Chapter Text
They were 13.
They were 13 and he and Olruggio had just finished climbing to the top of a waterfall and it was the most free Qifrey had felt since waking up in that soggy box under that wicked tree in that haunted forest. He’d thought the cold spray of water and the steady ache in his feet and that blister he left intentionally open would keep him safe. He should’ve known better. This was Olly he was talking about… of course he’d feel comfortable with Olruggio around. And so, without warning, the tree began to sprout.
Qifrey yelled despite himself. He felt the roots pierce him and he was drowning again. He could barely understand Olruggio’s frantic attempts to try to fix him, to get him to feel better, to stop his affliction, and Qifrey remembered that Olruggio forgot. And he cried. And with each tear he shed the tree decreased until finally, he could speak again. But the lump in his throat prevented him from saying much, so he pointed towards his palmquire instead.
Olruggio obliged and Qifrey cried even harder. With shaking hands, he opened the palmquire and flipped it to the last page and stopped.
“A- a memory spell?” His friend gasped as it came into view. “No. No, Qifrey, I’m not gonna erase your memories! You already had people do that to you, I’m not gonna be one of them!”
Qifrey couldn’t breathe, but he shook his head “no” nonetheless.
“No? What do you mean no??” Olruggio wasn’t understanding and between the pain and the dawning horror of what he knew would come next, Qifrey couldn’t bring it in himself to tell Olruggio what do to.
He should’ve known he wouldn’t have to… it had been Olruggio’s idea after all.
“Oh. It’s not for you, is it?”
The tears fell harder and Qifrey gasped for air as the trunk receded further from his throat.
“It’s for me.”
Qifrey lunged for Olruggio with his first unobstructed breath.
“It’s okay Qifrey. I trust you.”
A fallen spell. Two closed eyes. One cry of pain. A pair of hands clutching a friend’s sleeping form.
- · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
They were 17.
They had freshly finished their fourth trial, both on their way to becoming great witches. Qifrey had tried to nearly drown himself when he realized they’d passed. He’d already erased Olruggio’s memory of passing the third test, he didn’t want him to have to lose passing the fourth.
Of course, Olruggio was too kind, as always. He pulled Qifrey out of the freezing lake and dried him off and lectured him about being more careful. Qifrey bit his lip to keep himself from saying that this was him being careful. They walked back towards the window way in near silence, and Qifrey thought maybe, just maybe, they were safe. Then Olruggio stopped. He stopped and he grabbed Qifrey’s hand and he said three little words that nearly killed his best friend.
“I love you.”
And Qifrey cried. He cried as he felt the tree grow out of his eye socket and pull his arms up at odd angles. He cried as Olruggio frantically tried to comfort him. He cried as the spell came loose from his palmquire. He cried as he caught Olruggio’s sleeping form.
He realized in that moment, that the cycle would repeat itself, over and over and over again. How many precious memories would he have to take from Olruggio in order to stay alive? How many more milestones would be lost in a haze because Qifrey couldn’t keep himself together? He couldn’t keep doing this. The cycle needed to end. He would force it to end. One way, or another.
- · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
He was 19.
He was 19 and all alone in the middle of the forest and missing his best friend terribly. He tried to imagine what Olruggio was doing, what he was wearing, how his face might crinkle in the light of the sun. He liked to imagine he was happy, that his life was blossoming into something beautiful and profound now that he didn’t have his anchor pulling him down. An image of Olruggio’s smile came unbidden to his mind, and just that image alone was his ruin.
He felt the leaves begin to sprout in the back of his throat and the roots around his chest twist and he panicked, because he was alone. There was no simple solution to stop the sprouting, there was no Olruggio to tear apart again to stop his own downfall, there was only himself and the woods in which he stood. The panic staved off the growth just enough for him to find another solution. Sure, it was drastic and would probably have lasting consequences, but he had made a promise to his friend and he couldn’t break it, even if he really wanted to sometimes.
So, Qifrey unsheathed his sword, and fell on it.
- · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
They were 22.
They were 22 and had just come back from a night of drinking at the bar. He had too much to drink, he knew he had, but in that moment he didn’t care. He just wanted to hold his friend and be held in kind. He just wanted one moment to not be on guard, to feel okay, just for once.
But of course, that was too much to ask. A hand hold turned into an embrace, turned into a kiss, turned into lips meeting lips for the first time, turned into a seed starting to sprout from his eye. He hid his tears as he reached into his palmquire and placed the spell on his best friend’s head. He’d probably just think the buzzing feeling left on his lips and the loss of memory was the alcohol anyway.
- · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
They were 25.
They were 25 and Qifrey had just finished passing the fifth test, right on the cusp of having so much anxiety he wouldn’t know what to do with, teetering on the precipice of finally feeling free enough to give Olruggio just a fraction of the comfort he created for others. Of course that would be when everything fell apart again.
This time Olruggio knew. This time he’d put together the pieces and discovered the spell hidden in his palmquire. This time there was anger and harsh words and accusations, and Qifrey loved him throughout it all. He loved him because he knew what came next, and even though they were so different from the two twelve year old boys who had sworn to become partners in pain, they would always come back to this place, Qifrey succumbing to Olruggio’s grace as the memory spell takes one more piece of his friend away. Qifrey cried. He always cried. He wished he could afford to hope that someday it would end.
- · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
They’re 29 now.
They’re 29 and they’ve been through this song and dance a million times. Olruggio finds out, or Qifrey tells him, or something forces the delicate balance he’d created for himself to tip and then Olruggio’s memories are back on the chopping black, waiting for his axe. He wonders how long he can do this for. He wonders how much of his friend will be left when he’s done.
Qifrey is 29 and feels more like a poison than ever before because he can’t afford to let himself break his promise anymore. Not when he has four little apprentices that need him to be safe for them, that need him to protect and comfort them. So, Qifrey steps up to the podium, spell in hand, and cuts off another piece of his only love, and still has the audacity to whisper, “Forgive me.” as he sheds tears over the body of the man he is slowly killing with each and every breath.