Chapter Text
“Olly.”
“Mn,” Olruggio hums into his pillow. It feels silkier than it usually was, and he could feel his body sinking into the mattress.
“Olly,” Qifrey repeats. He tries to pinch him in the shoulder. “Wake up.”
“Five mor’ minutes, Qifrey,” Olruggio mumbles again while waving his hand. As much as he loves their outings, it became increasingly challenging to go out every midnight when their mornings were filled with graduation preparations. Olruggio’s back is killing him, and the heavy duvet is trying to do miracles. “Mast’r said I got no work today.”
Fabrics rustle to Olruggio’s side, making him smirk in victory. Qifrey must have conceded and fallen back asleep.
He’s one thought away of wrapping his arm around the other when a strong gust of wind blows his eyelids open. Olruggio’s hand flies towards the quilted covers, but Qifrey rips it out of reach and towards the nightstand.
‘Wait,’ Olruggio frowns, sluggishly blinking as his vision returns to him. ‘I don’t have a nightstand.’
“Wake up, already!” Another harsh wind gust slams Olruggio back into the silk pillows below him.
“Alright, alright! I’m up already, no need to assault me with air,” Olruggio grumbles. He should’ve known something was amiss, because he doesn’t have any silk-covered pillows, either. Without the quilt warming his bare chest, Olruggio crosses his arms in front of him. The frigid air Qifrey used makes him shiver. “Is Lord Beldaruit–”
As Olruggio’s head rises to face his friend, his voice chokes up.
Because ahead of him was not the fifteen year old boy he spends everyday with. Or, well, it is him, if Qifrey was ten-some years older.
At first, Olruggio doesn’t notice anything wrong. His hair is more or less unchanged—unruly perhaps by the morning bedhead, but it wouldn’t improve much throughout the day. His hair is just as white, hanging over his right eye socket like plumes of powdery snow.
“Uh.” Olruggio stares at the spectacles on his face. They had no arms, so were they spelled or glued on? The bridge is a simple diamond, making Olruggio reminisce more for Ghodrey. He’ll have to visit soon for Yuletide… but where even were they? Not even Qifrey’s chambers were decorated this fully.
As Olruggio stares deeper into Qifrey’s spectacles, more of his chest flutters. One of the lens is blacked out completely; it would be a perfect gift to help hide the scar Qifrey kept shying away from. Olruggio has been getting comfortable with crafting in metal and glass, so he’s confident that it could be easily replicated.
Just for his friend’s convenience, of course. And for his experience.
Olruggio numbly rubs his eyes. Somehow, thinking about his Material Theory work is calming him down.
That sense of solace is thrown out the window, however, when Olruggio realizes that the lens is so dark he could see his reflection off of it.
‘Do I have a goatee?’
Despite the familiar-but-unfamiliar face, Qifrey’s glare is the same as the one Olruggio grew used to. “Do you see the problem now?”
Olruggio consciously closes his gaping mouth. He realizes that he’s been leaning closer to Qifrey’s face while admiring the spectacles. Olruggio could see every forehead wrinkle in distress, even though he’s more drawn to the smile lines and crow’s feet at the corners of his face. Even though his features have aged out and he’s hiding behind a pair of spectacles, Qifrey looked wonderful.
“What the hell happened?” The room reeks of the silvernectar wine and gin his elders would have back home, but again, it is decorated too nicely to be plain ‘ol Ghodrey. “Last I remember, you snuck into my room.”
Qifrey all but collapses back with a sigh. He tries to rub his eye, but gives up after his nails clink on the glass. “I woke up just a bit earlier. This looks like our room in the future.”
“The future? Are you insane?” Olruggio lets his body droop over Qifrey’s legs.
Despite wearing full-length cotton pants, cold seeps through them; Olruggio thinks about warming them up with his breath when Qifrey kicks him back in return. “How can I be insane when you look like a–”
“Hey, I’ll have you know, this goatee is the mark of a man back at home!” Olruggio bursts out laughing as Qifrey chucks a pillow at him only to miss.
“Be serious here!”
“I’m not the one throwing pillows,” he huffs. Olruggio hides behind a large pillow, realizing that more of his shirt came undone from the commotion. “How should we contact Lord Beldaruit?”
Qifrey’s faint smile immediately sours. He plays with the cuff of his sleeve—another thing that hasn’t changed. “I don’t know… Would he even know how to fix this?”
Olruggio frowns. Their argument last night must have been a big one if Qifrey is refusing to meet with him even in these circumstances. “He would still be open to helping us out. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want the timeline to collapse from us being here.” He whistles while looking around. The warm glow from the lights and windows makes Olruggio want to snuggle up in his quilt again. “This place is pretty cool.”
Qifrey rests his head on his shoulder, deep in thought. Which could be dangerous, coming from him, but Olruggio decides to give him some space. He touches the pads of his fingers, finding tougher calluses that must have taken years to develop. If this really are their older selves, he wonders what kind of witch work they’ve been doing together.
His body freezes, eyes darting to Qifrey. ‘Did he say we’re sharing this room?’
Not a moment later, Qifrey returns the eye contact. “Do you think this could be–?”
And not another moment later, a squawk of an alarm owl bursts Olruggio’s eardrums.
“Stars, turn it off!”
“Where is it,” Qifrey practically growls. It’s sort of comforting to know that future-Olruggio never got rid of that blaring alarm owl even with Qifrey’s numerous complaints. Regret quickly comes however when his sole eye twitches, and Olruggio becomes half-sure that he’ll turn his ink towards the poor thing out of irritation.
Awol one of his inventions from when they were taking the first three trials, to help Qifrey wake up on time before Lord Beldaruit could scold him. It ended up as Qifrey constantly scolding him, while he couldn’t find a way to terminate the spell. It works as it works.
Plus, the owl is cute. He made at his Woodcarving class.
“There!” Olruggio catches a familiar sight of the owl mounted on the far-wall. It makes him realize that their bed was mounted on a high platform, or that their room is more of a tower than anything else. Olruggio’s eyes sparkle catching sight of a nearby workbench with piles of paper and ink scattered around it. “Woah, we have a– Wait, Qifrey, no!”
Qifrey launches himself over the short platform wall with a single leap. Even without wearing any sylph shoes to break his fall, he tumbles deftly and lands on his feet.
“Ok, that’s new,” Olruggio grumbles in jealousy. Just stumbling up and off his bed to follow Qifrey made his back creak.
Olruggio winces as Qifrey strikes poor Awol off the wall. It finally shuts up, but he nods pensively in knowing that it would be back to screeching some time tomorrow.
Leaning over the edge, he waits for Qifrey to come back up. Some things really don’t change ten years into the future, like Qifrey’s plain choice of clothes. If Olruggio could find their closet, he’s sure to find ten copies of that turtleneck.
‘…’ Olruggio’s face finally warms in embarrassment. He crumbles into his rough palms. A cool breeze tickles his stomach through the sheer top he has on, while his skirt at least covers something. ‘Do I really wear lingerie to bed? This can’t be real.’
“Olly!”
Olruggio flinches. “Yes?”
“Look!” Qifrey calls out in wonder. He twirls around, hair flowing after him and legs steady in an arc. Olruggio doesn’t question it, believing that Qifrey is just excited to have open space, until the ground under him glows in a warm amber.
“No way…”
“It’s so beautiful!” Even from afar, Olruggio could tell how his smile deepens at every step.
Lining the floor below them is the glowstone path lights Olruggio has been trying to create for Qifrey. Only, he couldn’t figure out a way to make the stones stop glowing after the person has stepped on them—not to the degree future him appears to have figured out. Qifrey hated how bright some lamps could be, casting shadows on the ground he’s trying to not trip over.
Olruggio quickly comes down after him—using the stairs, of course—but stops short just a few paces away.
The fluttering feeling in his chest returns as he watches Qifrey beam as radiantly as the magical stones beneath them. That face has become a rare one these days, with the hubbub of graduating and whatever nth argument he and Lord Beldaruit had gotten themselves into.
Clearly, Qifrey thinks he’s being slick about it. There would be times where his smile immediately drops when he thinks Olruggio isn’t looking. Times where the grin doesn’t fully reach to his eyes or show a bit of his gums.
Qifrey must have hit his head hard one day if he thought Olruggio couldn’t identify a fake smile. He practically invented it!
“This one’s blue,” Qifrey praises breathlessly. His just a step away now, waltzing closer to Olruggio and into his reach. Without shoes, they feel every grit accumulated on the floor. It doesn’t make the other’s smile falter for a second.
What does make it waver is as Qifrey makes Olruggio’s gaze. His arm awkwardly raised, as if to touch his face.
Qifrey takes a step back, as if wilting away from the potential touch. “Something the matter?”
Olruggio swiftly uses the arm to cough into. “Will you, uh. Do up that collar? Quite chilly in here.” He hyperfocuses on the unbraided fabric that would’ve covered Qifrey’s neck and collarbone.
“On the contrary, it’s very warm here. Maybe it’s your attire,” Qifrey teases.
“Like stars I know why I’m wearing this,” Olruggio blushes.
Qifrey chuckles—it sounds deeper in the future. “Actually, I don’t know how to braid this. The one I have is sewn together.”
“So you’re a poser,” Olruggio snorts. He breaks out of his frozen spell to step into the lit-up ground Qifrey stood on. The glow of sea blue surrounds them, but he feels warmer than he would be in the Great Hall.
Grabbing the strands between his fingers, he quickly braids them to his best memory of what it should look like.
“More like I can’t be bothered,” he mumbles. Olruggio is so close he could feel the soft puffs of air tickle his bangs. “Maybe I should’ve joined you for that Weaving workshop.”
“Don’t get cross-eyed watching me, I can teach it to you later.”
At the corner of his eyes, Olruggio finds a pleased smirk slowly growing on his face. Somehow, he feels even more nervous than before. “Will you now?”
“Oh,” an unfamiliar voice chirps, making them jump. The door is silent as it opens wider, and a girl with a plume of pink hair peeks through the gap. “Am I interrupting something?”
She’s wearing robes in Qifrey’s seafoam green.