Work Text:
“How do you get your ideas?” Qifrey asked, seated on the floor of the workshop and leaning his back against the hard wood of Olruggio’s workbench. “For the contraptions. They’re all so clever.”
“They’re meant to solve problems,” Olruggio said, glancing down at Qifrey. “Lucky for me, world’s full of problems.”
“Still,” Qifrey said. “They’re so creative. There’s such a spirit to them, I’ve always said so.”
“Maybe so,” Olly said. “To tell you the truth, the ideas just come to me sometimes. I don’t always think about it as much as I feel it. You have to let yourself feel these things into being.”
“Absolutely,” Qifrey said, smiling softly as he watched Olruggio work. “You know, if you ever set up a shop in one of the cities, I’m sure you’d make a fortune from all these wonderful things you make.”
“True enough, but I’m not so fond of the city,” Olruggio replied. “Besides, I make plenty doing it the way I like.”
“Less than you used to,” Qifrey pointed out. “Before the atelier, before the apprentices. You made quite a reputation for yourself.”
“It’s pointless without happiness,” Olruggio huffed, setting down a torchlike contraption to look at Qifrey. “This is the only place I want to be.”
“Olly—” Qifrey began, but Olruggio interjected.
“Qifrey, we can have this conversation a thousand times, and yet we’ll never get any further than the last time. I know how it is, and I know that for whatever reason you can’t tell me, but damnit, Qifrey, this is where I belong,” Olruggio exclaimed. “I’ve never felt like this, not about any home I’ve ever had. So what if I make less than I used to? Back then, I was wandering this bloody place waiting for you to come back. So what if these things sell less than they used to. Each and every single one started out with an idea that sprouted out of love and without love it’s all pointless. Useless.”
“You care so much, Olly,” Qifrey murmured. “I love you for it, you know.”
Qifrey felt a moment of terror waiting for Olly to respond. It was the first time he had ever said something so unguarded, but the guilt inside him was enough to brush away any comfort that he could gain from telling Olly the truth.
“I made the drying rings for you,” Olly whispered. “I didn’t want you to ever have to be wet ever again.”
“Oh, Olly,” Qifrey said, grabbing Olruggio’s hand.
For a moment, Olruggio and Qifrey simply looked at each other. There was such deep love in that gaze, such a tenderness, that Qifrey started to feel pain gathering inside the socket of his right eye. With all the sorrow, it wasn’t enough to make him sprout, but in the strangest way Qifrey let himself relish the pain, soaking in the tiny piece of comfort that he could gain from that moment.
“It doesn’t matter what anyone offers me,” Olruggio said quietly. “I won’t ever leave here. I promise you that, Qifrey. Wherever you are? That’s the only home I want.”
“Thank you for building this home with me,” Qifrey said softly. “I know it’s not always what you might dream of. I know you don’t understand. But I hope you know, everything you tell me, all of it—I feel that too.”
“Qifrey,” Olruggio began. “It’s not been easy. You’re reckless, you’re half crazy sometimes, and I have no idea how to help. But here”—Olruggio leaned out of his chair and reached down to point at Qifrey’s heart—“that’s where my heart lives too. None of the rest of it matters.”
Olruggio, still holding Qifrey’s hand, lifted it up to his lips and gave it a kiss. Amidst his guilt, Qifrey felt the warmth of Olly’s mouth on his hand. The warmth snaked its way to Qifrey’s heart, sending hot-and-cold shivers across his body. It was exquisite, and it was cruel. How much he wished for more. But in that moment, he and Olruggio understood each other. It was a moment of pure connection, of gentleness, of realization that the full picture was far more complicated than what either of them could see at the time, but it didn’t matter because there was a love stronger than the suffocating branches of the silverwood tree that pressed and pulsed behind Qifrey’s right eyelid. It was a constant, throbbing reminder of the fact that this comfort couldn’t last—even if it did, the moment Olruggio found out, he would make the same choice that he had made countless times before.
That was Olly’s fatal flaw—he could forgive Qifrey every single time, and every single time he would make the same decision. Qifrey had thought that Olly would unconsciously tire of it eventually, or time would catch up to him and age him beyond recognition, harden his heart and make him rightfully angry with Qifrey for everything he had done. But every time it was the same. Every single time, Olly would comfort Qifrey, and then Qifrey would wipe his memories, and the cycle would begin anew.
Qifrey gave Olruggio a long look, and pulled Olly’s hand to his lips and gave it a kiss in turn. Those worries were for another time, when the silverwood was more restless and the pain couldn’t be avoided any longer. In that moment, all Qifrey wanted was to enjoy this one moment with Olruggio. In a life that had been measured in mere instants of happiness, it was a peace that Qifrey knew would not come again for a long time.
“My heart is with you, Qifrey,” Olly murmured, letting his fingers intertwine with Qifrey’s.
“And mine with you.”