Work Text:
When his phone alarm rings Olruggio startles so badly he almost jumps out of his chair. He doesn’t begrudge the quiet chuckles of his students, not when even he can see the amusement in the situation.
“Guess that’s my cue then” he concludes, putting down his teacher’s book and half-smiling at his class.
He tries not to let them notice the pit that has formed in his stomach.
His gaggle of third graders are terrible little monsters, especially when he is far more used to the kind of stunts middle schoolers are prone to make, but he has grown fond of them during the five months since the start of the school year. He suspects he’s starting to see what Qifrey finds so amusing about children at that age.
“Remember what I told the lot of you,” he stops on his way to the door, “if I hear that you gave Mr. Riliphin any kind of trouble, I’ll assign each of you fifty sums and differences each, to be solved by the end of next week.”
A communal shiver runs through his class— they are very aware that he stays true to his word— and they all nod energetically, giving him their most angelic faces.
“No, Mr. Olruggio,” they chorus, “we wouldn’t dare!”
Olruggio narrows his eyes, but decides to let them go this time.
It would do Riliphin— his substitute for the rest of the day— some good to learn the hard way how to manage a bunch of eight-year-olds.
Olruggio picks up his stuff and waves at his students before going out the door.
“Have a nice weekend, pipsqueaks.”
“Bye, Mr. Olruggio! Have a nice weekend!” his bunch of terrors answer dutifully, and Olruggio pretends not to be charmed by their squeaky voices.
He nods at Riliphin on his way out— the youngest teacher in the Academy had been waiting outside the door for a few minutes by then— and Olruggio had let him stay there in consideration to not subject the poor man to any more time with Olruggio’s children than necessary.
Riliphin had accepted immediately when Olruggio presented him with his need to find someone to take care of his class on the last two hours of that specific Friday, bless his soul, but Olruggio is more than aware that the man is more comfortable with the kindergartners he usually has under his care.
The brick halls of the academy are dark under gray skies, and colder than what’s usual for the middle of February. The Academy is located too far south for them to get any snow, but Olruggio still sees his fair share of red-nosed students, shivering even under the thick woolen sweaters of their uniforms.
Olruggio tightens his coat around himself.
He grew up in the far north, and it would take far more than the southern winds to vex him, but now more than ever, he can’t give himself the luxury of getting sick.
He looks down the empty hallway of the second floor— the younger children that take their classes there have already retired for the day— and takes a mental inventory of the thick stack of papers in his arms: math tests to grade, english essays to correct and a binder full of his planning for the month’s classes.
Olruggio sighs. He knows he’s diverting from the real cause of his apprehension.
He takes his phone out of his coat pocket and looks for new messages— there’s two of them.
Qifrey 2:17 PM
Atwert is here. We should be leaving in a few minutes.
Qifrey 2:19 PM
See you soon, I love you
The messages were sent a little over twenty minutes before. Taking the usual mid-day traffic jam into account, the both of them should be arriving at the Academy at any moment.
Olruggio makes an effort to take a deep breath, and tries not to hurry too much down the stairs.
It’s been almost a year since Qifrey and him went through hell and back, barely making it out alive; almost seven months since Qifrey was discharged from the hospital; and almost six since Olruggio resumed, alone, his work in the Academy.
There has not been one day when Olruggio hasn't missed Qifrey like a piece of himself.
Qifrey has been on his mind as a permanent fixture, Olruggio supposes, ever since they met when they themselves were children, nearly twenty years ago.
If he concentrates, he can see the memories appear right there, two children running down those same halls, screaming and laughing with glee at every turn; sitting together for more than ten years as students; and for six more years as teachers who got lucky enough to be hired freshly out of college— they’d fought tooth and nail to have neighboring chairs in the teacher’s hall.
It’s been almost six months since the seat beside Olruggio has been empty.
As he walks down the stairs, through the grove that surrounds the building, and down the path to the teacher’s parking lot on the other side of campus, Olruggio allows the memories to dance around him, pale and translucent as ghosts, but very much present.
Qifrey and him, no older than his own students, sitting on the chairs in front of the principal’s office, glaring venomously at each other, a bruise blooming on Olruggio’s eye, a matching one on Qifrey’s cheek.
Just up ahead, on the first floor, the two of them— this time as lanky middle schoolers— bundled together in an empty classroom, buried under piles of books, hurrying to finish final projects they’d totally forgotten about.
Out of the building a younger version of Qifrey and himself run down the stairs that lead out of the building and to the student dorms, soaked to the bone, not quite managing to escape the summer storm that poured over them.
He steps onto the stone pathway that goes through the woodlot. For years, it had been their hiding place, somewhere quiet enough where they could decompress after their most stressful, angsty teenage days— it wasn’t exactly out of bounds for students, but even back then, the cafeteria or the soccer fields were far more popular gathering spots.
As Olruggio walks along the path, under pines that sway to the biting wind, the memory of them sitting under the trees of their little haven, open notebooks on their laps, smiling at each other while touching from their shoulders to their hips comes to the forefront of his mind— it was there where Qifrey kissed Olruggio for the first time.
It was also the place where Qifrey had tried to leave him, tried to go off and fight, all alone, an impossible battle against the Brimhat Corporation. Qifrey had told him that he didn’t want to involve him— or the Academy, and the four wonderful girls that they had come to adore— in a legal fight that was sure to turn against them. It was under the same trees that Olruggio had blatantly refused.
It would be a cold day in hell when he let Qifrey go into danger alone if he could help it.
So they called Alaria— a fellow professor, and one of the only people Olruggio was absolutely sure they could trust— and explained the situation. The danger that they, and most likely the girls, would be in if they continued with the plan. The terrible consequences that were sure to come if they didn't.
She wasn’t hard to convince. She swore to do everything in her power to ensure that the girls, and any other student of Zozah Academy, would be kept as safe as possible while the trial progressed. They couldn’t ask for much more than that.
They presented their voluntary resignation the next day, hand in hand.
Olruggio has a lot of regrets in his life, but throwing everything to the wind in order to follow Qifrey has never been one of them.
In the end, they won.
The Brimhat Corporation was found guilty of using the influence of their Silverwood Tree Foundation— the same foundation that had given Qifrey the opportunity to get out of the orphanage and to study in the Academy— to push for unlawful reforms in the school system, including the destabilization and defunding of all the academies and schools that didn’t adhere to their “standards and regulations”.
They won, but the cost was great.
They couldn’t have predicted the attack, not when it came on the evening before Qifrey was supposed to testify before the jury, not when they’d known Professor Sasaran all their lives. He’d approached them with his typical smile and good humor, had asked them to help him move some boxes from the teacher's room to his car, had cheered them on, wished them good fortune, and— while they loaded the cargo on the professor’s trunk— had promptly injected Qifrey in the neck with a concealed syringe.
It was Russell Viper venom, he learned later, more than twice the amount of a deadly dose.
It was a miracle that Qifrey survived, the medical staff of the hospital told him.
Olruggio was very, very aware of that. He’d read every possible medical article regarding the poison in Qifrey’s system, its effects on tissue, blood, and muscle; how the hemotoxins travel through the body, destroying red blood cells and disrupting blood clotting— how, by all standards, his partner shouldn’t have survived.
Even then, all those months later, not a week goes by without Olruggio waking up sweaty and disoriented, finding it stranger to sleep in his own bed than in a hard, uncomfortable hospital chair, alert to any anomalies on the monitors connected to Qifrey’s arms and chest.
The last thing Qifrey had said before the venom forced him into unconsciousness was Olruggio’s name.
For three days, the doctors had prepared him for the worst, had advised him against hope.
Olruggio had prayed to any god that would hear him for Qifrey to survive, to give him just one more day, one more minute with him.
When the doctors told him that Qifrey was out of immediate danger, if still in a very delicate condition, Olruggio hadn’t been able to do much more than to break down crying.
It wasn’t until Qifrey woke up, five days after his admission to the hospital, that they found out the complete implications of what he had just lived through. The venom had caused a retinal hemorrhage on his good eye, an unusual effect that would leave Qifrey effectively blind— most likely for the rest of his life.
Qifrey— braver and wiser than Orlugio has ever been— had just taken a deep breath, squeezed Olruggio’s hand, and told him in a wet, shaky voice, that it was a small price to pay for all that they had achieved.
It hadn’t done much to lessen Olruggio’s heartache over him.
Olruggio is forced to return to reality when a gust of wind takes the ungraded papers right off his arms, scattering them all over the ground. It takes him a second to register the situation— the where and the when.
It takes him longer to recognize the voices that call to him from down the path to the parking lot.
“Professor!”
“Professor Olruggio!”
“Are you okay?”
“Let us help!”
Four pairs of tiny hands materialize in front of him, and together they manage to pick up the fallen papers in an instant. By the time they hand it to him, he’s fully present again, which means that he greets the girls with an unimpressed stare and a raised eyebrow.
“What are you girls doing here?” His words are stern, but he can’t help the way his voice softens. “It’s not recess time yet.”
The four of them at least have the decency to look ashamed.
“It’s just for a minute!” Tetia starts, grabbing the sleeve of his coat.
“We had a very important thing to do,” Richeh pipes in, her face as serious as ever, while she wrinkles the scarf that hangs from her neck between her hands.
Olruggio takes a good look at them.
They’d grown, in the year where he had barely been able to see them. Standing in front of him, they look healthy, whole, and as stubborn and headstrong as ever.
The corner of Olruggio’s mouth raises in a half-smile. He looks at the badly wrapped box held tightly in Aggot’s arms.
“Why would that be?” he asks, a little amused— he thinks that he knows the answer already.
“We have a present for Mr. Qifrey, and we need to give it to you today!” Coco answers; the determined look on her face is so similar to Qifrey’s, that Olruggio almost has to look elsewhere to shake off the double vision.
Despite their rocky start, the girls have come to be thick as thieves, and it is as much a relief as a concern for the whole teaching staff.
Qifrey had been assigned to Agott, Tetia and Richeh as their guide teacher when the girls started first grade. Coco had joined them two years later, as she entered Zozah Academy with a Silverwood Tree scholarship.
Olruggio had been there for the whole thing; without an assigned group to manage after school, he had spent much time in the girls’ company, though not nearly as much as Qifrey.
Olruggio recognized the way the four of them looked at their teacher— like Qifrey hung the stars in the sky. He couldn’t fault them for it, Olruggio did exactly the same.
It had been hard on them, the sudden change of guide, the seeming betrayal of the both of them— leaving without a word, without explanations or even a good-bye.
He imagined the aftermath must have been even worse.
They had visited Qifrey many times, starting the same week he was discharged from the hospital. The four of them had cried on Qifrey for a good twenty minutes, hugging him as tight as they dared to, making him promise over and over that he wouldn’t do something stupid again.
Qifrey had been nervous of the girl’s reactions to his state, even if he hadn’t told Olruggio about it, but the girls had been as they always were, loving and empathetic and so very kind, easing the worst of Qifrey’s worries in mere seconds.
In every single one of their bi-weakly visits, they asked Qifrey when he would return to the academy. They missed their teacher terribly, and were counting the days until he returned to them again.
Olruggio knew that, on the worse days, the girls' concern was one of the few things keeping Qifrey tethered to reality.
Qifrey’s recovery had been difficult on both of them.
The months of physical and psychological therapy while getting used to a whole new way of life; the good and bad days that could come and go with no rhyme or reason had taken their toll, but Olruggio knew just how much the girls' support meant to Qifrey— how it stopped his fall into the hole of despair that seemed to want to swallow him at times.
Slowly, one day at a time, Olruggio learned again to trust in the fact that things could get better.
And finally, the day where things came full circle had arrived.
After months and months of relearning how to live, of preparing and worrying and hoping, Qifrey was finally able to return to do what he loved the most.
Principal Beldaruit had been the one to suggest it. Give Qifrey a few classes per week, easy optional subjects that he could teach while he got used to being in front of a classroom again.
Their resignations had never been processed, Principal Beldaruit had confessed many months ago, when the wounds were so fresh Olruggio had thought it would just take a strong wind to make them both snap and break.
Beldaruit had shown up at their doorstep, and had had a long overdue conversation with Qifrey. Olruggio didn't know what was said, but in the end, both Qifrey and Beldaruit looked exhausted, yet peaceful.
Olruggio couldn't have asked for anything more.
Just before he left, Beldaruit had informed Olruggio that their official position in the academy was intact, and that the official paperwork stated that they were on an extended leave on cause of unforeseen circumstances, totally out of their control.
Olruggio and Qifrey were welcome to return to their old jobs as soon as they wanted to.
Olruggio had returned to teaching once Qifrey managed to convince him that his students needed him more than Qifrey did— that Olruggio needed to find comfort after what he too lived through.
Qifrey just needed a little more time to get there, that was all.
Olruggio smiles at their girls. He can't ruin the surprise now.
“Alright,” he starts, putting on his teacher voice once again. “I’ll give it to him, but only if you’re halfway back to your classes by the time I count to ten.”
The girls are out of his sight before he reaches half the count, leaving only a trail of their echoing giggles behind them.
Olruggio just about manages to put everything in the backseat of his car without spilling everything yet again when, as if on cue, a familiar SUV enters through the gates and parks beside Olruggio’s own car.
“I swear, Qifrey” Atwert says as he gets out of the car, trench coat and wool hat already in place, “if I catch you trying to pay me one more time I’ll leave you on the side of the road.”
Out of Olruggio’s sight, Qifrey makes an affronted noise, “You know I didn’t do it for—”
“Oh, believe me, I know” Atwert interrupts, but his voice softens a little as he continues. “After what you did for Galga, you know you could ask me to rob the crown jewels, and I would do it in a heartbeat.”
Olruggio smiles, and decides that it’s time to make his presence known.
“Well,” he starts, walking to meet their friend, stretching his hand affectionately, “luckily for you, the settlement money is more than enough for us. No high-stakes robbery will be necessary for the time being.”
Atwert laughs.
“If you say so,” he shrugs gracefully, “Galga and I always talked about buying the empty mansion up the road, a couple million more from our settlement and we might have done just that— the elaborate heist is not off the table yet, for us.”
Galga, Artwert’s husband, had been the first police investigator to uncover the Brimhat Corporation’s schemes. He had suffered an “accident” not long after he turned in his report, a blow to the head that left him in the hospital for months.
Qifrey and him had been able to link Galga’s case to the lawsuit.
The payout for him had been the biggest in the entire trial.
At last, Qifrey walks towards them from behind the car, he's bundled in his thickest jacket, and the longest, warmest scarf they own; between them both, Qifrey had always had been more sensitive to the cold.
Olruggio itches to go to him, to take his hand and guide him, making sure to avoid every crack in the pavement and every obstacle in the way, but Qifrey was very specific when he said that he wanted to learn how to manage on his own, that— unless it was an emergency, or that Qifrey himself asked— Olruggio should leave him to try and do things by himself.
It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, leave Qifrey to fend for himself in a world that had been all but kind to him so far, but Olruggio was managing, even though some days were harder than others.
And Qifrey’s efforts were coming to fruition— he was able to go out on his own now, on quick trips to the store or to the bakery near their home.
He'd gone to the library once, to ask about their extensive collection of books in Braille. Olruggio had waited for him on the entryway of their home, heart on his throat for the entire time, his mind going a mile a minute through all of the worst case scenarios that could possibly happen, even though they had practiced the way to the library multiple times, and that Qifrey had his phone on him, and had promised Olruggio multiple times that he would call him at the slightest inconvenience.
It had felt like a century passed before Olruggio was able to spot Qifrey walking down the sidewalk to their home, cane in one hand and the widest smile he'd had in months, bright and confident and so very Qifrey that it had taken an effort for Olruggio not to break down crying on the spot.
Olruggio realized then that he'd never felt prouder of Qifrey.
Months later, in the Academy's parking lot, Orluggio feels himself relax. Qifrey is a smart, capable, wonderful man, who has proved that he can go against the odds time and time again, and still emerge victorious. And if he were to falter— well, Olruggio is right there.
“It’s not too late to buy the mansion,” Qifrey chimes in animatedly when he’s finally close enough to them, “A couple more of monthly payouts from the Brimhat Corp. and you might be able to do just that anyways.”
“That’s absolutely right.” Atwert says, while fumbling with his keys. “Well Qifrey, you seem to be where you need to, and Galga finishes his physical therapy in twenty minutes. I’m off.”
“Have a safe trip, Art.” Qifrey smiles in his general direction, “Tell Galga I said hello.”
“Of course, he'll be glad to hear the great news.” Atwert's smile is soft when he looks at Qifrey.
Olruggio nods at Atwert as he gets back in his car, and the other man glances at him knowingly, his polite smile widening to a grin. Olruggio watches him go until the car is out of the gates.
Atwert was the first to know, when Qifrey had decided that it was finally time to return.
He was the first to know too, when Olruggio finally decided to take a step and do what he’d only dared to dream about since Qifrey and him were teenagers, discovering what love meant, for the both of them.
Olruggio turns to look at his partner.
Before everything, Qifrey’s left eye— the one he hadn't lost while being left for dead on an orphanage’s front door— was light blue, the same hue as the midday sky during summer.
Now, it's the color of starlight; along with his white hair and pale face, he looks ethereal, like one of the gods of ancient tales.
Olruggio wants to look at him forever.
“Hi Olly,” Qifrey starts, smiling at him. His excitement is almost palpable, a warm aura that surrounds him— a halo of his own.
Olruggio loves him so much.
“Hello Qifrey,” he says, and takes the other man’s free hand between his own, intertwining their freezing fingers. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I think” Qifrey chuckles, squeezing Olruggio’s hand. “Besides, I just need to sign the contract today. The real challenge will be on Monday, with the first class.”
“The girls will go feral when they see you in their classroom again.”
“You think?” Qifrey sounds amused, satisfied with the easy certainty of his place in the girls' hearts, and in Olruggio’s very soul.
Olruggio loves him so much he can't stand it.
“Oh, I’m sure of it.” He knows that Qifrey can hear the smile in his voice, he has been able to do that since forever.
“Good,” Qifrey says, as he starts walking up the path that they both know by heart, with the soft sounds of his cane announcing their return. “I look very much forward to see what kind of things will happen from now on.”
“Good,” Olruggio repeats. And as he thinks about the small velvet box that sits quietly in his pocket, he finds himself agreeing completely.