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Qifrey had gotten complacent. In this life, that is. This simple, wonderful, yet fleeting life. He'd lost the due diligence to keep those that brought him joy and ease at arms length. A day had hardly gone by where he hadn't felt the twitch of the silverwood inching, evermore, through his veins. It'd become hard to hide, soon, if he didn't hurry. If he didn't find the Brimmed Caps and uncover the truth behind his missing eye, then all those he held dear would be doomed to a life without a future. And that was a fate worse than his own damnation. He'd give his life for Olruggio and his girls if it meant keeping them safe. They deserved to experience the peace of a mundane life far more than he.
He knew Olruggio was concerned about him, that it was only a matter of time before he sought him out and demanded his honesty. And Qifrey wouldn't be able to refuse. Not this time, not ever. That's how it was with Olruggio. The man had a keen eye and a soft heart, and Qifrey couldn't keep a secret from him even if he tried. But he knew Olruggio would try to help him in this endeavor. To save him—to stop the inevitable. But that wasn't the life Qifrey wanted for him. It wasn't the life someone like him—so kind and loyal—should ever endure. He couldn't let Olruggio subject himself to such a fruitless pursuit.
He thought of late night dinners with Olruggio, laughing over willowgrape wine, long after the girls had gone to sleep. When he inevitably passed out, he'd brush that dark, inky hair from his tired eyes and curl up at his side. He'd steal what warmth he could, his heart heavy with guilt in his throat. He wished—oh, he wished—that he could live forever in those blessed moments.
He thought of his apprentices—his girls—which he'd come to care for as if they were his own. He cherished those sunny days spent exploring the hillside just as much as the rainy ones spent curled around their books, work shopping new spells til the clouds broke. Magic called to them each in different, stunning ways. And they'd answered—eager to learn and grow into the proper witches Qifrey knew they'd one day be. He wanted to stay with them until then. To see them flourish. It was an idealistic dream.
So, he'd pretend. He'd take what he could and enjoy this simple life from afar—always aware of that ever closing distance he must maintain—while it lasted. He'd pretend to be satisfied with this fleeting taste of the life he yearned for. The life that stood, frustratingly, within reach. That he could never truly have, for it'd be ripped from him the moment he indulged in it. He'd wrap himself in those moments that had begun to shape his life when fate finally claimed him.
…
Everything changed when he told Coco the truth of the silverwood tree and revealed to her the branch that'd been pushing at his eyelid. He couldn't hide it. Not when she asked him with all the conviction of someone who already knew the answer. He couldn't lie. It wasn't in his nature to do so and, above all, keeping the trust of one's apprentice was a delicate thing. Children were more perceptive than most adults wished to believe. If he'd tried to avoid her question, she'd lose faith in him. He'd become someone she couldn't turn to in her time of need.
Coco reminded Qifrey of himself in ways he often wished she didn't. The Brimmed Caps stole her youth; she, too, knew loss more intimately than most her age. Thrust into an impossible situation, she'd been forced to reckon with the witches' secret and been asked to blindly place her faith in them. Hidden beneath her carefree spirit lay an itch she couldn't—knew she mustn't—scratch. Like Qifrey, she'd do whatever she could to keep her loved ones safe, even if it meant questioning the principles—bending them when necessary.
So, with a heart plagued by guilt, he confessed. It was a truth no child should have to bear, nor hold secret. Not when she'd already lost so much. But he couldn't bring himself to wipe her mind. She was too quick, too smart, and still to skeptical to ever let him. So, it really came as no surprise when, some weeks later, Olruggio stormed into his room, his face equal parts fury and hurt, after putting the girls to bed.
"Do you know what Coco just told me?" he hissed as he pulled Qifrey's door closed behind him—as quietly as his anger allowed— activating the sound suppressant spell that wrapped around the walls. "Take a guess."
"Olruggio—" Qifrey started. He sat, curled into himself, at his second floor bay window. Only a few small lights were lit. They floated leisurely, close to the ceiling—far enough away that they didn't strain his eye. His headaches had increased in both frequency and intensity ever since the Silver Eye festival. Something about coming so close to another carrier of the silverwood seed seemed to make its branches writhe evermore.
"What's wrong with you?" And it felt double edged. Olruggio had always been too good to him. Qifrey set his head against the window. His reflection, a smear against the glass, looked back at him with a pained glint.
"I couldn't lie to her."
"Well, maybe you should have," he growled as he paced the length of Qifrey's floor. "She was so worried about you today. Kept askin' about you. I finally asked what had her feeling so antsy, and oh, you should've seen the look on her face." He paused in his step. If looks could kill, Qifrey felt he'd be long dead by now.
"And what about me, Qifrey? Why didn't you tell me? What about our promise?"
"It's not like that, Olly." He rolled his head along the limestone wall to face him again.
"No. I think it is." After a long, heated look, Olruggio pulled a small, leather notebook from his robes. He flew up the length of the wall and flung it into Qifrey's lap. Then, after a moment, he settled next to him with a shadow of hurt cast across his face. Qifrey's stomach dropped. "How long… how many times have we had this conversation?"
With a shaky hand, Qifrey thumbed open the book. Qifrey recognized each and every entry. He couldn't forget them even if he tried; they plagued his dreams and haunted his memories. He couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't look Olruggio in the eye. Moonlight filtered through the window and cast them in a silver sheen. He hadn't been ready for this. Didn't know how to proceed.
"I'm sorry… but, I had to," he murmured at long last. Olruggio crumpled: his face fell and his shoulders buckled under the weight of Qifrey's words; his elbows collided with his thighs as he brought a hand to his mouth. "I never wanted to hurt you, but I can't be fixed, Olly. You must know that. There's nothing you nor I can do to save me," he said, though his heart ached with something wretched. "I didn't want the rest of our time together to be… so melancholic. This future isn't something I wanted to burden you with." Qifrey's fingers twitched with the urge to reach out. He didn't let them. "You've done so much for me already, and I can't let you get mixed up with the Brimmed Caps any more."
Olruggio's hair fell over his eyes as he dropped his hand from his jaw. He looked, then, at Qifrey with his back hunched, his mouth drawn into a harsh line, and his eyes wet with unshed tears. Qifrey wished he could take him into his hands and smooth it all away. But he couldn't. He lost that right and he knew it.
"How could you… how dare you make that choice for me." His voice warbled. "We made an oath to each other. What gives you the right to leave me in the dark?"
Qifrey pulled his knees against his chest and pressed his head into his arms. He couldn't face this side of Olruggio. His heart threatened to tear itself apart and his head pulsed with every sluggish tear that escaped his eye. Everything hurt.
"I'm sorry," he said. He knew it wasn't enough—could never be enough, but he couldn't help it. "I'm sorry." He knew it was selfish. He did what he could to avoid this. To avoid throwing this unbearable weight into Olruggio's unsuspecting arms; he knew it would consume him. He was never meant to know.
"Just… let me see," Olruggio sighed, tired and shaky. It wasn't forgiveness. Far from it. That's just how Olruggio was: sensitive and kind to a fault, even in his own anger.
Qifrey peeled himself up and leaned back against the wall. He eyed the ground, unable to face Olruggio until the very last. When he finally swept his bangs back and revealed what he had to Coco, Olruggio's breath hitched. The branches had shrunk some—perhaps due to the stress over his atelier tearing at the seams. Qifrey met his wide, red-rimmed stare.
"The vision in my good eye's not what it once was, either," he murmured. The world hazed over as he took his glasses off and handed them to Olruggio. He squinted so he might see the furrow of the man's brow as he inspected the light-dampening spell etched onto the glass.
"I… I remember… after you and Coco returned from the Tower…" Olruggio pressed his palm against his forehead with a pained expression. Qifrey's stomach coiled. Once forgotten, memories were not easy to return; the experience was almost never pleasant. "Qifrey… how could you be so boneheaded?" Caught by surprise, he barely managed to stifle the puff of laughter that tore through his lips.
"Magic's all about what you can imagine, right?" Olruggio mused, somewhat grimly. He held Qifrey with his gaze—a bitter, yet determined sort of glint in his eye. He wouldn't have expected anything less from him. "Well, I can still imagine your snow-for-brained self living until you're old and… well… I'm gray. Even if you can't. Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed out of my mind at you and that's not changing anytime soon, but I'd still rather you alive than dead. It's hard to be mad at a grave, you know.
"So, from now on, stop making my decisions for me. I mean it. Or else, I swear, I'll wipe your memory of whatever ugly spell you came up with before you even have the mind to use it again." He paused and his grimace faded as he took hold of Qifrey's shoulder. "I don't know how you got it in your head that I'd be better off just waking up one day to find you gone, but I promise you, I'd rather know I did all I could to help you than be stuck wondering about the what-if's."
And… well… Qifrey hadn't quite thought of it like that. He'd wanted those happy days to stretch on and on until the end; he couldn't bear the thought of imposing a sense of dread onto them—a time limit. The idea of after never occurred to him. Really, he'd thought Olruggio and the girls would just… go on living. They might've been angry for a while, if he disappeared, but it would fade faster than grief. In a world where the Brimmed Cap's had been thwarted, the life of one man didn't seem too high a price.
"You're so strong, Olly. Stronger than me, at least," he said as he leaned into his hand, warm even through his turtleneck.
"Mm. Smarter, too."
…
Qifrey sat Coco down at the dining room table. Her feet tapped against the floor and her fingers fidgeted against each other while her attention darted around the room—never straying far from him, though. Olruggio had taken the rest of the girls out for a field trip, but not before giving him a hard look. Words weren't needed for his message to get across. Fix this. Qifrey settled himself with a breath.
"I'm sorry for keeping you back from today's outing. I promise I'll take you out next time, just the two of us, to make up for it," he said. He hoped the words might ease her anxiety some, but it was to no avail.
"Oh, it's really ok, Master Qifrey. I don't mind," she said with a strained smile. He hummed, awkwardly. He folded his hands together as he shifted in his seat.
"Listen, Coco—" Qifrey barely started before she interrupted him, her words bursting from her like a broken dam.
"I'm so sorry! I told Master Olruggio about your secret!" Coco cried desperately. Stunned, Qifrey's mouth parted, but she barreled on. "I know—I know you wanted to keep it between us, but I just… I couldn't! I was so worried when you hadn't come out to see us yesterday and—and I thought something horrible might've happened and… and I thought since you and Master Olly are so close, he might've known how to help you. But he—he looked so mad and I heard him go to your room and I'm so sorry for any trouble I've caused! I just… I don't want you to end up like—"
"Coco! Coco, please, it's okay. You have no need to apologize for anything. You did absolutely nothing wrong. In fact, it's me who needs to apologize to you," Qifrey said. Coco stilled, her mouth pulling into a confused sort of frown as she sniffled. "It was wrong of me to ask such a thing of you. I never should have put you in a position where you felt you couldn't be truthful to me, Olruggio, or your friends."
"B-but…" Coco stuttered as she dropped her head. She pressed her hands together and pushed herself back against the chair.
"No. No if's, and's, or but's, you did the right thing, telling Olruggio. I did you a grave disservice by placing such a burden on you. As your teacher, I never should have put you in such an unfair position. So, please, do not blame yourself." Qifrey said, his voice soft. Remorseful. "I'm so, so sorry, Coco. You have every right to feel upset at me. And… if you wish to leave my atelier, I would understand."
Coco's bangs shielded her expression, but Qifrey caught the shake in her shoulders. The grit of her jaw. He held his breath to give her room to think.
"It's true… I was overwhelmed. I didn't know what to do and… I was angry. Angry you didn't tell me about Custas's condition sooner, angry you asked me to keep a secret, and angry at myself for being unable to save him and… and fix everything," Coco said, her voice small. Still, she didn't waver. "But, I don't want to leave. I want to stay here with everyone. Agott, Richeh, Tetia… Master Olly and you have all become family to me. I feel safe here, more than I would anywhere else. So, I want to stay. I want to stay so I can help Custas, so I can learn how to save my mom. But… I can't do that without you. So, please, I want you to stay, too." Her eyes welled as she looked up at Qifrey. His chest ached. He reached across the table and, tentatively, Coco pressed her fingers against his palm.
"Oh, trust me, dear, I have no intention of leaving."
Olruggio pressed a kiss to Qifrey's temple as he slid his glasses off and tucked him under his chin. Beneath the swath of quilts and blankets, the world beyond felt so distant, locked behind rain-slicked window panes. Olruggio's arms, warm and heavy, drew him in closer. Qifrey's consciousness threatened to slip under the feel of his fingertips gliding up and down his back—curling against the nape of his neck.
"I can feel you thinking," Olruggio murmured into his hairline. "It's okay, now. You can sleep."
"I know." Qifrey circled his arms around his waist and tried to quell the deafening thud of his heart. He pushed against that age old anxiety that had never let him truly rest. That urged him to pull away from the comfort Olruggio always offered so freely. "I know. It's just… habit." His lips brushed against Olruggio's chest as he spoke. He pressed his eye closed and breathed. A habit that no longer held a purpose, he told himself. What was once a far off, idyllic dream, existed now before him. Under the gentle ministrations of Olruggio touch, the tension in Qifrey's muscles slowly melted away, even if the hammering of his heart remained.
He was no stranger to Olruggio's touch, but it felt so different now. Now that he didn't have to seal himself off from the sensation—to watch it happen from a detached eye in fear of what might happen if he truly let him in. Goosebumps settled over his skin as he soaked in the warmth of the moment. He had half a mind to wish it might never end. But, he thought as he sunk into the mattress, it seemed silly to wish for something he already had. Today, tomorrow, and all the years onward, he was finally free to embrace life without worry.