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    Summary

    “So...” Olly continued through choked sobs, “...tomorrow morning, when we wake up, put on proper clothes, sit down somewhere that isn’t a bed, drink some tea or mead, let’s... let’s talk properly, alright?” Only when Olly wiped the tears from his cheeks did Qifrey realize he was crying, his mouth trembling. “Then maybe we can love each other like people in those stories do, if you love me as much as I’ve always loved you since we were kids. We can make love as much as you want, as much as I want.” Olly managed a small smile through his tears. “Let’s just be gentle with ourselves, alright, Qifrey?”

    Qifrey broke down, burying his face in Olly’s chest. His arms held Olly tightly, but his fingernails dug deep to near bleeding into his own palms to stop anything worse from happening right now.

    “What the hell is wrong with you?”

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