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In a grand show of courage, Qifrey waited until he and Olruggio were a few glasses deep into a bottle of silvernectar wine before trying to bring it up. They were sitting next to each other on the floor of the kitchen, dishes still spread in front of them from their latest kitchen adventure.
“Olly.” He began, “Olruggio. I–There’s something I want to tell you.”
Olruggio sat up at that. “Say, Qifrey, what’s up with the sudden serious tone? You’ve never been the somber sorta drunk.”
“I have something important to tell you, that’s all. If you’d rather, it can wait until we’re sober. It’s unfair of me to spring something on you like this.”
“Nope!” Olruggio shouted, “Don’t you go doing that to me, now out with it! What’s got you in a bind?”
Qifrey winced and repeated. “There’s something I want to tell you. Maybe need to tell you is better. Should tell you, that is. Because you deserve to know about it.”
Olruggio sat up, his focus sharpening. Qifrey’s breath caught in his chest as he stared at his friend, a handsbreadth away. If his heart hadn’t already been thudding away, it certainly would be now–something about the haziness around his edges that came with alcohol made it easier to incline himself towards the warmth emanating from his friend, to consider crossing his own boundaries. But that could come later. For now, there were things he had to say. Finally able to say, if the words would only come.
“Qifrey?” Olruggio said, voice so, so impossibly soft and warm.
“I’m melting,” Qifrey said, nonsensically.
“You’re melting. That’s what you needed to tell me?”
“No, that’s just–Well, nevermind. There’s something I’ve been keeping from you. A few things. And I’m going to tell you all of them now, because I’m able to now, and I wasn’t before. And you have to know that I’m sorry and I love you and I never, ever want to hurt you. I need to tell you something.”
“You’re starting to scare me, old friend.” Olruggio said, “What’s so bad you would hurt me? You couldn’t do that. Not to me. Not now, not ever. You know that I love you, right?”
“I know. Believe me, Olly, I know. And I know you always forgive me. But what if this time is different? Whatever I say here will be permanent.”
“Well,” Olruggio quipped, “If it’s that bad, you could always wipe my memory and in the morning tell me I had too much to drink. Happens often enough as is. Might happen again tonight, who knows?”
At that, Qifrey let out a sob and let his head drop, giving in to the urge to press his face into Olruggio’s shoulder. His glasses pressed harshly into the bridge of his nose as he twisted his hands in Olruggio’s shirt, loose and open after a long day at work on his projects. Olruggio, always perfectly prepared for anything, merely brought his arms up around him.
After a moment, Olruggio shifted his head so that he could gently pry the glasses from Qifrey’s face, setting them aside. Qifrey screwed his eyes shut tighter in response.
“Hey there.” Olruggio murmured. “Qifrey. Look at me, wouldya?”
Qifrey pressed his head back into Olruggio’s shoulder, shaking it in response. He mumbled inaudibly into the fabric.
“What was that?”
“I can't see.” Qifrey said, after a moment. “Without my glasses, I mean. I’m blind.”
“Blind?”
“I can’t–My eye doesn’t work anymore. At all. It had been getting worse for awhile now, but I could still see. Now I can’t. Just where lights are and aren’t, and sometimes colors and shapes that aren’t really there. But otherwise, nothing. I’m blind, Olruggio.”
Olruggio didn’t try to move him after that. Qifrey was grateful. It gave his brain an excuse for not being able to see, calming the panic.
Finally, Olruggio spoke, “How long has this been going on?”
“Which part?”
“All of it. How long has it been since your sight stopped working? How long did you know it was going? What kind of magic is on your glasses that you can see?”
Of course, even now, Olruggio was curious about a new gadget.
“You can look at them for yourself. It was a group effort by the girls.” Once Qifrey began talking about his apprentices, he felt the pressure in his chest decrease and it became easier to speak. “They were Coco’s idea, but Tetia was the one who figured out how to make them work–apparently she’s been studying medicine, which we really need to talk about–and then Agott came up with the final design, but she needed Richeh to execute it because it was so finely detailed. As far as I understand, they take advantage of some elements of Bedaruit’s magic to transmit visuals remotely, while attempting to function as eyes in their own right. Obviously, I haven’t been able to look at them.”
Olruggio whistled. “I’m gonna need my loupes if I’m actually going to examine all of this. You said Richeh did the application? That girl sure has a talent.”
“She truly does.”
“And to think, if you had asked me a few minutes ago, I would have said sight could only be restored using forbidden magic.”
“Well, Tetia did make a foray into medicine. She said she needed to know how eyes work, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be possible if she hadn’t. I wasn’t sure what to say to her about it all.”
Olruggio hummed. Qifrey wished he could see his face. He hears the clink of the glasses being set down somewhere and Olruggio’s second arm joins the first, holding him close.
“I’d love to know how well they work, Qifrey, but I’ll admit, there’s something about all this that’s bugging me: How come the girls knew and I didn’t?”
This was the part he was actually dreading. “Well, they’re surprisingly attentive. Coco figured it all out and everything snowballed from there. I must admit, I’m impressed by how much she was able to do on her own without me catching on.”
“You mean with the glasses?”
“Among other things. Olly, you know about silverwood trees, right?”
“I should think I do.”
“How much do you know about their propagation?”
“Why are you bringing this up?”
“Did you know that humans can serve as hosts? Not just animals?”
“Qifrey, are you saying that–”
“I’m a host for a silverwood tree, Olly.” He said, “That’s why I can’t see now. Why I could see then.”
“...I’m not sure I follow.”
“Do you remember when we challenged the library?”
“We challenged it together. You entered, I didn’t. After that, when you decided to stop pursuing your past.”
“Sort of. We both entered the library, actually. You just don’t remember.”
“My memory certainly isn’t anything to brag about, but I’m pretty certain I would remember if I managed to make it into the library. I wiped out pretty hard, remember?”
“You only failed the first time. The second time, you had a bit more motivation.”
“If that’s true, then why don’t I remember it?”
“Is my hat nearby? If you pull out the pin in the front, you’ll find a spell hidden inside. It should answer some of your questions.”
“Qifrey, I don’t understand. Are you saying that you wiped my memory?”
“The silverwood tree only germinates when its host is perfectly content. Do you know what that means, Olly?”
“I think I’m starting to get an idea, and I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, well, neither did I. You all but forced me into it the first time. And all the times after that. I asked you to make me forget everything, but you thought it would be kinder if I took away sections of yours instead. So that’s what happened. Everytime you’ve figured it out over the years, you’ve come up with the same solution, and I can’t tell you how many memories I’ve stolen from you like that.”
Qifrey reached over to the table, trying to find his glasses. Unbidden, Olruggio picked them up and pressed them back onto his face. A pensive look adorned his face, one Qifrey had grown quite familiar with over the years. It meant he was busy piecing together a solution for some problem or other and still in the process of gathering information. Finally, he spoke, “Why are you telling me this?”
“You aren’t mad?” Qifrey replied.
“Have I ever been mad? Even once?”
Something unfurled in Qiffrey’s chest. He was hesitant to label it. “I mean, you’ve been pretty mad about me keeping things from you before. But, I suppose, you’ve never actually been mad about me hurting you. Even when you should have been.”
Qifrey felt more than saw Olruggio relax in response to that statement. Truly, he did not deserve the attention of someone so pure and so good.
“As for why I’m telling you this now,” Qifrey began, a bubble expanding in his chest, “The girls also found a solution for the tree.”
“Did they? Truly? How’d they manage it?”
“When Coco went to the library, she found books about silverwoods,” he explained, “There was information about cultivating them, including what might serve as poison to a young tree. She cross-referenced those poisons with what was poisonous to humans and came up with one that would only be mildly toxic, taken in small amounts, but which might kill the tree.”
There’s more to unpack there, but Qifrey can only handle so many feelings at once.
“So that’s why you’ve been so sickly lately. You’ve been poisoning yourself.”
“Yep!” Qifrey said brightly.
“And it worked, I take it?”
“Mostly.” Qifrey said. “The tree isn’t actually gone, but it seems to have entered what I can only describe as a state of increased dormancy. It isn’t reacting to my emotions anymore, and it stopped supporting my eye, but I don’t think it’s dead yet. Maybe eventually it will die, or maybe it will wake up again someday. There’s no way of knowing, but I stopped taking the medication two weeks ago and it hasn’t changed since. Meanwhile, I am less ‘sickly’ as you put it.”
“Hn. That’s good I s’pose.” Olruggio lay down, pulling Qifrey with him, still clutched to his chest. He was silent for a long moment, during which the tightness in Qifrey’s chest began to build once more. He tried reviewing the facts with himself: Olruggio had found out the truth many, many times, and each time he had forgiven him. Second, Olruggio had told him he wasn’t mad. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still hurt–Qifrey had stolen his memories countless times in order to selfishly keep himself alive. Third, this one was critical, Olruggio was still holding him close, even as he stared up at the ceiling. That meant nothing could be too bad, that Qifrey had a chance to make things right. Even so, his chest was still too tight and he jolted when Olruggio reached for his hair.
Olruggio’s hand halted midair, then fell back to his side. That wouldn’t do. Qifrey was trying to be different now that he no longer had to hide his secrets away. He could handle some discomfort. That in mind, he picked up Olruggio’s fallen hand, placing it in the hair over his right eye. Instead of pushing back the strands to look at it, however, Olruggio began running his fingers over his scalp, stroking and massaging his head.
“Are you… petting me?” Qifrey asked.
“Should I not?” Olruggio said. “You seem tense.”
Qifrey shrugged halfheartedly in response. “I don’t think I need to be worried about the tree right now, truly. But old habits die hard, I suppose, and I’m struggling to feel that it's alright for me to tell you any of this. Can you really be ok with it all?”
Olruggio hummed and moved his fingers down Qifrey’s neck, still so warm and gentle.
“How are your hands always so warm?” Qifrey marveled. “It’s like you have your very own snugstones at all times.”
Olruggio smiled. “What can I say? That’s just my magic.”
A laugh escaped Qifrey as he closed his eye, letting himself relax and unspool under Olruggio’s touch. If anything was going to wake the tree up, this would be it. It was a good sign that he still couldn’t feel it stirring, and the bubble that had been expanding into his chest finally reached an impossible size. “Oh,” he let out as a few tears ran down his face.
“Qifrey?” Olruggio stopped his movements, “Is something wrong?”
“No, no, nothing's wrong at all–quite the opposite, in fact.” Qifrey turned so that he could press himself up into a seated position once more, wiping at his face. “I think I’m happy, Olly. I don’t think I’ve been happy like this before.”
The tears continued to come, this time Olruggio reached up to catch them with his thumb. “Good.”
Somehow, the look on Olruggio’s face made the thing in Qifrey’s chest split open even more. Qifrey had thought he’d been happy before–not perfectly, of course, never perfectly–but he knew what sort of feeling came with joy. This feeling was different though, heady and addictive and so many other adjectives he could come up with. All of them welled up in his throat at once, forcing their way to the surface.
“I love you,” he said.
“I know,” Olruggio replied, “You said as much earlier.”
“No. I was wrong, I didn’t know what love was earlier. Now I know. I love you.”
Olruggio sighed. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“Whatever you want.” Qifrey said, “Forever. I mean it. Hold me, kiss me, eat with me, just don’t leave me alone. I’ll do whatever you want.”
A thought struck him. “Of course, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Nothing needs to change because of all this.”
“But it could,” Olruggio said, sitting up face-to-face with him.
“...But it could, yes.” Qifrey breathed. “Do you want it to?”
“I want whatever you want, old friend.”
They were going in circles. Qifrey giggled, then laughed outright.
“We’re never going to get anywhere if we don’t say what we want outright.”
“That’s fair,” Olruggio said, “How’s this: I want what we have now. You, me, this atelier, the girls, all of your concoctions and their half-cocked inventions interrupting my life. I want to know every part of you, see you every day, touch you for the rest of my life.”
“I want the same,” Qifrey said. “Should we be married, then? That’s the done thing.”
“If you want. But we don’t need to do it just because it’s the done thing. That doesn’t matter to me. Let’s just see how it goes. I still have a lot of questions for you, just so you know. We’re not done having this conversation.”
“Alright. I know. I’ll try to answer them all as best I can, but it might take me some time.”
“We have time,” Olruggio said. “We have lots of time. How’s this to start: when was the last time we shared a bed?”
Qifrey reviewed his memory. “I think it was… maybe a year ago? You wouldn’t remember that, though. I’m sorry.”
“Y’know, I hate forgetting you Qifrey, but I’d hate it more if you were never there.” Olruggio stood up and offered him a hand. “Don’t think too much about it.”
“Ok.” Qifrey followed.
“Let’s get all of this cleared away,” Olruggio gestured to their wine and dishes, “Then we can go to bed, alright? I’m tired”
“Yes, that sounds good.” Qifrey looked around, trying to figure out what to do. Olruggio laughed and brushed the side of his face with the hand not being held. “You're gonna have to let go of my hand at some point, y’know.”
“Oh! Right.” Qifrey felt his face grow hot as he dropped Olruggio’s hand and began collecting the dishes from their midnight snack. It really was best to wash them now so that the girls didn’t find their evidence in the morning.
They fell into a familiar routine, quickly washing and drying everything. As they were putting the dishes away, Qifrey remembered something he wanted to ask. “Earlier, when you mentioned us sharing a bed, is that something you want to do? Tonight?”
Olruggio avoided his gaze by inspecting a plate. “Well sure, why not? Of course, I understand if you need space, what with everything that’s happened and all.”
“Yes! I mean no,” Qifrey stumbled, “I do want to sleep together. I was just trying to figure out what you wanted.”
“You want to sleep together?” Olruggio asked. “I mean, sure, but I don’t know if I’m up for that tonight.”
Qifrey squeaked. “I meant platonically! In a bed. Asleep. Together. Maybe not platonically. Do you want to. Tonight?”
“You’re cute when you’re nervous, did you know that?”
Qifrey squeaked again. “If we’re going to, we should pick a bed, and I don’t want to assume, but I think we should use mine, because yours is suspended, and I know that it won’t break or anything, but all of your things stress me out a bit–not that it’s a mess! I mean, it is a little bit, but that’s not bad! It’s how you like it, so–”
“Qifrey.”
“What I mean to say is, whatever you like is fine with me.”
“Qifrey,” Olruggio said. “We can go to yours tonight. Like I said, we can figure this out as we go. It’s ok if we try something and it doesn’t work. Not all of your exotic ingredients turn out to be hits, do they?”
“Well, no,” Qifrey said, sheepish. “I suppose they don’t.”
“But you still always manage to turn them into something wonderful. It’s the two of us, so we’ll definitely make it work. You don’t hafta think so much about my feelings.”
“Alright, then,” Qifrey said. “Let’s go to bed. Hopefully we won’t need to explain anything to the girls in the morning.”
They did, in fact, need to explain why they slept in so late to the girls in the morning. It was good for them to get experience preparing their own breakfast, though.