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It started with his eye slowly opening. He’s covered in sweat—somehow freezing despite the blanket and his partner holding onto him. He tried to steady his breathing. If Olruggio woke up, he’d immediately know what was wrong. He’d touch Qifrey oh so tenderly, cupping his face into his scarred and calloused hands. He’d shush him with sweet nothings, that it was all just a dream. He’d kiss his forehead and lay Qifrey back into a peaceful slumber, hugging onto him tightly and giving him the pressure he needed to calm down.
Olruggio would do all of these things. Qifrey hated it.
Qifrey managed to slowly wriggle his way from Olruggio’s hold. He stood up, foregoing footwear as he quietly made his way out of the now shared bedroom, grabbing his spectacles on the way out and quickly glueing them on. He tried to be as quiet as possible. He couldn’t risk waking Olruggio.
Qifrey slowly walked into the kitchen. He tried to focus on the cold stone underneath his feet; The texture of the floor and how it scratched his feet ever so slightly. He needed to focus on something other than his thoughts. He stared out the window of the Atelier’s kitchen. The sun was nowhere to be seen. The stars twinkled. It was a full moon. Qifrey could see some birds flying by. The grass swayed in the wind.
Yes, he needed to focus on something other than his thoughts. But that proved to be a rather difficult task. His mind continued to wander even with the attempts he had made. The ache in his bones was gone. The throbbing of his eye socket was no longer. He no longer needed to worry about being close with Olruggio or the girls. So why did he still reject everyone’s affection? He was safe now and yet he couldn’t let go.
Qifrey wiped the sweat from his brow before leaning against the sink, staring down into the drain. Why couldn’t he accept Olruggio’s affection? Why couldn’t he just… Relax?
Olruggio knew everything now. He knew of how he had his memories erased to keep Qifrey alive. He knew how it was his idea. He knew of how as a child, Qifrey awoke to being pulled from a coffin filling with rainwater, covered in blood and dirt and bruises with no recollection of who he was; his parents, what he liked and disliked, his past peers—it was all lost. He knew of Qifrey being a silverwood host. He knew everything. He’d always chalked up his memory gaps to his poor lifestyle choices, but ever since Qifrey came clean about all of it once rid of the silverwood, it all had started to make sense. The pieces had started to fall in place. A part of him wanted to be angry, but he knew Qifrey did what he had to do in order to survive. So he simply pushed those feelings down and forgave Qifrey, welcoming him with open arms.
It made Qifrey sick. Why would Olruggio accept him so willingly? None of it made sense to him. It was at this point that he was too lost in thought to hear the open and close of a bedroom door.
“There you are.” Olruggio walked into the kitchen with a yawn. “C’mon now, it’s the middle of the night, Qifrey.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over to the other man. He could sense the nerves radiating off of him. The way his shoulders tensed, the way he gripped the sink; his knuckles were white. Qifrey seemed to be lost in thought—too lost.
Olruggio slowly approached. “Qifrey?” No answer, “Qifrey,” he spoke again, softly this time, reaching out to gently touch the small of his back.
Qifrey flinched. He whipped his head to Olruggio. He blinked hard. The look on his face was unreadable as he contorted his lips into a small smile, “Olly,” he said softly, “I’m sorry I left our bed. I couldn’t sleep.” He said it so simply. He said it so simply as if nothing was wrong. The tone of his voice was kind and carefree. It contrasted with the way his body seemed to remain tense, as if it were attempting to brace for impact for a blow that would never come. Olruggio could tell something was off.
The way Qifrey was acting in this moment—Olruggio wouldn’t stand for it.
Olruggio let his hand linger on Qifrey’s hip. He looked up at him. He didn’t pity Qifrey, no, he would never. He just… Felt rather defeated. It had been two months since Qifrey was free from the silverwood, and he had yet to make any real progress. Olruggio knew it would take time—he knew this. But he wished it was easier for Qifrey to lower his walls. In reality, he knew that Qifrey had built these walls from the moment he learned that he was a silverwood host.
“Qifrey,” Olruggio started reluctantly, afraid to potentially worsen Qifrey’s mood. “You know you can talk to me.” His brow furrowed and he frowned. “I want to be here for you, but… I can’t if you won’t let me.” He grabbed Qifrey’s hands. “Please, Qifrey, let me,” he practically pleaded. It had been too many nights of this. The waking to an empty bed, the pretending to be asleep as Qifrey shook and tried to sob silently–all off it was slowly starting to build up. Olruggio needed to approach gently, but firmly.
“Olly,” Qifrey softened. It was all too much; Olruggio’s kind words, his soft touches, his neverending patience–it left Qifrey breathless at times. How was Qifrey deserving of such treatment? After all he’s put Olruggio through? Why was Olruggio doing this? Why couldn’t he leave Qifrey alone? Why couldn’t he let Qifrey just die? Why? Why was he doing this?
It was as if Olruggio could read Qifrey’s mind. He shuffled closer, cupping his cheek into his calloused hand. Qifrey focused on the roughness. Olruggio gave a weak smile, looking defeated, “Let’s go back to bed, yeah?” His voice was soft, as if Qifrey might break like glass if he were to speak any louder. Qifrey could only look defeated as well. He gave a small, pathetic nod as he let Olruggio lead him back to their bedroom.
As Olruggio opened the door, Qifrey followed after. Floatglow lamps adorned the room here and there, lit from Olruggio waking earlier. What could be noticed almost immediately was Olruggio’s messy work space. Ever since the two had joined rooms, there was no shortage of clutter. Qifrey wouldn’t change it for the world, even if he’d rather the room be kept tidy. Olruggio guided Qifrey back into bed, laying down with him. He looked to Qifrey, watching him attempt to get comfortable. He noticed how Qifrey’s brow stayed furrowed. He noticed that no matter how Qifrey positioned, he couldn’t get comfortable. He wanted the ability to rid Qifrey of every negative thought he ever had. He wanted to be the reason Qifrey smiled again–a real true smile.
He regretted ever teaching Qifrey how to fake a smile. Ever since then, he never had shown a genuine one.
“Qifrey.” Olruggio opened his arms, gesturing for Qifrey to lay on his chest. Silently, Qifrey obliged. He curled up against Olrugio, burying his face there. He wished he could get away from it all; the thoughts of what if? What if Olruggio hadn’t accepted Qifrey”s explanation? What if he had reported him to the Great Hall? What if his girls were taken away? What if–
“Stop that,” Olruggio started. He hugged Qifrey close, putting a hand in his now multicolored hair and gently stroked. “I can tell when it’s getting bad, Qifrey,” he spoke barely above a whisper before kissing Qifrey’s head, “You need to let me in. I can’t help you if you refuse my attempts.” He was desperate. He needed Qifrey to understand this.
However–
“It’s not that simple, Olly.” And there it was. One of the many refusals that Qifrey made. Olruggio sighed, tightening his grip on Qifrey as if to shield him from the world that had hurt him so.
“It’s not that simple.” His voice wavered this time, and he shoved his face further into Olruggio’s shirt. His body shook ever so slightly, his desperate attempts to hold back his tears visible. “It’s not that simple,” he repeated, “It’s not that simple– It’s not–” and there it was, yet again.
Olruggio felt guilty about the relief that washed over him as Qifrey could no longer hold back his tears. He took off Qifrey’s spectacles, placing them beside his pillow. It was an invitation; to cry, to scream, to tremble and come undone in the worst ways possible. It was an invitation to hit and yell and unleash the cruelest words Qifrey could think of.
Qifrey took that invitation.
It started with apologies. “I’m sorry,” Qifrey sobbed into Olruggio’s shirt, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry– Olly, I’m sorry!” He spieled on and on, “Why? Why? I don’t understand!” Qifrey’s body trembled as if he were in subzero temperatures. All of his worries took over. All of his grief and pain and worst thoughts spilled from his mouth. Olruggio could only rub his back and hug him tightly.
Qifrey knew why. He knew all the answers to his questions. He just couldn’t accept them–he refused to accept them. He was doomed from birth, it seemed. He wasn’t made to be happy. He wasn’t made to enjoy such mundane things such as love and happiness. He wasn’t meant to be loved. He was broken and all he ever did was cause pain to the others around him. He was made to be mean and cruel. He was made for the sole purpose of suffering. If he were to die it would be for the betterment of everyone he had ever even gazed upon.
Beldaruit should have never rescued him. It only caused misery to the people he had come to know. To the people he had come to love.
“Why didn’t you let me die?!” Qifrey hiccuped, “I don’t understand! I don’t get it!” It was then that Olruggio grabbed Qifrey’s face, forcing him to look up and into his eyes. Qifrey’s face was stained with tears– his left cheek soaked and his right holding a few tears that fell slowly; a testament to his trauma. He seemed lucid for a moment as Olruggio spoke.
“Don’t,” Oluggio spoke with emphasis, “Don’t you ever ask that question,” He was gentle, yes, but harsh enough with his words. They seemed to hit. “Don’t ever ask that question when you know just how much I love you.” He wiped away Qifrey’s tears, but it was all in vain. New tears fell, replacing the old ones just as quick as they had been wiped away. Olruggio’s words only made Qifrey cry more.
“Qifrey,” Olruggio softened his words again, “It’s been two months. You hardly even entertain the girls anymore. I need you to let yourself be loved, Qifrey. I love you. The girls love you. All of us need you.” That seemed to light a fire in Qifrey. Yes, of course. Why hadn’t he realized earlier? Qifrey was letting his feelings get in the way of teaching his apprentices. Qifrey knew it was much more complicated than that, but he had to snap out of it. He had to try. He couldn’t let himself succumb to his emotions after everything.
He couldn’t let the brimhats win. It couldn’t have all been for nothing.
“Okay,” Qifrey spoke weakly. He needed to do better—he needed to be better. For the girls. For his girls.
For Olruggio.
“I know it’ll take time. You’ve kept all this in for so many years.” Olruggio let his forehead rest against Qifrey’s. “But I’ll be here by your side like I always have. We’re a team, remember?” Olruggio looked into Qifrey’s eye. Qifrey stayed silent for a moment. He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know what healing looked like. He didn’t know how quickly he should progress. He didn’t know if he even deserved to heal; to be happy and accept the love that was so eagerly extended to him. Olruggio could sense Qifrey’s train of thought. He gave a small smile. “I know deep down you want this, Qifrey. You need to let yourself have it. You deserve this just as much as anyone else.”
Qifrey teared up again. He frowned. “But what if it goes wrong somehow?” he started, “What if I mess things up?” He was normally so sure of himself. This was the one thing he wasn’t sure about. It could be a little jarring for anyone else to see, but not Olruggio.
“You will,” Olruggio admitted, “You will mess up. But that’s part of it. I know it’s uncomfortable. It’s foreign. But I need you to trust me on this. Can you trust me, Qifrey?” Olruggio practically pleaded. He needed Qifrey to realize that he was worth all of this. He needed Qifrey to understand that he would move heaven and earth for him. He’d rearrange the stars to whatever constellation he desired. He’d change fate no matter how impossible it seemed.
Qifrey looked up at Olruggio again, letting him wipe away the tears that had accumulated. Qifrey seemed pensive. He was scared, as much as he hated to admit it, but Olruggio was right. Qifrey needed to try. That’s all he could do. So he decided, “Okay.” He leaned into Olruggio’s touch. It was slow and reluctant, but it was something. ‘I’ll try.”
Olruggio could only smile, “That’s a start.”