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Qifrey is hurting. Whether the ache starts in his body or his heart he’s not sure anymore.
He skillfully concealed the excruciating guilt and the throbbing pain in his head for hours. He took Coco in his arms and told her that everything would be okay, assuring her as his eyes were getting stabbed by the consequences of the light magic he drew. “As long as you’re one of my students...” how long will that even be? Sometimes he’s not sure if what he says is to comfort her or himself.
What’s even worse than going through the agony he brought on himself is the warmth of the man holding him in his arms right now. Qifrey has to lie to him. He has to hide and omit and divert and he wonders how long he’ll be able to keep it up. He feels Oruggio’s lips softly brush his neck and hears him murmur loving words in his ear while fingers keep combing his hair or rubbing his back or holding his hands.
And Qifrey can only close his eye and let the tears dry before they even come out. He can only breathe out air that tickles Oruggio’s shoulder and feel his embrace with all its side effects because he doesn’t have the strength to pull back and utter words he doesn’t mean.
He can’t feel sorry for himself because all of this is on him. He drew light magic in Karoon as it was the safest option for everyone in the area, with the exception of Qifrey of course.
The flash left him writhing on the ground until the safety of his discovery was threatened, forcing him to act.
And now he wonders if he could have done something else, if it was his afflicted eye that urged him to erase Mr Nornoa’s memories and maybe a clear-headed Qifrey would have found another solution. Because every burst of pain to him is a sign of time passing and a reminder that he has nothing to lose. Or maybe he has everything to lose.
Either way, he had to do it.
Later on, once at the atelier, he found the other girls in bed, with Coco following them soon after. The rain, the meeting with Oruggio, the incident at the river and the trip to Karoon in such a short span of time weighed on her more than anyone else.
And it was a similar exhaustion that made Qifrey behave maybe too carelessly.
His headache wasn’t pervasive but it was steady and confusing. He closed his eye and fell into a tormented half-sleep on the couch. Images from both memories and imagination flashed like lightning burning his forehead.
After minutes, or maybe hours, a nightmare forced him awake and he made out Oruggio’s silhouette in the darkness, sitting on the arm of the couch.
“You always fall asleep here...” He was holding Qifrey’s hat, petting the white fabric and playing with the tassel, wrapping it around his hand and unwrapping it.
Qifrey moved to sit properly and forced a smile and a reply, blaming everything on their long tiring day. A half lie.
At that, Oruggio stood up and reached out for his hands, pulling him up as well. Ignoring the questioning look, he unbuttoned Qifrey’s cloak with a smile. “You even forgot to take this off.”
“Ah, yeah...” He stared as the man hung the piece of clothing. Despite his urge to crawl somewhere and be alone until he’d feel better, Oruggio’s back was such a comforting sight.
Then he got dragged to the bedroom. Feeling dazed and weak, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse the care and attention.
Oruggio sat him down and planted a peck on his head, ordering him to rest. “I’ll make some tea.”
Alone, Qifrey trailed his body towards the headboard of the bed and hugged his knees. I’m making him worry, he thought. Once again, Oruggio was offering help and love when he couldn’t even offer him the truth.
He couldn’t say anything at all. When the watchful eye walked back in and handed him a cup of warm tea, he just smiled. When he told him what the girls had eaten, he sipped his tea and smiled again.
He stared, too. He scanned each movement Oruggio made, every expression on his face, imprinting every little detail on his mind.
How long until I won’t be able to look at him?
Oh, the pain injects the worst thoughts in his head.
Then Oruggio blew out the candles and lied down next to him and Qifrey finally said, “thank you.” He owed him that much.
He let a sigh escape his mouth when Oruggio took his hand, the stable pain in his eye subsiding for a split second.
“You don’t need to thank me. You worked hard at the river, and I know it’s stressful for you to deal with the Knights Moralis...”
Qifrey nodded again and pretended again that his discomfort was limited to that.
So Oruggio – kind, wonderful, much loved Oruggio – gently kissed his cheek. “You know, Coco really seems like a good kid...” He said, clearly trying to put the other’s mind at ease.
Even in the dark, Qifrey could detect the soft smile. And in the dark, he could perceive even more Oruggio’s inner light, shining with warmth and kindness, as strong as the magic he’d drawn earlier.
He almost laughed; such a bittersweet comparison to make. Be it his eye or his soul, physically or spiritually, he was doomed to be wounded by powerful light, wasn’t he?
Scratch that, who was he to consider himself wounded in front of Oruggio?
“I’m sorry...” he blurted out without thinking. To the watchful eye it probably sounded like an “I’m sorry for not telling you about Coco,” but it wasn’t.
Forgive me for shutting you out. Forgive me for lying. Forgive me for allowing myself to love you. I’m so sorry.
And so Qifrey is hurting. He’s hurting for his crushing headache and the memories he had to erase. He’s hurting and he’s disorientated because he apologized for things he couldn’t even explain and Oruggio has just taken him in his arms in response and is now scattering his lips and fingers all over Qifrey’s skin, well acquainted with all the places that make him melt down like ice under the sun.
Qifrey should pull back now.
But it’s so sweet, so comfortable. He sinks into it and reciprocates every touch. He’s loved and he’s cherished. If he pulled back now, what would he even say?
Wouldn’t it be better if Oruggio just left him there on the spot? He’d deserve it, he’d accept it. Oh but of course he wouldn’t, because he loves Qifrey.
If only he weren’t tormented by the thought of losing it all rushing through him like a cold shower with every burst of pain, he’d be so happy right now.
“Don’t look so gloomy, everything’s fine,” Oruggio whispers. “Just get some rest and you’ll feel ten times better tomorrow, trust me.” Qifrey would trust him with his own life.
He takes off his glasses and slips them inside his pockets, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right...”
And he will feel better tomorrow, whether he’ll pretend or not, he’ll be cheerful for the sake of the family he and Oruggio have created. He’s accustomed to it, sitting on the floor all night with a migraine that leaves him breathless and then waking the girls up with a smile on his face in the morning. What he’s not used to is having Oruggio by his side on such occasions.
Qifrey can cry the pain away when he’s alone, or put on a show when he’s with anyone else. But since it’s just him and Oruggio, and his head is clouded, his restraint can’t last long.
And as the perfect man by his side fixes their pillows, Qifrey seems to finally give up. He becomes nothing in front of the feeble outline of Oruggio lying on his side, combing his white hair and watching him with what feels on his skin like the most loving and tender gaze.
He inevitably and shamefully grasps the man’s shirt and clings to his chest, reaching the pinnacle of fatigue and surrendering to every soothing little gesture his best friend has granted him tonight.
Oruggio pulls him in even more, envelops him until he feels like a muddy puddle encompassed by a gorgeous flower field. Is it possible for petals to grow so pretty and charming around such sodden soil? Is it possible for Oruggio to be so perfect by the side of such a wretched witch?
Cheek pressed against his chest, Qifrey can hear the sigh of relief heaved underneath. He would be alarmed if it weren’t for the fingers stroking his head, tracing circles and shapes with his thumb almost like he’s drawing magic.
After a while, the movements get slower and Qifrey is suddenly reminded that the sun went down hours ago. “Sorry for keeping you up. You must be bone-tired too.”
Even without looking, he can tell that Oruggio is shaking his head. “Hmm hmm I could stay like this all night…”
“That would make your back hurt tomorrow,” Qifrey says with a smile. He realizes it’s probably the first real smile he’s put on since he got back, perhaps a sign that his ache is slowly waning.
“It doesn’t matter. Besides, you’ve done the same for me before,” Oruggio whispers and seals his words with a light kiss on his head.
Qifrey remembers the time Oruggio had a fever and he slept next to him on the sofa against all his objections, and that time one of his contraptions got rejected and Qifrey dragged him outside of his studio for a picnic and watched him sleep peacefully on his lap for hours.
It’s not the same, Qifrey wants to say. But to his dismay, it is. Even if it doesn’t seem real to him, even if he’ll never be deserving of such sentiments, the more time passes the more he becomes aware that their hearts are a reflection of each other. But if Oruggio loves him with equal intensity, isn’t that too cruel?
Qifrey would give everything up for him, and to think that Oruggio would do the same is unbearable. That’s why he can’t tell him the whole truth.
“Just sleep and worry about yourself for once. Whatever talk can wait,” Oruggio adds after a bit, pulling him out of his thoughts. Half of Qifrey’s body is just awkwardly sprawled on the other man’s, and one of Oruggio’s hands is now rubbing at his back while the other has slowly untied the straps and made its way to the back of his neck.
Guided by his negligent and very much enamoured side, Qifrey curls his fingers around Oruggio’s shirt just above his heart and uncovers his skin, only enough to kiss it. Nothing more than a tired touch of lips. “You’re wonderful, you know that?” He confesses for the first time today.
The hand that was caressing his neck moves to cup Qifrey’s and the next moment he feels a pair of lips on his knuckles. “I can’t help it if I’m with you.”
Although Qifrey doesn’t believe it, he leaves it at that. If his placated state were to waver even a bit, he’s not sure what he’d do or say.
Pain’s still sitting heavy on his mind and body, even if milder, but he closes his eye and endures it, lulled by the sound of fingers moving on his skin and their clothes brushing together.
A new kind of sadness forms in his soul, for this cannot and will not happen again. In a week, or in a month, whenever his condition worsens, he’ll be more careful and more adamant. He’ll deny himself the reassuring arms wrapped around him so he won’t drag the fire witch down with him.
And he’ll punch himself tomorrow for not keeping his feelings in check, but for now he’ll just bear the burden of these arcadian moments and whisper his good night against Oruggio’s gentle heart.