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Qifrey has been doing his best to try and remember to express what he dislikes more often. And with a clarity he's avoided before now.
It seems like a strange thing to struggle with, really. Most people learn when they're quite young to tell what they don't like and make sure other people know. Babies cry when they don't like something, children (and sometimes adults) throw tantrums over unfavorable things. Everyone has a food they recoil from or a sound they dislike enough to leave the room over.
And it's not that he doesn't have these things but, rather, that he doesn't know how to respond to them. Spending his whole memory till recently managing the Silverwood and keeping it at bay has warped his response to discomfort. He went toward the terrible sound, kept eating the meal he hated the taste of… Qifrey is well past realizing something is wrong with him but it felt so extreme looking at it up close now.
Often it simply comes as second nature to accept the things he does not like. Things like his usual cup of tea, prepared the way he'd always taken it until recently. Tetia had given it to him with a smile and without a second thought and he'd picked it up, taken a sip, and sat there with pursed lips as the bitterness crawled down the back of his throat.
"Is something the matter, Master?" she asks. He makes more noticeable expressions of discomfort now, which he was also still adjusting to.
"It's—" Qifrey stops himself from saying it's nothing because it's not nothing. His tea is too bitter, doesn't have enough sugar or lemon to balance it, and he hadn't let the girls know properly. He hadn't even really told Olly, his partner had simply noticed how he prepared it now and taken to doing the same. "It's quite bitter," he says finally with a little cough. "I never really liked it this way. Could you get me some sugar and a lemon wedge?"
Tetia jolts, surprised, but nods and retrieves his requested items. When she sets them next to his tea and he hears her shift on her feet as if working through nerves before speaking. "We're all glad you're telling us what you like now, Master," she says, "But I wish we'd known sooner. I hate remembering all the times I've made you tea."
Qifrey's expression softens and he wipes his fingers before reaching toward her. Tetia gives him her hand easily and he squeezes it. "Oh dear," he says, "I still enjoyed every one of them you brought me because you did a kind thing for me." He smiles, then gestures toward his teacup. "It's just better now that I can enjoy the taste too."
At this, she gives a little laugh. "I'll bet," she chirps, "I always wondered why you drank such bitter things."
"I suppose you don't have to wonder anymore."
He laughs too, because now that he's on the other side of things it is a bit funny. He's been chasing misery so long it feels lighter to chase bliss, to seek out the things he actually enjoys. A weight off his shoulders, an easier life. He feels guilty sometimes, having made them a part of his discomfort. He loves his students and Olruggio dearly, they bring him endless joy. But, he supposes, to love someone is to fear and he held those fears and worries close over the years. He loved them the way he could. And now he gets to another way.
And, well, they love him in their own ways too. Ways they always have and new ways they've discovered. He had never accepted gifts before. Both because his girls were so young and their money should be their own and because attachment to even temporary possessions felt like its own strange kind of danger. But now? The girls returning home with a small trinket for him is nothing new and he takes this with clear stride most times.
Unfortunately, when Coco brings him a small bundle of incense after a recent trip to the markets he has to, yet again, explain some of his strange old habits to her. Because the bundle smells strongly of eucalyptus and mint, astringent and some what like cleaner. It's a smell he'd filled his room with in the past, one he used around the atelier often, and he's not surprised that it would be assumed he likes it.
He does not, in fact, like it. It makes his nostrils burn and gives him the little pang just before a headache. Which was fairly useful at subduing the Silverwood but… fairly horrible now.
"Oh!" Coco chirps, quickly taking the bundle back when he explains this to her. "I'm sorry, I—"
"You couldn't have known," Qifrey tells her with a smile, reaching out to playfully ruffle at her hair. "I think Richeh likes minty smells, should see if she'd like to burn it in her room."
Coco nods under his hand and, after a brief pause, cocks her head to the side too. Always curious, this one… "What scents do you like then, Master Qifrey?"
A good question. One that he, unfortunately, has to think about his answer to longer than most people who use incense on a regular basis.
"I like florals," he offers with a little smile, then adding. "And the spicy ones Olruggio gets? Those are nice."
He can hear the smile in Coco's voice. "He gets one that smells like cinnamon rolls," she informs him. "I'll get you those next time."
Qifrey can't help the grin it brings to his face. Not that he's trying to hide his expressions anymore. "That would be wonderful."
In the end, his worst habits end up being the ones he does without even a second thought. Ones like his cold showers and drippy hair after them. They feel so normal that he doesn't think twice about it that evening, headed for the baths with a towel tucked under his arm. He's in the midst of hesitantly dipping his toes in when there's a knock at the door, followed by Olruggio's quiet little "it's me."
"Come in," Qifrey calls back, pulling his feet back up and hugging his knees to his chest. It's to get away from the water rather than cover himself, Olruggio has already seen his naked form, but the reflex is natural.
Olruggio slips in, the bundle of Qifrey's forgotten clothes under his arm, and pauses in front of the tub. Before Qifrey can ask what he's doing, he asks, "Why haven't you activated more of the warming spells?"
Of course. Olly had been the one to set those up in the first place. And while he used a good deal more of them than anyone else in the house on a regular basis Qifrey was well aware that his barely lukewarm bath was obvious.
"Oh, you know…"
"I don't," he says, setting his bundle down and slipping out of his shoes before padding over to sit next to Qifrey. "You hate being cold nearly as much as you hate being wet, I can't imagine why you'd combine the two."
Fair. Qifrey laughs nervously and shrugs. "Just an old habit," he says.
"One you don't enjoy?" Qifrey shrugs again. "Then perhaps you should stop doing it, like your walnut snacking," Olruggio says, nudging his arm gently. "Here, let me." He gets to his feet with a little groan and wanders around the edge of the tub, pressing the heating stone tiles—Qifrey following the sounds of the soft clicks around the room, till most are active, warmth radiating from the bath below soon after. When he comes back around to where Qifrey is, he leans down and takes Qifrey's hand. Qifrey holds it as he carefully slides down into the water.
It's warm. Pleasantly so, like crawling under the covers with a snugstone. He understands why Olly enjoys his hot baths so much, really. But he'd spent so long avoiding any comfort and peaceful feelings that taking a warm bath simply didn't occur to him anymore.
"You worry us, you know," Olruggio tells him. Alarmed by the idea he upsets his dear apprentices and husband, Qifrey's expression pulls into a distraught frown until he feels a hand gently rub at his shoulder. "Easy, it's just because we care… but there's so many things you do that you don't enjoy without even thinking. So many things you dislike that you've kept around for so long we have no idea what it is you actually enjoy."
Qifrey sinks back a little, giving Olruggio more room to rub at his shoulders. "I like this," he mumbles, exhaling contentedly.
"Really? Are you sure?" Olly asks, teasing. He works his thumbs at either side of the base of his neck and Qifrey almost moans. "Why didn't you bring along link rings?"
"Mmwhat?" Qifrey mumbles, dazed. It earns a warm little chuckle from the other man.
"To dry yourself off, Qifrey. Link rings." He presses on a particularly bad knot and Qifrey finally does muffle a little noise of pleasure into his hand. "You hate being wet. And yet you just resolve to drip dry after a bath?"
Qifrey huffs out a little breathless laugh. "I don't think about it…" he admits.
"I'm starting to understand that," Olruggio replies.
For a few minutes, they go quiet—other than Qifrey's little mix of moans and grumbles about the massage. It's nice. It makes the fact he's in water just a bit nicer… Incentive to endure the process of soaking his muscles when otherwise he'd be in and out in seconds. When his shoulders and neck are finally less tight, feeling like well kneaded dough, Olruggio's hands slide up to tease through his hair and Qifrey drops his head back to lean against his leg.
"I don't mean to worry you and the girls," he says, "I think I'm still realizing the things I don't like too. The ones I accepted as necessary discomfort, anyway… So many of them are so common in my days they don't even register as that bad."
"But they could be better," Olly tells him.
Qifrey nods, repeating, "But they could be better, yes."
He does his best to wash himself quickly, Olruggio patiently waiting where he stationed himself on the floor until he's rinsing his hair. Then, the other man gets to his feet again and steps over to grab Qifrey's towel. He's waiting to give Qifrey a plush-lined embrace when he steps out of the tub and Qifrey leans into it happily for a moment before taking the towel to hug around himself.
"You can have people help you make things better, too," Olly tells him, digging around in his pocket a moment before coming up with the set of link rings Qifrey can't recall him going anywhere without since he made the first set. He puts them on and taps his thumbs together, sending a warm, drying wave over Qifrey that ends up leaving even the damp towel like it just finished drying in the sun.
Smiling, Qifrey sets the towel aside before stepping closer and pressing a brief kiss to Olruggio's lips. "Thank you," he murmurs. "What a miracle it is, to have someone who cares so much about making me comfortable."
Olly just laughs faintly. "Ah," he says, "what can I say? I take care of what I love. And I've loved you as long as I've known you."
"Can't have been that long," Qifrey counters, moving to go pull his clothes on now. "I was rather rude to you at first."
When Olruggio had saved him, too… Sometimes, Qifrey felt most guilty about that. Those sassy remarks before he even knew that Olly could be the literal death of him. He was such a sweet boy, full of smiles and love…
Qifrey thinks of the smile tugging at Olly's lips when they'd just kissed, so obvious he could feel it. Not that different, he supposes. Still sweet, still full of love, still having that bright smile just for Qifrey. How lucky he is.
"I didn't care," Olruggio insists, tucking the link rings back into his pocket with a soft clink. "Which I'm sure was terrible back then but… I'm glad I stuck around now."
Qifrey nods. "I'm glad too," he says, smiling as he does up the ties around his thighs. "If you couldn't tell."
"I like to be reminded…"
"Oh, oh dear, I can do that."
Olruggio doesn't have to wonder too much about what Qifrey does and doesn't like as time goes on. He watches, it's his job, and he knows one can learn a lot from watching. He doesn't realize how difficult Qifrey's tells can be for others to read until Agott comes to him one evening.
"Master Olruggio," she prompts him, ever serious that kid. "Do you know if Master Qifrey still—or… actually—" she says the word with an inflection that makes it sound like a question, "really likes these?"
He turns, finger marking his place in his book, to find her holding a small box of sweets from one of the places in town. Olruggio can't remember the name, he hasn't had them in ages, but he recognizes them—they're pink and dusted with powder to keep them from sticking, sweet and gummy on the inside and usually flavored with florals or fruits. These are rose, he can tell from the printed flowers on the box.
They must have been expensive, as far as sweets go, judging from the presentation alone. There's only about 4 in the box and Agott looks down at them when he does, studying them herself like she's trying to figure out what he's looking at before glancing up at him again sheepishly.
"The other girls didn't like them," she says, "so I thought he might like something he didn't have to share with everyone."
The sentiment is so sweet it makes Olly's teeth hurt. These girls know him better than they give themselves credit for; a box of sweets just for him, one shared with Agott and the rest to savor when he enjoys a cup of tea in the evening, really is a gift Qifrey needs more often.
"He likes them a lot," Olruggio tells her with a soft smile, watching her eyes light up when she glances back at him. "Probably why I can't remember the name of them anymore. Haven't had any around in ages…"
Agott nods once. "I noticed he used to look at them when we went to the markets. Had us all try samples once… he never got any for himself but he looked so happy the time we split one."
Olruggio feels a pang of affection in his chest at that. Agott's another Watchful Eye in the making if she wants to be one day. To try and contain some of his cuteness aggression he reaches out and musses her hair, which earns him a huff and a little laugh.
"He likes rose," Olruggio offers the advice with a smile. "Sweets, teas, scents, whatever… One of those things he couldn't stop himself from being drawn to, I suppose."
Agott nods and squints at her box of treats a moment before looking back at him. "Thank you," she says, "I know he doesn't mind getting something he doesn't like but…"
"But none of you want to do that," Olly finishes for her. Agott nods and he gives a little sigh, patting at her shoulder gently. "We're all figuring it out again. You know he isn't upset at having to explain and he's not lying about what he does and doesn't like anymore… all we can do is keep learning."
Agott nods. "It's strange learning about someone I thought I already knew."
"He's still Qifrey," he assures her. "That hasn't changed a bit. And no matter what he's dealt with one of the other things he couldn't avoid showing he cares about all of us."
She nods again, then sways on her feet like she's debating something. Seemingly coming up with her answer, she ducks in for a quick hug that Olruggio barely has time to squeeze her back for before scampering off on her way.
These girls… Olruggio smiles and leans back against the arm of the couch again, grinning so hard it makes his cheeks ache.
Later that evening, he catches sight of Agott and Qifrey talking at the kitchen table. That fancy little box is between them, two cups of tea on either side while they chat and enjoy their treat. Just how he knew it would go.
He's fairly certain the girls will learn how to handle this faster than even him. They're so sharp. Resourceful. And they notice more than they even seem to realize they have. In no time at all they'll be telling him what Qifrey does and doesn't like.
Still, when Qifrey comes to get him for bed that night smelling of rose and honey he can't help but be a little extra proud of his call on that one. He hadn't even seen Qifrey have those little snacks in years now.
"Coming to bed soon, love?" Qifrey asks, pressing a kiss to the top of Olruggio's head.
He hums in response, leaning back so Qifrey can nuzzle at his cheek before grabbing his chin to deliver a proper kiss. When the other man pulls away he just stays that way for a moment, Qifrey's hands still cradling his jaw.
"Unless you're already drifting off now," Qifrey teases.
"Mm, not yet," Olruggio insists, finally letting his head fall back down and rolling his neck slowly. Qifrey's hands slide down to gently splay fingers along his shoulders. "I just have to finish up one more thing."
Qifrey smiles and leans down to press his nose into Olruggio's hair again. "Alright. Don't keep me waiting too long, please?"
Olruggio shakes his head. "I wouldn't dream of it," he promises, one hand lifting to pat one of Qifrey's where it's still rested on his shoulder. "I know how much you hate that."