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Being a teenager has always been a sort of strange liminal space between childhood and adulthood. Stuck in this world of wanting to grow up but not wanting to leave the carefree whimsy of childhood behind. It’s a balancing act that most teenagers rarely get right.
Seventeen in particular is an odd age to be. It’s the age where you feel like an adult, like you know everything there is to know about the universe, but every adult keeps telling you “you’re still a child,” and “hush you don’t know anything yet you’re still so young.”
Well Qifrey doesn’t feel young. He feels as though he has aged twice as fast as his peers around him. Qifrey has long since grown up and he’s not sure he was ever really a child. Not in the way most children got to be. And it certainly is frustrating watching the adults around him treat him as though he doesn’t know anything.
He’s pacing, angrily and anxiously around his room. It feels truly ridiculous to be put into this position, what was Beldaruit thinking? Why would he okay this? Does he not trust Qifrey?
He hears the door open slowly, footsteps treading carefully into his room. He doesn’t spare the noise a glance, instead he walks over towards his desk, sorting the items on it aimlessly, just to give his hands something to take their annoyance out on. The footsteps start closer to him, quiet but confident.
“He said it wouldn’t be smart to leave the Great Hall until after I pass the fifth test,” he says aloud, frustration seeping through his words. Finally, he turns around to place eyes on the only person it could’ve been, Olruggio. “I don’t understand!” he says, arms flying up in frustration. Olruggio doesn’t say anything but there's a tight frown tugging at his lips, his evident disappointment unable to be hidden.
Qifrey walks over to his bed, dramatically throwing himself down onto the mattress. He lets his stomach hit the soft bedding before dropping his face into the sheets, letting out a low groan. The bed dips beside him as he feels Olruggio sit down next to him.
“I just don’t understand why me studying for it out there would change my test results. It’s like he wants to keep me locked here forever.” He doesn’t lift his head, too busy sulking to be bothered to lift his head so his words aren’t muffled. Besides, he doesn’t need to put on a face around Olruggio and he’s got perfectly fine hearing.
Suddenly, he lifts his head, turning it sharply to look at Olruggio. “Are you still going to leave?” he asks quickly, eye wide. Could this day get any worse? He and Olruggio had it all planned out. And now, now Beldaruit has to show up and put his foot down? Tell him he’s too young to understand?
Olruggio’s eyes widen, then he shoots him a look of disbelief. “No? You go, I go, obviously.” Qifrey would be annoyed by Olruggio’s evidently insulted tone if he wasn’t so endeared hearing those words come out of his mouth. Slowly, he turns himself around, resting on his side, his elbow propped into the bed, hand supporting head.
“Oh, good.” Is all he can say, dumbly. Then, panic. “Don’t think you have to stay here just for me! I don’t want to keep you hostage here, it’s not fair! You should go live your life like we planned and I’ll just meet you in a couple years.” Olruggio snorts, humourless and amused.
“As if I care about doing any of that if you’re still stuck down here.”
There it is again. The pang of guilt. What has Qifrey ever offered Olruggio to warrant such dedication? He feels undeserving and yet, he selfishly accepts it every time. It’s a double-edged sword and a losing battle for himself. Qifrey takes and takes and takes, living to suffer in silence for abusing the love Olruggio so readily offers him, all while keeping his own affection locked behind a door.
It’s been steadily growing, his distaste for his life. He’ll look in the mirror in the morning and only see misery. He sees all the things he’s done to Olruggio hanging off of him like a soaking wet shirt, clinging to him, constantly reminding him of his failures.
Olruggio shifts his position, mirroring that of Qifrey’s, elbow propped into the mattress, resting on his hand.
“You know, I think Beldaruit just wants to make sure you don’t do anything reckless when you’re out there and who better to help you prepare for the test than him?” Olruggio levels. Always the voice of reason. Always correct. Always perfect. Qifrey is nothing but a stain on his life.
“It’s still stupid,” he grumbles. “Besides, we do reckless stuff all the time! The only difference is that he won’t be around to know when we do it.” Olruggio laughs lightly, shaking his head.
“You’ll get over it. Lighten up, that just means we have a few more years of all this,” he says, gesturing to the room and themselves. “And I have a lot of fun doing this with you.”
Qifrey wants to fight that, still clutching to his bitterness as a lifeline, but he can feel his grip loosening. His edges have long since been softened since meeting Olruggio. He lets out a resigned sigh, slumping onto his back, staring up at his ceiling.
“Alright, you win.”
Qifrey sits on his bed, anxiously fiddling with his fingers, pinching at the skin, rubbing his knuckles, cracking the joints. He hasn’t been able to shake this feeling for three days now. Since Olruggio agreed to stay down here with him. Guilt fills his head until it overflows, spilling into the rest of his body where it leaks out into his hands. Olruggio may have agreed to stay here with him, but is that truly what he wants? He can’t help but feel like he’s holding him back. The child prodigy of Ghodrey, hiding himself away in the Great Hall for his friend.
How is that fair? It doesn’t make any sense to him. That Olruggio will time and time again, sacrifice himself for Qifrey’s sake. This is just one more instance of this. He can’t take it anymore. He’d be stupid to turn a blind eye and pretend that he can’t see how Olruggio is hurting from it all. From everything that is Qifrey. He’d be better off on the surface far away from him. He’d be able to make contraptions for those in need, spreading his kindness to anyone who asks, living a full and honest life, but most importantly, he’d be free of Qifrey and his curse.
It’s been just over a year at this point since the last time Qifrey had to erase Olruggio’s memories. It had been by far one of the worst ones, the memories replaying in his mind constantly, torturing him. Whenever he closes his eye, all he can see against the darkness is Olruggio’s broken face, forgiving him, pushing his pain away for him, followed by a sick montage of every time his body collapses to the ground from the memory erasure runs on. It follows him every morning and into the night. The sheer guilt and anxiety, constantly waiting for the ball to drop. Despite all his worrying, he never seems to be prepared for the hurt.
There was a point in his life where he thought he’d get used to it at some point, that he would become numb to the feeling, to watching Olruggio slip into the slumber and awake dazed. But it only gets worse, just one more sin being added to the already overflowing pile.
He has terrible nightmares about it. Nearly every night. One way or another, no matter how the dream starts, no matter how pleasant and carefree it begins, it always ends with Olruggio sacrificing himself for Qifrey. And every time he wakes up with tears streaming down his face and an insurmountable level of guilt.
It’s hard to live with Olruggio, if Qifrey was being honest with himself. But in the way that living life with him is akin to eating food that is too hot but being too excited to wait for it to cool. His mouth burns with every bite but he can’t seem to stop.
He supposes it’s good, the way it has to be. He’s accepted that. He is meant to suffer, that is a statement as true as needing air to breathe. However, Olruggio was not meant to suffer, and he already has far too much for Qifrey’s liking. He was not meant to be collateral damage for the sad life Qifrey leads. How much longer will Olruggio have to suffer at his hands?
At some point someone needs to pull the trigger right?
Olruggio’s spare time has increasingly become more and more hard to come by. He’s always been sought after, being a prodigy and all, but it seems to have increased exponentially since he passed the fourth test. Qifrey tries not to mind, reminding himself that the distance is good, for him and Olruggio. Olruggio owes him no time. Still, jealousy seeps through the cracks and with his extended prison sentence here, it’s only intensified. They could’ve been designing an Atelier together. They could’ve been sharing a drink or two under the stars together. Instead, they’re stuck at the bottom of the ocean, worlds away from that life. And so, because Olruggio is the most kind and generous person he’s ever met, he’s off busy helping other people. And it really isn’t a problem, Qifrey likes to watch Olruggio succeed. It fills him with pride. The problem is seeing how much he loves to help others, and knowing how limited he is down here.
So lately, Qifrey is starting to think Beldaruits decision to keep him here was the right one. It’s highlighting all the ways he’s failed as a friend. A companion. He envisions this life where they exist peacefully together in some atelier, perhaps Qifrey would have an apprentice or two, and it all feels impossible. He can hardly let Olruggio close as is, and they spend increasingly little time together. He’s always right on Qifrey’s scent, closing in on his secret. He’s always one wrong step away from taking root. So he keeps his distance, he sometimes says cruel things to keep Olruggio from prying. How could he have ever dreamt the two of them could live together? That he could be happy like that. Childlike dreams that can never come to fruition.
It’s becoming increasingly more and more apparent that in order for Olruggio to truly live a life without hurt, Qifrey mustn't be a part of it. And all he wants is to alleviate Olruggio’s suffering.
He and Olruggio have real plans tonight. Planned in advance, somewhere under the stars together.
And he feels sick at the thought of it.
“Okay, check this out,” Olruggio says as they head towards the windowway. “Alaira is gonna get us some of that real nice, properly aged, Silvernectar wine. None of that half-assed stuff you can only find down here.”
“That sounds nice,” he says, but his mind isn’t there. Dread looming heavy over his head, a dark cloud follows him as he follows Olruggio.
“We can pick it up from her tomorrow maybe, if you’d like. The three of us can head outside and get drunk together, as a little celebration.”
“We don’t have anything to celebrate, Olly,” he says mindlessly, his muscle memory taking over the conversation for him.
“Alright,” he says, throwing his hands up with a smile. “You caught me, I just want an excuse to drink it. We can say we’re celebrating getting a really nice bottle of wine!” Qifrey offers him a weak smile, nodding, trying to participate in the conversation so as not to upset him.
Funny, considering what he’s about to do.
The outside air always feels good on his skin. He stretches his arms out, moving from side to side letting his body take in the atmosphere. His body seems to let out a deep sigh the moment it’s away from the ocean.
They have plans to sit around a campfire under the stars until the chilly night air brings them back down. Olruggio can always outlast Qifrey in that regard, his skin was born in snow.
With a satisfied sigh, Olruggio settles into the grass, watching the fire he built flicker and burn in the shape of a dragon - that part was Qifrey’s touch.
These are his favourite nights, the ones where it’s just him and Olruggio sitting under the stars. Sometimes they talk for hours, finding anything and everything to talk about, and other times they say nothing, comfortable in the shared presence of one another. He likes that they can do both.
“Hey, Qifrey,” Olruggio says after about a clock marks silence, eyes staring straight at the fire.
“Yes?” he says, turning his head. The flames dance delicately on Olruggio’s face, decorating him in a soft orange hue.
“Y’think we’ll miss this? Like the Great Hall, once we’re out?” He turns to Qifrey, waiting for an answer. Qifrey thinks for a moment, tilting his head back to look up at the sky. There’s little to miss regarding the Great Hall, the people are far too catty for his liking, the water leaves little to be desired, and the lack of stars is suffocating. But then his gaze settles on Olruggio, the flicker of the fire dancing across his face, and Qifrey finds himself looking at the only star to ever be found inside the Great Hall. And his heart cracks.
You’re the only thing I’ll miss.
“There isn’t much to miss,” he says instead, casting his gaze downward to where his feet kick at the grass.
“Well you aren’t very sentimental.”
He’s going to miss him very much. But it’s better this way. It;s easier to stomach life knowing Olruggio won’t be burdened by him for the rest of his.
“Olly,” he starts, voice already weak.
“Yeah?”
“I need you to leave the Great Hall.” There isn’t a way for him to sugarcoat it, no sense. The quicker this is done and over with the better.
“What?” He says, looking affronted.
“Without me.”
“Huh?” His voice comes out confused and suspicious. “What are you on about, Qifrey?”
“You don’t deserve to be stuck down there with me. I’m telling you to leave.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” His eyes narrow. “What’s brought this on?”
“I just think we’d be better off apart.” He can’t meet his eyes, he knows what he’ll see if he does.
“What?!” He says, voice rising. Olruggio gets up to his feet, moving quickly to stand in front of Qifrey, arms crossed. Qifrey keeps his eyes cast aside. “Look at me, Qifrey,” he demands. He bites his lips stubbornly, giving his head a small shake in refusal. “Look at me." His voice stern, coming out harder this time. Reluctantly, he turns his head, eyes glancing upward to find Olruggio who is staring down at him with intensity. “I’m not leavin’ you.”
“I want you to.”
“What gives!” Olruggio says, throwing his hands in the air. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? We have a plan! I’m fine waiting for you.”
“That’s not fair!” Qifrey retorts, voice finally cracking, heat slipping through. “You shouldn’t have to wait for me. You should go and live the full life you’ve wanted.” Something in Olruggio’s face softens, the abrasion wearing off fast.
“It’s like an extra two years, Qifrey. I’m not leavin’ you. We got our whole lives to live the life we’ve talked about. I really don’t mind.” Qifrey tries to ignore the way his voice went sweet and reassuring.
“You need to!” He yells, dropping his eyes downward. “I mind. I want you gone.” Tears prick his eyes. He can’t help them. They well up and his vision goes blurry, the orange hue from the fire flickers in a blurred motion.
“You’re being mean, Qifrey.” It comes out a little pained, the hurt evident in the way he enunciates his name.
“I know,” he says, wiping his tears quickly with his sleeve so Olruggio won’t see them fall.
He sees anyways. “Hey, Qifrey, what’s wrong?” His tone shifts, taking back on the gentle tone he usually carries around Qifrey. Out of the corner of his eye he can see him crouch to get on eye level with Qifrey. Fighting every muscle in his body, Qifrey’s eyes stay glued to the grass beneath his feet. “Qifrey?” He shakes his head, frantically. Don’t look at me. Don’t be nice to me. Don’t forgive me. He wants to scream, he wants to yell terrible things at him, anything to drive him away.
Olruggio’s hands find Qifrey’s shoulders, he tenses at the contact. “Don’t touch me,” he bites out, but it’s paired with a choked noise, and Olruggio doesn’t let go.
“You can talk to me, y’know.” Stop. Please, stop. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“Something always happens! You don’t- you don’t understand.” He takes in a shaky breath. “You’re not safe with me.”
“I don’t know what you’re on about but, Qifrey, you don’t get to decide what’s good for me or not. I’m sticking by your side whether you like it or not.” Olruggio’s hands move from his shoulders up to his face, gently cupping, forcing his gaze upward. “What’s wrong?”
Tears flow freely down his face, Olruggio is looking deeply into his eye, with both concern and kindness. It’s not fair. His soft hands bring him the utmost comfort. He can feel the tears slow down, his mind quiets just a little. He sniffles, taking in a breath slowly, letting Olruggio’s hold calm him.
He feels it, then. The rapid creak inside him. Urgently, he shoves Olruggio away as he jerks backward. No, no, no, no, please, no. Olruggio stumbles onto his butt, confusion etched across his face.
“Stay away from me,” he chokes, voice laced with pain.
“No, you know what, Qifrey? I’ve been watchin’ you recently. You’re hiding something from me. It’s time you tell me.”
“No.” His voice is firm with practiced discipline.
“Fine,” he says bitterly. He stands, dusting himself off. “Let me talk aloud then. Some days I come to meet you and I overhear you and Bel whispering about something and you two always shut up right when I walk in. You go through these bouts of isolating yourself from me. You’ll be your usual kind and open self one tick and then shoving me away the very next one. It doesn’t make sense. There’s something up with you and I want you to tell me.”
“I won’t.”
“You can trust me!” He retorts. “I’m your best friend, Qifrey. I want you to be able to confide in me.”
“I do trust you.”
“Then tell me.”
I can’t keep doing this. There has to be an end somewhere.
He lets out a sigh of defeat.
“You just never stop,” he whispers out bitterly. Looking back up at Olruggio, he smiles sadly. “This is why I wanted you gone. Alright, I’ll tell you. But you gotta promise one thing.”
“What?”
“Not to save me this time.”
Shaking his head immediately, he says, “I don’t understand. I’m not promising that.”
“I won’t tell you otherwise.”
“Fine. Sure. Tell me.” It doesn’t take much to know he’s lying.
“No,” Olruggio says, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re lying to me.”
“I’m not. Please, just go now. I’m tired.” He can feel the silverwood stirring, the sickly twisting and turning inside him, waiting for the final shoe to drop. It’s pushing against his skin, desperate and eager. It knows this cycle well. It can feel Qifrey’s body loosening, letting up. The fear and anxiety dissipating. It’s inevitable. A thin piece of string holding the door shut is bound to give in.
Olruggio steps towards him, reaching for Qifrey’s frame that has curled in on itself, arms wrapped around his legs.
“Don’t come closer, please,” he whispers.
It’s no use though, the damage is done because Olruggio is already there holding Qifrey tightly. The embrace is both his salvation and damnation. The nail in the coffin.
The tree rips through him with anticipated force, shoving Olruggio a few feet back, his body hits the grass with a soft thud. Qifrey is yanked upward, suspended into the tree, his limbs sprouting branches that twist and tangle, sinking deep into the trunk of the tree. He can see out of the corner of his eye the small leaves poking out from his other eye and how it shifts in the gentle evening breeze.
Frantically, he searches for Olruggio, to assess his damage. He’s laying on his side, slowly getting up with a low groan. Once he’s to his feet, his head turns, searching for Qifrey, only to land eyes on the tree. With eyes widening in horror he stumbles forward, rushing to him.
“Qifrey!” His hands grab frantically at the branches, feebly tugging at them, desperate to free him. The branches stay firm in their place, unrelenting.
“Stop.”
“Wait let me just help you, I can-”
“Olly.”
“I could cut the tree away- or does that hurt you- damn Qifrey - let me just-”
“Olruggio.” His voice cuts through his frantic scrambling. He feels his hands still on the branches. Slowly, he looks to meet Qifrey’s eye, head moving before his eyes do, unable to face the reality of Qifrey’s state. His pupils are blown from panic when they finally settle on Qifrey. “You promised to leave me.” If somehow Olruggio’s eyes could get more desperate and blown wide open, they do. Terror flashes across his face. He reaches up, grasping Qifrey’s face on both sides, holding him with dispondence.
“I was lying, Qifrey! C’mon you should’ve known that. Let me help you, okay? How do I fix this?” His eyes scan his face with panicked movements.
He hadn’t expected himself to feel so resigned. The tears have dried up, leaving a sore, stinging eye. His bones feel weightless. The only despair he can feel in his body is from the sight of Olruggio falling apart in front of him, but even that is dulled knowing that after this he can move on from him.
“I don’t want you to. Please, I’m so tired.” His voice is small but firm. “Olly, I can’t keep doing this.”
“What? No, no, no, no. Yes you can. Please, I can’t lose you.”
“Olly,” he says sadly. “This isn’t the first time we’ve done this, and if it continues, it won’t be the last. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve only ever wanted to keep you out of harm's way, and look at us now.”
He can feel Olruggio’s hands shaking on his cheeks. The pressure he’s applied to his face holds them steady but he can still feel the way they tremour, stubbornly showcasing Olruggio’s dread and fear. He wants to reach out and hold him, too. Cradle his face, kiss it softly, tell him it’ll all be okay but his hands are stuck, tethered to the ground. He’s always been claustrophobic, but nothing compares to the feeling of being quite literally rooted into the ground. He can feel his limbs, his fingers and how they’ve gained extra length, stretching downward, but they will not move. Frozen in place to watch helplessly as Olruggio crumbles in front of him. He just wants this to all be over.
“It’s okay,” he offers gently. “It’s alright, look I’m okay like this.” The lie slips through his mouth with ease. Really, all he ever wanted was to spend the rest of his life by Olruggio’s side. Sharing a blanket by a fire, hands tentatively touching, shy. He never even got to know what it’s like to touch Olruggio unguarded, to experience the nervous butterflies that would get as they navigate their relationship. When he sleeps, his dreams always start with the two of them, happy, relaxed in the presence of each other's company, and it always ends with him ripping it from their hands painfully.
If his love for Olruggio was conceptualized into a tangible thing, it’d be ridden with claw marks. Torn up so much that there is hardly any semblance of the original thing. He tarnishes everything he touches. Desperate to cling to it, he tears it away, bit by bit. That’s why he’s letting go. That’s why it has to end here. He wants to simply hold the remaining bits of their love with gentle hands. He wants to see it still intact, whatever still remains of it.
“I won’t accept it, Qifrey,” he says, pulling Qifrey out of his daze. “Qifrey, I love you. I’m not just letting you die, are you insane?” The confession lands somehow both softly and with far too much force. His voice, just above a whisper as he forces it out, full of pain but all Qifrey can focus on is the conviction in his voice. How strongly the word love spills out of his mouth.
Oh to be seventeen and hear this in any other context. Wouldn’t that have been nice?
If Olruggio held their love in his hands, would he see something different? Would the scratches Qifrey left be healed over, building something stronger instead? Are there claw marks from Olruggio? Of course there would be. It’s just a terrible mix of them both desperately fighting for something that was never designed to survive.
“Let me do something, please. You said we’ve done this before. How? Tell me. I can’t- I can’t lose you. Let me be selfish for once, please, I love you, let me be selfish.” His sentences ramble on, pleading.
“I’ve erased your memories, Olly. I can’t do it again. Because I love you, and I can’t handle hurting you any more.
“It’s okay, I forgive you. Do you think this won't hurt me more? Living without you knowing you’re here, dead? If you want me to be happy, it’s only when I’m by your side.” Qifrey closes his eye, breathing in through his nose, trying to still his mind. His resolve has always been weak around Olruggio. Funny how he can take all of the guards he’s carefully put up and dismantle them with ease.
“This is just going to happen again,” he whispers weakly.
“I know. I’m sorry you have to exist like this. Just think, this’ll keep that tree off your back for a long time now,” he says with a humourless laugh. Qifrey nods, defeated. Then with his head, he jerks his chin in the direction of his hat.
“The spell is there-” he sighs, “under the flap.” Olruggio turns to rest his gaze on his cap before pulling his hands off of Qifrey’s face as he turns to grab it. The absence is immediately felt, all he wants is to call for him to come back and hold him and never let go.
Instead, he watches him bend down to pick up the hat, dusting it off with care before unbuttoning the fabric, pulling it down to reveal the vile black spell. Olruggio lets out an exhale, staring down at the spell.
“How many times have you done this before?”
“Seven.” Olruggio lets out a dry laugh, it shakes a bit. Then he turns, looking up at Qifrey suspended in the tree, devastation and something impulsive flashes across his face.
Before he can realize what’s happening, Olruggio’s moves with speed back towards him and his lips are pressed against his. His eye flies open wide, surprised. It doesn’t last more than a mere moment before Olruggio is pulling back. “I just had to,” he says sadly. “Sorry I won’t remember it,” he adds with a pained smile. Qifrey’s heart shatters, tears that he thought were gone spring back with force. They spill hot and fast down his fast. Olruggio, wiping at them gently with his thumb, places a soft kiss to his cheek, holding it there for a moment.
Stepping back, he holds the spell up to his forehead.
“Go easy on me, alright?” He feels like throwing up.
It happens in a flash, like every other time. Olruggio’s body slumps to the ground, and Qifrey’s drops with little grace. He scrambles desperately over to Olruggio, cradling his sleeping body into his lap, petting his hair softly, keeping it out of his eyes. He kisses his forehead, watching his tears stream down, landing softly into his hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into his hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you.”
Slowly, with much restraint, he carries Olruggio’s body back towards the fire, laying him gently where he was sitting just before, and waits for him to wake up. Breathing in through his nose and out his mouth, he grounds himself. Eyes glued forward, forcibly not looking to where Olruggio lays.
How many more times will he have to do this? Is this what the rest of his life will look like? He and Olruggio will leave the Great Hall together, walking the fine line between the life they imagined and Qifrey’s suffering. He pulls his knees in, hugging himself close.
He’s just a kid. He shouldn’t have to do all this. He should be staving off butterflies in his stomach, blushing at Olruggio’s careless flirtations. Instead he fights his own demise, seeking out anxiety and punishment. He’s just a kid. How could he ever think he’s grown?
The flames dance, undisturbed by Qifrey’s suffering, putting on a delicate dance just for him. The dragon spell long since wore off, the only traces left of life in it are that of Olruggio’s magic. He rips his gaze away, glancing upward to the stars. He’s in those too. Squeezing his eye shut, he pretends he can’t see him in his mind too.
Olruggio wakes a few clock ticks later, confused and a bit dazed. The fire is still burning gently, and Qifrey sits there, eyes glued back to the flicker of the flame, unwavering even as Olruggio sits himself up.
“Huh? When did I fall asleep?” He asks, rubbing his neck.
“Not that long ago, I didn't realize you were so tired. We can go back now, if you want.”
“Oh, okay. I guess the day caught up to me quicker than I expected,” He says with a chuckle. Qifrey offers him a small smile, it’s weak and not very convincing, not able to mask it entirely. “What’s with the glum face? Grouchy I fell asleep? You can be so dramatic sometimes.” He shoves Qifrey’s shoulder teasingly. Qifrey does his best to force a better smile and roll his eyes.
“Yeah, that’s it. Your lack of sleep is going to be the death of you, you know?” Olruggio grins, unsuspecting and guides him back to the windowway.
“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow with that wine!” He says cheerfully. Qifrey watches from behind, the shape of the man who time and time again sacrifices himself for him. He looks at his hands hanging casually at his sides, remembering the way they felt on his face, how they held him so delicately. He tries not to think about how his lips felt. Their first kiss and only one of them gets to remember it.
Another sin added to the never ending pile.
It took Qifrey a while to come to terms with his existence. Especially after that night, and there are days where it all feels unbearable, stuck in a perpetual purgatory, but sometimes, on the good days, when he catches sight of Olruggio laughing, he can find it in him to stomach it another day. If not for himself, then for Olruggio. And one even better days, he finds himself to start to imagine his life in their little atelier, far removed from the world, together, and he feels a tiny bit hopeful.