Archive of Our Own

Olruggio was just supposed to get that damn brushbuddy of Coco's from Qifrey’s room.

Downstairs, Qifrey was busy preparing the ingredients for tonight’s dinner, leaving Olruggio with brushbuddy duty. The girls were off visiting Lord Beldaruit—a monthly arrangement born from the old man's insistence for his grand-apprentices to visit him, since his own apprentice (Qifrey) won’t.

The fluffy creature, currently being chased by another brushbuddy the same color as Olruggio's hair, had apparently decided that the safest place to hide was the Master of the Atelier's room.

Olruggio sighed.

He ought to create some sort of contraption to avoid this again.

Last time it happened, it was in the baths where he had to wrangle the two little menaces out after they nearly wrecked everything chasing each other between shelves and soap bottles. Tetiah would have his head if her new pink bottle of shampoo Qifrey got her broke before she could even use it.

But that was weeks ago. Now, he had a different problem.

You see, Qifrey was meticulous about everything he did, or atleast did his best to be. So it was quite strange and almost concerning to find his door left open just enough for two brushbuddies to slip inside.

Olruggio had only entered Qifrey's room twice before, and both times Qifrey had been there.

Now, standing before the open door, he felt absurdly similar to his fifteen-year-old self sneaking out after curfew, half-convinced Beldaruit or his master would appear out of nowhere to catch him, or more often that not, them.

He should call for Qifrey. Should shout, Oi, your door's open! Or something.

A loud clatter rang out from somewhere inside.

—Or not.

“Well,” he muttered under his breath, “it’s not like I have a choice now, do I?”

Gathering what little courage he had left, he finally stepped in.

⟡

Qifrey’s room had always felt a little colder than any room in the atelier. It reminded him a bit of Ghodrey. Of snow and still water left undisturbed.

Fitting, really.

Qifrey had always carried that same sort of quiet coolness about him. Olruggio still remembered mistaking him for a drift of snow in the great hall once, years ago.

Which made the brushbuddy’s choice of hiding place all the stranger. The little nuisance usually preferred the warmth of his quarters.

Olruggio scratched his beard. Well, it wasn’t like he’ll get any answer standing around now, would he?

“Aye, where are you lots?” He glanced around the room. And a familiar chirping answered him.

Olruggio followed it, only to snag his foot on a pen carelessly abandoned on the floor.

He stumbled. For a heartbeat the room tilted, one hand slammed against the tiles before his face could follow. Then, something shifted beneath his palm with a soft scrape.

Olruggio stopped. The tile moved?

Looking down, the once unblemished floor revealed a casting spell split in half. Similar mechanism to the ones seen in his own sylph shoes.

A Seal? His eyebrows furrowed.

Why would Qifrey need a hidden seal beneath his floor? He crouched lower and carefully pushed the tile further to see what was underneath it.

Beneath the tile was a hidden compartment containing a wooden box hastily shoved inside, its lid slightly ajar from the force, enough for several letters to spill part way out.

He slid the tile back in its place quickly. The moment it settled, the spell activated once more and the casting seal vanished without a trace.

Olruggio blinked.

Only then did he realize that the seal can only be exposed by moving the correct tile.

Clever. He thought.

The conjuring ink itself seemed to have been mixed with something that turned it invisible when active.

Blushing Bride butterfly scales perhaps.

It was undeniably Qifrey’s work. Which meant that whatever laid beneath had been intentionally hidden.

He stared at the tile for a minute before exhaling quietly.

“No,” he muttered to himself and stood up. “Whatever is in there is none of my business.”

The universe, however, was against him. As soon as he said that, the brushbuddy he was trying to catch jumped on his face and the other one slammed on top of his head, causing him to once again—lose his balance.

The tile he had just slid back into place had been nudged away once more, the box inside lurching forward from the impact.

“Oh, for the love of—!”

Olruggio caught the edge of the bed before he could fully topple over, but the same could not be said for the wooden box now tipping helplessly out of the compartment.

All he can do is stare helplessly as letters scattered across the floorboards.

“Aye!” He hissed under his breath as he watched the two brushbuddy dart off again beneath Qifrey’s desk.

Yep, the universe is definitely against him in these trying times. Olruggio sighed for the nth time that day. He hopes Qifrey still has some tranquilleaf picked because he feels a headache coming.

Looking down at the mess he made, Olruggio crouched down and tried to bundle them up together when something caught his eye.

His own name staring back at him.

Olruggio.

It was written in a familiar scribble from when they were children.

His eyebrows furrowed. It was addressed to him, so surely he should’ve received it? But Olruggio didn’t remember receiving any letter from Qifrey. Then again, they had rarely needed to write to one another. As children, they had been practically joined at the hip.

Except for—Right.

His hand stilled around the paper.

Olruggio remembered that year all too well. The unanswered questions. The deadends. The desperate searching, wondering if he was still alive. The towns he visited, the people he stopped to ask if they’d seen a silver-haired boy with a blue eye. Waiting each night hoping and convincing himself that tomorrow, Qifrey would finally come home to him.

Instead, Qifrey had simply returned one day.

No explanation. As though he hadn't vanished for an entire year.

As if Olruggio hadn't chased every lead, asked every question, and worn himself ragged looking for him.

Olruggio exhaled sharply and shook his head. "Enough of that now,” he muttered.

He should put it back.

He knew he should.

But the sight of his own name reopened questions he'd spent years trying to bury.

Questions Qifrey had never answered. Questions Olruggio had eventually stopped asking.

So letting out a shaky exhale, he offered Qifrey a silent apology, and finally—finally—opened the letter.

⟡

Olruggio,

You annoying irritating buffoon!–

Olruggio paused. “Well that’s summat.”

The gears on his brain turned, trying to remember what had happened that led to little Qifrey angrily scribbling away on this paper.

—I saw you took my pouch when you thought I wasn’t looking! Then you had the gall to lie to me and fly off on your own. You have been avoiding me since this morning and now you won’t even look at me properly! I tried giving you some of the pointed cap pastries you love so much but then you ran off again the moment you saw me.

Did I do something wrong? I thought about it constantly but I still do not know.

Was it because I corrected your mistake in a spell you hastily drew? No, because you argued with me for one clock mark afterwards.

It is because I beat you in ‘who can eat the most veggies in one sitting’? You said I was just lucky since there was a lot of seaweed, and you’re not used to it yet!

I do not understand. If you’re angry, then say it to me properly like you used to. You always tell me right away when something irks you, so why the sudden change?

I do not like it. I’m used to you being here with me. Everything feels wrong when you are not.

Olruggio raised an eyebrow, eyes lingering on a section near the bottom that had been crossed out all over, that the paper had begun to thin, as though Qifrey had been determined to erase the words entirely. He tilted the letter toward the light, but the words beneath the frantic scribbles remained stubbornly hidden.

That sounded strange, forget I wrote that.

“Said what?” Olruggio frowned, he’s curious now.

The point is that you are being annoying. Tomorrow, I am taking my pouch back and I’m snitching you out to your master about what happened to his vase.

This is a threat.

Qifrey

“Hah!” Olruggio barked out a laugh. Now, he remembered it.

⟡

He was looking for Qifrey in the Great Hall back then as always, when he saw his friend’s belongings at a table surrounded by girls who were red in the face, giggling. As a child, he didn’t have a clue on what the girls were planning. And little Olruggio was just worried they were doing something to bully Qifrey.

One girl shoved another forward. The girl then hurriedly slipped an envelope into the back pocket of Qifrey's pouch before darting away again amid a chorus of giggles. He was about to check it out when Olruggio caught sight of a familiar blob of white hair and panicked. Failing to grab the pouch in his haste.

He ran to Alaira and immediately filled her in on what happened. Now they were both accomplices and had planned how to secretly take Qifrey’s pouch for a bit.

Of course, since the universe apparently disliked him even then, Qifrey clocked their asses quickly so he had no choice but to grab it while Alaira tried to distract him.

After rounding the corner and catching his breath, he took out the piece of paper envelope and carelessly ripped it open.

“Eh?” Was all he managed as glitter exploded into his face.

Olruggio blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Slowly, he lowered his gaze to the letter in his hands. He skimmed over the first line. Then the second, then the third.

Then his face went scarlet.

“Oh,” he says.

“Oh.” He’s screwed.

The handwriting curled around phrases like admire you and always wanted to tell you and Olruggio wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

The girl had given Qifrey a love letter!—and Olruggio ruined it.

“Olruggio!” Alaira appeared around the corner. “I managed to lose him for a bit. So, how is it?”

Olruggio didn’t answer.

Instead, he slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, and held out the glitter-covered letter to her like a man presenting his evidence for his own trial.

Alaira took the letter, read it, and looked at him.

“You–” She wheezed. "It was a love letter and you just ripped it open?" Then burst out laughing at him.

Olruggio groaned into his hands. He literally just destroyed a poor girl’s confession.

Alaira snorted as if hearing his thoughts. “Congratulations. You ruined her chances with your best friend."

He should have felt worse about it.

Instead, a small, shameful part of him felt strangely relieved.

⟡

Looking back, he really was a stupid kid. He can’t believe he was happy that he ruined a girl’s love letter. Now, he also found out that he unknowingly hurt his best friend in the process as well.

Dear Olruggio,

Master Beldaruit told me that writing can help me understand and articulate my thoughts better.

“So it was that old man’s idea?” He let out an exasperated sigh.

I fail to see how putting them onto paper changes anything especially when these letters will never reach you. Still, I find myself writing your name regardless.

Yesterday, while Master Vinanna scolded us for sneaking out of the hall again, you looked at me across the room with that terrible expression you always wear before doing something reckless. Did you know your eyes glint every time you think of something mischievous? I knew immediately what you had planned.

We sprinted and flew away so fast that we nearly crashed into the windowway trying to escape. Even now, I can still feel the cold air on my face and the weight of you against me after you tackled me to the ground.

You laughed so hard you could barely breathe.

Meanwhile, I had completely forgotten how to.

I think that was the moment I understood what the characters in books meant when they wrote how a single smile could leave someone breathless.

I wish I could make you laugh like that everyday. I think I would gladly be the butt of every joke if it meant I could spend the rest of my life listening to that sound.

But I can’t.

Because the moment that thought left me I felt the branches grow so quickly I had to push you away. You looked so startled that I nearly apologized then and there. Instead, I lied and told you I was tired. I flew off before you could notice my trembling, before I lost all sense and pulled you back into my arms again.

I’m so scared Olly. I’m so afraid that once I indulge myself in your warmth I would be gone the next.

I’m so sorry.

Sincerely,

Qifrey

Olruggio thinks he’s the one breathless now.

I wish I could make you laugh like that everyday.

He read the line again, and again to check if he was mistaken. As though the words might somehow rearrange themselves into something easier to understand. His heart was hammering against his ribs, increasing in intensity the more he read the letter in his hands.

I think I would gladly be the butt of every joke if it meant I could spend the rest of my life listening to that sound. His fingers tightened around the letter.

Qifrey had written that.

Qifrey had thought of him like that.

A selfish and sickening part of him allowed a seed of hope in his heart to take root. Surely he had misunderstood. Surely there was some other explanation.

Then his eyes caught on the next paragraph.

The branches. The warmth vanished from his face immediately.

"Branches?" He paused and looked up.

The brushbuddies was now on top of Qifrey’s desk. They chirp back at him.

What did he mean by branches? Olruggio frowned at the page. Was the parasite he mentioned before be quite literal after all? Was this the reason Qifrey kept his distance with him?

A knot formed in Olruggio's stomach.

Questions crowded his mind faster than he could sort them. There was only one way to find answers.

So he reached for the next letter.

Dear Olruggio,

I wonder if you know just how beautiful you are, my love.

His jaw dropped. I’m sorry, the what now…?

—The way you carry yourself with such kindness, blessing everyone and everything around you with just your presence alone. Just the sight of you is enough to undo me Olly, easily bringing me to my knees.

If only this parasite in me would allow it. I would do so with no hesitation.

Instead, I’m left to ponder the what ifs.

What if I were a normal boy? Would I be allowed to stand by your side then?

What if I had been brave enough to tell you?

What if, by some miracle, you felt the same?

I find myself entertaining such thoughts more often these days, and I despise it. Hope is a dangerous thing. The more I want, the more the branches grow. So I tell myself the same thing over and over again.

This is enough.

It has to be enough.

But my dear Olly, I am but a sinner.

I am not as kind nor as honest as you are, my star. I am insatiable, deceitful, and a coward. I am depraved, Olly. If you knew the depth of my desire—I’m afraid you would drown in it.

So I’ll keep this to myself, in these letters I kept like a fool for years. For I can never bring myself to place the weight of these selfish feelings of mine upon your shoulders when I know you don’t feel the same.

Despite this—I am yours.

Always,

Qifrey

Olruggio stared at the valediction.

Then his gaze went back to the last line of the letter.

‘For I can never bring myself to place the weight of these selfish feelings of mine upon your shoulders when I know you don’t feel the same.’

A strained laugh left him.

“You daft idiot.” They both were.

Selfish? As though Olruggio wouldn’t drop everything and anything if Qifrey asked. As though he hasn't spent years doing exactly that.

It was the very reason why he never saw himself fit to be a Master.

For being a Master means putting your students first. And Olruggio is not confident he’d choose anything second to Qifrey.

How pathetic I am, Olly.

I can’t even bring myself to speak with you tonight.

You looked very dashing in that new cape of yours. No wonder everyone keeps finding excuses to talk to you.

Everytime I finally gather enough courage, someone else steals your attention first. It frustrated me to no end that I had to excuse myself out of the ballroom.

You asked me yesterday whether your slicked-back hair looked better than your usual hairstyle and I lied that it looked the same.

The truth is—I panicked okay.

With your hair out of the way, I could actually see your face properly.

Your big blue eyes especially.

There, I've admitted it. Happy?

So here I am, moping like a fool. Talking to an imaginary you in this letter because I’m not brave enough to do so in person.

I can’t believe I didn’t even get to dance with you! I didn’t even get a chance to give you the gift I prepared! None of the things I planned to do with you tonight happened at all!

I was hoping to waltz with you at least once in the ballroom. I even asked Master Beldaruit to make a cloud version of yourself for me to practice the dance with! ARGHHHH–

The next few lines had been scratched out so aggressively that the paper had nearly torn.

Olruggio doesn’t know whether he should laugh or feel flustered at the fact the teen Qifrey asked his master for something like that! They were truly stupid, the both of them.

I suppose that’s to be expected. The world can’t help but orbit around the sun afterall. And you Olly, is the world’s kindest most radiant star there is.

And how I wished you were here with me.

Sincerely,

Qifrey

A bitter sort of fondness settled in his chest. He, too, wanted to dance with Qifrey that night.

Unfortunately, his own master specifically insisted that he be polite and talk with as many people as possible for future projects and jobs after he graduates.

But, seeing the one person he longed to be with leave the reception hall was his final straw. He has done enough, now he’s going to follow and do what his heart desires.

“I did receive a big ol’ scolding for that one.” He huffed a laugh.

Then, his gaze landed on the next letter that was attached to the previous one.

Olly,

I almost kissed you.

Olruggio’s eyes widened.

Sorry, was that too much?

“You think?” He felt his face warming.

It’s the only thing I could think of after your sudden arrival in our secret hiding place. Where I was just sulking and writing these letters I would never send.

You do not know how happy I was to learn that you wanted to spend this Silver eve with me too. You laughed at me after seeing me confused, and gosh you are absolutely gorgeous. Before I got distracted, I handed you the earring that I wanted to give you all night.

You looked so ecstatic that I felt breathless, just like I always do whenever you are near. Then, you asked me to put it on you. I was excited because I knew for sure it would suit you perfectly, but I was equally terrified that you would notice how badly my hands were trembling.

And, unfortunately for my poor heart, it looked far too good on you, Olly.

Then, you asked me where I bought it and I panicked, I didn’t want you to feel burdened, so I told you I bought it from the market.

I lied. I made it for you.

I found the stone a few months ago when I snuck out around the riverbanks. The stone was just enough for one earring, but it caught the light in a way that reminded me of your eyes, and I could not stop thinking about it after that.

So I kept it.

Now, I’m glad I never told you the truth. Because the next day, it was gone.

I still remember watching you lunge after it without a second thought. Without any regards for your safety nor the burning furnace below.

For a moment, all I could think about was what would’ve happened if I failed to catch you in time. I do not remember crossing the room. I only remember grabbing you and refusing to let go. You fought me for it. You kept reaching for the furnace as though that earring was worth more than your own life.

But Olly, I would have traded a thousand earrings if it meant keeping you safe.

Please never do that again.

The silverwood tree may not have taken me then, but I think the thought of losing you would have.

Because if I had lost you that day, Olruggio, I would not have known how to keep living in a world without you in it.

Yours truly,

Qifrey

Olruggio felt his throat tighten.

He still remembered finding Qifrey below the cliff where they watched the wyrm riders and dragons take flight. His friend was furiously scribbling away in his notebook, so absorbed in whatever he was writing that he hadn’t noticed Olruggio’s presence until the very last second.

That earring Qifrey gave him was beautiful. He remembered turning it over in his hands before bed, admiring the way the stone caught the light through the window. He recalled smiling like an idiot, hugging the small box with the earring inside, to sleep.

A miserable groan escaped him as he buried his face in one hand.

He shouldn’t have taken it off in the first place. Or at the very least, he should have admired it somewhere private instead of out in the open where many eyes could see.

Because some stupid jackass had grabbed it from his hands and started teasing, demanding to know which girl gave it to him.

Then came the shouting. The scuffle. And the brief flash of gold and sapphire disappearing over the edge and down the furnace below.

Olruggio squeezed his eyes shut.

Even now, he remembered his body moving before his mind had caught up. He had lunged after it without thinking before strong arms wrapped around his waist and yanked him back to safety.

Qifrey.

He remembered struggling. Remembered trying to get himself free and crying so much because that was Qifrey’s first gift to him goddammit! As though that somehow justified throwing himself into a furnace.

And now he knew it had been so much more than that.

Qifrey found the stone himself. Worked very hard on it for months with his own hands. And Olruggio had lost it within a day.

Gosh. He had cried himself to sleep over that earring for a week.

Now he felt like doing it all over again.

My Dearest, Olruggio

It’s smoldering hot in this part of the Peninsula. The heat lingers even after sunset, clinging to the stones and sand long into the evening.

Yet the nights here are bitterly and unbearably cold.

I have wrapped myself in three layers on top of my usual robes and I’m still shivering as I write this. Hah, you would have laughed at me. Spent years wandering through storms in our adventures, defeated by desert weather.

Looking around, I believe you would have enjoyed it here. The sky is so clear that the stars seem close enough to touch. The locals told me that the brightest star visible from here is called Sirius. I look for it every evening.

Perhaps because it is familiar.

Or perhaps because it reminds me of you.

I suppose most things do.

I saw a strange species of bird I had never encountered before the other day. I almost called you over to look before I remembered.

Even now, I keep turning to my right whenever something interesting happens. As though you should be standing there. It takes me a moment every time to remember that you are not.

Maybe it is simply because I miss you, but I find myself wishing you were here. Which is stupid, and rather hypocritical, considering I was the one who left.

That was the point, wasn't it? Distance. Worry. Loneliness. Anything to keep this silverwood asleep. And the cruel thing is—it works. The branches no longer ache beneath my skin as often.

Yet here I am. Thinking of you more than ever. Writing to a man who will never read this.

I just hope you know it was for both our sakes. If I had stayed, another smile from you would’ve turned me into a tree by now. Because ever since then—when you saved me from drowning—you have been my one true comfort.

My weakness.

My strength.

And the very reason I am still alive to this day.

There are moments, usually when I am tired, when I catch myself thinking that perhaps things would be easier if the silverwood finally won. Because there would be no more reason for lies. No more guilt. No more standing in front of you while you smile at me without knowing what it has cost you.

There is a terrible sort of comfort in that thought. And I hate myself for it.

Because then I remember you. Your face, your eyes, and your infuriating kindness and determination to save everyone, even me.

I remember the day we exchanged our tassels. The look you gave me after you got back from taking on the tower of tomes. And the promise you made me swear. To live.

So whenever those thoughts creep in, I find myself reaching for your ribbon.

A reminder.

So I keep trying. For you, Olly.

Even if all I want is to hold you in my arms. Even if every part of me aches to go home. Even if I miss you so much it hurts. Even if I had to hurt myself to keep the branches from growing–I’ll keep trying.

I made you a promise, after all.

Yours always,

Qifrey

A tear fell onto the parchment. Then another.

The words blurred as Olruggio tried to blink. The brushbuddies had circled him now, chirping faintly, pressing against his knees to comfort him.

The tears fell quicker as memories of that year came rushing back. He remembered trying a new wine, months after Qifrey disappeared and instinctively turning to his left to complain about the taste. Opening his mouth to call for him before the empty room answered first. Constantly cooking food enough for two people out of habit—only to remember that Qifrey wasn't there.

And hadn't been there for months.

"You—" His voice broke.

He swallowed and tried again. "You absolute—"

The rest refused to come. A sob tore out of him instead. He bent forward, forehead nearly touching his knees. He stayed there on the floor until his breath evened out and the paper in his hand damped with sweat or tears or both.

“You darn fool.” He whispered hoarsely. He had lost count of how many times he had called Qifrey an idiot since opening the first letter. And every single one had been deserved.

How long had he wished and prayed for Qifrey to return his feelings? How much had he hoped that Qifrey felt the same ache he felt when the longing became unbearable?

All this time he thought that loneliness belonged only to him. That he had been the one left behind. Instead, Qifrey had been carrying the same ache across deserts and foreign skies.

The realization didn’t feel like relief.

They both had lost so much time. Hurt each other so much. And for what?

All those years. All those missed chances. All that time spent wanting the same thing and never knowing it.

For you, Olly.

He dragged a hand down his face.

Qifrey had left for him.

Bled for him.

Hurt himself for him.

Loved him all these years. Had returned the same feelings that he had prayed his best friend returned. And Olruggio hadn't known.

He furiously rubbed his eyes. Dragged a sleeve across his face and forced himself to breathe.

Olruggio looked down at the scattered letters. There were still so many left unread. And for the first time, he found himself afraid of what he might find. Yet desperate for it all the same.

Somewhere among these letters was the version of Qifrey he had never been allowed to know. And he intended to find him.

⟡

I’m so sorry Olly. I'm so sorry.

I’ve done it again.

Every single time, I tell myself that this will be the last one. That next time I will find another solution—another way to keep living without taking pieces of you with me.

But I failed again.

And It hurts Olly. It hurts so much.

I thought it would become easier eventually. That after enough years, enough lies, and enough memory erasures, I would learn how to bear it.

But I have not.

Everytime you look at me with those warm, unknowing eyes, it feels as if I am losing a piece of myself too.

I find myself wondering what would have happened if I had known the truth sooner.

If I knew what I was.

If I knew that I was never meant to be saved.

I would've stayed away from you, the world's kindest, most radiant star.

And yet, my selfishness cannot imagine a life where I never met you. Perhaps that is the cruelest part, Olly.

I regret all the pain and suffering I have caused you.

But I do not regret you.

Not a single moment, and not the promise we made.

So I ask you to bear with me a little longer. Until I find a way to bring back what was taken from me. My past, my memories, and the future where I can grow old together with you and our girls.

I promise you, I will find a way, my love.

Yours always and forever,

Qifrey

Words blurred again as he read the letter. Olruggio wiped at his face harshly and snatched up another.

My Dearest, Olruggio

Here I thought I had grown out of this ridiculous feeling of jealousy.

How puerile of me.

I met Hiehart today. He arrived at the atelier this afternoon while you were out with the girls to aid the villagers near us. And he somehow managed to speak about you and your adventures with him and his sweet apprentice, Jujy, before I could even welcome them inside.

Then, he called you his ‘Predis Olruggio’ with such familiarity that I briefly considered throwing his tall arse back out the door.

Do not laugh. Or do, I suppose I deserve it for feeling this way.

I found myself resenting a man for knowing stories I do not. Not because I disliked hearing about your travels. But for speaking of you with so much unrestrained adoration and words that I wished to tell you myself but cannot.

You sounded happy.

Perhaps that is why hearing Hiehart speak unsettled me.

Because I found myself wondering who you might have become had you not spent so much of your life worrying about me.

Did I hold you back, Olly?

I know that is an unfair question.

You made your own choices. No one forced you to leave the Great Hall. No one forced you to stay by my side all those years. You told me this yourself.

Yet I cannot help wondering.

Would you have been happier if you had never met me?

You might have spent less time patching together my mistakes and more time changing lives with that infuriatingly generous heart of yours. Instead, you spent years chasing after someone determined to ruin himself in this never ending loop.

And I fear there were times when I became so accustomed to having you beside me that I forgot you had dreams beyond my own.

Tell me, have I become an anchor that kept you from sailing farther, instead of home you can always return to, my love?

Did I shackle you with a life you never truly wanted?

If not for me, perhaps there would have been fewer reasons for you to stay. Fewer reasons to choose the same path over and over when the world kept offering you others.

It is a dreadful thought.

One I know you would scold me for entertaining.

What’s worse is that, there were times when I saw opportunities laid before you and selfishly felt relieved when you did not take them. Times when I was glad that, at the end of the day, you still returned to me.

Even now, writing those words feels shameful.

I should have encouraged you to go farther, stay longer, see more of the world than this little corner of it. But every time you left, I found myself staying up at night, counting the days until you returned to me once more.

And selfishly, terribly selfishly, part of me does not regret any of it.

Not the years we spent together.

Not the family we built in this atelier.

Not even the fact that you chose me.

I only regret the cost you paid. The years of pain, anguish, and sacrifices you might’ve made for my sake.

Because if loving me has demanded so much from you, then I fear I have taken more than I ever deserved.

Qifrey

He buried his face into his hands and let out a muffled sound that might have been a scream.

Olruggio wonders how a man can be this thoughtful and yet so darn stupid.

Did Qifrey not know him enough by now? Had he not been clear enough? Was Olruggio so untrustworthy that his choice—to devote his life and love for this little family of theirs—was not enough?

Olruggio felt like he was going to explode.

Olly,

This letter particularly looked like it's been through a lot. It’s crumpled, had stains all over the letter and even a smudge of ink on the side. The writing itself was also way sloppier than the previous ones.

Sorry. I’m writing this with a rather unsteady hand. And I know I should sleep it off but I can’t help but think of you, as I always do.

I believe you would’ve loved this particular wine the villagers had given me! Unfortunately, you’re not here. And unfortunately, it’s my own fault.

Throughout my journey, the witches and nobles in the towns I’ve been to all talked about the same thing.

“Olruggio of the Torch and Princess Mia of the Cladd Family had been engaged.”

And it hurts. It hurts so much Olly.

That should’ve been me by your side. I should’ve been the one you’re engaged to.

And I know she must be wonderful. She must be, because you chose her. Yet I can’t help but despise her all the same.

I hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to know you belonged to someone else. I think I foolishly underestimated the depth of my own want and longing. How desperately I wanted to hold you in my arms. How often I imagined kneeling before you and asking you to spend the rest of your life with me.

Gosh, Olly.

I told myself that this is enough, that it’s better for me to hurt this way.

But I failed to consider the comfort it’ll bring me to know that you are happy. That you are loved and cared for by someone who can actually give it to you freely. It hurt, yet somehow, it eased something in me all the same. And I guess it was enough for the tree to grow.

I wish I could blame the wine for what happened next.

But the truth is that, for a moment, I simply stopped fighting.

The silverwood has always been patient. It waits and grows wherever and whenever my guard begins to crack.

And tonight, I almost let it consume me.

I guess I was relieved that finally, I wouldn’t cause you pain anymore. That I will no longer have to wonder what might have been. No longer have to carry the knowledge that someone else now held the future I once dreamed of.

But then your ribbon got caught in one of my branches and snapped me out of my daze. I remembered you. Your voice, and our promise. And once again, you saved me.

So I plunged myself into the freezing lake. As always, the roots receded.

And I am still here.

Because even if you no longer need me in the way I once wished you would, I still intend to keep my promise. If all you ever need from me is a friend, then I will be your friend. If my place in your life is beside you rather than with you, then I will treasure that place all the same.

I need you to know that I fought with everything I had to live another day.

After all, knowing you has always been worth the pain.

And because I would rather spend a lifetime loving you from afar than surrender the chance to see you smile again.

So I will keep trying.

I will keep living.

For you.

And perhaps, one day, for myself as well.

Qifrey

As he reached to place the letter back with the others, a small, torn scrap of paper fluttered onto his lap.

No greeting, no signature.

Don’t worry, I wouldn’t love me too.

And Olruggio thinks he has seen enough. Qifrey doesn’t get to decide that for him.

Slowly, he rose to his feet.

Just then, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“...Olly?”

Qifrey stepped into the doorway, only to stop short.

Olruggio's familiar back faced him, surrounded by scattered letters. His letters.

A cold wave swept through his body.

Qifrey barely had time to register the tears on Olruggio’s face when he turned, before a fist collided with his cheek.

Pain exploded across his jaw.

The force sent him reeling backwards. As they fell, Qifrey's hand flew to the back of Olruggio's head on instinct. His own back hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs.

“Olruggio!” His hands searched Olruggio over frantically. “Are you hurt? Wait, let me see–”

“Shut up.”

Before Qifrey could react, Olruggio shoved him flat against the floor. One knee landed on either side of his waist.

In the next instant, Olruggio was straddling him, fists gripping tightly on his robes.

“You…” His voice caught. He swallowed hard

“...I hate you.”

Qifrey froze.

“I hate you.” He repeated but the words came out strangled, collapsing beneath the weight of a sob.

Qifrey stared at him, utterly bewildered.

“You are the stupidest, most guarded and the most incorrigible man–!”

Something warm landed on Qifrey's cheek.

He looked up to find Olruggio glaring down at him through blurred vision.

With a shaky breath, he continued, “I didn’t choose to spend years chasing after you while you kept disappearing.”

“I didn’t choose to restore this old shepherd’s home because you had dreamed of living underneath the sky!”

Olruggio’s grip tightened.

“I didn’t choose to build this family with you.”

Qifrey’s eye widened. That wasn’t true.

“I didn’t choose to stay.”

Olruggio leaned back and met his gaze.

“And I didn't choose to devote my entire stupid life to you.” He laughed bitterly.

Qifrey closed his eye and whispered, “...You’re lying.”

“Of course I’m lying!” Olruggio snapped. His grip tightened until Qifrey was fairly certain the fabric of his robes would tear.

“What did you expect me to say?!” He sobbed and struck Qifrey’s chest weakly.

“I…” The words rose to the top of his tongue before he bit them back. Three words and he can’t even say them.

Instead he could only utter “I hate you.”

What hurt even more was that Qifrey was looking at him. Gentle and knowing. As though he understood what Olruggio desperately wanted to say.

Qifrey carefully pried Olruggio's hands that were clutching his robes. Only then did he realize his fingers were trembling, that he’d clenched the fabric so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

He felt Qifrey’s lips brush against his bruised knuckles.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Olruggio’s vision blurred. He buried his face against Qifrey’s shoulder and cried.

He cried until he couldn’t anymore. And Qifrey remained exactly as he was, one hand resting against Olruggio’s back and the other on his hair, gently coaxing him to calm.

Eventually, Olruggio's breathing steadied.

Neither of them knew what would happen tomorrow.

Neither of them had the courage to speak the words lodged in their throats.

But for now, Olruggio thought they both earned this small rest. A momentary respite before they untangle decades of secrets and face everything waiting for them.

“.....How foolish.” Olruggio mumbled into Qifrey’s shoulder.

And Qifrey let out the tiniest laugh.