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They’re standing across from each other. Olruggio’s heart is tight in his chest and it’s impossible to tell the cause,
“We don’t need to do this.” Qifrey says, his voice a whisper,
“We’re old men. Let us go out with a bang. We’ll help others, even in our death. That’s what we agreed on,” Olruggio takes a step forward. Qifrey doesn’t react, “Have you changed your mind?” He asks, really hoping Qifrey hasn’t. Qifrey hesitates, and then finally, his lone eye slowly and shakily raises to look to him,
“Why haven’t you?” Qifrey’s voice is shaking and it break’s Olruggio’s heart. Ironic, given the catalyst for their decision to do this,
“You were there when the doctor diagnosed me. When the doctor diagnosed my heart,” He begins, “We’ve lived good lives. We helped the girls grow into wonderful women and found peace ourselves. We’ve done everything we need to and we both could die at any moment,” He takes in a breath. They’ve already discussed this but he still needs to force it out, “So why not go out on our own terms?” Olruggio takes another step forward. Qifrey just watches him approach, “And you can finally be happy, no need to try and hold back your emotions. Not to mention, we’ll be helping witches for generations to come, as a silverwood tree,”
He’s just rehashing their previous discussion where they came up with this idea but he’s hoping to remind Qifrey of the why as an attempt to bring him back into this. If Qifrey’s having doubts, so be it, but Olruggio came into this ready to die. It’s not that he wants to, but it’s what he was prepared to do and god damn it, he made peace with his death. Not even to mention, he wanted this. He needed this. After so many years of brief touches and just implied sentiments, they can finally be who and what they want to be. Who and what they are.
He takes in a deep breath, the best his old lungs would allow, and takes another step towards Qifrey. The other continues to remain still and he takes it as his cue to reach forward with his hand. He holds it out and Qifrey hesitates, as he always does, but he reaches forward and takes his hand. His hand is cool to the touch and Olruggio squeezes it ever so slightly,
“We agreed, didn’t we? We’ll finally be together,” Olruggio gently tugs Qifrey closer and uses his other arm to carefully raise his hand and gently remove his glasses. With the glasses removed and discarded haphazardly in the grass below them, it’s easier to see the empty eye socket hidden behind the hair. Qifrey shudders as his fingers brush the hair aside to reveal the other eye.
There’s already a few leaves poking out of the eye socket and Olruggio’s breath hitches at the sight, as if this isn’t what they want for once. He supposed even if their end goal now is to finally let the tree win, it will never be pleasant. Olruggio brushes his thumb against a pale leaf and tries his best to smile. Qifrey gives the smallest smile in return, clearly strained but a genuine attempt. It only serves to break his heart even more.
He inches his body ever closer and when Qifrey flinches, he pretends to not notice because if he did, it would only hurt even more,
“Can I…” He trails off because he doesn’t know how to say it. It’s a simple question. It didn’t need to be more than four words. ‘Can I kiss you?’ But the words catch in his throat and he can’t force them out. Qifrey’s lone eye is trained on him now, and he leans his face into his hand.
Olruggio sucks in a breath and watches with horror as a branch spurs, with a loud creaking sound, out of his eye socket, rapidly growing until it slows again and stills. He hates the sight, and he’s sure from the way Qifrey bites down on his lips, pain follows the growth. His heart wrenches further more. At this rate, his heart will kill him before the silverwood kills them both. He refuses to let that happen,
“You know, I think I’ve always loved you. Remember, we called it warm fuzzies? We thought normal friendships were just like that,” Olruggio tries softening the mood. The sun beams down on them in the empty meadow and birds chirping and grass rustling fills the silence until Qifrey lets out a breathy chuckle,
“Normal friendships,” Qifrey repeats under his breath. His strained smile has fallen but in its place is a gentle quirk of his lips as he recalls, “Nothing about our relationship was a normal friendship,” He whispers.
Old age has deepened his voice and given it a low rumble that Olruggio admits he really enjoys. Olruggio dips his head and presses their foreheads together ever so carefully. A few leaves brush his cheek. He tries to feel positive about the sensation, even knowing what it means. This is what they want,
“No thanks to my repeated memory wipes,” Olruggio comments. Qifrey sighs,
“They were your idea,” He says, pained. Olruggio nods his head against Qifrey and chuckles quietly,
“Well, you won’t need to do it this time,”
“Indeed, I won’t,” Qifrey replies simply. Olruggio catches from the corner of his eyes as Qifrey’s free hand clench at his side. The hand in his, now warmed from their shared body heat, squeezes tightly. Olruggio squeezes back,
“I…” The words fail him again. Olruggio just can’t get them out.
They both know they want this. They’ve discussed it so many times and every single time they’ve had to drop it when a branch parted Qifrey’s hair. His hair’s already brushed back and there’s already a few branches sprouted from that empty socket. For once, it’s what they want.
And yet it’s still difficult. It feels like it’s impossible to talk about because of the consequences that have loomed over them for so many decades. They still loom over them now. That’s why he’s still afraid, that’s why it’s still impossible to voice it.
He grits his teeth and decides they’re wasting their time. So what, the words keep dying in his throat? They both know what they want, this is stupid, stumbling over his words when they don’t even need to talk to understand each other at this point.
He pulls his head back and for a moment, they stare into each other’s eyes. Neither of them need to say anything. Olruggio has already failed twice asking for it and he’s tired since they both know what they want. They can both see it in their eyes. He gives Qifrey’s hand another squeeze and brushes his other hand down to tilt his chin and he leans in.
It’s a gentle kiss, just a soft press of their lips together, and he’s pulled back. Qifrey’s breath hitches and the telltale creaking interrupts their shared silence. Branches spur past Olruggio’s vision and Qifrey squeezes his hand, his whole body tensing. The branches slow and then still. The sight is painful. He hates seeing Qifrey like this. He should be happy. The growth means Qifrey feels safe and comfortable.
He pulls his hand out of Qifrey’s hold and raises it so he can hold both sides of Qifrey’s face and he leans back in. The kiss lasts a bit longer which gives them time to adjust their lips to slot together.
It’s a bit clumsy, Olruggio is out of practice and he’s almost certain Qifrey has never even kissed before. But that’s okay. When they pull apart, Qifrey shakily raises his arms and places his hands on Olruggio’s shoulders. They squeeze him and Olruggio notices tears welling up in his eye. He wipes the still forming tears away with his thumb and then presses their foreheads together again.
They stand there, for some amount of time that Olruggio isn’t tracking. Only their shallow breaths fill the silence along with the idle sounds of the nature around them. Every so often the silverwood creaks. Leaves brush Olruggio’s face and if he swipes his left thumb up Qifrey’s cheeks, he’d feel wood rather than skin instead of the tears if he were to do the same with his right hand.
“The girls will be alright without us, won’t they?” Qifrey finally breaks the silence. Olruggio hums in response,
“Of course they will. And we can trust them to carry our story so that witches using our woodcruor will know the source of their ink.” Olruggio can feel tears beginning to prick his own eyes but he ignores them.
Before Qifrey can say anything, he takes the opportunity to dive back down and take his lips yet again. It’s still clumsy, and a few branches have broken through Qifrey’s skin on his right side and they scrape his own cheeks when he tilts his head but it’s okay. Qifrey does his best to give back in the kiss as they press their bodies closer, almost flush.
The ground beneath them shifts as roots break from Qifrey’s legs and dig into the dirt. One of the roots slithers around Olruggio’s foot and then burrows. He could probably tug his foot free and get away, but he won’t. Qifrey groans into the kiss and Olruggio doesn’t want to guess if it’s from pleasure or pain.
He pulls their faces away and then trails his hands down to wrap around Qifrey and hold him close. He rolls his shoulders and Qifrey’s hands come down to hold him back. His hold is hesitant but once he’s holding him, the grip is tight, like he thinks Olruggio will try to back out and let him to die alone,
“I’m not leaving you,” Olruggio reassures.
He raises a hand and tilts the back of Qifrey’s head into the crook of his neck and then does the same with his own face, burrowing it into Qifrey’s neck. More roots take into the dirt beneath him and entangle in Olruggio’s feet and legs. He’s probably trapped for good now, unless he wanted to use a spell to free himself. Fire would absolutely do the trick, but he won’t use it.
Small branches have started sprouting out of Qifrey’s arms as he holds him and they start to dig into his back but he doesn’t care. Qifrey is resting his face into his shoulder in such a way that the tree just grazes him, but then it spurs to life again and the rapid growth breaks skin as it shoots through his shoulder.
Olruggio bites back a cry and the tears pricking his eyes begin to trail down at the pain. A root at his feet decides it doesn’t care that his foot is an obstacle and digs through his foot instead of growing around it. He squeezes Qifrey even closer and wrenches his face from his shoulder. Both of them are crying their tears and Olruggio thinks bitterly that maybe tears hydrate a silverwood just as well as water does.
He takes Qifrey’s lips in his own again, and he has to tilt his head around the tree growing out of his right side so it’s messy and clumsy, but all their kisses have been so far, and Olruggio doesn’t care because it’s with Qifrey.
Finally, it’s with Qifrey.
He savours the moment, even as their tears mingle with their faces pressed together and they both only have broken, pained moans. It’s hardly pleasurable but at the same time it’s all they need. Olruggio will happily die like this and he can tell the feeling is mutual because the silverwood only continues to grow at the rapid pace.
Another root shoots through his other foot and he just squeezes Qifrey tighter and deepens their kiss to distract from the pain and more branches grow from his arms, holding him close, and they all begin to dig into him. The silverwood is tired of trying to grow around him and wastes no time sprouting from Qifrey and digging through him. A branch shoots out of his legs and grows up, burrowing through Olruggio’s torso since he’s in the way of its trajectory. The branch comes out the other side of him in only a few seconds and it’s caked in his blood.
He holds Qifrey even tighter, as if they can get any closer. He clenches his hands at Qifrey’s back and yet another sprout, at Qifrey’s back, refuses to see him as an obstacle as it grows through his wrist and out the other side. He could probably tug his hand free, but he won’t.
He lets Qifrey and the silverwood hold him in place, and when he pulls back from their kiss, tears are on both their lips. He’s loosing blood but with the branches imbedded through him, the wounds are effectively sealed. He still has plenty of time to savour everything. The pain wracking him is nothing. He can barely feel his feet with how many roots thread through them, firmly keeping him planted in place with the tree and Qifrey.
He will never complain.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Olruggio says, his voice trembling from the pain of the numerous branches digging through him.
He feels offshoots of branches in his body grow and burst from within to continue their growth and he shakes, gasping at the sensation. His insides tear with every growth and with every growth, more holes are burrowed into him, from the outside and from the inside. And yet, he’s happy, despite the searing pain and how it envelops his whole body,
“I’m glad I’m happy, too,” Qifrey whispers back.
This time, Qifrey leans in and initiates the kiss. The branches on his face scrape on Olruggio’s and sting as they move together to deepen the kiss the best they can. He can’t tell what’s blood trailing down his face or what’s tears, but it doesn’t matter. He feels hot and sticky and his whole body is shuddering from the pain. He can only imagine the pain Qifrey is feeling but he doesn’t want to think about Qifrey’s pain.
He wants to think about his happiness.
He wants to feel that happiness.
He deepens the kiss and takes the lead as he swipes his tongue against Qifrey’s lips and when entrance is granted, he eagerly licks into Qifrey’s mouth. They’re both loosing to the tree, just as they planned, and they both getting desperate with their final moments. They both try to press their bodies even closer even as the silverwood pins them in place. More and more branches sprout and shoot, the growth of the tree only getting faster and faster as they continue to press into each other.
There is a meadow, surrounded by a peaceful forest. It is not difficult to find, if you know where it is, but the forest it is in is large, and the meadow small. The reason it is not difficult to find is that one needs only to follow the glint of a silverwood tree that has grown above the rest of the trees and pokes out of the woods, for in the centre, a large silverwood tree sits, the base thick and the leaves vibrant. It is said that a long time ago, a pair of witches, one infected by the silverwood and one not, drew their final breaths here, together, as they finally indulged their love, for the first and last time.