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“The girls love your snugstones,” Qifrey said quietly, standing in the threshold of Olruggio’s workshop.
“I'm glad to hear it,” Olruggio said, his back turned to Qifrey as he worked on some contraption.
There was a long pause. Qifrey wasn't so eager to break the silence. There was something so soothing, so peaceful about watching Olruggio work in the dim light of the little workshop. In that moment, it felt as if they might have forever. If Qifrey hadn't known better, the thought alone would have brought him enough solace to bring it all to an early end.
“I make these things to sell, y’know,” Olly said, breaking the silence. “It's not kind, it's smart.”
“Really?” Qifrey said dryly. “And here I thought you'd grown somewhat fond of the girls.”
“Bah,” Olly replied, lowering his head to look closer at whatever contraption he had on his desk.
Qifrey shook his head, smiling to himself. Olly was too good. He would never admit how fond he'd grown of the apprentices. And yet, Qifrey could see clear as day how much the girls had come to mean to Olruggio.
It was funny, really. After all the years Qifrey and Olruggio had spent together, Qifrey had never been able to tell Olly the truth about hardly anything. Not about the tree, or his sight, or how he felt about him. Olly, his Olly, always so close and yet so far away. Even then, as they occupied the same space, the two couldn't have been further apart. It felt as if Qifrey’s heart was always reaching out for Olly, but his mind—the part that wanted to survive —kept pulling him away. Some days, Qifrey wondered if he really could survive the guilt. But that was the whole point, wasn't it?
“What about you?” Olly said gruffly.
“Me?” Qifrey said, disoriented by the change of conversation.
“The snugstone,” Olly said. “Have you…liked it.”
“Of course, Olly. Thank you,” Qifrey lied, more guilt bubbling up inside of him. What he couldn't say was that he couldn't use it. That the slightest comfort wasn't something that he could risk, that even being around Olly and all his wonderful things was enough to make branches sprout out of him if not for the tremendous guilt that kept him human, if miserable.
“I know you're lying,” Olruggio said quietly. “You never look rested. But lately I think it's been worse. When will you stop stretching yourself so thin? You deserve peace, Qifrey.”
No I don't, is what Qifrey would have said. But you don't remember why and that's exactly why I don't deserve it.
But what he really said was, “I've just been busy, Olly. Nothing more than that.”
“Hmph,” Olly replied, his displeasure made clear to Qifrey. “Well, if you ever decide to stop making yourself feel miserable, the snugstone will be there for you.”
Qifrey could have laughed at the irony of it. If only Olruggio knew.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Olruggio said, finally turning his head to make eye contact with Qifrey. “I made something for you.”
“For me?” Qifrey murmured, a quiet surprise welling up inside of him.
“Yes, well,” Olly began. “I noticed y’haven't liked bright light so much lately. And before y’say anything, just know I don't intend to ask why. Not for now, anyways. But I thought y’might like a way to still be able to work on things in the evenings. Something brighter than a candle so it can light your paper properly, but not so bright you don't like it.”
Olly stood up from his work table, something hidden deep in the pocket of his robes. He took Qifreys hand, making the white haired witch’s heart skip a beat. He slipped something into Qifreys palm. It was warm to the touch, and when Qifrey looked down, he saw that it was a gently glowing orb. He had to admit, the light was perfect. It wasn't too bright, but it certainly offered much better light than the small candles he often found himself working by, often into the wee hours of the morning.
“Olly,” Qifrey murmured. “It's perfect. Thank you. I—”
“I don't need you to explain,” Olruggio replied, his voice softer than usual. “But if you need to, just know I'll be here.”
“Thank you, truly,” Qifrey said quietly. “Goodnight, Olly.”
“Try to get some sleep,” Olly said, turning back to continue his work.
“Always so kind,” Qifrey said, smiling softly. “You’re so good, Olly.”
“Goodnight, Qifrey,” Olruggio said, the ghost of what might have been a smile upon his face as he closed the door on Qifrey.
Olruggio never had known how to hide how he felt, Qifrey thought as he walked through the empty atelier back to his room. It always seemed to come through in his magic. What a beautiful thing, Olly’s magic was.