectively. “It was my worst fear.”
That gives Oruggio a pause.
“Did you forget to prep food and left the kids without breakfast again?” Oruggio blurts out in spite of himself and immediately winces. He doesn’t know why he said that instead of the thousand legitimate worries swirling in his brain. Now his husband will think he’s being insensitive and not taking his distress seriously -
Qifrey chuckles softly and Oruggio relaxes. He feels the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile of his own. No matter what’s haunting his husband, this ought to be a good sign.
“That happened only once.” Qifrey protests weakly, the tips of his ears lighting up with an embarrassed flush. Oruggio wants so badly to kiss them. But just like that all traces of joy are wiped from his face as soon as they appeared and Oruggio almost regrets speaking at all. Qifrey continues. “No. It was much worse than that.”
Qifrey drops both his hands back to his knees, looking like all the fight has gone out of his body.
“You left me.” he says at last, voice reduced to a mere whisper and the air freezes in Oruggio’s lungs. “In my dream, you left me.”
The breath Oruggio takes after digesting those words is a rugged, miserable thing. Qifrey keeps on talking, not giving him a chance to respond, eye fixed on his hands now instead of Oruggio’s face.
“It’s silly, cause I knew you were there, lying beside me. I could feel your warmth and presence with my body, but it still felt so unsettling. Like I could turn to look at you...and you wouldn’t be there.” Qifrey pauses and Oruggio practically sees how he veils his hurt and forces his voice to sound more chipper than he feels. “Ah. I should get myself in order, shouldn’t I? The girls will be up soon.”
Oruggio tunes out the rest of his words then, opting to focus on Qifrey’s body language instead. Much to his infinite dismay, his partner has mastered the intricate art of concealing his true feelings. Even now when he is so obviously rattled, his face remains perfectly neutral, upholding a façade Oruggio detests and hates even contemplating the reasons of its conception. The rest of his body however, gives away his distress. There’s a minute tremble to his hands where they’re clutching his skirt tightly, making Oruggio fear that his nails will tear right into the fabric. His posture is hunched and he seems to fold in on himself more and more as the seconds go by, his usually large frame looking impossibly small.
“Your worst fear is that I’ll leave you?” Oruggio repeats slowly, unable to focus on anything else. There’s a moment - maybe shorter than a second - that Qifrey’s mask seems to crumble again, and the faintest hint of vulnerability Oruggio captures is all the encouragement he needs. He finally allows himself to reach out and grasp Qifrey’s hand, gently prying its death grip on the witch’s robes and giving it a comforting squeeze. Qifrey is looking everywhere but at him.
“It is stupid.” Oruggio mirrors his words from before and Qifrey flinches a little. Oruggio squeezes his hand again and strokes at his knuckles with his thumb. “Qifrey, I’d never leave you. After all these years...You must know that. Tell me you know that.”
Those words seem to trigger something in the other, for Qifrey’s self-restraint breaks like a dam, releasing his carefully contained emotions.
“How can you be so sure?” Qifrey says wretchedly and the part of Oruggio’s brain that isn’t fully occupied with offering comfort, registers the change of mood at once. There’s something else, Oruggio realizes suddenly, something else he’s not telling me. He clenches his jaw and stores this particular revelation for later. “What if I do something so reckless one day you get fed up with me and -”
Oruggio doesn’t have to raise his voice or say anything at all to cut the horrible stream of words pouring from Qifrey’s mouth. It’s one of the many merits of a decade-long relationship that a mere look is more than enough to accomplish the task.
Oruggio takes a deep breath and then lets it exit his lungs slowly. Qifrey’s watching him calculatingly, almost warily, as if trying to predict his next move. It’s better than the sad resignation in his eye from before, like he’d already sat vigil with the thought of Oruggio leaving and made peace with it. It’s better but not enough.
Oruggio pulls his legs up and sits himself fully on the sofa as well, facing the other witch. He uses his free hand to tug Qifrey closer and maneuvers Qifrey’s legs so they’re draped over his lap. Qifrey makes a surprised little sound in the back of his throat at that, but otherwise stays silent and doesn’t resist. Oruggio’d smile if he didn’t want his demeanour to convey just how serious he is with what he’s about to say.
“Listen to me.” Oruggio says, knocking their foreheads together softly. “There’s nothing - nothing - you can do that will push me away. You can be as stupid and reckless as you’d like. You can interrupt my work and lure me out of my room with your cooking as often as you wish, I’ll probably just grab alcohol and join you without complaint.” Oruggio’s self-control nearly shatters when he sees Qifrey’s mouth wobble into a tentative smile. He brings both his hands up to Qifrey’s face and caresses his cheeks. His skin feels like a wet silk scarf against Oruggio’s burning hands and he desperately wants to breathe warmth back into it. “I love you. And nothing you do is ever gonna change that. Nothing is gonna make me not want to be with you.”
Qifrey’s hands reach up to hold Oruggio’s wrists in return. They’re no longer trembling, the watchful eye notices.
“Oh Oru…” Qifrey murmurs, and he’s smiling softly at him and his face is so full of love and gratitude, Oruggio’s heart melts under his gaze. There are pearly tears gathering at the corner of his eye once more, but this time Oruggio’s there to wipe them away tenderly. This time they’re tears of relief, rather than heartache. Qifrey sighs softly and leans his head into Oruggio’s hand. He murmurs. “What have I ever done to deserve your love?”
Oruggio clicks his tongue in displeasure, dropping one of his hands and tugging lightly at Qifrey’s ear. Not this “deserving-undeserving” talk again.
“I warned you once not to say stupid things like that to me.” Oruggio says, mock-threatening and Qifrey’s smile widens. He detaches Oruggio’s hand from his ear and brings it down to his lips in a tender kiss. Oruggio’s heart nearly bursts from the loving gesture.
“Sorry.” Qifrey murmurs against Oruggio’s skin, not sounding apologetic at all. He does sound wholly earnest though when he adds. “It’s just that my husband is so wonderful… I can hardly believe my luck sometimes.”
Oruggio has to draw him into a proper hug then. He presses his face against Qifrey’s shoulder, not so good at masking his own expressions. He knows Qifrey isn’t one for shallow flattery - he never says anything he doesn’t wholeheartedly believe. Oruggio doesn’t know how many more years he’s gonna need to convince his husband that he’s most certainly worthy of his love and more.
“And you don’t mind?” Qifrey asks quietly after a while, face buried in Oruggio’s hair. The slight waver in his voice makes Oruggio hold him tighter. “That I’m keeping you here all to myself?”
Oruggio has to bark out a laugh at that.
“Funny you’d say that.” he replies, looping an arm around Qifrey’s waist and tugging until the witch is fully seated in his lap. He brings his mouth close to Qifrey’s ear and murmurs. “I could ask you the same thing.”