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Winter snow dusts the ground, warming the silverwood tree out back. Olruggio watches it from the kitchen window, washing the dishes on the eve of their first anniversary, nineteen and lovestruck. He studies that strange tree, creeping and winding around and almost, just almost human. Qifrey sneaks up behind him like a calm creek. Olruggio nods his head back towards him. Qifrey wraps his arms around his husband and kisses his neck.
“Qifrey, I don’t like that tree. It looks too… human,” he comments.
“Olly, all trees look human,” Qifrey jokes. He pretends it doesn’t bother him.
“No, it looks too human, like it was carved or someone was… absorbed into it,” Olruggio whispers. Qifrey looks for a second, noticing the body and face clearly living peacefully in the trunk. He breathes for a moment, praying to whatever force keeps their world in order.
“Oh, it–” Qifrey sadly stops. His body jolts and bristles with a cold chill. Roots grasp his lungs for a moment. He tries to take an aching step back. Olruggio leans back into his shoulder.
“Qif, are you okay?” Qifrey takes a step back and shakes his head. He walks to the door frame, warming himself with the cold chill of the hallway.
“Yeah, I’m– I’m fine, Olly,” he uncertainly responds, voice looking for stable ground. A wish he’ll never have in his lifetime, not while he’s still alive and his body jolts from a hug from his only true comfort. “I’ll see if Nolnoa would like to take it for his shop.”
“It’s fine, Qif. I’m just tired from working on those light up tiles for that manor,” Olruggio gives. “I’m just imagining things. I’ll be fine.”
Olruggio wakes up in the middle of the night. He wanders outside of their room, looking for his missing husband. By the time he makes it back down to the kitchen, he notices a light shining in the window like a bright reflection. It's blurred and flickering from the snowstorm. No. No, not again. No, not like the last time.
His memories from childhood bubble and drown as he runs his hands over his belt loop. His glyph sheets are on his desk. His pen is on the floor. He does not have the time to get those. He didn’t the first time around. Olruggio dashes out the front door. He’s running outside like his feet are on fire and the snow is going to sink below him.
“Qifrey? Qif?” Olruggio calls into the snowstorm. He takes a step, feet crunching against the snow. The light gets brighter, warmer. The smell of ink began a while ago, but now it's shifting to something else.
“Olly! Olly, go back inside!” he hears. Qifrey’s bright white blends with the storm.
“Qifrey! It’s midnight!” he says as he creeps forward. His bare feet burn from the cold. Then, he notices the source of the light, the human silverwood burning, toxic ink leaking from the trunk. A person looks like they are happy and burning alive in that damned tree trunk.
“Olly, go inside now!” Qifrey shouts. “It’s not safe to be around burning silverwood trees!” The tree fumes, the smell of burning flesh soaks the air. That was the smell he couldn’t place. Burning flesh, pushed out of his mind years ago in that snowstorm. Olruggio runs towards Qifrey, his hands shaking and writhing in fear. He barely grips Qifrey’s shoulders when Qifrey jumps away.
“Olruggio! Go inside! Please, go inside!” Qifrey shouts. His feet stumble towards the burning that screams behind him, trying to get away from Olruggio. “Please,” he begs as his knees fall to the ground. “Please,” he cries as cold and melting tears fall onto his face, that feeling of comfort bubbling dangerously inside him.
“Qifrey, I won’t go inside without you,” Olruggio says. I can’t fail again. Not again. Olruggio lifts Qifrey as much as he can from the ground, pulling him into a hug. Qifrey doesn’t return the hug. His mind fights against the seed of hurt.
“I can’t go inside until that tree is gone. It won’t scare you or me anymore. It won’t remind me of what I am,” Qifrey says, pushing himself away more. His eyes go wide for just a moment before pulling off his hat, hesitating if this was really the right choice for them, for himself. “I’m sorry, my love, but I’ve said too much.” Qifrey didn't want to do this. He never expected to use this on Olly again, not after their childhood adventures. Not like Olly had told him to do all those years ago.
“Too much? What you are? What do you–” Olruggio never finishes his statement before falling into the snow, failing to help again. Qifrey’s white hair seems to glow in his blurred and messy vision as he drifts off, burning flesh and ink tinging his nose one last time.
“I’m sorry, Olly. You’ll understand one day, when I’m gone and can’t hide it from you anymore.” Qifrey pulls out his glyph pad and sets another fire spell to the blazing stump before carrying Olruggio away, away for his own good.