Archive of Our Own

Qifrey liked autumn. He seeing the leaves change colour, filling the treeline and carpeting the ground with yellows and reds and browns. He liked the morning dew that glittered between blades of grass, and the way the air began to take on a chill that coaxed long sleeves and comfy sweaters from his closet.

However, he also mourned the sun's light as it spent more and more time behind the clouds.

He watched a red kite cry out and glide across the overcast sky, and pulled the sleeves of his cardigan down over his hands with a sigh as he waited for the kettle to boil.

Upstairs, a door creaked open. A moment later, he heard the thumping of eager footsteps.

He pushed off the edge of the counter as Richeh ran in. "Hello. I'm making tea, would you like some?"

Richeh climbed onto a chair and laid a spread of drawings on the table. "I've designed an extension for the house," she announced.

"Oh?" He reached for an extra mug as the kettle finished boiling.

She pointed to the first page, which showed a a bird's eye view of the house, garden, and fenced-off field next to it, where Olruggio's woodworking studio and Qifrey's vegetable garden were located. "First, we have to get rid of this fence."

"You know, that's not a bad idea," Qifrey responded with genuine interest. He slid a cup of tea with extra milk towards her and took a seat across from her. "We've been thinking of getting rid of that fence for a while now."

Richeh flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You can thank me later." Taking a sip of tea, she shuffled through the papers. "Then, we have to knock down this—"

They both jumped as the front door burst open and bickering voices poured into the hallway.

"I'm telling you, I tried! I just can't get it right."

"It's basic maths! You knew how to do it last year!"

"But it's not the same as last year!"

"It's just extra digits!"

Qifrey waited with a smile for Coco and Agott to enter the kitchen. "Girls, how was school?"

Coco immediately brightened and practically jumped across the kitchen to his side. "We met Mr Nolnoa's grandson today!"

Agott rolled her eyes with a groan as she poured herself some water.

Qifrey raised his eyebrows. "I didn't realise Mr Nolnoa's grandson lived in the area."

"Yeah, he just moved here from Scotland!" Coco said excitedly. "His name is Tartah and he's supposed to be in our year, but he's colourblind so they've put him in Richeh and Euini's year instead."

"That's not because he's colourblind. It's because he missed a year of school," Agott said as she grabbed a banana and headed to the living room.

"But that's why he missed a year of school." Coco suddenly turned to Richeh. "Oh, and Euini said that he's still saving a seat for you."

Richeh's gaze slid back to her drawings as she turned her shoulder to Coco. "Why doesn't he just give it to the other boy?" she muttered.

Coco tilted her head in innocent confusion. "What do you mean? It's for you."

"But I'm not there."

"Perhaps," Qifrey interjected, seeing Richeh's shoulders start to bunch up, "Euini just wanted to say he's looking forward to when you go back to school."

Richeh's mouth twisted up unhappily. "Well, I'm not going back to school." She jumped off her chair and ran upstairs, shutting her door not-so-quietly behind her.

Qifrey looked after her in silence with an uneasy tightness in his chest.

"Did I say something wrong?" Coco asked in a small voice.

"No," Qifrey said quickly, turning to her with a smile. "No, you said nothing wrong. Now, let me bring Olruggio his tea, then tell me about this maths problem I heard you talking about."

Coco's eyes brightened, and she threw herself down in a chair as she riffled through her book bag. "So, we're learning how to multiply big numbers..."

The next morning, the sun had dredged up the remnants of summer to shine warm and bright once more through the windows of the kitchen. Cardigan discarded in favour of a thin cotton shirt, Qifrey enjoyed an hour of quiet cleaning between the other girls leaving and Richeh getting up.

"Good morning," he said, cooking up some bacon and eggs for her. "What's the plan today?"

Richeh climbed onto a chair. "Is Olly done with his work? Can I play games with him?"

Qifrey pursed his lips as he poured some orange juice into her favourite glass. Indeed, for the first time in days, Olruggio had come crashing into bed in the early hours of the morning upon finally sending his work off. "Yes, Olruggio's done, but he'll probably be asleep for the rest of the day." Qifrey crossed his arms and tilted his head. "But perhaps we could go to the library? We could ask Miss Luluci to help us find some new books, maybe explore something new...?"

Richeh glanced his way sharply as she drank. "No. I'll go see the horses."

Nodding, Qifrey flipped the bacon and eggs onto a plate and placed it in front of her with a careful smile. "Okay. Would you like me to walk down with you?"

"No. I can go on my own."

Qifrey let his shirt soak up the sun's ray as it rose high into the sky. He sighed contentedly as he shook out the laundry to hang, appreciating these ever dwindling pockets of warmth before autumn finally put its foot down.

Brushbuddy chirped from his perch on the line.

"What is it?" Qifrey asked.

"Pwee!"

"The door is open if you'd like to go inside."

He only heard the shuffling in the grass behind him a second before arms wrapped around his waist and a warm weight pressed against his back.

"Olly? You're already up?"

Olruggio mumbled something incomprehensible into his shoulder and tightened his hold on him.

"You've not had much sleep yet..." Qifrey dropped the towel he was holding back in the basket and turned in Olruggio's arms. "Where's your shirt?"

Olruggio sighed into his chest. "'S hot... and couldn't be arsed."

Qifrey rolled his eye as he placed his hands on Olruggio's back and lightly stroked his warm skin, fingers trailing down over his shoulder blades, following the line of his spine all the way to the waistband of his low-slung tracksuits, and back up. "It's hardly hot. It's just that you're always too warm."

"And you're always wearin' too many layers." Olruggio tugged Qifrey's shirt free of his trousers and slipped his hands under in one smooth motion. Rough fingers splayed on his back.

Qifrey's pulse stuttered and his face grew warmer. "Olly, we're outside."

"Then come back to bed."

"It's the middle of the day."

"Not for me. I just woke up."

Qifrey sighed heavily. His hands tightened on Olruggio's shoulders as fingers danced up and down his spine. "I'm hanging the washing right now," he said weakly.

Olruggio's hands stopped and he raised his head to meet Qifrey's gaze with defiance. "Then finish hanging your washing." He straightened up and gave Qifrey a quick kiss before leaning in to whisper, "And if you can do it in the next 60 seconds, you can do whatever you want."

The heat in Qifrey's face spread through his whole body. His eye darted to the washing basket.

"But if you can't," Olruggio continued, sliding behind him and pulling his collar down to kiss his nape, "you're comin' with me. On my terms."

Qifrey shut his eye and took a deep breath. He ran through everyone's whereabouts: Tetia, Agott, and Coco were at school until the later afternoon; Richeh had just left for Mr Nolnoa's paddocks and probably wouldn't be back for at least an hour; Brushbuddy was—he glanced at the washing line—gone.

"One," Olruggio began, his hand wandering back under Qifrey's shirt and across his chest.

Qifrey groaned. "You can't hang off me like that."

"Two," Olruggio continued, leaving another kiss behind his ear. "Three..."

Qifrey let out a whine.

Qifrey absentmindedly trailed his fingers up and down Olruggio's chest while Olruggio leaned against him, playing with his other hand. The sun was almost at its zenith now, but with the bedroom curtains partly drawn and the room in shadow, Qifrey found his bare shoulders quickly growing cold despite Olruggio's warmth.

"Olly, I was thinking—"

"We're not gettin' another child."

Qifrey's mouth flattened. "I wasn't thinking that. Besides, I didn't exactly go looking for the girls." He shuffled out from under Olruggio so he could slide back under the covers. "And as if you don't adore them."

"I never said that," he muttered, pulling Qifrey against him and pressing small kisses to his shoulder. "Just... we don't have any more rooms."

"We could always extend. Apparently Richeh's already making plans"—he kissed Olruggio's palm—"but I'm sure you have your own designs hidden away, don't you?"

Olruggio pressed his face into Qifrey's neck and grumbled.

Qifrey laughed quietly. Then, almost sadly, he said, "No, I was thinking that perhaps we should be encouraging Richeh to go back to school."

Olruggio's hand twitched and he lifted his head. "School?"

"Mm." He shifted onto his back to look at Olruggio. "I wonder if it might better for her, so that she can learn properly."

Olruggio propped himself up, knuckles to his temple. He drummed his fingers on Qifrey's chest. "We took her out of school for a reason."

"Yes, but not to deny her the chance of an education," Qifrey said. "I thought that removing her from that environment would allow her to heal, and I don't wish to force her, but with the other girls having just started the new year—and seeing Coco learn so much every day—and now—"

"So we'll teach her."

Qifrey's eye widened. He wrapped a hand around Olruggio's fingers to stop them drumming. "What?"

"We'll teach her. Properly." Olruggio laced their fingers together and brought their hands to his mouth. "We'll officially withdraw her from the school system and register her as being homeschooled."

"And just how do you propose we do that?"

Humming, Olruggio left little pecks on the back of Qifrey's hand while he thought. "Well, she likes the library, she likes the museum, she likes cooking with you, she like watchin' me work... those all sound like learnin' to me. So the problem isn't gettin' her to learn—it's a question of figuring out how to make her interested in the other stuff, too." He absentmindedly bit down on one of Qifrey's knuckles. "Why don't you try bringing her along on a job with you for starters?"

Qifrey hesitated. "I have asked, and I've shared facts when the opportunity arose, but she's never shown much interest in plants at all. I'm not eager to force her to come along just to stare at trees."

"Well, nothin' more boring than a spew of facts you won't ever use," Olruggio said, nodding.

"But she might use them eventually."

"'Eventually' might not be enough for her. You need to make it interesting now."

Qifrey sighed. "That's easier said than done."

Chuckling, Olruggio let go of his hand and cupped Qifrey's jaw to pull him closer for a kiss. "But you love a challenge."

"Is this my challenge alone to undertake, then?" Qifrey mumbled with a pout.

Olruggio grinned and kissed his lips, his cheek, his neck. "Course not. No matter what, where, when—we're in this together."

Richeh walked through the front gate and down the gravel driveway with slow, heavy steps.

She had fed grass to Mr Nolnoa's horses and patted their noses and shooed away flies until her arms got tired and her chest felt calm and quiet again. Then, just as she had been about to go home, Mr Nolnoa had spotted her.

"Ye know, Tartah'd already studied everythin' in yer year, but they're still makin' 'im do it all again." Mr Nolnoa had sighed with a shake of his head. "These schools don't care what ye were doin' or why—they only care whether ye were there or not." He had smiled at Richeh with something that looked like expectation. "Ye best not skip out too long either lass, or ye'll get left behind."

Richeh frowned at the prickly sensation creeping under her skin and made her way round to the back of the house, where she caught sight of a crumpled up towel in the grass next to the laundry basket, waiting to be returned it to its spot on the washing line.

Brushbuddy came to greet her the moment she entered the kitchen, squeaking at her while she unlaced her shoes.

"Hi, Brushbuddy. Where's Qifrey?"

"Nbi! Nbi!"

"Oh, Richeh, you're back." Qifrey stood in the doorway to the kitchen smiling. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You forgot to pin one of the towels on the line," she said as she dropped her backpack on the bench and climbed onto a chair. "It fell off, so I put it back for you."

"Oh. Thank you," Qifrey mumbled as he took a seat across from her. "Are you tired? Would you like a snack?"

Richeh pressed her lips together. The prickling felt like it was spreading. She laid her cheek on her forearms and stroked Brushbuddy as he nuzzled against her face. "'M not hungry."

"I see." He drummed his fingers on the table. Glanced at the calendar on the wall. "Do you remember the Mitchells? They live down by the river, near the boat yard."

The prickling seemed to dull slightly. "Where we feed the ducks?"

Qifrey nodded with a smile. "Yes. There's a problem with one of their apple trees, so I'm going there tomorrow to check on it. I thought you might find it interesting... would you like to come with me?"

Richeh frowned. "Can't we just go feed the ducks?"

"We can still feed the ducks, by all means." He steepled his fingers. "But I thought this would be a good opportunity for you to learn something new, so you don't get bored of doing the same things every day."

The prickling suddenly flared. It felt like it was spreading all up her back and down her arms and gathering in her fingertips and behind her eyes and on her tongue and opening up a huge, heavy hole right in the centre of her chest. She tried to clench her hands.

"Richeh?"

"Can I go to my room?"

Qifrey blinked at her in surprise, and for a suffocating moment, she thought he might say no.

But then: "Of course. It's your room. You needn't ask for permission."

She climbed off the chair and ran upstairs, Brushbuddy squeaking and scampering after her.

Olruggio woke up in the dark with his stomaching crying out for food. He couldn't hear any sounds coming from the rest of the house, but there was the softest glow of light under the door and Qifrey's side of the bed was still cold, so he sat up with a groan, reached indiscriminately for a pair of tracksuits, and made his way downstairs.

He found Qifrey sitting on the couch in the living room, staring at the wall with an almost full cup of tea in his hands. "Hey," he whispered.

Qifrey looked over his shoulder with a small start before he smiled. "Good morning. Again."

"Why're you still up?" Olruggio asked, taking a seat next to him and trailing a lazy hand through Qifrey's hair. "Can't sleep?"

"I may have made the situation worse," Qifrey said with a sigh.

"What do you mean?"

He shut his eye and leaned into Olruggio's touch. "I've put Richeh on edge. I tried asking if she wanted to come with me tomorrow, but she ended up shutting down."

Olruggio frowned. "She hasn't done that in a while."

"I know. She came down for dinner, but she ate in silence and then went straight back upstairs." He tapped his mug. "Perhaps we should leave her be after all," he said quietly.

Olruggio held Qifrey's head under his chin while he stroked his hair. "Everyone's got their bad days. Let's just see how she goes." He waited until Qifrey made a sound of assent before kissing his hair. "Aight, I'm gonna make myself a snack before I pass out again. D'you want something?"

Qifrey shook his head. "No, thank you. I'll just come sit with you."

Olruggio threw together some scrambled eggs and spinach on thick bread, his stomach clenching painfully at the scent of food. It was so simple and so fast it barely felt like cooking, but by the time he turned back to the table, Qifrey was fast asleep with his head pillowed on his arms, so Olruggio took a seat next to him and ate his food with one hand and stroked Qifrey's hair with the other.

When Qifrey finally woke with the imprint of his sleeve on his face, Olruggio herded him to bed, then stayed just long enough to ensure Qifrey was asleep again before immediately heading down to his office.

The conversations about Richeh replayed in his mind. He remembered how, when she had first come to live with them, Richeh's expression would crumple as she curled in on herself, and how blank silence had entrapped her for months even after she stopped going to school—and he remembered how her eyes had brightened and she had begun to shine with curiosity as time went on and she was allowed to be herself. For Olruggio, seeing that life in her was more important than anything else.

But he also knew that Qifrey was right.

When he turned on his desk light, the first thing he saw was piles and piles of paper: scrapped blueprints mixed in with lists of potential materials and design sketches and printed correspondences with suppliers...

He sat down with a muted groan as he dragged the metal waste paper basket over.

Before he had even touched a single a page, a small knock on the door made him jump.

"Yeap?" he answered quietly, wondering who it could be at that hour.

The door creaked open and Richeh and Brushbuddy poked their heads in.

"Richeh!" Olruggio smiled. "What's up? Can't sleep?"

Forget school—Olruggio wondered if they should be more worried about cultivating a house of insomniacs.

Richeh looked around the room as if searching for something. She eyed the beanbag in the corner where she liked to curl up and play games, and the couch that Olruggio had left heaped with blankets after his last few days spent napping in the office. "Can I stay in here?"

"Course you can." He nodded towards his desk. "I'm just dealin' with this mess."

Richeh perked up. "Did you finish the project?"

"Aye. First plans, at least." He raised an eyebrow. "Want to see?"

She immediately ran over and climbed into his lap, Brushbuddy in tow. He stuck his blue light glasses on her, turned on the computer and lowered the brightness on the monitors, then gave Brushbuddy two snacks from the tin he kept in his desk draw and watched him curl up in Richeh's lap.

"So this is the kitchen I was workin' on last time you saw."

"You put in the sunflower tiles!"

"Yeah. They were a good idea. And they match the pine cabinets."

"What about the bathroom?"

"The bathroom, let's see, what did we decide..."

He clicked through the final designs and files he had sent off to the client, and for every detail kept or scrapped, Richeh would ask question after question until she was satisfied with his answers. It was a regular occurrence, both pre- and post-submission, and every time it left him wondering how any of her teachers until now could have claimed she didn't want to learn.

"Won't all those big windows make the house too cold?"

"Well, that huge cherry tree in the driveway blocks most of their light, so that's why we've gone for these big windows, and then we'll work with the glass company to make 'em as insulating as possible."

"Can't they just move the tree?"

Olruggio hummed. "That tree has been there for who knows how many years. It's important to them—and the environment." He perched his chin on her head. "Y'know, trees are actually pretty interestin'. They do a lot more than just stand around keeping you cool and growin' leaves and stuff."

Richeh immediately deflated in his arms.

"Why?" she asked in a small voice.

"Why?" Olruggio echoed. "Well, I won't lie to you, Qifrey's the expert on trees around here, so you're better off—"

"Why does everyone have to go to school?"

He stopped.

"Coco didn't have to go to school before she came here," she continued, voice tight, "but now she goes every day with Agott. And Mr Nolnoa's grandson got put in our year, and Euini is still saving my seat, and now Qifrey wants me to go to work with him and learn more at the library so I can go back to school because otherwise I'll get left behind and—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey..." Olruggio cut her off as her voice grew agitated. He turned her in his arms and was met with a tear-filled gaze. "Hold your horses there," he said gently as he took off the glasses and wiped his thumbs across her cheeks. "First things first: what's this about Mr Nolnoa's grandson?"

"He's new," she said with a sniff. She glanced down as Brushbuddy nuzzled her hand and petted him weakly. "They put him with Euini, but he's the same age as Coco. Mr Nolnoa said it's because he couldn't go to school last year, so I should hurry up or I'll get left behind too." She wiped her nose on her arm. "Coco told Qifrey, and now he wants me to learn more so I'll go back to school, and he said Euini is waiting for me."

Olruggio sucked in a very quiet breath and wondered how long Qifrey had managed to hold on to all that information without mentioning any of it. He nodded once. "Right."

"I don't want to go back to school," she mumbled.

Olruggio gathered her up in his arms and hugged her against his chest. "You're not goin' back to school. We want you to be happy and we're not goin' to force you back there if it hurts you. That's not why Qifrey wants you to learn more."

"Then why do I need to learn to if I'm not going to school?"

"Because goin' to school and learning aren't the same thing. Learning is about discovering and understanding the world, and helping your brain grow so you can make the most of it both now and later. School is only one way of doin' that. After all," he said, turning her back to face the monitor, "what do you think you're doin' right now?"

Olruggio watched her eyes track across the window designs on the screen with a small furrow in her brow. He sifted through the pile of paper closest to him and managed to pull out an old set of sketches for the kitchen, including some ideas for the wall tiles, all of which had been scrapped. He placed it in front of her. "No one can force you and you don't have to use it all, but if you don't at least try in the first place, you won't know what to keep and what not to keep. Right?"

Richeh grimaced, but she reached for the paper nevertheless. "What if I don't want to keep any of it?"

Olruggio shrugged. "Then don't keep it. But at least you can say you've tried."

Richeh stared with pursed lips. Her hands clenched, the paper crumpling under her thumbs. Brushbuddy chirped gently. Olruggio watched and waited while the gears turned and morphed and settled inside Richeh's head, until her shoulders relaxed and the apprehension in her eyes faded away.

Smiling, he patted her arm. "Now, it's time for sleep, I'd say."

Richeh grabbed his sleeve. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

He hesitated. "You sure? I reckon your bed's comfier than that couch."

"Please?"

Olruggio rubbed the back of his neck for all of three seconds before relenting. "Aight, let me get those blankets in order for you."

In the morning, Qifrey found the door to Olruggio's office ajar, the light still on, and Olruggio and Richeh passed out in a nest of blankets on the couch with Brushbuddy curled up between them.

Qifrey was about to leave when the door to Olruggio's office creaked open and he heard the pitter patter of Richeh's feet on the wood floor.

"Qifrey!" she practically shouted as she burst into the hallway.

"Good morning, Richeh. I'm sorry, I'm just on my way out to the Mitchell's, but I've left some scrambled eggs and—"

"I'm coming too!" she said, and then ran away upstairs.

Qifrey stood, blinking, by the front door. Brushbuddy chirped once at him from the corner leading towards Olruggio's office before turning around to go back to sleep, presumably.

He waited for what couldn't have been more than two minutes, and then Richeh was thumping back down the stairs so loudly that if there were anyone asleep in the house but Olruggio, he'd have worried about shocking them awake.

"I'm ready!" she said, coming to a stop in front of him. She was wearing her dungarees, the ones she almost never wore, and had tied her hair back into an uncharacteristic ponytail.

Qifrey tried not to smile. "Have you brushed your teeth?"

She froze. Rushed off. Came back less than a minute later smelling of mint. "A dangerous oversight."

Now he did smile. "You haven't had breakfast yet," he said gently, "and you were up quite late, weren't you? Are you sure you want to come with me?"

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled. She squared her shoulders, despite the way she flushed bright red. "I want to come with you."

"In that case," Qifrey said, stepping out of his shoes and leading her back to the kitchen, "I'll call Mr Mitchell and tell him we'll be a bit late."

"Now, this black sponginess is rot, likely caused by over-watering," Qifrey explained to Mr Mitchell, a rotund man with straw for hair and leathery tan skin, "but the good news is that, after peeling back the outer layer of bark, we can see that it only extended a short way into the rootstock—the main tree. The scion itself—the branch we're grafting on—is also still salvageable, so I'll cut away the rotted areas and re-graft it. Richeh, would you hold this for me, please?"

Richeh carefully took the scion as Qifrey rummaged through his bag.

"So you can fix it?" Mr Mitchell asked.

"I cannot guarantee that the grafting will take," Qifrey said as he disinfected his sheers. "The chances of it succeeding will be lower due to the stress the plant has already undergone and because it's so late in the season." He carefully cut off all the blackened parts of the rootstock. "As it's particularly easy for infection to take root in late summer, you'll need to keep a close eye on it and call me straight away if something seems wrong, especially to protect the rest of the rootstock. "

Richeh watched as Qifrey disinfected a large knife to cut a deep notch into the rootstock, then handed the scion back so he could cut a similar notch in it before he carefully slotted them together and held them in place. "Richeh, would you grab the white tub of sealant and the pouch of brushes from my bag, please?"

She found them and held them out for him.

Qifrey smiled. "Would you apply it for me?"

Richeh blinked in confusion. "But I don't know how."

"That's alright, I'll tell you how. It's very easy." He tilted his head. "Unless you would rather not? You needn't force yourself."

Richeh chewed on her cheek. She glanced at Mr Mitchell, who was simply watching with curiosity; glanced at the tree, with the pretty green wood sandwiched between two brown branches; then glanced at Qifrey's patient gaze.

She unscrewed the lid. "Okay."

Painting the sealant on the tree was, in fact, incredible easy, but Qifrey and Mr Mitchell both nevertheless carefully inspected her work and praised her until she flushed with embarrassment.

"Would you look at that, already out here fixing trees at your age," Mr Mitchell said with a guffawing laugh while Qifrey packed up his tools. "Wish I could've done that, instead of being stuck in school studying all sorts of nonsense. Lord knows I haven't used a single bit of it anyway!"

"Yes, well," Qifrey said, holding out a hand to Mr Mitchell, "school isn't for everyone, is it?"

"You can say that again!"

They left Mr Mitchell with a list of things to look out for and then made their way straight to the boat yard, where they pulled a half-frozen bag of peas out of their small freezer bag and sat on a bench at the waters edge. The crinkle of the bag of peas was like an assembly siren to the ducks.

Richeh focused on the clinking of the cables on the sailboat masts, the quacking of the ducks, and the weight of the cold peas in her hand as she threw them one by one to a particularly bright and pushy mallard.

"Why do you cut the trees like that?" she asked after a while.

"So as much as possible of the green part inside, called the cambium, can touch," Qifrey responded smoothly. Almost as if he'd been waiting for her question.

"Why?"

Qifrey hummed. "It's like when you get a cut. Your skin makes a scab, right?"

Richeh frowned. "Yeah?"

"So trees are the same. If you cut off their branches, they'll make a scab. But if you take another branch and put the cuts against each other, sometimes, if you do it just right, they'll heal together and then keep growing. That's called grafting."

She threw another pea to the mallard before it could pester the duck next to it. "So," she began, a small spark of excitement growing in her, "if I cut off my finger and I stick on someone else's finger, they'll grow together?"

Qifrey broke out in a fit of coughing. He threw the few peas in his hands to the ducks and turned away from Richeh.

"Qifrey? Are you okay? Did you eat a pea?"

Qifrey held up a hand as his shoulders shook. "No," he choked out, "no, I'm fine." When his coughing eventually subsided, he turned back to her with an uneven smile and tears in his eyes. "You're not... wrong."

Richeh dropped all her peas.

"But it's not quite that simple," he continued. "It's something that requires an understanding of how the human body works on a cellular level, which requires an understanding of the human body, which requires..." He wrapped a hand around his jaw, staring at the ducks that were starting to quack insistently at his feet.

He met her eyes. "If you're interested, we can ask Miss Luluci to help us find some books for you."

Richeh hesitated. "If I do that, do I have to go back to school?"

Qifrey shook his head. "No."

"So I don't have to study all those big numbers like Coco and Agott?"

Qifrey didn't answer right away. His eye trailed away, back to the ducks, and even from the side she could see that his brow was furrowing, his mouth curving unhappily. Richeh could feel that familiar prickling starting at the back of her chest.

Eventually, Qifrey turned towards her with a sad smile. "Right now, Richeh, you're still a child. You have so much freedom—the kind that only a child can have—and all you need to enjoy it is to exist as yourself.

"As you get older, you'll lose some of this freedom, and instead gain a different kind of freedom that only adults have. But that freedom requires certain tools in order for you to truly enjoy it." He brought one knee onto the bench to face her fully, and took her hands in his. "You have to learn in order to find those tools. Some of them will take longer to find, sometimes you'll need a lot more tools than everyone else, and sometimes you'll have to learn about things that might seem uninteresting before you can use the tools you wish to use."

"Like growing a different finger?"

Qifrey shut his eyes for a long moment. "Yes. Just like that." His cool, smooth hands tightened. "If it does nothing but bring you suffering, then you don't have to go to school. But learning will bring you freedom. I promise you that."

Richeh's eyebrows bunched together. She pulled her hand free and reached for the peas, and the ducks exploded in excited quacks.

Qifrey waited in silence. He hovered a hand over the ducks, taunting them, until they realised he had nothing and returned their attention to Richeh.

"I was able to help Mr Mitchell today," Qifrey said after a while, "because I've spent a long, long time learning all about plants and trees. Because those were the tools that I needed in order to enjoy my freedom as an adult." He straightened up and stretched his legs out towards the ducks as they moved away from him. "But I also learned how to cook so that I could feed you all delicious meals, and I learned how to drive so that I could go farther from home, and I learned how to read braille so that I would never be left unable to read."

Richeh looked up at his soft smile, the curve of his eye, and felt the prickling fade away.

"How do I know what I should learn?"

Qifrey's smile widened. "We'll try out lots and lots and lots of different things. And I'll help you, and so will Olruggio." He held his hand out for some peas. "And, I've never done this before either, so you'll be helping me learn, too." He winked. "We'll both be learning together."

Richeh kicked her legs under the bench and threw more peas to the ducks. By now, they were fully melted, but the ducks never lost interest for even a second.

"...Okay."

The light was on in their bedroom. Pulse stuttering, Olruggio sneaked back into the dark house, making a quick detour through the kitchen for a bowl of leftover pasta before heading upstairs. He pushed open the door as quietly as possible, hoping Qifrey might have fallen asleep with the light on, but no such luck.

"Did you drive home?"

Olruggio shut the door behind him with a lop-sided, guilty grin. "I had two beers—"

"Olly."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," he said, climbing onto the bed and wrapping a hand around the back of Qifrey's neck so he could pull his disapproving mouth to his.

Qifrey pushed him back before he could kiss him. "Don't apologise if you're just going to do it again." Qifrey's eye darted away. "And go shower. You stink of pub."

Olruggio climbed off the bed with an exaggerated sigh and began to unbutton his shirt.

"How's Heihart?" Qifrey asked lightly, turning his attention back to a small stack of papers on the duvet in front of him.

"Loud, as usual. But this should keep him satisfied for a while," he muttered, peeling out of his jeans. "What're you lookin' at?"

Qifrey sucked in a breath and held it for so long Olruggio worried he might have frozen.

He let it out in one huge whoosh. "I'm making a study plan with Richeh. Thanks to you."

Olruggio froze. Then he all but leaped onto the bed with excitement. "What?"

Qifrey leaned away from him with a grimace before showing him the papers. "We're going to start small, one thing at a time. I don't want to shock her."

Olruggio nodded. "Makes sense."

Qifrey shoved a couple of pages at him. "Richeh hasn't seen these, but I thought you'd be more qualified to start figuring something out."

"Are these..." He scanned the first page. "This is maths."

"We're in this together," Qifrey sang.

Olruggio collapsed back on the bed with a groan as he read over the contents. Some of it was so elementary he wasn't even sure how to teach it without turning into a textbook... but some of it was more advanced, along the lines of what Agott and Tetia were already doing, and—

"I use some of this for work."

"Mhm."

He flipped to the second sheet. "And this just says art."

"It does indeed."

Olruggio pushed up onto an elbow to grin at Qifrey until he raised his eye.

"What?"

"I bet you were a teacher in another life"—Olruggio sat up and leaned into his space—"Mr Qifrey."

"Oh, stop it."

"Professor Qifrey."

"You're drunk."

"Master Qifrey."

Qifrey grabbed his jaw and planted a kiss on his lips. "Enough," he said, cheeks flushed. "Now go. Shower. Then come to bed."

"Yes, Master Qifrey."