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The fourth time Olruggio suggested having his memory erased was a month after his seventeenth birthday.
He and Qifrey had stocked some blankets and stolen a bottle of silvernectar wine from the great hall to drink under the stars of the ruins they called their future home.
The fall air brought a chill to their bones; whether the chill or the wine was the cause of the blush dusting Qifrey’s cheeks? Olruggio would never know.
He'd blame that blush though. That blush and the look in his eye. That blush, and the look in his eye, and the way their shoulders and legs pressed together huddled under the blankets for warmth, and the way Qifrey talked about his future here in this very spot, his future with Olruggio, and with a warm home, and a fireplace, and the wide sky filled with stars every night. Qifrey seemed to adore the stars, and Olruggio wanted nothing more than to bring them down for him. There must be a spell he could write to bring Qifrey the stars.
And yes, if you’d asked him in that moment why he leaned in, he would’ve blamed Qifrey’s blush and the wine and the warmth and his lips that he’d been eyeing more and more the over past few years and the home they wanted to make together in only a few more years.
There was no nervousness to the act. It felt entirely natural to gently cup his jaw and press their lips together.
He, of course, tasted of wine and home. His lips felt just how Olruggio had expected, had hoped.
However, Olruggio didn’t expect a shaking hand to tensely slot on top of his, still cupped on a soft jaw, or the pained sound that was muffled against his lips. He began to pull away, an apology sliding up his throat, but a more desperate salty and wet meeting of lips chased after him.
He wanted to indulge in their second kiss. One of many he dreamed of here in their future home. But Qifrey was shaking. Sobbing. Mumbling words between the press of their lips. These were not tears of joy or sweet nothings.
Their first kiss should not feel like a goodbye.
“Qifrey-” he separated from his friend’s lips, brought up his other hand to fully cup his face, “we don’t have to… I’m so sorry- are you okay?” But the lone blue eye he loved would not meet his gaze, and to Olruggio’s horror as he wiped away one of Qifrey’s tears a single branch sprouting verdant leaves wiggled under his thumb.