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It’s a treehouse, where Olruggio finds him in.
Or the bare remains of one, more accurately. It’s not even really perched in a tree, either; but it’s somewhat above ground and it’s right around back from the concert hall and it's the only place Olruggio could think he’d be.
They’d claimed it as their own as children, only to later learn that every witch in the vicinity knew about it already and couldn’t care less. It was a bit of a safety hazard after all, and Olruggio has long told Qifrey to abandon the thing, that he can’t be blamed if one day the floor gives out from underneath them both.
Even then he understands why Qifrey keeps coming back. The place really hits the sun; the orange of sundown overpowering even the blue of the sea.
“How long will you stand over there and stare for?”
Olruggio’s eyes shoot away, pursing his lips nonchalantly as he sidles up next to the boy.
“You got me,” he slings his arms over the railing, leaning his head to peer up at Qifrey. “So?”
Qifrey grumbles, and stretches his arms out wide, past the sill. “I just think the whole thing is dumb. I hadn’t realized so many witches attended these things.”
He’s pouting, and Olruggio almost cracks up— he’s pouting, which he rarely does, and Olruggio can’t even say anything about it or else he’ll stop.
“So even someone like you gets nervous sometimes,” he settles for, watching him with a grin.
“Of course I do.” Qifrey looks at him as if he’d grown an extra head, and it careens Olruggio through a laugh.
Truth is, he’s a bit relieved Qifrey stepped away from it all, because Olruggio didn’t quite have the courage to. It’s easier this way. Olruggio’s better at seeking Qifrey out. The moment he couldn’t spot his tufted hair through the insurgence of festive witches he had kicked into motion, squeezing and worming his way after him through the crowd.
Qifrey’s always doing all sorts of amazing things. He can only hope to catch up, one day.
He drags himself away from the window, with a groan. “Well now that you say it I’m getting nervous too. Do I look okay?” He frets at his hair, before pausing and holding a hand up. “Wait, don’t answer that.”
“You look very, very handsome,” Qifrey answers anyway, and he reaches out to hold his face. Olruggio lets his head roll pliantly in the boy’s hands, as he moves it up, down and around to get a holistic look. Qifrey’s fingers run over his skin and stubble, thumb brushing at his bottom lip.
“Will you keep the facial hair?” he murmurs, thoughtfully.
Olruggio hums. “I was thinking it makes me look more grown-up. You know, Adult and Trustworthy.”
Qifrey’s movements halt in alarm . “Will the kids not trust me? Should I grow facial hair too?”
…Can he even do that? They’ve spent days trekking through woodlands before, where there is no shaving cream nor razor blades — let alone the consecutive overnighters Qifrey has spent in Olruggio’s room. He hasn’t so much as seen stubble on the guy’s face before.
He doesn’t want to discourage him though. Qifrey never needed anything extra to be trustworthy, anyway; Olruggio trusts him plenty as he is.
He shrugs in response. “I think you’re fine the way you are.”
Qifrey smiles at him, the sun swelling on his cheeks. “Thanks.”
Letting go and tumbling backwards, Qifrey free falls down onto a straw pile with gusto and a big oof. Olruggio joins him with a buoyant laugh, sprawling on his back right over him. He knows it, that they’re trying hard not to talk too hard about what comes next. About if anything comes next.
Bells toll in the backdrop, indicating a quarter of a clockmark until showtime.
“I’ll learn how to trim beards so I can help you keep it tidy,” Qifrey comments, eyes trained upwards.
“Nice. I’ll learn how to clean better so we can keep the sink tidy.”
“You’re already pretty great at cleaning, though.”
Olruggio hums. “Then I’ll just get even better.”
He knows it, that this is the last thing they should be doing after they just spent hours getting fitted and prepared for the ceremony, which is about to start a lot sooner than Olruggio is really letting himself acknowledge. They’re definitely ruining something about their graduation gowns, sprawled where they are, looking up at a watery, orange sun.
Oh well. It doesn’t matter. They’ll have spares, and extras back at the theater. But they won’t have anything he could trade this moment for. He’s frozen in adolescence, as long as he keeps his eyes screwed shut. Life will never mean this little again.
Even then—
Qifrey already knows exactly what he wants to do with his life. And Olruggio already has a career idea, too. Or, well, two of them.
Both involve magic, of course. But only one involves Qifrey.
Qifrey talks a lot of his plans after graduation, and even how Olruggio might hypothetically fit into them. But he never outright asks Olruggio to stay. He never entreats him not to go.
To be fair, Olruggio never once asked if Qifrey would stay with him, if Olruggio asked him to. He’s never been sure of the answer, is why. Or more accurately, he doesn’t want to hear what he’ll say.
‘Cause if he asked—
Qifrey would hesitate, even though he’s Qifrey and he never hesitates. And he’d think about it long and hard. And then he’d look at Olruggio all sad and soft with his eye insufferably blue, the color of the sea, the color of the sky; and he’d say he’s sorry, because of course he is. He’s Qifrey, which means he’s always sorry when he least needs to be.
There's the distant sound of cheering that interrupts the quiet, and unease rustles thickly in Olruggio’s stomach again.
Well, in these moments in between it feels nice, either way, to imagine an easy future like that. A life for just the two of them. Olruggio isn’t the keenest on large social circles anyway; Great Hall life would be overwhelming if it were home.
“I hope the place I find is big and airy,” Qifrey speaks up, seemingly also a bit shaken by the sound, and its reminder that the world hasn’t, in fact, stopped in time for them.
“And secluded?” Olruggio lifts his chin towards him.
Qifrey grins, sheepish. “Preferably.”
“That figures.”
“I know, I know. I’ll have your space extra big and dark to make up for it.”
Olruggio laughs at him, hands folding together on his stomach. “You’ll have to take on a whole lotta odd jobs until you can afford that.”
“Don’t remind me.” Qifrey groans, hands crawling over his face, slipping around his spectacles. “I’m already scared I won’t even pass the Words of the Wise in the first place.”
Oh, right. Olruggio forgot he’d have to take that. Qifrey will be buried nose-deep in work and study for the next calendar cycle at least, and…Olruggio feels a bit lonely thinking it.
After graduation, huh…
Olruggio smacks his hands over his own face, stomach turning with anxiety. “Qifrey,” He bursts, more emotion in his voice than he intends, “What if I never see you again?”
“Huh?” Qifrey sits up, frowning at him around drawn eyebrows. “Weren’t we just talking about plans for us post-grad?”
“Oh—” his hands lower, “You were serious?”
Qifrey karate chops him on the head. “I’ve been serious, you dolt.” He kisses the spot right after. “Would I lie to you?”
He cradles the sore on his crown, choosing to pity himself since Qifrey won’t do it for him. “You could forget about me. Maybe when you finally see the world you’ll meet a cool, handsome lady and make her your watchful eye before I get there.”
“I already know a cool, handsome lady,” Qifrey laughs, because of course he takes Olruggio seriously, even when he’s teasing. Or maybe because Qifrey knows he’s not. “I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”
“If you say so.”
Qifrey’s hand on his neck pulls him in, and the kiss is warm, tinged with salt and the sun. If Olruggio presses him a little closer than usual Qifrey doesn’t comment on it.
Contrary to himself, because Olruggio for one always has been— but the boy has gotten oddly composed over the years. His boyish, devious streak is mostly gone, and his vocabulary has cleaned up as well. The change isn’t unwelcome. Olruggio thinks he could love Qifrey no matter who he was.
He immediately pulls away, face burning at the thought. Talk about embarrassing. What is he, a teenager?
Qifrey's head lolls to the side, sun swept hair falling into his face. “Something wrong?”
“Just thought something incredibly embarrassing,” Olruggio laments.
Qifrey grins, interest visibly piqued. “I see…penny for your thoughts?”
“No way, this brain is priceless. People would kill to know what goes on up in here.” Qifrey scoffs, thankfully finding him ridiculous, and the whooping and cheering from early sounds again and Qifrey kisses him again through it. He sighs softly in Olruggio’s mouth like this is any easy evening. Nonurgent and sweet, like he could drown it all out enough for the both of them if he tried.
He isn’t wrong. For all Olruggio’s concerned the world is only himself right now, and the kind, burning sun, and Qifrey— in all his senses, and in everything he is.
“I’ll tell you one day,” he promises, a quiet one, one he seals in a breath against Qifrey’s mouth.
And it hurts him to say it, but someone has to say it first. He’s okay with saying it first. He helps Qifrey onto his feet, so that the only step left is for them to keep moving forward.
“We’d better get going. Master will yell at me if I'm late to lineup,” Olruggio shudders.
“Here, wait—” Qifrey reaches out, smoothing Olruggio’s hair under his hat, adjusting it back into place. “It was lopsided,” he explains, stepping back with a little smile.
Olruggio smiles back at him warmly. “Thanks.”
His hands travel from Olruggio’s shoulders to his arms and into his palms, taking them into his own and holding them there for a second. Olruggio realizes the slight tremble to them. Qifrey teeters forward, and rests his forehead on Olruggio’s shoulder.
“Things will change,” he mumbles.
“Sure they will. They gotta.”
“We might not see each other for a while.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Olruggio pulls back, holding Qifrey out from where he can see how much he means it. “As long as you come back to fetch me.”
“Of course I will. But…if you were to forget?”
Olruggio blinks.
“You kidding? ” He reaches forward to take his tassel, his tassel, the one adorning Qifrey’s back. He displays it for the idiot to see. “I’d like to see a memory erasing spell strong enough. Worse comes to worst we’ll just snatch the memory right back.”
“I’m being serious,” Qifrey laughs a bit, batting away the black ribbon.
Olruggio grins. “So am I!”
“Take it back with magic? You know that sort of tampering is forbidden.”
Olruggio lifts a finger to his smile. “We can figure it out. We always do.”
Qifrey gives in, exasperated but appeased, squeezing both his hands once before letting go.
“Just don’t let Easthies hear you joking like that. We’d never hear the end of it.” He turns with a sour face. “And I’d love to avoid hearing him at all, if I can.” It seems to do the job, neither of them any braver yet, but they both haul themselves out the crumbling house to make for the hall. Every step feels like a mile still. Olruggio sucks in a breath and holds it tight.
This anxiety won’t matter, someday.
And all things considered— the future is nothing. They’ve braved worse before.