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They had been drinking. It was a celebration, for the completion of the atelier, for the ending of the first day of a new beginning. Their new workshop was finally fully furnished, the couches and rugs placed, the apprentices quarters neatly arranged and ready, and their individual rooms finally set up to their personal satisfaction. The atelier, for the first time, felt like home.
So, they had been drinking. Qifrey, normally so reserved, had let himself indulge for once in the sweet wine Olruggio had been saving for this very night. They were far away from the stuffy Great Hall and the judgy witches, just the two of them in a big house they could call their own. The prickling feeling of watching eyes couldn’t follow them this far away, and their only company on the plains were the pinprick stars and rustling wind. It made Olruggio happy to know Qifrey was finally somewhere he didn’t have to be afraid, or angry, and it brought him great satisfaction to see his friend like this. Qifrey had needed to hide his heart for so long that watching him be able to truly relax was just as good as the wine they were drinking.
They were on the couch. Olruggio wasn’t sure when they had gotten there, but at some point they had moved from the kitchen, to the living room, to the couch, and there they sat leaning against each other. The fireplace was the only illumination in the room, casting a comfortable and shifting orange light over the things close by. The rest of the atelier was full of shadow, dark and silent and still, and it gave the impression that their little glowing pocket was completely removed from everything else. Just the couch, soaking in the heat of the fireplace, and the bottle gleaming in the firelight, and the two of them, cradled gently in the feathery embrace of shadow. Qifrey’s head was on his shoulder, a feat that required a fair amount of slouching to be comfortable because of their height difference. Olruggio rested his head on Qifrey’s, his white hair soft against Olruggio’s cheek. He sighed happily. Between the wine, and the fireplace, and Qifrey’s warm weight on his side, Olruggio couldn’t remember the last time he felt this cozy.
The pleasant silence was eventually broken by Qifrey. “I’m gonna get more to drink, ‘kay?” he said, the words clumsier than usual coming out of his mouth. Before Olruggio could protest, Qifrey had stumbled to his feet, pushing off of Olruggio’s shoulder to do so. Olruggio frowned, his side suddenly feeling very cold, but didn’t argue. He also kind of wanted another glass of wine. Qifrey took a few steps forward, careful and deliberate then squinted at the empty bottle on the floor by the fireplace. He turned back to Olruggio and pointed at it, as if Olruggio could do something about it. “The bottle is empty.”
Olruggio took a moment to respond, his thoughts still slow, as if each one had to bubble up through a sea of warm honey. The bottle was empty. He remembered the two of them stumbling into the living room, giggling and holding each other for balance. Olruggio had placed the bottle by the fireplace because it was empty, and nearly fell over. Qifrey had steadied him with a few lighthearted and slightly slurred jabs at how poorly he held his alcohol, and dragged them over to the couch. Where Olruggio now sat. Alone. With cold sides.
His eyes traced from the empty bottle to Qifrey’s pointing finger, where they drifted up his arms and across his shoulders and chest and then up to his face where Qifrey was still looking at him, eyes narrowed in a ridiculous manner. Olruggio blinked hard, trying to clear his head, and shrugged in response. Qifrey really was so pretty, especially standing there with the firelight shining through his hair, the long, sharp lines of his body softened by the gentle and wavering shadows. Olruggio wanted Qifrey to take off his glasses. The way they reflected the light made it hard to see his eyes sometimes. And he really liked Qifrey’s eyes. What had they been talking about? Olruggio looked back down at where Qifrey was pointing. Then he smiled, the motion incredibly easy. Right. “Come back, then,” Olruggio said, his tongue feeling just as honey slow as his thoughts. He opened his arms towards Qifrey. “I’m cold.”
Qifrey blinked, then laughed, and Olruggio stared at the alcohol induced flush that dusted across his face. “Oh, my poor Olly,” he murmured, something unbelievably fond curling around each word. “How could you possibly be cold? You’re the warmest person I know.” The words leaned together for support as they came out, and Qifrey had begun to tilt slightly, but something even sweeter than wine curled in Olruggio’s chest at the sentiment, a comforting feeling that liked to make itself known whenever Qifrey said things like that.
“Then come here, so you don’t get cold,” Olruggio tried to reason, a bit petulant. Qifrey was far too far away to be having this conversation. But Qifrey just stood there, looking down at him with a soft smile, something gleaming behind his hazy blue eye. Something in that look made Olruggio flush up to his ears, and he straightened up from this previous slouch. “Are you judgin’ me right now?” He asked clumsily, heart pounding with unnecessary violence. Qifrey just hummed, smiling softly, and even though Qifrey’s eye was half-obscured behind those damned shiny glasses, Olruggio got the sense that he was no longer making eye contact. With a glare he pushed himself off of the couch, determined to make Qifrey stop whatever it was he was doing, and then had to take a moment to ungracefully balance himself as the wine swam through his head. Qifrey made a sound that could probably be related to a child being pulled away from a candy shop window.
“Hey!” Qifrey said, carefully enunciating his words so he wouldn’t be misheard. “Sit back down. I wasn’t done looking at you.”
That did not help matters. Olruggio shook his head, trying to clear it from the flames and wine and floating blue eyes that were blocking almost all of his rational thought. “Nuh-uh. You can’t look at me anymore.” He took a few steps forward until he was close enough to Qifrey to grab him by the arms, and then tacked on like it had just occurred to him, “And also take off your glasses.” He busied himself with pulling Qifrey back towards the couch, unwilling to look at his face in fear of Qifrey seeing how big of a fool Olruggio secretly was.
“What!” Qifrey said indignantly as he let himself be pulled. They were both being very careful not to trip, though Olruggio was finding that walking backwards in a straight line while drunk was proving to be a bit more difficult than he had anticipated. “What’s the point of having these glasses if I can’t use them to look at you?”
Olruggio did look up at that, to see Qifrey peering at him over the top of his glasses, a comically wounded expression on his face. He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out, and quickly looked back down at his feet to hide his expression. “Well, I guess it’s fine as long as you–”
Several things happened. In the middle of his sentence, Olruggio had looked back up at Qifrey’s face, unable to look away for too long, especially when he was so close. Qifrey’s expression had changed to something so soft, firelight brushing across his unfairly pretty face. His watercolor blue eye shone, his hair slightly mussed and stray strands curling enticingly over his flushed cheeks, and Olruggio was very suddenly reminded that his eyes were the same height as Qifrey’s lips. With this information unhelpfully thrust into his mind, Olruggio missed a step, the back of his legs hitting the couch, and toppled over backwards.
With a soft sound Qifrey fell too, pulled forwards by Olruggio’s hands on his arms, and landed heavily on top of him. The breath temporarily left Olruggio’s lungs as he lay there on the couch, the full weight of Qifrey against him. After a moment the couch settled, and he tried to recatch his breath, before realizing that inhaling meant his chest became pressed very firmly against Qifrey’s. The air left him again in one big gust, and Olruggio tried to recover by breathing very, very shallowly. Staring up at the wooden beams that peered through the shifting shadows on the ceiling, Olruggio began to count in his head, trying to lay as still as possible, waiting for Qifrey to move. It took him a full ten seconds, possibly more because he might’ve counted eight twice, for Olruggio to realize that Qifrey was not going to move.
It wasn’t unpleasant, certainly, but Olruggio felt that he needed some time to prepare himself mentally before situations like this happened. Otherwise, he felt the way he did now, head spinning, heart pounding, and he tended to do very stupid things. Just as Olruggio was contemplating whether they were pressed close enough together for Qifrey to feel his heart beating what felt like a pretty telling rhythm, Qifrey began to move. Olruggio held in a sigh. Even though it did feel really nice to have Qifrey this close, it was good that he was moving away and giving Olruggio time to recollect himself. He held his breath and looked down at the top of Qifrey’s head, the white curls brushing his chin. And then he realized that Qifrey was not, in fact, leaving, but instead had turned his head to fit against Olruggio’s shoulder and was actually cuddling closer.
Olruggio let his head fall back again and resumed his observation of the ceiling. His face was starting to feel very, very hot.
Qifrey’s glasses were a sharp touch of cold against his collarbone, the metal feeling even icier than normal thanks to how flushed and warm Olruggio’s skin was right now, and their rims dug slightly into his neck. With an unintelligible grumble that Olruggio could, wow, feel rumble through his whole body, Qifrey unwedged his hand from where it had gotten caught between their bodies and lifted his head, presumably to take off his glasses. Olruggio didn’t see him do it, as he was still trying to see if the whorls in the rafters above him would give him answers or perhaps strength. There was a small clicking sound, which was probably Qifrey dropping his glasses off the side of the couch, and then that cold and empty space against Olruggio’s neck was once again replaced by the soft warmth of Qifrey’s head.
Despite the tiny part of his brain freaking out, he realized that most of his brain was pretty happy like this, and Olruggio let himself sink into the cozy pressure of Qifrey for a moment. Then with a burst of resolve he figured that if they were really going to cuddle like this, he may as well get comfortable. When they had fallen, Olruggio landed mostly on the couch, but his legs still hung off the edge. So he moved them, and Qifrey shifted as well until they were both lying fully on the couch. Then, slowly, he moved his hands from where they were pinned by Qifrey’s arms, and instead moved them to Qifrey’s back, holding him gently. Qifrey’s back was solid, the fabric of his shirt thin enough that Olruggio could feel the heat of his skin through it. Without much input from his brain, his fingers traced a path from between Qifrey’s shoulders, down his spine, and to the small of his back. His other hand pressed snuggly against the nape of Qifrey’s neck.
Qifrey let out a sigh, almost melting into Olruggio, and the breath ghosted along his neck and sent shivers down his spine. For once Olruggio regretted his choice of open collars and his love of wine, because now there was a tension blooming deep within him that threatened to make his life unnecessarily difficult. But with steadfast stubbornness that usually served him very well, he ignored it. At least, he ignored it until Qifrey pressed closer, hair tickling Olruggio’s chin, and tilted his head so lips were brushing Olruggio’s neck. There was almost no pressure behind the movement, but Olruggio still felt flares of burning heat alight under his skin where Qifrey’s lips brushed him.
With a sharp breath Olruggio tensed, his arms tightening around Qifrey’s body. His heart battered behind his chest, and his skin prickled with a sudden awareness that had been comfortably wine dulled for most of the night. Neither of them moved for a moment, and Olruggio wondered if Qifrey could feel the way he shivered. Eventually, though, when it became clear no further movement was forthcoming, Olruggio was able to calm back down. He took a deep breath and felt his heart start to slow again. It was probably an accident.
Qifrey was stiffer under his hands than before, and Olruggio could feel the tension in the way their bodies were pressed together. In a reassuring movement Olruggio began to trace his hand up and down Qifrey’s back again. After a moment, slowly, as if afraid that he would spook Olruggio again, Qifrey slid his hands out from where they were pinned between their chests, and slipped them instead between Olruggio’s back and the couch where they lay. It was nice, and Olruggio felt like a big pillow as Qifrey relaxed into his chest once more. He sighed happily, and held Qifrey tighter to his chest. They really didn’t hug enough. The feeling of Qifrey’s weight against him was unbelievably comforting, satisfying some need deep in his chest that he didn’t even know was there. Combined with the dim and shifting firelight that had the tendency to melt edges and soften outlines, Olruggio felt like he was in a dream. The room was shadowed, the couch was comfortable, and Qifrey was so, so warm.
This close together, Olruggio could feel each line of his body, the way that Qifrey was taller but slimmer, his sharper edges and longer planes. His hair was soft, and smelled vaguely of wine and sun and apples, and his skin was warm and flushed where it was pressed directly against Olruggio’s. Every breath Qifrey took curled over his neck, and Olruggio could feel each rise and fall of his chest. His head was still muddled, but there was an undefined thought drifting to the surface, something that warmed him to his core. Olruggio tried to focus, but it was hard to pull thoughts together through the veil of pure warmth and comfort draped over his mind, and so he was only left with vague impressions of warm lips and shining eyes and an especially elusive feeling about forever.
They laid like that, holding each other, for long enough that Olruggio felt himself start to slip off into a shadowy, firelit sleep. He had no concept of how long it had been, time removed from this pocket of the world they had carved out for themselves, each moment having to travel through eternity to find them. And then just as the film of sleep began to fall over him, he felt Qifrey’s fingers tighten against his back, ten points of gentle pressure, and Qifrey began to move once more.
It was his lips again, Olruggio realized as he startled back into full awareness with a sharp breath, and they were being dragged with slow precision across his skin. They were tantalizingly careful, the softest of brushes, from the base of Olruggio’s neck all the way to where his jaw met his ear. Despite the lightness of the touches, each point of contact burned and sent hot rushes of surprise down the entirety of his body. Sleep fell away with undocumented speed and Olruggio couldn’t stop the surprised sound that slipped out. In response, Qifrey let out a shaky sigh that set Olruggio’s whole body tingling in a strangely pleasant manner.
His breath began to come faster, and he could feel that Qifrey was breathing harder too, their chests pressed together. Hot breaths whispered against Olruggio’s jaw and ear, and that blooming tension from before reintroduced itself with a fiery vengeance. Olruggio couldn’t comprehend what was happening. This was something maybe he had contemplated just once or twice or forty times when he was sure he was alone in the dark of his room. But now that it was happening– or at least he hoped it was happening, because he was pretty sure Qifrey didn’t kiss all his friends like this– it felt like a strange mix of impossible and all too real. Still, if there was one thing Olruggio could pick out from his muddled thoughts and feelings, it’s that he most definitely did not want Qifrey to stop.
Carefully, Olruggio slid his hand up Qifrey’s back and into his hair, fingers tangling through the soft curls. Qifrey shivered, and pressed together as they were, Olruggio could feel every part of it. The heat spreading through his body continued to intensify, and he felt like an ember being stoked into a flame. Qifrey was becoming almost too warm above him, something that wasn’t helped by the fact that he had begun to move again, lips tracing over Olruggio’s jaw and beard, gliding up to his cheek.
Olruggio squeezed his eyes shut so Qifrey’s bangs wouldn’t poke them, and he knew his face must be flushed and burning, but that dizzying feeling of Qifrey’s face against his prevented him from doing anything with that information. He slid his hand from Qifrey’s hair to his cheek, and was pleasantly surprised to find that Qifrey’s face was just as warm as his own. Even with his eyes closed, he could imagine what Qifrey looked like as he brushed his thumb along his face, could imagine the pink blush, the nervous but focused draw of his eyebrows, and the soft brush of his eyelashes against his cheeks. Qifrey let out a small noise and a shuddering breath as Olruggio’s thumb traced his cheekbone down to the edge of his mouth, and if Olruggio didn’t kiss him right now he would probably die.
The movement didn’t have to be a big one. Qifrey’s lips were already pressed against Olruggio’s cheek, so all he had to do was tilt his head over like this and it would be so easy to just–
It was easy. So easy, in fact, that Olruggio wondered how it had never happened before. The first brush of lips was light, almost underwhelming. Then Qifrey let out a deep sigh, and pressed closer, and Olruggio’s world narrowed down to the point of contact between their mouths. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, and he curled his fingers deeper into Qifrey’s hair, tilting his head for a better angle.
Qifrey had such soft lips, and his mouth tasted like sweet wine. Olruggio felt drunk with it, with the wine, with the gentle way Qifrey pressed ever closer, deepening the kiss further and further until Olruggio’s mouth slipped open, with the way each of his senses was filled with nothing but a fiery heat.
It felt right in a way that few things in his life ever did. It felt like a crackling fire after hours in the cold blue snow; it felt like watching the crowd roar below him in a storm of fluttering flags as he stood, panting, at silver eve; it felt like his pen in his hand; it felt like comfort, and joy, and familiarity, and as Qifrey made a soft, breathy sound and smiled against Olruggio’s lips, it felt like home.
With a breathless laugh Olruggio pulled back and tilted their foreheads together. They were both breathing hard, hot breaths mingling, and Olruggio grinned thoughtlessly. This close Qifrey’s single blue eye was like an endless sky, stretching on and on, framed by his unfairly pretty white eyelashes. “Qifrey,” he murmured, happiness tenderly bubbling through the syllables. He swept his thumb along Qifrey’s cheek, brushing back a stray strand of feathery hair.
Qifrey hummed, then laughed warmly. “Yeah, Olly?”
Hearing his name said like that made Olruggio’s heart flutter, and his eyes flicked back down to Qifrey’s smiling lips. “Nothing, I just wanted-”
He was cut off by Qifrey darting back down and kissing him on the lips, a quick peck followed by a series of kisses across his cheeks and eyelids and nose and forehead, anywhere that Qifrey could reach. Caught off guard, Olurggio laughed and twisted under Qifrey’s hold, helpless beneath the onslaught. “Hey! Hey! Qifrey!” Pinned down as he was, Olruggio couldn’t properly pull away, and so, laughing, he grabbed Qifrey tight, and rolled over.
In an undignified tumble of robes, they fell off the edge of the couch.
Olruggio stared at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. The shadowed rafters spun slightly, cool air wafting across his flushed skin. One of his arms was pinned under Qifrey’s back, and after a silent, embarrassed moment, he let his head fall to the side to look over at him. At the movement, Qifrey, who had also been staring at the ceiling, turned his head to look back at Olruggio. They stared at each other for a moment, laying on the hard wooden floor.
Then Qifrey’s eyes crinkled, and a smile began to tug at Olruggio’s lips, and they both burst out into laughter. It was a laugh that came from the deepest parts of his chest, and Olruggio gasped for breath, curling onto his side. Qifrey was laughing too, loudly and brightly, his entire body shaking, and he turned onto his side as well, clutching Olruggio’s shoulder for support. The fit took them beyond sound, and into that silent, aching laugh that prevented any other movement except for desperate gasps for breath.
It took a little while, but eventually their laughter died down. Olruggio took deep, shuddering lungfuls of air, a hand pressed to his aching stomach, cheeks sore from grinning. Qifrey had curled completely into himself, an arm thrown over his face. Aftershock giggles made him shake every so often, his cheek pressed to the cold floor. After a few more moments of relative calmness Qifrey groaned loudly and rolled on his back again, still smiling, his arms flopping down from his face. “Olly,” he said, giggles lurking underneath every word, “the floor is so uncomfortable.”
Olruggio rolled onto his back as well, and slapped his hands onto his face, trying to stop smiling. “I know,” he whined mournfully, only partially successful in relaxing his sore cheeks. “We should’ve just stayed on the couch.” The words had barely left his mouth before he flushed red. Even just the passing reference to the couch was enough to make his lips tingle again.
Qifrey let out a tiny, embarrassed laugh. “It was definitely softer,” he murmured, slightly muffled, and the strange tone of his voice made Olruggio turn his head to look at him again. Qifrey was staring very hard at the ceiling, his hand pressed to his mouth and the smile crept back across Olruggio’s face as he realized that Qifrey was just as flushed as he was.
With an unnecessarily proud feeling in his chest, Olruggio stared at the side of Qifrey’s face. His eyes lazily traced over Qifrey’s profile, his ruffled hair, his warm cheeks, his fluttering eyelashes. Olruggio blinked slowly, and sighed. With the hysteric elation finally leeching from his system, the buzzing in his limbs was beginning to be replaced by an exhausted heaviness. He quietly watched Qifrey for a few more moments, then blinked again. Then he yawned. Qifrey looked over in surprise.
“Olly? Are you actually...” The question trailed off as Olruggio yawned again, and Qifrey fell silent, watching with amusement.
Olruggio rubbed his eyes, then squinted at Qifrey. “Qifrey,” he said as seriously as he could, then paused for a third yawn. When it faded Olruggio groaned and forced himself into a sitting position. “If we stay here I’m going to fall asleep,” he grumbled sleepily. The wine was finally taking its toll on him.
“Oh, yes, good thing it hasn’t affected you until this moment,” Qifrey laughed kindly, and Olruggio realized he must have said the last part out loud. He didn’t dignify it with a response, just grumbled and covered his face with his hands, hunching over.
For one ridiculous moment he actually felt himself start to drift off like that, before a hand on his shoulder jerked him back to reality, and he realized that Qifrey had stood up. He squinted blearily up at him, and registered Qifrey was squinting down at him as well. His face was unusually open, and it took Olruggio a belated moment to realize that Qifrey had not yet recovered his glasses. Qifrey offered him a hand, and he took it, pushing himself heavily to his feet. Even after he had regained his balance, Olruggio didn’t let go of Qifrey’s hand.
“Where are your glasses?” Olruggio asked, staring intently at Qifrey’s eyes, and garnering some satisfaction when Qifrey blushed and looked away.
“Ah, somewhere,” he waved the hand not holding Olruggio’s in the vague direction of the couch, “over there I assume.” He met Olruggio’s eyes again, and the awkwardness eased from his expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll get them in the morning,” he assured. Then, seeing the expression on Olruggio’s face, smiled slightly deviously and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
Olruggio’s face flamed, and he was unable to do anything but sputter for a moment, during which Qifrey took the opportunity to begin leading him back towards his room, guiding him gently with their intertwined hands. It took him until half way down the hallway before Olruggio managed a weak, “My pretty little head?” and it took until they reached the door of Olruggio’s bedroom that he got out, “But you’re the pretty one!”
Qifrey hummed in response, amusement tinting the sound. “Whatever you say, Olly,” he teased. Then his expression faltered slightly and he glanced at Olruggio’s door, which they had come to a stop in front of. “You should really go to bed. You are clearly very drunk and sleepy.” He stifled a yawn of his own, and then amended sheepishly, “Well, we both are.”
Olruggio planned on responding, but his brain was operating on very limited capacity, between the wine and the sleep deprivation and the ‘pretty’ comment from Qifrey that was still bouncing around in his head, so he didn’t get very far before finding himself distracted again. In his defense, Qifrey was smiling, and that could probably derail even the strongest of men. “Mhm,” he managed. Qifrey was still talking, and if Olruggio was in any other state he may have noticed how it had begun to devolve into rambling.
“And, of course, I know you have work to do tomorrow. I mean, we both do. Not to mention the fact that we’re gonna have to clean up the mess we made in the kitchen earlier.” Qifrey grimaced, recalling the drunken attempts at snack making. “And it really is late.” He was fidgeting, too. The hand he was using to hold Olruggio’s was still, like was afraid any movement would make Olruggio pull away, but his other hand was struggling to find one place to rest, moving from his robes, to his neck, to his face, to waving about in the air. Qifrey was very flustered, Olruggio noticed, staring at his lips.
“I’m sorry, you must want to go to bed. I can leave.” Qifrey quickly turned to walk away, but was stopped by Olruggio tugging on his hand. Qifrey turned back, his face red and flushed. “Olly,” he started.
“Hey,” Olruggio interrupted. “Can I please kiss you again?”
Qifrey stared at him. Olruggio stared back, determined to hold his ground, even as his face heated. Finally, Qifrey nodded with a strange jerk of his head, and Olruggio’s heart swelled. Despite their entwined hands, and the whole situation on the couch earlier, somewhere deep inside Olruggio was still worried Qifrey would react with disgust. But instead of pulling back or running away, he stepped closer, each movement slightly stilted and nervous.
Olruggio reached up with his free hand to cup Qifrey’s face, and Qifrey gingerly rested his hand on Olruggio’s shoulder. Unsure of who should move first, they both moved at the same time, Qifrey leaning down, and Olruggio reaching up, meeting in the middle.
It was a very careful kiss, but it was just as pleasant as the first one. If their first kiss was fumbling and surprising, this one was firm and comforting. The same warmth came with it, and Olruggio couldn’t help but to continue to marvel at the feeling of Qifrey’s mouth against his own. He wanted to stand here all night and beyond that into the morning just feeling Qifrey’s hands pressed against him and tasting the wine off of his lips.
But, as he measured it, Olruggio figured he had at maximum fifteen minutes before he collapsed in a very unflattering heap at Qifrey’s feet.
He pulled back and tugged his fingers out of Qifrey’s grasp so he could hold his face with both hands. Qifrey looked at him, crystal blue eye shining, lips parted, and Olruggio squished his cheeks so he wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him again. Qifrey made a face and attempted to lean back in again, but Olruggio held him in place.
“Qifrey,” he murmured, “I need to go to bed now. Or else I will fall to the ground.”
Qifrey blinked at him, and with Olruggio still squishing his face he looked ridiculous as he smiled and raised his eyebrows and said, “Again.”
Olruggio narrowed his eyes, trying to keep his gaze from falling back down to Qifrey’s lips. In one quick motion he let go of Qifrey’s face and stepped away, grabbing his door handle like a lifeline to keep him from the mystifying gravity of Qifrey’s mouth. “Yeah. Again.”
Qifrey smiled, and Olruggio felt fixed in his stare, his eye so soft and blue and tender that Olruggio for one wild moment feared that he would melt. “Goodnight, Olly,” Qifrey finally murmured, and Olruggio knew exactly what that tone meant, because his own heart had been battering the same sound against the inside of his chest since the day they took their third exam as apprentices.
He could do nothing but smile back. “Goodnight, Qifrey.”
Olruggio turned away first, slipping into his room with a final parting look back at Qifrey before closing the door. He listened for a moment, and after a few seconds he heard Qifrey’s footsteps walking away back towards his own rooms.
If he was less tired Olruggio might have then whooped, or squealed, or twirled his hair and kicked his feet in the air, but as it was he barely managed to skip up the stairs before collapsing into bed. He rolled himself in blankets, grinned up at the ceiling, and got one singular giggle out before he was finally claimed by a deep, black sleep.