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The first time you met Olruggio, he corrected your grip on a pen without saying a word.
You had been trying to draw a stable pyro-ball sigil for nearly an hour, hunched over the work desk while your mentor (Beldaruit) lectured Qifrey about controlled water balls. Your wrist cramped. Ink stained your finger tips black.
Then a hand reached over yours. "Too stiff," he murmured.
You looked up. A boy around your age stood beside you, dark hair tousled, expression carefully neutral despite the faint soot smudged across his cheek. He pointed to the curve of your line.
"The circle's frightened of you and you didn't close the ring."
"What?"
"The spell." His shoulders lifted slightly. "You're drawing like you expect it to explode."
"That's because it did explode previously." You stared at him.
Then, very quietly, he added, "Maybe a few times."
You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head as his friend, Qifrey, called him over.
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Your mentor oversaw two Watchful Eye apprentices in total. You and Olruggio. And one witch, Qifrey. You were always too cautious. Olruggio was too sharp for his own good. And Qifrey whom you never spoke to. You would observe him, but you weren't as fond of him as Olruggio was.
So for a long time, it was mostly just you and him. Qifrey was always called to be around Beldaruit. You and Olruggio were just two children learning how to observe the world without interfering in it.
You copied reports side-by-side at midnight while candles burned low. You learned to decipher hidden inks together. You practiced memory exercises until you could reconstruct entire rooms from a glance.
Sometimes Beldaruit would test you unexpectedly. When Qifrey had gone off, claiming he was only trying to get fresh air. "How many people went into the window way into the great hall today?"
"Seventeen," Olruggio answered immediately.
"Sixteen," you corrected.
Olruggio would frown.
"There was a child that wandered in here by accident. The knight's moralis took care of them," you said.
Beldaruit hummed approvingly while Olruggio stared at you with narrowed eyes.
Afterward he muttered, "I hate when you're right."
"You hate when I'm right specifically?"
"Yes." But he walked beside you all the same.
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Watchful Eyes were not trained for comfort.
You learned how to disappear in crowded streets. How to gather information without attachment. How to leave quietly when your assignment ended.
"Connections cloud judgment," Beldaruit often said.
You hated that lesson most.
Despite everything, despite the rules and distance and discipline, you and Olruggio became inseparable in all the tiny ways that mattered. He left half-finished tea beside your notes when you worked too long.
You fixed the tears in his cloak because he never noticed them before, things that would happen while him and Qifrey played. He'd sit near you during long horse rides between towns when you'd finally be able to leave the great hall, shoulder barely brushing yours, both of you pretending not to notice.
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The year you graduated, it rained for three straight days.
Beldaruit handed each of you separate assignments with the same detached calm he used for everything else. The only time he wasn't calm was for Qifrey. Olruggio would become a Watchful Eye under Qifrey, who went on to take in students.
You were assigned farther north. Farther away from Olruggio. Father away from those you'd grown close to.
Different ateliers. Different lives.
You remember standing right outside the window way. The crisp breeze in Kahln seemed to be where you were parting. It's almost as if the wind knew.
And unfortunately, neither of you knew how to say goodbye. You've never had to say "bye", it was always "until next time".
"So," you said finally.
"So," he echoed.
You wanted to ask him not to go, or to ask him to take you with him. The thought died inside just a small bit. You couldn't do that to him, or yourself.
Instead you asked, "Do you still think my circles are scared of me?"
A tiny smile appeared. "No," he said. "Only because... you stopped being afraid of them."
The carriage arrived too quickly after that.
You helped him load his things. One bag. That was it. One large bag that he claimed could carry the entire world.
When he climbed aboard, he looked like he wanted to say something too. But instead of saying something he wanted to say, he swallowed it whole and instead said, "Don't get yourself killed."
You snorted softly. "You first."
Then he was gone.
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Years passed strangely after that. You ended up leaving your atelier to go to a different one, you left a lot on business, reported on the ateliers that were terrible.
Sometimes months passed without hearing his name. Some journeys you caught traces of him accidentally. He would pop up drinking at bars and parties with his clients.
Whenever you saw him, something warm and painful bloomed in your chest. You wondered if he still drank tea too hot. You wondered if he still forgot to weargloves every winter.
You wondered if he ever thought about you at all.
Probably not.
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The next time you saw him in person was during the second examination near the caves.
The gathering of young witches and apprentices crowded the area with noise and lanternlight. Mentors spoke in clusters while students prepared nervously for the trial ahead. It was Qifrey and Olruggio, with all 4 students of their's.
You turned around from talking with your witch, making sure the children that were testing were properly set up. There he was.
Older and taller. And... he had a scruffy beard now?
His features are sharper now, dark cloak hanging neatly from his shoulders. He looked more composed than the boy you remembered. He looked... good. Your face flushed pink, just slightly.
All that composure cracked for half a second when he almost ran into you.
"...Oh," Olruggio said softly.
You forgot every prepared thing you might've said over the years.
"You cut your hair," was what came out instead.
His hand rose instinctively to the back of his neck. "You noticed that first?"
"It's shorter."
"That's usually how haircuts work."
You laughed before you could stop yourself. It felt horribly, painfully familiar. No time had passed at all.
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Moonlight silvered the edges of his cloak as the two of you waited at the end for the apprentices.
"You disappeared," he said without turning around.
You leaned beside him. "You did too, I couldn't find you."
"Hm. You were looking for me?" Wind moved gently through the trees below. Then, quieter, he admitted, "I used to look for you."
Your breath caught. He still wasn't looking at you.
He clarified quickly, feeling ashamed for admitting something so honest. "I mean.. hearing for your name from other witches or around The Great Hall."
"Oh."
"I heard you became very good."
You tried smiling. "You sound disappointed."
"I am." Finally, he glanced sideways at you. "Now I can't win arguments against you anymore."
The laugh that escaped you felt fragile. The distance between your shoulders seemed unbearably small.
And yet impossible to cross. You belonged to different paths now. Maybe that was simply how Watchful Eyes lived: always observing, rarely reaching.
Still, when you looked at him beneath the moonlight, you thought very strongly about it.
If there had been another life for the two of you, maybe it would have been a quieter one. Where neither of you had learned how to leave so well.