Work Text:
Olruggio couldn't get a single line right.
They were too even. Years of practiced technique had made his strokes so precise that, ironically, they no longer worked the way they should. They lacked the element of randomness he needed, everything he produced came out too deliberate, too polished.
Not necessarily bad, but Olruggio had never delivered unfinished work to his Patrons—and he had no intention of starting now. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that the commission remained incomplete because of a single magic circle with water sigil.
With a defeated sigh, his thoughts drifted back to the main problem, the more important one. His head ached at the mere thought of trying to figure out what the hell was wrong. Well, more likely it ached because he hadn't had any proper rest for the past three—possibly four—days, depending on the date. During that time, all he was doing is dozing off at his desk. It hadn't helped much in any case.
The work would go better if he got some rest, Olruggio admitted to himself with another weary exhale as he straightened up from the desk. Even if it wouldn't go better, at the very least it would be easier if he stopped driving himself to the point of complete exhaustion. He even has time for it, the deadline was still relatively far away, and the commission wasn't urgent or particularly important.
It was a sensible idea. The kind of idea a responsible adult who was supposed to take care of himself would have, instead of relying on an overly concerned friend.
For all he knew, it could already be the morning of the next day. The thought of completely ruining what little remained of his sleep schedule didn't exactly please him, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly, reminding him that he hadn't gone downstairs in quite some time. Still, Olruggio wasn't going to die from skipping breakfast one more time, and "ruining" was far too generous a word for something that barely existed in the first place.
His back cracked as he stretched, trying to loosen his stiff muscles. The surrounding area was spotless, the result of several unsuccessful attempts to distract himself.
As he passed the window, Olruggio realized he had missed breakfast a long time ago. Judging by how high the sun had climbed into the sky, it wouldn't have been surprising if Qifrey had already started preparing lunch.
More determined than ever to finally get some proper sleep — Qifrey would be so disappointed if he knew how long it had been since Olruggio had truly slept — he dropped onto the bed and closed his eyes.
Fatigue burned deep in his bones. It took conscious effort to make himself relax, but eventually he managed. Olruggio lay in bed, ready to fall asleep... He needed to have a bath first. And change his clothes. Then, immediately after that, he would go to sleep.
Olruggio found himself freshly washed and changed, yet sitting at his work desk again by the time he realized what he was doing. One note had turned into a quick correction, which had turned into another, which had turned into an idea that...
With a loud clack, he set his pen down on the desk. Olruggio wasn't making any progress. He was still running in circles (hah) around the same old ideas, unable to understand what exactly wasn't working. It was counterproductive, he reminded himself with a firm nod, before returning to bed.
He lay there. Relaxed. Olruggio was genuinely exhausted— his eyes drifted shut on their own. Everything should have been perfect. If not for the headache that had been hounding him for the past few hours.
It wasn't anything new, either, he couldn't understand why his mind had decided to make such a huge issue out of what was, objectively, only a mild headache. To the point where even lying still hurt, when his only real problem, the actual problem, was that damned water sigil, and not—Qifrey!
Olruggio sat bolt upright and hurried to change into his cloak, how had he not thought of this sooner? Even if Qifrey didn't know exactly how to fix the circle, he would at least have a much better idea of which direction to take. Water was his speciality, after all.
His hand resting on the doorknob, Olruggio stopped himself. This could wait until tomorrow. He had time. The commission wasn't urgent, and the deadline was still far off.
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Olruggio asked himself what kind of witch he was if he put himself first like this instead of helping someone else.
That was the thought that made Olruggio realize he really needed to rest. It was also the very thing that would never let him.
At least this time he had an awake Qifrey, and a problem he could actually bring to him. Small wins.
While teaching the girls, Qifrey sat cross-legged on the floor, correcting their magic circles. His attention never strayed from Agott, even when Olruggio greeted everyone and the girls returned the greeting. Olruggio took his place behind Qifrey, looking down over his shoulder at his work, waiting for him to finish.
Despite knowing perfectly well that it wasn't true, Olruggio sometimes felt as though Qifrey had been born with the instincts of the perfect teacher. His explanations were clear and easy to follow, and though his voice was gentle, it never sounded patronizing. He pointed out things Olruggio would never have thought to explain, and he held all four girls' attention with remarkable ease, even with Olruggio himself standing there as a distraction.
Only after Agott gave a confident nod did Qifrey finally look up at him.
"Olly," He smiled, only for the expression to falter into a slight frown a moment later. "Did you sleep?"
"I need your help." Olruggio knew better than to answer the question, so instead he dropped the box into Qifrey's hands.
"Oh?" Qifrey slowly turned it over, examining it from every angle.
"See this circle? It's supposed to..." Olruggio began explaining, tracing the relevant symbols with his finger as he described what each part did and how the spell functioned. It took longer than he had expected. The commission itself wasn't especially complicated, but there were a lot of moving parts, and five minutes later he found himself absentmindedly bracing one hand against Qifrey's shoulder, with the girls gathered around them as an attentive audience "...and that's where the problem is. The water sigil."
"And what's wrong with it?"
"I don't know!"
The words burst out before he could stop them, and he felt Qifrey's shoulder jolt beneath his hand. Leaning in closer, Olruggio studied the circle once more, still unable to spot the mistake.
"Something's wrong, and I can't figure out what it is. I don't have that much experience with water sigils."
"I see," Qifrey murmured carefully.
Olruggio turned toward him and, with a flash of horror, realized Qifrey wasn't looking at the circle. He was looking at him.
Which, by itself, wasn't a problem. It became one when they were barely two millimetres apart.
Olruggio recoiled so quickly that it took him a second to catch his balance again. The headache certainly wasn't helping.
"Pardon me," he muttered awkwardly as he lowered himself to the floor beside Qifrey. As he should have done from the beginning. Instead of hanging over him like a drunk on ink brushbuddy.
"I'm always happy to help you, my dearest friend." Olruggio could hear the teasing in Qifrey's voice, so he shot him a thoroughly unimpressed look. Qifrey attempted —and failed— to hide his laughter with unconvincing cough.
The girls watched the two of them as though there were something genuinely interesting about the exchange.
"So?" Olruggio asked, shifting uncomfortably under their attentive stares "Any ideas?"
Qifrey turned his attention back to the magic circles. This was only a prototype. Olruggio had another identical one, and there would be at least one more before he drew the final version on higher-quality materials. Even so, Qifrey handled it with such... care. His fingers traced over the lines as though one careless movement might break something, or damage it. The look on his face made it obvious he was sorting through possibilities in his mind, and Olruggio could practically see the exact moment the right answer came to him.
"Actually," Qifrey said, and Olruggio straightened at once, "I do. I can see what the problem is."
"Wait, really? What is it?"
"I'll let the girls tell you." Qifrey smiled at them.
Tetia immediately snatched up the piece, her eyes shining with excitement. Agott gave a confident nod, and Olruggio could almost see the thought forming in her head the perfect chance to prove myself.
"R-Really? We can look at it, Master Olly?" Coco was the only one who asked. And she asked him, specifically, which surprised him a little, considering Qifrey was their teacher.
The idea was sweet, and Olruggio didn't particularly want to crush the girls' enthusiasm. He did, however, very much want to strangle Qifrey.
"Are you kidding?"
"It's good practice for them." Qifrey glanced back at him. "Or is this urgent?"
"I've got a couple of days, but..."
"Then would you be so kind?"
Qifrey gave the faintest nod toward the girls. Everyone except Coco had already gathered around the box—even Richeh was watching the process with quiet interest—while Coco stood with her hands clasped in front of her, looking between him and the others as though she were the only one who needed permission.
Olruggio knew perfectly well when he was being manipulated.
"...Ugh. Fine, sure. Go on"
Unfortunately, it still worked.
"Thank you, Master Olly!" Coco exclaimed, making the others look up at him before they echoed her thanks, a little more shyly.
"Not your Master," he sighed, propping his cheek against one hand.
His eyes stayed on the girls, yet he could still feel the smug expression on Qifrey's face beside him. Olruggio sincerely hoped Coco would drop another tree on him someday.
The minutes passed as the girls became increasingly animated, tossing theories back and forth. Olruggio corrected them as they went. "No, I've already tried that." he told them "That's a good thought, but..." and "That would make the circle...". They were clever. Qifrey was teaching them well.
Olruggio caught himself admiring Qifrey's work just as much as Qifrey had been examining his. A hand settled onto his shoulder, Qifrey leaned down slightly, looking at him from above.
"Olly," he said, almost in a whisper, "you never answered me, did you sleep?"
Worry settled into the lines of Qifrey's face. Olruggio blinked twice, fighting the urge to smooth away the crease between his brows with his thumb. It was difficult to gather the right words when Qifrey's attention rested on him so completely.
"I'll have time," he replied, looking away.
Qifrey's fingers tightened around his shoulder for just a second.
"You missed breakfast. And lunch. We saved some for you." He let out a quiet sigh, mercifully refraining from mentioning that this wasn't the first day in a row. His hand slid a little higher, closer to Olruggio's neck, his thumb beginning to stroke slow, absent-minded movements against the skin.
It effectively scattered every coherent thought in Olruggio's mind. Heat crept into his face, and he silently prayed Qifrey would attribute it to his words rather than his touch.
"You need to take better care of yourself."
"Interesting thing to hear from someone who's been ignoring his appointment with the healer for three weeks."
Qifrey snorted. Without interrupting the slow movement of his hand, he casually corrected one of the girls' theories.
When he had been younger, Olruggio would have thought this was it. Sure, friends could be affectionate with one another, but touches like these—so careful, almost intimate in their tenderness—had to mean there was something more between them. That the way Qifrey had blushed when Olruggio leaned in close a few minutes ago meant the feeling was mutual.
Now Olruggio had lived through enough quiet and careful rejections. He understood well enough that this was simply who Qifrey was — gentle, endlessly affectionate. He could cradle Olruggio's face in both hands, wrap an arm around his waist, or brush a finger along his neck, concerned for his health and still lean away from a kiss, still avert his eyes, still change the subject.
So Olruggio took a slow, deep breath and allowed himself to enjoy the small moments of tenderness that would never become anything else. It was nice, letting Qifrey do as he pleased.
Someday, Qifrey would break his heart, Olruggio knew that much. But today was not that day.
Olruggio wouldn't be able to say when exactly he closed his eyes, but by the time he became aware of it, he was already lying on the floor, his back and legs at angles that suggested, that at some point, he had simply collapsed. His face was resting against something soft.
It was Qifrey's leg, he realized, when he registered someone's hand—Qifrey's hand—running through his hair.
"Mm?" he hummured, as coherently as he was capable of. His limbs were still leaden, and his eyelids felt heavy. Sleep was pulling him back in, but he tried to push himself upright.
"Olly," Qifrey's hand stilled in his hair, his voice quiet and hesitand. The highest Olruggio managed to get was onto his elbow. He lifted his head toward Qifrey, whose hand fell away with the movement.
Looking around, Olruggio tried to remember what he had been doing, when, and where he was. This wasn't the first time he had woken up like this. With embarrassment, he admitted there had been a few times when it had happened outside. But this was the Atelier, and he didn't have that familiar feeling that he had forgotten something important, although...
"The girls? Project?" He asked, the sentences feeling like far too much effort to attempt. His voice was rough, and his arm threatened to give out, unable to support his weight.
"Everything is fine," Qifrey said, though it wasn't quite an answer. Olruggio looked up at him again. Qifrey looked conflicted, as though he was still wrestling with something. After a moment, Qifrey's hand carefully settled against Olruggio's forehead, and with the faintest pressure, he guided him back down onto his knees.
"You need to sleep. Is it too much to ask you to go upstairs?"
"Mhm..." Olruggio answered, barely registering the words.
"Of course." The words sounded more like a tired exhale than an actual response.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed as he lay there, not quite awake but still vaguely aware of the world around him. Qifrey's hand, with a tentative, uneven motion, began running through his hair again, and Olruggio shifted, adjusting himself more comfortably beneath it. He didn't have the room to process his own action, or the strange breath Qifrey drew in.
Olruggio fell asleep.