Archive of Our Own

When Olruggio walked into the bar, the place was already in full swing – laughter, noise, the whole thing. The muted light bulbs on the ceiling threw barely visible flickers across the half-empty glasses lined up at the counter. There weren't too many of them – the man had counted fewer than a dozen at a glance. That was one of the reasons he kept coming back to this bar, despite Hieheart's whining about going somewhere in the city center.

He had never been a fan of crowds – with the obvious exception of conferences and professional gatherings. It was so much easier to talk to people when something connected you besides a desire to drink. But tonight he was here for exactly that reason. Or rather – the man threw a quick glance at the small clock on the wall – he should have been here thirty minutes ago. An hour at most. Maybe an hour and a half. That wasn't his fault, alright? The final edits on the project had taken longer than expected, and then that damned wall just wouldn't line up with the final room plan, and he'd gotten frustrated, and...

Okay, maybe it was his fault – but, thought Olruggio, making his way to the counter and scanning the room for a familiar tall figure, Hieheart should have gotten used to it by now.

The man in question didn't look particularly longing or offended – on the contrary, he was sitting beside some stranger and laughing loudly. Another undeniable advantage of the place was its size: since there weren't many people, finding Hieheart among them was never a challenge.

"Can I get you something?" – a soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts and made him turn around. A tall man was looking at him with a mild smile.

"Uh... no, my friend has already ordered," – the man cleared his throat, still trying to get his bearings. He was sure Hieheart had already put in an order – the man wouldn't have sat in one place for that long without a drink. Honestly, it was a wonder he'd stayed in this bar at all and hadn't wandered off somewhere else.

"Maybe you'd like to tell me what you enjoy and I can make something... to your taste?" – the bartender leaned closer, elbows on the counter. Olruggio blinked, glancing back at the man. Did they not work on an hourly wage here? Maybe they got a cut of what they sold... He didn't come often enough to know the details. Either way, the man was remarkably good at it – a soft smile played on his face, one that could almost be described as... flirtatious?

"I don't think you'd manage..." – Olruggio tried to smile back gently, watching the man's expression shift in an instant. For just a moment, a flash of disappointment crossed the bartender's eyes, quickly replaced by mild surprise. He pushed off the counter and reached for the nearest glass.

"Sorry, pal, didn't catch on right away," – his voice was still friendly, but somehow... more detached. Olruggio was about to ask what he meant –

"There you are" – a familiar voice made him flinch and jerk his head around, pulling his attention away from the bartender, who had already struck up a new conversation with another customer.

Of course it was Qifrey. He was standing right there, just over his shoulder – surprising, really, that Olruggio hadn't noticed him approach. The man's face was lit with a soft smile, the kind that made Olruggio's chest ache instantly. It was almost unfair – how could one person be so thoroughly disorienting? Even here, in a stuffy basement bar surrounded by half-drunk strangers, his friend radiated an unwavering, gentle warmth. Olruggio held back the sigh that was trying to escape. How was anyone supposed to stay indifferent to that?

"Yes, yes, I know I'm late..."

"I just got here too," – only now did Olruggio notice the street jacket still draped over his friend's shoulders – "I did warn you I might... not make it on time."

"Have you ordered drinks already? There's a very strange bartender here..." – Olruggio sighed, rolling his stiff neck, and looked around again for Hieheart – the man had an extraordinary talent for vanishing.

Qifrey gave a thoughtful hum, and for just a few seconds, something shadowed his expression. Olruggio blinked in surprise – and then it was gone, and his friend's lips settled back into their usual soft half-smile.

"Oh? I didn't notice."

"Well, doesn't matter. Hieheart must have ordered something..." – Olruggio finally spotted the familiar tall figure – Hieheart was sitting in the far corner, and next to him, leaning against an empty table, stood a man and a woman – "Oh, there he is, come on."

He gently took Qifrey by the elbow – purely so he wouldn't fall behind, obviously – and pulled him deeper into the bar.

"You're late again! A whole hour!" – Hieheart only noticed them when they were practically on top of him. The man and woman politely stepped aside – or went for another round. Which, honestly, didn't matter – the loud man sitting next to three already-empty glasses could probably be heard from the next street over. Olruggio mentally thanked every deity in existence that there really weren't many people in the bar.

"You weren't wasting time either," – Olruggio parried, not inclined to admit fault. Besides, he knew the remark wouldn't sting – Hieheart had already shifted over to make room, and a new wide smile had spread across his face.

"Is that a new jacket? I haven't seen you in anything new in..." – the man trailed off, furrowing his brow, presumably trying to count the days – or rather, the months.

"Yes, it was a gift," – before Olruggio could open his mouth, Qifrey gave him a light nudge aside and sat down in the empty spot. Olruggio dropped into the seat across from him, noticing a shot glass pushed into the corner – Hieheart must have ordered him something... a while back. The glass was, predictably, empty.

"Oh, well, you've got good taste, old Olly, it really suits you!"

"I'm not your mentor – what's the age gap between our years, one, two?"

"Yes, I have good taste," – simultaneously, Qifrey muttered under his breath, irritably. Hieheart laughed his easy, slightly drunk laugh and nudged the man in the side.

"Easy! Or are you annoyed I didn't order you a drink? Sorry, old Olly couldn't quite commit to whether you'd show up, so I..."

"He asked you not to call him that," – Qifrey murmured again, barely audible. Olruggio laughed warmly, feeling the fatigue slowly drain from his shoulders. His gaze wandered lazily over the face of the man across from him, now caught up in conversation with a grinning Hieheart. Qifrey's lips were pressed firmly together, his hands flat on the table – at home, he rarely sat that way; usually his hands rested on his knees and his shoulders were loose... Olruggio frowned. He was... uncomfortable?

"Anyway, I just wanted to say I'm glad to see old..."

"I'll go order us drinks," – Qifrey stood up abruptly and, without bothering to ask what anyone wanted, made his way to the counter.

"God, I forgot he could be like... that," – Hieheart waved a hand with a grin, not looking too bothered by the blond man's behavior. Olruggio snorted.

"Like what? I think he's just... in a bit of a mood."

"Like... protective. You think I said something to upset him?" – Hieheart muttered, watching Qifrey order – "But he knew I'd be here, didn't he?"

"What are you on about? He's acting... like he always does," – Olruggio shrugged, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. Across the table, Hieheart murmured something to himself – something that sounded like "that's the whole point of it," but Olruggio wasn't in the mood to think about it too hard. Couldn't he, for once, just switch off and have a drink with his friends?

"Oh, hold on, hey!" – a loud voice from somewhere above pulled him out of his thoughts yet again (how many times tonight already?).

Olruggio frowned, glancing up. In front of him stood a stranger – though not entirely: something faintly familiar ghosted across the man's features, but he was too tired to chase it down. Maybe they'd run into each other at the bar before?

"Sorry, uh... you mean me?" – since no recognition flickered across Hieheart's face, he had to handle it himself.

"Yeah, man! We worked on a project together, not that long ago – remember, the gallery a few streets over?" – the man looked pleasantly animated. He leaned in closer, nearly resting against the back of Olruggio's chair.

"Oh, right, the one that wanted columns... God, yes. Sorry, I'm genuinely terrible with names..."

"Oh, no worries. I'm Jan, nice to meet you again. You know, I'm a big fan of your work – was that you who designed the model at the winter exhibition?" – the man reached out and clapped Olruggio on the shoulder. His touch lingered far longer than a casual formality called for. Huh, some people truly had no concept of personal space. Then again, the attention wasn't... unpleasant, though Olruggio suspected that was mostly his ego preening.

"Mind if I join you?" – the man was already moving to sit down when a sharp knock on the table stopped him. Jan startled back, staring at several glasses that had materialized in front of them.

"What did I miss, Olly?"

"Oh, Qifrey, you're back! Seems like Olruggio found a new friend," – Hieheart leaned forward, inspecting the drinks – "Hey, you only got one for me!"

"Because you've had enough," – Qifrey gently steered Hieheart's hand away and looked questioningly at the man still standing beside Olruggio. Jan shifted slightly and now just hovered next to the table – which looked a little awkward, given that Qifrey had stepped in front of the only free seat, leaving Jan looking somewhat ridiculous.

"Ah, I'm just... an old colleague," – Jan, chuckling, extended his hand to Qifrey, who responded only with a wide smile. Olruggio reached for his drink and knocked it back quickly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Hieheart leaned in with interest. Same as ever. Qifrey, meanwhile, gave Olruggio a small nudge with his shoulder and sat down right beside him, pressing close.

"Are you an architect too?" – for some reason the question came out sounding almost forced. Though Olruggio's head was already buzzing slightly, so he could be wrong. Especially with Qifrey sitting this close, where he could practically feel every shift, every word. It was strangely soothing and unsettling at the same time. The bar had filled up noticeably – Olruggio thought with a pang that Hieheart had been right, they should have met up earlier. From the edge of his attention he still caught the muffled conversation trickling on, even as Jan's face grew more and more bewildered with every passing minute. Olruggio took another sip – the thread of the exchange had long escaped him, he just nodded absently now and then, unable to pull his eyes away from his friend.

Qifrey's face looked... well, it looked the way it always did. Faintly luminous, warmer than the cold neon lights of the bar had any right to make it. He laughed politely at what were surely mediocre jokes and occasionally took a small sip from his enormous pint glass. Olruggio had never been able to understand the man's love of light drinks – he much preferred sharp infusions that went to your head a little, made you want to sleep and...

His thoughts snagged when Qifrey leaned in slightly, and the lenses of his ornate glasses caught the dim light. The gentle lines of his face were sharply defined against the general wash of noise – against Jan saying his goodbyes, against Hieheart getting up for another round, against the smallness of this bar, against... Ah, and Olruggio lost the thread again, adrift in the way Qifrey tilted his head, in the casual, thoughtless touches.

Right. The infusions. Which made it very easy to forget that he was hopelessly in love with his best friend.

Qifrey nodded farewell to Jan and then, for no apparent reason, let his hand brush across Olruggio's – as if he hadn't even noticed doing it. His eyes were still on the departing man, who was swallowing visibly for some reason, but Olruggio couldn't spare a thought for that. All of his attention was on Qifrey, on the empty glass, back on Qifrey, on Qifrey's hands, on the warmth of Qifrey's presence, on...

How pitiful was it, being in love with your best friend? Probably not that bad, if it had only been a month or two – but after years of this slow, persistent ache, all he wanted was to drink a few more glasses.

He needed to step outside.

"Want to get something stronger somewhere else? My treat!" – the sudden phrase from their new acquaintance yanked Olruggio out of his thoughts. The man was clearly addressing him – which was strange, hadn't he been talking with Qifrey or something? – "I really admire your work, it would be an honor..."

"Drinking before an early morning is bad luck," – Qifrey's voice cut through the fog of Olruggio's thoughts and made him exhale. Why did the man have to be right every single time?

He really needed to step outside.

He finally got to his feet and, muttering something in response to Jan's animated gesture, headed for the back exit. Apparently his scowl was enough to deter the bartender and the other patrons who might have tried to stop him – and so within moments he was standing in front of a small door tucked in the corner, next to the toilets.

Outside it was cool, damp, and quiet. The cold morning air kissed his cheeks softly as he leaned against the rough wall and looked up at the lightening sky. His head was still thick with the same thoughts as always – what else would he be thinking about, when he could still feel the ghost of Qifrey's hand among his fingers?

Olruggio had never thought of himself as a lonely person. Perhaps a little... detached, but not lonely? Nothing like Qifrey – soft, gentle, friendly, open, capable of easy conversation with strangers in a bar.

A cool hand settled on his shoulder and the man exhaled. He didn't need to turn his head to know who was standing beside him. He could tell by the scent alone – jasmine, unusual for a bar, drifting in the air – by the quiet breath that bounced off his neck like a tennis ball.

"Are you drunk?" – Qifrey sounded concerned, his hand resting somewhere dangerously close to Olruggio's neck. Such a naive, foolish gesture – the embodiment of every stupid hope Olruggio had ever harbored, every bit of his longing. He blinked slowly, turning toward the sound – and saw exactly what he'd expected. The gleaming lenses of those glasses, catching the first pale light of morning. Qifrey was standing very close – or it just seemed that way because Olruggio was actually drunk. For his own sanity it was easier to believe the first.

"No. Just... thinking," – he breathed out, watching the cold cloud of his breath drift across Qifrey's cheek. He caught himself wanting to do that himself, with his own lips and hands; wanting to lean into the man and let go of all these... heavy, solitary thoughts.

"I think we should head home anyway," – the other man's arm wrapped carefully around his shoulders, coaxing him off the wall.

"You can go," – Olruggio murmured, not resisting and falling into step beside Qifrey – "I can ask Hieheart to walk with me."

For a brief moment the hand on his shoulder tightened – he might have imagined it, given how desperately he wanted that touch.

"I'm afraid he's already... gone," – Qifrey said, after a beat of hesitation. A moment later, he added: – "A while ago. Not worth chasing him."

"Without saying goodbye?... Strange that he left, that's all. He usually stays till morning," – Olruggio ran a tired hand over his face, trying to gather his thoughts. The lights above the back entrance of the bar burned in muted colors, tinting the other man's hair a warm, pleasant shade. Olruggio had to fight hard against the urge to reach out and...

"Would you have wanted him to walk you home?"

"No, I... no," – Olruggio stretched, yawning – "You're right. Time to go."

The hand still on his shoulder pressed slightly, barely noticeably.

"Good," – said Qifrey – "Good."

A loud noise from outside the window made Olruggio wince and bury his head under the pillow, burrowing determinedly deeper into the couch. It was already too late, though – the sleepy haze was slowly but surely beginning to lift. The man groaned, rolled onto his back, and reluctantly opened his eyes.

The familiar ceiling looked back at him with its usual patience. No stains or scorch marks from carelessly left candles – and Olruggio realized he'd stayed over at Qifrey's again. He smiled to himself, tired, and hauled himself off the couch. The floor in the main room was cold – it was only near the couch that Qifrey had laid down a few rugs. Really, if you thought about it, this room had long since become his room – the same way the room further down the hall was thought of as the girls' room, even though technically they didn't live here.

"Morning," – thought Olruggio, navigating through the object-strewn corridor, cursing and quietly charmed as always by Qifrey's commitment to maximalism. Not that his own place was much simpler – it was just... smaller? Olruggio had worked out a long time ago that he much preferred sleeping over at Qifrey's – the man never minded, in fact often mentioned it in front of others... which would have been strange, if this weren't, well, Qifrey.

Speaking of whom – the door leading to the apartment owner's room was slightly ajar. He rarely closed it at night, unless it was one of those private matters he didn't like to share. Olruggio carefully pushed it open, and was quietly grateful for the hinges he'd oiled himself – they swung soft and silent. He took a tiny step inside and froze, disarmed by the scene before him.

Light from the open curtains fell freely across the floor, crossing the bed in a long stripe – blankets, pillows, Qifrey, and two girls sleeping beside him. Olruggio didn't hold back the unwanted smile – apparently the girls had been afraid to sleep alone... or had stayed up late, he thought, stepping closer and tugging a slipped blanket back over Agott. Qifrey's face looked remarkably peaceful – the glasses he'd apparently forgotten to take off before sleeping had slid down his nose and were threatening to fall any moment. Olruggio reached over carefully, feeling like a trespasser disturbing a sanctuary, and gently lifted the small accessory from the man's face. He paused for a moment, then softly shifted Qifrey's hair to cover his closed eye – he didn't like looking vulnerable even in sleep. Just as quietly, feeling the cool metal and glass warming in his palm, Olruggio stepped back toward the door, set the glasses on the nightstand, and pulled the door shut.

The corridor was still pleasantly quiet – half-quiet, if he was being honest. From far away, at the other end of the hall, came a faint murmur of voices. That, along with the cracked-open door of the other bedroom, told him he wasn't the only one awake at this early hour.

The kitchen was less quiet – Richeh and Tetia, standing on stools, were clearly trying to be quiet, but the clatter of metal pots gave them away completely.

"Master Qifrey likes pancakes!" – Tetia folded her arms across her chest, watching Richeh attempt to line up eggs on the counter.

"Have you ever seen him eat them?" – Richeh countered – "I think he'd like crepes."

"But you've never seen him hate crepes either!"

"Right, but I've never seen him hate them."

Olruggio quietly pulled the door shut behind him as he stepped in, while the girls continued bickering over the frying pan. They only noticed him when he leaned in and critically surveyed the ingredients spread across the counter. A few bunches of spring onion, garlic, some thawed dough, eggs – oh, was that jam?

"Oh, Master Olly, you're up earlier than you planned! We wanted to surprise you and Master Qifrey!" – Tetia jumped with delight and Olruggio had to steady her before she toppled over. Qifrey will have quite the surprise if these two manage to blow up his kitchen with this ingredient set and what looked like a box of matches – thought Olruggio, glancing at Richeh, who was intently inspecting bottles of oil, apparently planning to pour half of one into the pan.

They'd picked the girls up yesterday evening – which was why Olruggio was sleeping here tonight instead of at home... though, honestly, that wasn't so unusual. But the children's home where they'd had to collect them was very far away, and then they'd decided to cook dinner, and then Qifrey couldn't find his jacket, and then...

"I think we should go eat somewhere... outside," – the man said, barely above a whisper, giving the girls a conspiratorial wink. Right now it seemed like the most... quiet and safe option.

Fortunately, the café downstairs was open even at seven in the morning on a Sunday, and the breakfast menu had both pancakes and crepes.

"Master Olly, do you have a wife?" – the unexpected phrase, right at his ear, made Olruggio choke. Tetia tilted her head curiously, smiling up at the man sitting beside her.

"First of all, it's Olruggio to you. Second, I'm not your teacher!"

"Master Qifrey isn't here, so you're in charge! Which means you're Master," – Richeh, in the chair beside him, weighed in. Olruggio tiredly wiped a jam smear from the girl's cheek with a napkin. She gave a calm nod and returned to her plate of crepes, entirely untroubled by the man's embarrassment.

"It's different! He likes teaching you, that's why he sometimes brings you home – but I..."

"He's dodging the question," – there was a hint of amusement in Richeh's voice... or maybe he was imagining it – it was usually hard to catch any emotion in her words.

"That means he doesn't have a wife," – his thoughts were cut off by Tetia's loud whisper, her eyes going wide with either delight or astonishment.

"I don't need a wife!" – the man's protest came out sharper than intended. Olruggio felt several glances from neighboring tables flick toward him for a moment. He cleared his throat and added, quieter this time – "I don't need one."

"Master Qifrey doesn't have a wife either..." – Richeh added, meaningfully. After a brief pause she said, seriously: – "Or a husband."

"What? What has he got to do with it?" – Olruggio was fighting to keep from raising his voice again, so his whisper came out more like a hiss. In contrast, Tetia looked almost pleased by this revelation.

"That just means we can find him a wife!"

"I don't need a wife, I'm happy!"

"Or a husband," – Richeh added again, fixing Olruggio with that same contemplative look. This child had always been too clever for her own good. If any of the girls were going to figure out his... feelings – his money was on Richeh.

"We'll start with a wife," – Tetia's voice was far too decisive as she turned and pointed at a woman sitting at a table closer to the road. Olruggio went cold inside. He reached for the girl's hand as gently as he could and tried to ease her back into her seat – slowly, without any sudden movements that might attract an audience. But it was already too late – the pretty woman with light hair had glanced up in confusion, looking over in their direction.

"Tetia..." – the man warned under his breath, but it was already too late.

Tetia pulled her hand free of his grip and, grinning widely, waved – and the woman, smiling pleasantly, waved back. It could have been almost charming, if Olruggio had actually been looking to meet someone – which he absolutely couldn't, sitting in Qifrey's jacket (he'd never found his own), with Qifrey's girls (the word students suddenly felt insufficient), in the café downstairs from Qifrey's building so as not to wake Qifrey.

Right, exactly.

Tetia, meanwhile, shot Richeh an I-told-you-so look and, briskly pushing back her chair, stood up.

"Tetia, come back right now!" – Olruggio snapped to attention too late, pushing away from the table and hurrying after the girl. God, this was the last thing he needed, the morning had been awkward enough already... At least Qifrey wasn't here, so he'd manage to salvage some shred of dignity. By the time he reached them the woman had already turned and leaned toward Tetia. Olruggio swore internally and hurried over. He stopped beside the girl and pulled her toward him quickly.

"Oh, it's him I was talking about, miss!" – Tetia practically bounced, cheerfully letting herself be steered back to stand beside the man.

"Tetia, that's enough," – he turned to the woman, who was sitting quietly – "I'm sorry about them, they're, uh... children."

The woman smiled pleasantly and with a light gesture tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Before the man could get another word in, Tetia peeked out from behind his leg and announced loudly:

"He's not married!"

Olruggio's face went red fast. Oh god, of course it couldn't just end there.

"Tetia, stop!"

"And he has a good job!" – Richeh darted out from behind his other leg and neatly dodged the swipe Olruggio aimed at her head. When had she even followed them over? Richeh flitted behind his back and stopped beside Tetia. Olruggio raised his hands and spun, trying to catch the girls.

"Would you two knock it off!" – his indignation was cut short by a quiet laugh. The woman had covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking with barely audible laughter. Olruggio could feel his face getting redder by the second. He waved his hands in a panic, trying to –

"It's actually rather sweet," – the woman laughed softly once more and looked up, studying Olruggio with a careful, almost assessing gaze. Oh god, this was genuinely mortifying. "Are you really not married?" – the sudden question made Olruggio freeze and blink in confusion. She couldn't actually be...

"I... uh..." – what did people normally say to things like that? How awkward would it be to say no? And...

"Ah, there you all are," – a quiet voice from the direction of the door wove itself into the sound of dripping water. Olruggio felt, through the fabric of his jacket, nimble fingers close around his elbow – reassuringly and at the same time unsettlingly running along the folds of his sleeve – "I got worried when I woke up to an empty flat."

Olruggio exhaled slowly, relaxing. Ha, well, maybe there was a way out of this situation after all – Qifrey had always been better at handling things like this than he was... And maybe he wouldn't tease him too badly, since the whole thing had been Tetia's idea. One could hope.

When the man turned his head, the woman's face still wore that pleasant smile – though it had dimmed a little. She sat back carefully, perhaps to get a better angle, and folded her hands in her lap.

"Is this... your friend? He interrupted us rather abruptly," – Olruggio frowned at the note of displeasure in the woman's voice. The grip on his elbow tightened.

"Oh, forgive me. I was a little worried when I woke up to an empty flat," – Qifrey's smile, on the contrary, only widened. Olruggio winced at the phrasing but didn't protest – honestly, he should have left a note and not made his friend panic like that... It was remarkable they'd found them at all.

"You..." – the woman glanced between the two men in bewilderment. Olruggio bent down, grumbling, to straighten Tetia's dress. On Qifrey's face that same wide smile remained – he said nothing, only quietly moved Agott a little closer. The woman exhaled almost imperceptibly.

"Oh. I see." – by the time Olruggio straightened up, the woman had already risen and was walking quickly toward the exit.

"Wait..." – the dark-haired man moved toward her, but a sudden touch on his arm made him stop.

"Don't. I think she was in a hurry," – Qifrey's voice was notably more settled now than it had been a few minutes ago. Olruggio frowned, glancing between the blond man's face and the quickly retreating figure.

"Am I imagining things or did she look... uncomfortable? Did I say something wrong? In the end, it was the children who bothered her, not me..." – Olruggio turned to look at Qifrey. For a moment the other man's expression flickered, but the veil lifted quickly and he raised his eyes, making Olruggio lose his train of thought yet again. For just a moment he stood like that – again too close and impossibly far, close enough that Olruggio could make out the pillow crease still pressed into Qifrey's cheek.

"Looks like Master Olly really doesn't need a wife," – Tetia said, thoughtfully, glancing between one man and the other. Olruggio's face flushed immediately and he looked away from the man across from him and down at the girl.

"Of course not! Because then he couldn't live with Master Qifrey and take us out on weekends," – his protest was cut off by Agott's thin voice as she too looked up at Olruggio, expecting approval. The man exhaled tiredly and ruffled her hair. Qifrey, still standing beside him, laughed lightly, and the sound bounced off Olruggio's ribs and made his heart beat faster.

"We should go home, Olly," – and how could Olruggio say no to that smile?

Professional conference receptions were criminally similar to galas – Olruggio thought, wearily adjusting his stiff starched collar. Small clusters of people scattered here and there across an enormous hall, with affected courtesy pretending to genuinely care about each other's achievements and projects. Though perhaps someone in the room actually did. Olruggio was definitely not one of those people – despite the obvious value of networking, he had long since reduced his participation to politely nodding at names and buildings. He reached lazily for the canapé table he'd stationed himself beside – but, naturally, it was already empty.

At least he wasn't here alone. Beside him, Qifrey was laughing politely at yet another unfunny joke. The familiar sound grounded him – Olruggio had long since lost himself in the endless small talk and the effort of maintaining professionalism with people who had no idea what it meant. He smiled politely, nodding at passing colleagues – a man who was an architect, a woman who was a creative director, he thought – while dimly aware that Qifrey had shifted closer.

"You alright?" – the man had practically whispered it in his ear, making Olruggio flinch. He'd be lying if he tried to deny that this, specifically, wasn't making the evening more bearable – this... closeness. It seemed Qifrey could sense his discomfort, and hadn't moved more than a step away all evening. Which wasn't unpleasant – especially tonight, when the man was in a flawless suit that did remarkable things for his waist and...

"Fine," – Olruggio answered just as quietly, hoping his voice didn't carry everything he was trying to conceal right now. The people nearby were discussing something – sounded like venue décor, or some local police scandal. He barely remembered their names, though he was fairly certain they'd met before... or hadn't? Right now it was hard to focus on anything.

"Ah, where were we... right, Mr. Olruggio, my new project..." – the man had apparently noticed they'd stopped whispering and leaned in – "You mentioned you haven't had much on your plate lately."

"Uh... depends on what we'd be talking about?" – Olruggio didn't particularly need the money, but he'd never been able to turn down a genuinely interesting idea. He straightened and leaned in slightly, looking at the man's phone.

"Oh, that's... hold on, it says this is a public gallery? Free access, and... inclusive entry? Wow..." – Olruggio hummed and scrolled through several images himself. The concept was... actually ambitious. It brought together everything he'd wanted to work on – though the preliminary sketches didn't quite match the name, but if the man really intended to build a free gallery, that was...

"I heard you care about these things," – a pleased smile bloomed on the man's face, and Olruggio caught a disgruntled huff from Qifrey beside him.

"Perhaps you'd like to... discuss this later," – and oh god, was that a wink? Were they still talking about the project?

"You can send me the project details, I'll definitely..." – but the man cut him off with a casual wave and dropped his voice slightly.

"Why jump straight to the project... You know, there are plenty of ways to collaborate..."

He felt Qifrey shift closer – the man's breath was right at his ear. Olruggio went still, not daring to move. Suddenly all of his mental energy was spent on not leaning in.

"He'll be busy," – Qifrey's voice came out noticeably lower, and goosebumps ran up Olruggio's neck. Even so, he blinked, confused, and tried to focus on the conversation again.

"No doubt, I've got plenty of projects myself, but perhaps..."

"He'll be very busy," – ice crept into Qifrey's tone and Olruggio frowned. What was Qifrey on about? The man across from them looked mildly irritated and crossed his arms, studying –

"You know, we're talking about a grown adult, and you don't need to be so childishly jealous about it... Even if you're together."

"Think carefully before you finish that sentence," – Olruggio flinched at how cold Qifrey sounded. He froze, not daring to look back – Qifrey sounded... genuinely angry, and Olruggio couldn't understand why. It was a harmless come-on... granted, a slightly unprofessional one, hitting his weak spots in a way he'd never have entertained. But why this reaction? He felt Qifrey's hand settle protectively at his waist – not pulling him closer, but as if straining toward it. If he'd been thinking a little more clearly, he might even have thought...

"Okay, wow, I... got it..." – the man fumbled, taking his companion's arm and stepping back – "Anyway, you have my number and you..."

"Goodbye," – Olruggio could almost physically feel the tension in his friend's voice. He bit his lip, stopping himself from asking, right here, what the hell that was all about. He waited for the man to move away before looking at Qifrey's tightly pressed lips and the focused gaze still tracking their retreating conversation partner.

"What... what was all that?" – the phrase seemed to snap the blond man out of his thoughts. He pulled back sharply, removed his hand, and stretched his usual smile back over his face – but this time it only made Olruggio frown harder.

"What do you mean?" – the words landed so unnaturally they nearly hurt.

"What do I mean? You... don't you see what you're doing? Why? What's the point of all of this? Of this... god, of this closeness?" – Olruggio knew the accumulated tension and anger were making him say more than he should, but he couldn't stop himself. This endless push-pull was starting to drive him out of his mind. What was the point of pulling away only to turn around and speak as if they were... as if they were...

"He was just finding your weak spots to get close to you, and..."

"Oh god, I know! I know that, why can't you just let me handle it myself? Maybe I, for god's sake, want someone to find my weak spots and get close to me!" – the words came out on their own. Olruggio cut himself off with a sharp tug at his cuffs and suddenly went still. His gaze slid slowly over Qifrey's figure – the sudden rigidity in his posture, the nervous tremor at the corners of his lips. He was far away again – as if retreating, shutting himself off behind something – the way it always happened.

"You do this on purpose," – Olruggio's voice came out almost hollow. A small, stubborn part of his mind clung to the possibility that this was all in his imagination, but the guilty expression on Qifrey's face told him everything he needed to know – "You... oh god. You selfish bastard, you don't want me to drift too far and you won't let me get too close. Is it really that hard to let someone love me? To allow, I don't know, the idea that someone might want to?"

Qifrey's expression cracked and a flash of genuine confusion crossed his face.

"Olly, that's not what I..."

"Oh, of course not," – but Olruggio couldn't stop now. He poked the man in the perfectly arranged lapel of his jacket – "I can't be happy without you, and you know that, you know it, and you still won't let me... oh god, and I never saw it? How long has this been going on? As if it's not enough that I'm in love with you?"

Qifrey's face went white and Olruggio suddenly understood what he'd just said. God, no. Not this, not now, not in this enormous hall where everyone seemed to be looking at them. He'd imagined doing this some quiet evening in a lit-up city, or after the girls were asleep, or... or...

Olruggio took a slow step back.

"I... I need to step away," – he muttered under his breath, turning sharply and walking away. The muffled noise of the hall and Qifrey's deafening silence were all that answered.

The bathrooms were nearly empty – which wasn't surprising, this was a proper event, not a petrol station or a mediocre pub.

The water that splashed from the tap was cold, almost icy – and for possibly the first time, Olruggio was grateful for this ostentatious building. He looked up and studied his reflection in the mirror – a few wet strands hanging pathetically over his forehead, making it hard to see clearly, but well, that was already pretty grim. Which suited the situation.

What was he supposed to do now? He was still furious at the man he'd left alone among strangers, at an event where he'd been someone's plus one... The longer Olruggio sat with it, the worse everything felt. Yes, he was still angry – but oh god, why had he had to bring up being in love? Why couldn't he have just waited for a better moment? Another few years? Qifrey would probably refuse to speak to him for months now – he still remembered how visibly uncomfortable the man had been years ago when a colleague had confessed feelings for him. Olruggio covered his face with his palms.

Did Qifrey even like men? Could he feel romantic attraction to anyone at all? He'd never seen the man show interest in anyone... Well, right now that didn't matter. This was just... it wasn't going anywhere. It was a stupid, hopeless thing, and it had been hopeless long before Qifrey started doing whatever it was he was doing – whatever that even was.

"Can we talk?" – a quiet voice from the direction of the door wove itself into the sound of the dripping tap.

Olruggio didn't answer. His gaze stayed fixed on his reflection – so he couldn't quite make out the man standing at the entrance. He didn't want to deal with this right now – he didn't have the strength to explain everything from the beginning, didn't have the composure to really try to understand why his friend didn't want him to have... didn't want him to have love.

"I understand you're angry... you're completely right, and you have every right to be."

"No way," – Olruggio murmured, closing his eyes and leaning against the sink. But he didn't stop Qifrey – which was probably signal enough.

"I know I'm being selfish. I'm not... I'm afraid you've got it all wrong," – Qifrey's voice broke and he cleared his throat before continuing – "I... yes... I really have been selfish about it, you're right. But I'm here because I want to talk about what you said..."

Of course he'd bring that up – it would have been naive to think he'd just let it go.

"Just... let me stay," – Olruggio's voice was thin and he still couldn't bring himself to lift his head – "It'll pass. I swear I'll find a way to manage it. You can do whatever you want, god, I honestly don't care – just don't leave, don't put even more distance between us. Just let me stay close to you."

His voice echoed flatly off the narrow walls and faded into total silence. Olruggio wasn't crying – but just in case, his face stayed firmly hidden behind his palms.

"Olly..." – Qifrey's voice came from much closer now, as if the man was standing right behind him. Olruggio's eyes stayed fixed downward.

"That's not what I meant at all," – Qifrey's voice dropped too – "Don't you see? I could never let you go, never. None of this – all of this stupidity I kept doing, day after day – I didn't want you to feel like this, and I certainly didn't want to take love away from you. I just... I suppose I was jealous of them, wasn't I?"

What? Qifrey laughed, awkward, looking away – it was visible in the mirror. The man really was standing right behind him, though his face was hard to read from this angle.

"You..."

"I can't stop thinking about you – I can't stop thinking about losing you. And I know it's stupid, it's selfish, with all the secrets, the closed doors, the half-truths, with everything that... happens, with the past and the present. And even so, I... I can't make myself give you up. This sharp, restless feeling in me that sings every time I look at you."

Olruggio turned slowly and let his eyes travel over the figure in front of him. He still couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Qifrey – couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop thinking about him?

"You're saying..."

"I'm in love with you. Have been, for a while, actually, and I, uh... I don't think I'd have managed to say it on my own," – Qifrey wasn't smiling. His eye – the one still visible through the thick lens of his glasses – followed Olruggio carefully. Olruggio reached out slowly and touched the cool frame. His fingers traced the etching, gathering every groove along the way. He felt Qifrey swallow thickly when he drew the glasses toward himself and lifted them away, setting them to rest on the sink. And like this, direct, a few centimeters apart – like this it was so much easier to see the glowing adoration in Qifrey's eye.

Strange – thought Olruggio, tracing a finger along the other man's jaw – he'd never once thought about kissing Qifrey before. But now, standing this close, it seemed like the only right thing to do.

The kiss was soft, almost weightless, like the faint trace of another person on his lips – and so the man leaned slowly forward, trying to catch Qifrey, to taste him after all these years of wanting. In this moment it was hard to say where one ended and the other began – everything blurred together. He felt unfamiliar hands sliding along his hips, unfamiliar hair between his fingers, a quiet sound caught in the other man's throat.

"I still have a lot of questions," – Olruggio murmured into Qifrey's lips, still holding him, as if afraid to let go.

"Mm... I think those can wait..." – the man answered absently, undoing the top button of Olruggio's shirt and immediately pressing a warm kiss to the bare skin.

"No, I mean... I'm serious, beyond all this... What happens to us? With your secrets, with my..." – the man exhaled when the trail of kisses moved up along his jaw – "Ah, you know what I mean."

Qifrey murmured something in reply – and Olruggio couldn't insist on anything more, not while his brain was dissolving into something warm and liquid – this is real, this is actually happening, he can feel the other man's hands pressing him close in a way he'd never let himself imagine...

"Oh, I'll just, uh... come back later?" – a startled voice made both men jerk their heads toward the entrance, suddenly remembering they were in a public bathroom. The door banged shut, sharp and echoing.

"That was Hieheart," – Olruggio said blankly, while his gaze drifted back to Qifrey's kiss-swollen lips. This is something I did – noted his scattered brain, not helping at all.

"Don't talk about him right now," – the man grumbled, leaning in to press another kiss to Olruggio's neck.

"Why? What if he tells someone..." – Qifrey only muttered something into his skin, drawing a light laugh from him. Then a thought struck Olruggio – "Wait. Was it because of who that was? You don't like Hieheart? God, why, we've been going out for drinks together for years..."

"That's sort of the whole point..."

"Oh god, you were jealous of Hieheart!" – a deep, helpless laugh bloomed through him, warm and enormous, making him want to laugh and kiss Qifrey on that ridiculous face of his – "And here I thought you didn't think you could feel romantic feelings!"

"What?" – Qifrey frowned, finally lifting his head, looking... a little more clear-eyed. Olruggio cleared his throat, attempting to collect himself – and, oh god, they were still in a public bathroom, weren't they?

"We do still need to talk," – Olruggio said firmly, watching Qifrey's eyes trace his face. The glasses still weren't on his nose – they were on the sink – but the weight of everything left unsaid still hung in the room like a slow fog... or maybe that was just the air after very long kisses.

"Of course," – Qifrey's expression turned serious too – "And I'll understand if after we talk you don't want to..."

"Stop right there and leave my decisions to me," – Olruggio finally let go and started fixing his collar – "God, is that a mark? You can see it..."

Qifrey gave a satisfied hum, picking up his glasses and holding them in his hands. They stayed there – Olruggio's gaze drifted slowly between the man's face, his slightly disheveled hair, and the glasses he wasn't putting back on. And that – just right now, this was beautiful. To hell with confessing on some quiet evening in a lit-up city, or after the girls were asleep, or... or...

"I think we should find the back exit," – and oh, how could Olruggio say no to that smile?