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"I would've never believed you // If you told me how lucky I'd get in this life // Got twice what I needed, when I say it, I mean it // I've been doing alright"
For a long time, silence in the atelier had been a rarity. It was once filled with the echo of small footsteps, eager questions, and the constant anxiety for the students' well-being and future. The roots that once found refuge in his body filled even those rare moments of silence. But the girls had grown, their own paths taking them far beyond the atelier, leaving Qifrey and Olruggio to settle into a new kind of quiet.
A sudden, sharp clatter from the kitchen broke that silence.
Qifrey's gaze drifted over the top of the book in his hand, his eye tracking the sound as he lowered the tome. Across the room, Olruggio was standing by the stove, a wooden spoon loosely in one hand while he reached above into the spice cabinet. He let out a quiet grumble, his shoulders tensing under his shirt as he muttered something unflattering about the placement of the salt jar.
He could never let his gaze linger for long in the past, for the claws around his heart would constrict, a painful reminder of the emotional wall he had to maintain. It was still strange to rationalize even now, though it had been several months at this point. Yet only recently had he allowed himself the grace to trace Olruggio's form as he went about his day. His books were beginning to bore him, as he much preferred to watch the pattern of Olruggio's whispered frustrations.
He had quite the potty mouth now that the girls were gone. Yet, he was also quick to turn it off when they visited, despite them being adults now. Richeh cursing had even earned a shocked gasp from the man when she was telling a story about one of her spell's malfunctions. It made Qifrey laugh in the moment, for once watching the satisfied smirk that formed on his lips at earning yet another angricheh point. Olruggio had this slight shine in his eyes afterward, and he pursed his lips when he rested his chin in the palm of his hand.
He would always look over to Qifrey, and in the moment they stared into the other's eye, he always smiled, his demeanor softening. Qifrey wondered how many of those glances he had missed over the years, and how long Olruggio looked at him like he was a painting to be adored. It was hard to understand what it was he was feeling now, but it had to be what he was never able to experience. That was the only rational answer to why it felt so foreign.
When Olruggio finally reached for the salt, he grumbled as he opened the top, sprinkling just a bit into the stew he was making for the both of them. Qifrey closed his book, gently placing it on the small table in front of the loveseat, his gaze stuck on Olruggio as he rose to his feet. He no longer had a reason to rush anymore, smiling to himself as his partner became less blurry. He placed a hand on the counter beside the stove, leaning in to look over the man's shoulder.
"Do tell what it is you're preparing tonight?" he cooed beside his ear, a pleasant smirk on his face.
Olruggio's entire back straightened, his fingers gripping the spoon as he leaned away from the man with a frustrated look. "Ya know, I really hate how cat-like you are- who taught ya to be so sneaky, huh?" Olruggio nudged him back a bit with his shoulder as he returned to his position.
Olruggio took over cooking when Qifrey recovered from the Silverwood leaving his body, yet even now he preferred to do most of it. Qifrey had locked himself in his room for the first month, only speaking to Olruggio through a crack in his door. He never once got angry with Qifrey, only once did he plead with Qifrey to just take a walk outside with him.
He didn't have a curse to force himself to remember his mistakes anymore, now it was just his own brain. He would never forget how hoarse Olruggio had sounded that night when Qifrey had opened the door, the sight of his wet eyes felt had felt like a knife in his gut. He never wanted to be the source of such sorrow for the man, Olruggio deserved better than Qifrey.
Yet he stayed, and the first day he came out of his room, Olruggio didn't shower him with praise. He simply held his hand, helped him out to the garden, and sat beside him with a cup of tea. He asked him about the book he was reading, which turned into a conversation of how much Qifrey missed the students.
Qifrey had finally allowed himself to cry then. The feeling of Olruggio's broad arms pulled him closer, the mug falling against the grass, and Qifrey's hands balled into his shirt as he sobbed into Olruggio's shoulder. He was allowed to feel the warmth of his body, and he never wanted to forget how it felt. Olruggio never brought it up to him again.
Qifrey didn't understand how he could have been so lucky all along, and yet was forced to pretend he wasn't.
Olruggio seemed to notice his silence, tapping the excess stew off the spoon before setting it down and pulling the pot to an unused spot as he glanced back at him. "Ya alright?" he asked, bringing Qifrey out of his thoughts.
Qifrey gave a slight nod, stepping over to the cabinet to pull two bowls out with a gentle smile.
"You know, for once… yes. I'm alright," Qifrey said, his tone mellow as he stepped closer, holding the bowls up for Olruggio. He was able to look into his eyes now, to be closer and see the crow's feet forming from years of working on contraptions. Olruggio really was handsome, Qifrey was still shocked he had never pursued anybody.
Olruggio smiled gently, his elbow going to nudging him a bit with a chuckle. He spooned the stew into the bowls, motioning for him to sit at the table. "Good, let's keep improving, yeah?" Olruggio hummed, a pleasant smile on his face before going to take a bite.
Qifrey's fingers lingered on his spoon, his gaze fixed on the other man in thought. Olruggio was more than he deserved, yet Qifrey was allowed to be selfish now. His future was in his own hands now, but Olruggio had always held them up before, staying by his side all those years to encourage him to live. Now they could both look toward the future, and in doing so, protect each other from the rain.
“Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve all the love I get in a day // Spend a year on a highway, played to no one on Friday // Used to care, now I don't // Somehow I made it this far // Driving around in the dark”
Being sick had never bothered him as badly as it did now. The hum of the Silverwood had long pushed his body's physical limits, but now Qifrey had discovered a thoroughly human vulnerability.
The common cold.
Currently, he was cocooned on the sofa by the hearth, buried under a mountain of heavy blankets that Olruggio had thrown at him before demanding he stay put and rest. Olruggio had even propped a cushion behind him so he could sit up, giving him the perfect vantage point to watch the man in the kitchen. It was becoming his new favorite spot in the atelier.
Qifrey tracked his frantic pace, finding an unexpected rhythm in the sharp thwack of the knife against the cutting board. If he were closer, he was sure he'd see sweat forming on Olruggio's brow, even from this distance he could make out the massive amount of steam rising from the stockpot.
Qifrey cleared his throat, his voice coming out a bit more raspy and congested than he cared to admit. "Olly… that is a staggering amount of soup. You're going to exhaust yourself redrawing the seals on the lids every week."
Olruggio didn't even turn around, though his knife paused for a brief second. "Hush, breathe in the steam, Qif," he grumbled over his shoulder, though the familiar gruffness in his voice completely ruined the bite of his words. "I know how to manage the cookpots. Keep yer head back and rest."
Qifrey's body relaxed, sinking against the cushion, an effortless smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He adjusted the blanket tucked under his chin, watching the way Olruggio's shoulder flexed when he returned to chopping.
For decades, Qifrey had remained so isolated, consumed by his own shadows and curse. He used to care so deeply about maintaining a perfect, unbothered facade. He couldn't risk Olruggio or the students trying to comfort him, to worry for him. It had settled in his body that showing any human weakness meant he was failing, risking his body's freedom from the earth's soil.
Somehow, he had made it through that pitch-black tunnel. Now, his biggest worry was a stuffy nose and an overprotective… friend? Partner? Who refused to let him out of his sight. It truly didn't cause him real worry, of course. He was content to just lounge and let the man watch over him.
The sound of Olruggio's knife was overpowered by the front door swinging open.
"Master Qifrey!"
Coco's voice rang out first, a brilliant, unmistakable burst of energy that echoed through the atelier. Qifrey blinked, his eye widening in genuine confusion, sitting up more properly. A flurry of cloaks, overlapping chatter, and cherished faces flooded into the entryway. Agott, Tetia, and Richeh all followed right on Coco's heels, removing their caps with a familiar lively clatter that the atelier hadn't heard in years.
In the kitchen, Olruggio finally set down his knife. He wore a smug, satisfied smirk across his face, wiping his hands on the towel tucked into his tunic. The massive stockpot. The realization hit Qifrey, Olruggio had no plans to store the soup. He had invited them.
Before Qifrey could even think of detangling his arms from the blanket to greet them properly, Coco was already skidding to a halt by the edge of the sofa. She was carrying an incredibly plush bundle of fabric, her eyes shining with sheer excitement.
"We heard you were under the weather, so we all came as fast as we could!" Coco beamed. Helping him shed the old blanket, once he was free she unrolled the heavy fabric and draped it around his shoulders. "Look! I made this quilt myself. I drew a specialized inversion seal on the inner lining. It's a warming spell, but it shouldn't overheat! It'll keep you cozy against the chill, but not overheat! It's just a prototype, so you'll have to let me know how I can improve it!"
"And I brought a special blend of Erbe tea to help clear your head," Agott added, stepping up more quietly behind Coco. She set a small, neatly labeled tin on the side table, her eyes scanning Qifrey with a familiar silent protectiveness. She really had been influenced by Olruggio. Anytime the two of them visited, he always let his gaze linger over to their caps, and the ornaments that had been swapped years ago.
"And we brought honey cakes from Kahln!" Tetia chimed in, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she nudged her way closer beside them. Richeh followed with a more measured step, carefully setting down a bundle of fragrant flowers, adorned with shaped accents of her signature ribbon spell, right next to Agott's tin. She gave Qifrey a small nod of reassurance that was uniquely her.
The atelier was suddenly so full of life, a beautiful contrast to the quiet he had grown accustomed to. Sitting there surrounded by his former students' love and gifts, Qifrey felt a warm, aching tightness rise in his chest. It bypassed the symptoms of his congestion, settling deep into his bones.
Love.
Family.
Life.
He leaned back against the cushion, a genuine, albeit slightly breathless, laugh slipping past his lips. "You all shouldn't have traveled so far and risked getting sick just for me," he murmured, his voice thick but spilling with affection, wiping a stray tear from his eye. Curse these wonderful girls. "But thank you. It is… so wonderful to see you all together."
"Oi, where's my thanks, huh?" Olruggio's voice boomed from the kitchen archway, cutting through their conversation with an easy, teasing lilt. He was leaning against the archway, arms crossed over his chest, that smug smirk still on his lips. "They aren't the only ones responsible, ya know. Someone had to coordinate their busy schedules.
Tetia gasped dramatically, spinning around toward him. "Master Olruggio! You promised you wouldn't give it away!"
"Hey, I didn't give anything away, you all burst through the door like a pack of rogue scale-wolves," Olruggio chuckled, shaking his head, which earned a soft laugh from Qifrey. He pushed off the wall and motioned with a tilt of his chin back toward the fragrant kitchen. "Alright- out of those cloaks and wash yer hands. We have a massive pot of soup waiting, you can catch up over dinner."
The girls immediately turned on him, hurling a chorus of playful complaints and fond greetings at their old protector as they scrambled toward the washing basin. Almost as if they had never left, the familiar rhythm of the atelier returned.
Left in a pocket of their own as Qifrey's former students debated on who got to the basin first, Qifrey watched Olruggio turn his attention back to him. The smug look on his face melted, replaced by the tender look he reserved only for Qifrey.
He stepped closer, his steps muffled by the girls' loud laughter from the washroom. He didn't say anything at first, his eyes roving over Qifrey's face, before offering a calloused hand to help him off the couch.
Qifrey hesitated for a moment, sitting up straight as he traced the lines of the other man's palm before reaching out from under Coco's blanket. He placed his hand in Olruggio's, intending to let himself be pulled up.
Instead, Olruggio's fingers closed gently around his, grounding and warm. He didn't pull him upward right away. Instead, the witch lowered himself a bit, turning Qifrey's hand in his grip. Silently, he lifted both their hands, giving Qifrey ample time to pull away if he wanted. Olruggio brought Qifrey's knuckles up to his lips, placing a soft kiss against the pale skin, lingering for a moment.
Qifrey's breath caught in his throat, his back rigid under the blanket, his eye widening as he stared back at the man. Olruggio's touch was grounded, devoid of the secrecy or urgency that had once dictated Qifrey's entire life. It felt like a promise, a gentle reassurance of where they stood.
He wondered if Olruggio ever felt contempt toward Qifrey.
Olruggio pulled his head back just enough to smile towards Qifrey, his gaze intense yet holding what seemed like pure love to Qifrey. He squeezed his hand gently, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.
"Thank you, Olly. What would I do without you?" Qifrey managed after clearing his throat, allowing Olruggio to gently pull him up.
After only a fraction of a thought tried to stop him, he reached his arm to wrap with Olruggio's, leaning into him for support. Not that he really needed it, but it was his way of showing he was accepting the man's care. He didn't have to shy away from it, or awkwardly push him away.
Olruggio held his arm up, leading Qifrey to the kitchen with a cheeky grin on his face. The only reason Qifrey noticed was due to the heat visible on the tips of his ears. He guided Qifrey to the table, helping him sit as Qifrey scooted the chair closer to the table. Qifrey then pulled the seat next to him out, hoping Olruggio would take the hint and sit next to him.
Olruggio nodded, going back to the counter and uncovering a small basket that held six large loaves of bread, their centers scooped out. The sight made Qifrey perk up slightly. Not only was it a large meal, but Olruggio had even taken the time to prepare bread bowls.
He watched as Olruggio worked on spooning the soup into each vessel, placing them on plates before setting one at each girl's old spot. When he finally took his seat next to Qifrey, he reached his hand over and gently squeezed his shoulder, searching Qifrey's face as he savored the privacy they had for the moment.
"Olly, you know you don't have to do all of this, every time I'm sick, right?"
"N' what if I want to, eh?"
Qifrey stared at him, the soft, stubborn rumble of the man's voice settling deep in his chest. He didn't have a clever retort, he didn't even want one.
"I got time // Going nowhere but I got all night // Not gonna miss it when it hits just right // Gonna make it go slow"
His cold had long since passed, leaving behind only the steady hum of the atelier's daily routine. The girls had returned to their own journeys, the chaotic warmth of their visit settling back into the floorboards like a fond memory.
But things hadn't quite returned to the way they were before.
Qifrey stood by the long wooden worktable in Olruggio's room, sorting through a fresh stack of parchment he had brought to the man. For years, his movements in this room had been a masterclass in calculated distance. He had memorized how many paces to keep between himself and Olruggio, how to turn his body to avoid a passing brush of a shoulder, and how to keep his hands occupied so they would never accidentally drift too close. He let his hand slide over the top page as he set it down, remembering it now of all times.
When they only had Agott and Richeh, Olruggio had returned home from the Great Hall out of sorts. He had made Qifrey meet him in his room once the girls slept, and despite Qifrey's protests for him to rest, Olruggio had persisted. Qifrey had no plan that night, his hands folded in-front of him as Olruggio's worries were hurled at him in rapid succession. Until Olruggio stared at him for a moment, and stepped closer, firmly taking both of Qifrey's hands in his own. Qifrey remembered how Olruggio had held fast when he flinched and attempted to pull his hands back.
"Beldaruit worries, Qifrey. Who do ya think has to deal with it? I'm here constantly worrying about you, what I can do ta help- and yer just… ya won't even talk to me!" Olruggio had pleaded, the silencing seal on the door made sense to Qifrey now. He remembered the smell of alcohol on Olruggio's breath, he tended to get emotional when it began to wear off.
"Olruggio, you need rest. We can talk in the morning," when you forget about this, he had wanted to add.
"Qif- I… I know you feel it. Ya haveta' I mean… people love you, I love you! We're partners, I… I haveta' know what yer feelin'!"
Qifrey blinked, the phantom scent of expensive wine and the suffocating weight of his old guilt evaporating as he forced his gaze back down to the stack of parchment. He closed his eye, taking a quiet, deliberate breath through his nose.
No.
He wasn't going to drag himself back into the dark. He wasn't going to waste the present by wallowing in the pain of who he used to be, it had already taken so much of his life. He had all the time in the world now, and he wasn't going to miss a single second of the warmth sitting right in front of him by looking backwards.
A floorboard creaked behind him, a heavy, familiar step that no longer made Qifrey's shoulders tense.
Before he could turn around, a solid chest brushed against his back, and Olruggio leaned over his shoulder, one calloused hand rested on the edge of the worktable right next to Qifrey's, effectively trapping him in a loose, comfortable embrace.
"Ya stood there so long I thought ya fell asleep," Olruggio hummed, his voice low. He reached past him, his thumb casually brushing over the top page of his latest notes beside the fresh paper Qifrey had brought. "Or are ya just admiring my terrible handwriting?"
Instead of flinching, Qifrey simply relaxed. He rested his hands on the edge of the table for support, chuckling gently to himself as he looked over the chicken scratch of Olruggio's notes. A slow, genuine smile bloomed across his face as he let himself absorb every ounce of heat wrapping around him.
"I was actually wondering how you manage to read it yourself," Qifrey murmured softly, his tone laced with that familiar, gentle teasing. "For someone with such beautiful linework, you write like a doctor." He laughed again, turning his head slightly to look at him a bit.
Olruggio let out a rich, booming laugh next to Qifrey's ear. "A doctor, eh? Good thing I can draw well, or we'd all be in trouble."
He didn't immediately pull away, letting his chin rest near Qifrey's shoulder for a lingering second before finally stepping back. He reached past Qifrey to grab a small clay decanter and two short glasses off the side shelf. "Come on, enough papers for the night. Sit with me."
Qifrey turned, watching Olruggio walk over to the low, comfortable loveseat in the corner of his room.
In the past, Qifrey would have automatically chosen the single wooden chair across from him, keeping a convenient table between them. But tonight, as Olruggio poured a splash of spiked tea into each glass, Qifrey crossed the room without a moment's hesitation.
He didn't take the chair, of course. Instead, he sat right on the loveseat, placing himself close, so close that his thigh brushed against Olruggio's as he settled into the cushions.
Olruggio paused mid-pour, his eyes snapping to Qifrey. Silent surprise flickered across his face, followed instantly by a quiet, warm softness in his gaze. He didn't move away or try to make space, he simply adjusted his posture, leaning subtly into Qifrey's side as he handed him a glass.
"Comfy?" Olruggio asked softly, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Qifrey took the glass, the warmth of the clay seeping into his fingers. He looked at Olruggio, letting his eye trail over the relaxed lines of his face, and took a slow sip before setting the glass down on the small table in front of them.
"Exceedingly," Qifrey hummed. Without letting himself overthink it, he rested his head lightly against Olruggio's shoulder, closing his eye as he took a quiet, contented breath.
Olruggio froze for a split second, his breath catching as Qifrey's weight settled against his shoulder. A soft, disbelieving exhale parted his lips, but he didn't pull away.
Slowly, Olruggio lifted his arm, hovering his hand just over Qifrey's far shoulder. He didn't close the gap right away- his instincts as a protector, trained over years of watching Qifrey pull back, still held him in check.
"Qif?" He murmured, his voice low beside Qifrey's ear. "Is… this alright? Ya sure?"
The former teacher didn't open his eye. Instead, he let out a soft, breathy chuckle, leaning a little farther into Olruggio's solid frame. He reached over, his fingers lightly brushing over Olruggio's forearm to pull it the rest of the way down, resting it snugly around his own shoulders.
"It's more than alright, Olly," Qifrey whispered, his tone thick with a quiet, profound relief. "You don't have to walk on eggshells around me anymore. I… I'm not going to push you away."
Olruggio's grip tightened gently, his hand settling comfortably against Qifrey's arm, finally letting himself pull him a little closer.
Qifrey let his hand rest over Olruggio's knee, staring ahead at the warm, flickering light in the room. "For so long, I felt like I was drowning under everything," Qifrey admitted softly, the words spilling out effortlessly. Olruggio was the only person who could understand, after all. "But when I'm here… with you… I feel light. I feel free, Olly."
Olruggio let out a breath, the ghost of an old, fond smile touching his lips as memories of dusty back alleys and stubborn young fools brushed against his mind. He remembered the boy who used to bite back at everyone just to keep from breaking- the one Olruggio had spent half his life hovering around like an annoying, immovable shadow, refusing to let anyone else knock him down.
"Thas' all I ever wanted for you, ya know," Olruggio murmured, his thumb began rubbing a slow, comforting circle against Qifrey's arm. "Ever since we were kids, me pestering ya half to death just to get you to look up from yer books… took ya long enough to finally let me help."
Qifrey's throat tightened, a sudden, heavy prickle burning behind his eye. Hearing Olruggio bring up their childhood- when Qifrey had been so prickly, so consumed by his secret- hit a raw nerve. The weight of all the warmth he had missed out on for decades threatened to spill over.
A tear slipped free, tracing down his cheek before he could stop it.
"I'm sorry," Qifrey's voice cracked, catching in his chest. He turned his head into Olruggio's shoulder, hiding his face. "I'm so sorry you had to wait, Olly…"
Olruggio felt the dampness soaking into his tunic, and a familiar, protective ache flared in his chest. He didn't offer empty reassurances or tell Qifrey not to cry. Instead, he simply shifted his weight, his arm tightening around Qifrey's shoulders as his other hand came up to gently cup the side of Qifrey's face. His calloused thumb brushed the tear away, slow and reverent.
"Hey," Olruggio hummed, his voice barely audible in the room to anyone beside Qifrey. "None of that. I'd have waited a hundred years if it meant getting ya back."
Qifrey lifted his gaze, his damp eye shining in the soft, flickering light. He looked at Olruggio, truly looked at him, seeing every line of concern, every ounce of unconditional love that had stayed steady through every dark, lonely year.
There was no rush, no words exchanged between them. Yet a quiet, magnetic pull that had been building since they were boys in the Great Hall took over.
Slowly, Qifrey closed the tiny space between them.
The kiss was soft, dry, and tasted faintly of the spiked tea. It wasn't fueled by sudden passion, but by a lifetime of silent yearning, an unspoken agreement between two men who had survived the storm. Olruggio's breath hitched, his cup dropping to the floor as his fingers reached for the hair at the nape of Qifrey's neck, holding him close and grounding them both in the reality that this was real.
When Qifrey finally pulled back just a fraction, resting his forehead against Olruggio's, neither of them spoke. They didn't need to name what they were. They didn't need labels or vows. The air between them was light, full of time, and finally, completely free.
Olruggio simply let out a long, quiet exhale, his forehead pressed against Qifrey's for a lingering, sacred moment. His thumb slowly stroked the nape of Qifrey's neck, soothing and steady, while the forgotten cup rested against the rug, its contents spilling onto the wood floor.
"Actually…" Olruggio's voice was low, breaking the silence so gently it barely disrupted the quiet between them. "Part of the reason I wanted to talk to ya…"
He pulled back just enough to look Qifrey in the eye, his gaze steady, and entirely open. Reaching into the inner pocket of his tunic, Olruggio pulled out a small, unadorned wooden box, rough-hewn and clearly carved by his own hands.
"I've been working on something," Olruggio admitted, a faint, rare trace of nervousness softening his features as he flipped the small latch open. "Took me a while to get the metal right. Wanted to make sure the silver wouldn't tarnish or react, no matter what kind of magic we're drawing."
Inside rested two hand-forged silver bands. They were clearly a pair, matching in their structure, but crafted with subtle distinctions.
The ring crafted for Qifrey was set with a smooth, polished lapis lazuli stone, its deep blue hues designed to complement the cool tones of his attire. Olruggio's broad band held a smaller, soft aquamarine- a quiet echo of Qifrey's own blue eye.
Olruggio reached in, gently lifting Qifrey's ring. He held the band between his fingers, demonstrating with a slow, deliberate twist of the stone. A thin, pale blue light flared from the ring, reaching out until connecting to Olruggio's inside the box.
"I wanted to modify Richeh's bangles," Olruggio explained softly, rotating the stone back to break the light, his eyes flicking up to gauge Qifrey's reaction. "If we're ever separated… if yer stuck in the dark, or far from home and need to find me, or I need to find ya, ya just give the stone a turn. It casts a beam of light that points straight to the other ring. All we gotta do is follow it, and we'll find each other."
Qifrey stared at the faint blue light as it dissolved, his breath hitching slightly in his chest. His eye lingered on the aquamarine set into Olruggio's ring.
"Oh Olly…" Qifrey's voice was barely a whisper, thick with an emotion he didn't bother to hide. He reached out, his fingers delicately brushing over the smooth silver of the ring in Olruggio's hand. "It doesn't just point the way, does it?"
He looked up, his blue eye meeting Olruggio's steady gaze.
"If the light turns on… the other person knows immediately that we're searching for them. That we're in trouble. That we need to be found." A soft breathless laugh escaped Qifrey's lips, filled with absolute wonder. "You made a signal. A way to call out in the dark without having to say a word…"
Qifrey shook his head slowly, a brilliant, genuine smile spreading across his face as he stared at Olruggio.
"You always do this," Qifrey noted, his tone brimming with affection. "You mask your gentlest, most protective thoughts behind 'contraptions' and spells. Olruggio… always building something to keep people safe," he let out a soft breath, "to keep me safe."
Without waiting, Qifrey held out his left hand, palm down, silently offering his fingers to Olruggio.
"Put it on me," Qifrey hummed. "Please."
Olruggio's breath caught in his chest. He looked from Qifrey's hand to his face, finding no hesitation in his eye, only trust. Slowly, he reached out with calloused, steady fingers, gently cradling Qifrey's lithe hand. He picked up the lapis ring from the box, the band hovering for a moment before sliding it onto his ring finger.
"I've been following you my whole life for a reason, Qifrey," Olruggio murmured, his voice low and thick with a lifetime of quiet devotion as his thumb stroked over Qifrey's knuckles. "I never wanna lose ya again."
Qifrey couldn't help but smile as he felt the cool silver settle against his skin, perfectly flush against his finger. Olruggio must have found one of his rings and sized it exact, always a clever man, after all. The weight of the gesture, and the place where the ring now sat, wasn't lost on either of them. They hadn't exchanged traditional vows, nor had they pinned a label on what they were to each other tonight.
Just as they had done so decades ago, this too signaled the same promise. As Qifrey looked down at the stone, then up to the aquamarine now gleaming on Olruggio's own hand, he knew they didn't have to speak it.
Instead, Qifrey turned his hand to clasp Olruggio's left hand, threading their fingers together in that familiar grip, the very same seal they had shared as boys bound by terrible secrets. Without breaking his hold, Qifrey pressed their joined fists against Olruggio's forehead, pressing his own against it as well.
"And you won't," Qifrey whispered, his voice steadier now, anchored by his honest words. "Wherever you go, Olly… I will always follow the light back to you. I promise."
Olruggio didn't break the seal. He simply let out a long, quiet sigh, letting his shoulders drop as decades of tension finally melted away into the hearthfire's glow. He squeezed Qifrey's fingers once, firm and grounding, before easing back just enough to pull Qifrey's head back down to his chest.
Listening to the steady, familiar rhythm of Olruggio's heartbeat, a quiet warmth bloomed in Qifrey's chest. After so many dark years of waiting, he couldn't begin to anticipate the numerous slow mornings that awaited them. There were no more secrets to hide, no more shadows to run from. Just the quiet warmth of the room, the faint sound of their heartbeats, and a future they finally had control over.
Together.