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Coco… was safe. She was better, and despite Qifrey’s desire to collapse and be sick himself, nothing had gone wrong. He hadn’t even had to wipe poor Tartah’s memory of that night.
As she babbled about how he’d found her the right medicine only to be scolded for shuffling through the vials, Qifrey felt a wan smile cross his face. Witch society would never change. But there would still always be incorrigible little snots who wouldn’t accept rejection. Snots like him.
He fiddled slightly with his glasses. A strange tic, considering they were glued on. But it brought him comfort in the same way rowing the board or cutting onions might.
The lack of sleep wasn’t going to catch up with him right away, but he felt the very beginnings of an aura coming on. He might have another migraine in 2 days. Sooner if he stepped into the light too suddenly. Sooner if the girls shrieked just wrong. Sooner if Olruggio had cooked something… good and hearty for them.
It was wrong, how even without constant interference, his body could still punish him for these small moments of joy.
He tried to refocus on what his apprentice was saying, but it turned out she was just kicking her feet over the side of the board, humming quietly. When Coco realized he was looking at her, (perhaps a bit too long, perhaps a bit too blankly) she pulled on her own masking, blank smile.
Oh stars, why did it look so painful. Why did he—
“Master Qifrey,” she said softly, turning her face back towards her legs, “You look like you need someone to take care of you. You have a headache too.”
Qifrey tried not to rock the board too much. Coco was always too perceptive. Always too much like him. “Maybe so. But it’s nothing a good meal with my students can’t fix, mmm?” He tried to hide behind that smile again. The one Olruggio had practiced with him over and over as children, until people forgot about the sad boy with no memories and one eye. Or maybe everyone except—
“Maybe.” His apprentice mirrored him. Ah, he was teaching her all the wrong things. “You’ll definitely feel better when we get home, Master Qifrey!”
Astonishing.
Olruggio had cooked something for them. Well, he’d “supervised” the girls, which really meant he’d cooked it for all intents and purposes.
“Qifray…” he intoned quietly, “We’ll need to talk when they’re off to bed.”
“Of course, my dear friend.” He tried not to wince at how even these quiet words were reminiscent of the headache drifting just beyond his grasp.
“Qifray… I don’ suppose ya… remember the other night?” It was funny how much thicker Olly’s accent was when they were alone. Or he was nervous. Or in Qifrey’s most precious memories…
“Only bits and pieces, my dear.” What was another lie?
“Sure. Sure.” Olruggio looked uncertain. “Well, I can see you’re havin’ another… moment. Do ya want me to leave ya alone?”
Oh. Qifrey always supposed there could be a sensory something left over when he erased Olruggio’s memories. But this was an odd coincidence.
“No, Olly. You’re okay,” is what he eventually settled on.
“Well,” Olruggio seemed to make a decision. “Le’me at least take these.” He skillfully plucked his best friend’s glasses off, the resin’s pull only a little painful. Thankfully, the fire was very, very low, or Qifrey probably would’ve started from the sudden light. “I know they make it hard to rub your eyes. I mean, eye.”
Olruggio had known him forever. He expected Qifrey to want to rub the area where his right eye… used to be. Not that he was entirely sure he’d ever had one, without a sensory memory to call his own. But that was also where the seed lay, and Qifrey didn’t want to remind himself of that right now.
He tried to sound relieved. “Thanks.”
“And by the way, if you ever wanna…” Olruggio seemed to think better of that subject. “Well, you know you can come to me for whatever. I’m the Watchful Eye, after all.”
Qifrey physically laughed at this, silent but… “Of course. I’d always rely on my best friend.”
Qifrey went to bed feeling guilty. He knew the leaves beneath his skin could always break free, but… Maybe it wasn’t worth it. Maybe he should just collapse into branches and twigs.
No, he’d promised. He’d promised Olruggio dozens of times that he wouldn’t. He’d promised that he’d fight the curse until they were both old and white and ready for Olly to be buried at his roots. But still…
Maybe he could give Olly one more sensory memory.
The door was already open on the opposite side of the atelier. No curse. No darkness and wetness and cold. Just Olly humming as he slightly adjusted some phantasmal fireball spell.
He didn’t even look up. “Qifray, did you know your footsteps are very quiet?” He glanced over, cocking an almost adolescent smile. “I’ll bet the girls are terrified of you walking in on them conspirin’.”
“Not as afraid as they are of you, dear friend.” A clipped laugh.
Olruggio slowly put the spell down, turning to face him completely. He felt like he was watching a deer creep along a forest path, trying to get it to eat from his hand without startling. “So… what brings ya… over?”
“Ah… Olly, you’re going to be so mad.” An empty laugh. “Can’t we do the fun part first? The part where I make you happy?”
”Aye. But nothin’ would make me so happy as knowin’ ya were okay.” Olruggio tried not to blush. This was a serious moment, and it was best to be straightforward. As if Qifrey didn’t know he was terrible at being anything but earnest.
Qifrey clearly vacillated, stretching the silence. “Are you sure?”
Olruggio knew how easy it could be to scare him. Flighty, cautious Qifrey. Always ready to flee back into his secret woods.
Always a privilege to walk through them with you, Qifrey. I should’ve made you happy sooner.
He tried to laugh. “Qifray, you can tell me anythin’. I’m sure that no matter how mad I am, I’m not taking my ribbon back. It’s been yours for so long—“ he cut himself off with an audible click. That would scare him for sure. “What I’m sayin’ is… I’m here whenever.”
Ah. The issue was immediately at hand. Qifrey supposed he could try to give half the truth now, and the… spiraling, memory-erasing part later. Maybe it would even make this easier. Make Olruggio mad at him even once, in these dozens of attempts.
“Well,” he tried to make this laugh sound sheepish. “Hear me out at least first. I did erase your memory… dozens of times, since I’m sure that matters.”
“Oh, it’s like that book1 , huh?” Olruggio didn’t even sound disappointed. “The one where I have to think around the gaps, feel what’s missing by knowing what it isn’t.” This statement seemed to stun Qifrey, but he continued with a wry smile. “I’ve sure ya got your reasons. And that if ya’ve managed it dozens a times, I was in on it too. But you might wanta take this one off the shelf next time.” He gestured vaguely towards a small paperback Qifrey had never noticed.
“Well…” Qifrey smiled politely. “What have you learned about the… gaps?”
“Nothing much. Just that they always have something to do with ya.” Another wry smile. “Something that if I needed ta know, ya’d let me keep.”
Stars, even now Olly was… walking much too close to the edge. Qifrey could feel the roots winding around his bones. Just a bit longer.
“Guess I will have to take that book,” he laughed—unnatural, harsh. “But before I do, before I remind you and take it away again, let me…”
Olruggio’s mind raced. Of course, he could trust his best friend. But… there was always something hidden, uncertain. He wished he’d made that awkward, shy boy smile instead of teaching him how to. It felt now like he’d taught him to lie.
“Olruggio, stop me if you’re not ready. I’m selfish, I’m angry, and… I just want to make it up to you instead of apologizing. I’m tired.” Qifrey quickly slipped his mouth into before the other man could protest. Hard. Sad. Wet with desperate tears.
It was hard to kiss back at the rapid pace his best friend set. But it was harder to stomach the words when clearly this was tearing his best friend apart. No one would carry this burden every single day if they didn’t have to. Or at least, the Qifrey that woke up early to make fancy breakfasts—
Qifrey was kissing down his neck and it was terrifying. Not in the sense that he was biting (that was actually kind of nice) or that Olruggio wasn’t ready (he’d been born ready, reborn every time Qifrey had taken something from him). Terrifying in that somehow, the words he needed were still being stolen from him. He needed to tell Qifrey that nothing was broken, least of all—
His arms were only over his head for a second before Qifrey was kissing across his chest and down the line of his stomach. The kisses along his hips and waistband were… ticklish? Exciting?
But Qifrey still looked like he was crying. Or he was about to cry. He was mouthing blindly when Olruggio tapped him on the shoulder.
Tap-tah-tah, tap-tah, tap-tap, tah2. A code they’d come up with as children, one for when words failed Qifrey, and he needed attention. It seemed to work the other way as well, slowing the fine fingers for a second with Olruggio’s belt suspended between them.
He was breathing hard. His eye was clearly watering, even at this odd angle. Olly wanted to tuck him into bed and comfort him, the way they’d done only two days before.
He let the silence stretch between them for a few seconds. “Qifray… you don’t have ta do this. I’m not asking ya to make things up to me. I’m asking you to…” well, feel safe wasn’t the right answer. Or trust him, considering how many times his mind had been wiped. “Well, I don’t know what I’m asking. But I want ya to be here, with me. In this place. Not… wherever ya guilt is takin’ ya.”
I can’t enter your mind. Just… wait for me, wait with me. Just for this moment.
Qifrey looked even more like he was going to cry. “Okay, Qif, I’ll be mad if ya want. I am mad. Not at ya, but I’ll try to be if that’s what ya need.” He smiled wanly. “See? So mad that I could cry.”
It wasn’t working. “Look, if ya have to wipe this one, can’t it just be happy? I won’t be happy if… you’re sad the whole time.”
Qifrey tried to get back to it. Tried to hide behind a smile. But Olruggio pulled him away, his grip not firm compared to the way he gripped pens, or metal, or well, much of anything. But even a gentle pull from his best friend was irresistible.
“Qifray, please. If you’re going to wipe something, wipe something real. I want to treasure this, even just for this moment.”
When Qifrey woke up on Olruggio’s, on Olly’s, rug, his migraine was one of the worst he’d ever had. Worse, it had paralyzed his blind side, something that he couldn’t recall happening in years.
Olly was sleeping just feet away, protecting him from what he couldn’t see. Even in sleep, he wants… a thought not worth having.
(“Qifray, can you take two memories? Tonight and two days ago. It’s not that I don’t want to remember. It’s that…” “If you don’t forget, you’ll come back.” Two tears streamed into the ink.)
Qifrey needed his help again. Always taking. Always givin’ back more.
Olruggio had toast and fruit on a plate in moments, a gentle tap and a pained look all that was needed.
Something indescribably sad about that. About how even when he doesn’t remember, his mind keeps coming back.
1 Yes, I have read There is No Antimemetics Division. I’m still emo about it. return to text ↩
2 It’s valid Morse Code. Have fun. (just kidding, it’s W-A-I-T. The implication being “for me”). return to text ↩