Archive of Our Own

"Qifrey, I was wondering." The fire of the hearth illuminated Olruggio as he glanced over his shoulder at him, holding their rare midnight treat of silvernectar wine. He suppressed a yawn, pondering his question.

Qifrey reached over to refill his own loop chalice. He didn't indulge often, but after the harrowing events of Silver Eve and the ensuing chaos, he felt that they deserved a break. His apprentices were visiting the Great Hall tomorrow anyway, safe under Beldaruit's watch. He only needed to be sharp and awake enough to make them breakfast in the morning and usher them through the windowway.

"You ever going to tell me why my ribbon's on your cap?" Olruggio looked down at where the pointed cap was sitting on the ground next to them. Qifrey froze.

He had expected another rambling hypothetical from his friend about an impossible contraption or a riddle he had overheard in town. They had only drunk a glass each, enough to feel warm and bask in a quiet night, but not so much as to dull the senses or the mind.

"I still can't remember, and it's been years," Olruggio continued with a laugh. His smile disappeared as he met Qifrey's eyes again, who quickly schooled whatever look of dismay he must have worn. "I'm sorry, I know you don't like to bring up that time. I overheard Agott and Coco talking about the Tower of Tomes this morning, and it just reminded me."

"No, it's alright," Qifrey let out a forced chuckle. "I don't remember either, to be honest." Olruggio frowned.

"If you say so." Several seconds ticked by in silence as they watched the flames dance and whirl in the fireplace. Olruggio inched closer to him, and Qifrey stiffened.

It was a delicate balance, his life. He wanted nothing more than to tell his friend, his partner, all of his sorrows and worries and care for him the way he cared for others. But if he wanted to keep the promise he had made so long ago, he had to continue walking on the edge of a tightrope, clinging to the embers of warmth that Olruggio provided without throwing himself into the fire.

He hoped he didn't press any more, but his wishes went unanswered.

"Really, Qifrey, what're you keeping from me? I don't press when it comes to your feelings, you know I don't. But I have to wonder. What are you hiding?"

Another beat passed. Qifrey's heart hammered in his chest.

"I can't tell you that, Olly," he said sadly. "Please don't ask me." Olruggio let out a heavy sigh.

"I suppose I have to trust you, then." He took another sip of wine, slow and measured. "Whatever it is, I forgive you for it." Their knees brushed together. "Whatever you've done that you think is so terrible, you can't tell even me… I hope you trust me enough to confide in me someday, when you're ready."

Qifrey clutched the rug tightly between his fists in a white-knuckled grip.

This isn't fair, he thought miserably. He could feel the roots within him starting to move, bursting from their sleep. Not when he hasn't even found out yet. Gingerly, he picked up his cap from where it lay at his feet, about to undo the pin that held back the seal.

Olruggio was still unaware of his secret. The spell wouldn't work right now. And yet, if he turned to leave, his friend would see the branch that had broken through the base of his skull, curling around the nape of his neck. He was stuck until the curse progressed further on its own, unless he hastened it by dwelling on his fleeting peace. His hands shook.

The events rarely happened in this order, where Qifrey bloomed before Olruggio pieced together the truth. Usually, it was the other way around. It was harder on Qifrey's conscience, but easier on his spirit to not have to watch the entire sordid affair play out.

He was a coward, for not waiting every time and letting Olruggio offer himself up again to make sure it was still what he truly wanted, but he knew where the path always led. He would rather spare them both the pain of his transformation.

The other witch grabbed his wrist, staring at the cap with a disappointed yet resigned expression. He looked at the ink, then at Qifrey.

"Wait." His voice carried a faint note of panic. "Please, wait just a moment. I won't stop you, but I want to know why." He recognized the similarity to the Knights' sigil, warped as it was.

Qifrey hesitated, lacking both the words to explain the curse and the mind to propel the seed forward and avoid the questions. Olruggio let go of his hand and tipped his chalice into the fireplace, the flames briefly flaring bright blue. The empty ring clattered to the floor. His gaze was still fixed on the spell, a looming beacon of darkness.

"So you're the one I've to blame for my state, then?" He let out a breath and sat back on his heels, chuckling ruefully.

"What do you mean, your state?"

"I'm tired and hazy, more than usual. A lot more. Don't tell me you haven't noticed at all." Olruggio ran a hand through his hair.

"I thought you were overworking yourself again," Qifrey whispered. He wished he could undo the night. He wished that Olruggio hadn't brought up the Tower of Tomes and said such kind words to him. He couldn't believe how careless he had been.

I should have hurried off to bed as soon as he mentioned it.

Most of all, he wished he wouldn't have to face yet another sin he had committed against the person he loved the most.

"How long have you been feeling like this?"

"For a while." His dark circles reflected that fact. "Though I put it together right now, after seeing all this." Olruggio gestured vaguely to the damning seal. "I thought the same, that it was my sleeping that you keep getting on me about. So I'll forget this night ever existed, then?" Qifrey fidgeted with the ribbon on his hat.

"No, you'll only forget what we were talking about. My secret. You'll remember everything else, I swear." He looked down at his hands despondently. "I'm sorry. It's because I made a promise to you, many years ago."

The branches refused to erupt from his skin and spare him this conversation, continuing their slow crawl down his back, still hidden. His friend's expression morphed into surprise, then contemplation.

"Look, I don't know the details of whatever happened, and something tells me I won't be knowing anytime soon. But this spell… can you change it, you think?"

"Sorry?" Qifrey blinked several times.

"Take the whole night away. Might make me feel less blurry. I'll assume I drank too much and fell asleep."

"No!" He was absolutely stricken at the thought of robbing him of more than he had to. Memories are precious. I've already wronged you again and again, my friend.

The average witch was not highly knowledgeable about memory erasure spells. While not technically a secret, the Knights Moralis preferred to keep the details under wraps, but they were one of many pieces of information Qifrey had first gleaned from snooping in Beldaruit's rooms as a child.

There were three types—one to wipe all magic from the mind, one to wipe the memory of a specific person, and and one to wipe everything after a specific point in time. Then, of course, there was the fourth type that Olruggio had retrieved from the Tower of Tomes, which would erase memories if the ink was mixed with tears that were tied to them.

Fulfilling his request meant that he would use the Knights' third spell instead, leaving a neat gap in memory after the point it targeted instead of an obscured, confusing half-conversation.

"Qifrey, please." Olruggio grabbed his hands with warm, calloused fingers before reeling backwards in alarm as a branch sprouted from Qifrey's eye. "What in the world?"

"I don't have time to explain. Is that really what you wish?"

"Aye." At the response, Qifrey ignored the pulsing pain as roots climbed over him, focusing on the ink in front of him. He had to wash the fabric clean and rewrite the spell to move it from the version that the Tower had revealed to the simpler form that the Knights used.

He finished and desperately closed the circle with trembling fingers before pushing it over Olruggio's face, which was still frozen in shock. This was never meant to hurt you, I swear.

The curtains descended on their scene. Once more, Qifrey sat slumped over the prone figure of his unknowing savior, and the Silverwood retracted, drawn back by the sheer force of his guilt.

He didn't cry in front of Olruggio, or the children. But each and every one of these moments ensured that he would never run out of tears for the next time that the cycle repeated. Now, with the spell altered, he wouldn't even need them anymore.

Regardless, it shouldn't be too different, I suppose, he thought. He wouldn't be emptying his half-full vial, just in case.

He gently lifted the other witch onto the couch across the room, covering him with a blanket and putting out the still-crackling fire. It wouldn't do for him to wake up with an aching back.

Qifrey went to bed and stared at the ceiling, feigning sleep and pretending that he had not done evils that would surely haunt him from this life into the next.

The days ticked onwards, settling into their normal rhythm. The girls continued to make quick progress in their studies and kept finding new ways to both impress and worry their teacher. Qifrey was terrified of losing sight of them in light of recent events, and wished they would be just a bit more careful.

(He remembered how many times he had run off in the Great Hall, much to Beldaruit's chagrin, and realized that the universe was giving him a taste of his own medicine.)

Olruggio seemed brighter and less lethargic, and his dark circles had diminished. If Qifrey had felt guilty before, it smothered him then, when he first saw exactly how much the memory spells had been affecting him. It must have happened gradually enough that he hadn't noticed.

Olruggio came shopping with them in Kalhn after finishing a project early for once. There was a fresh spring in his step, but he pushed past the excited witches that crowded him with ease, staying by Qifrey's side.

While he was grateful his friend was no longer sacrificing his health for his sake, this new development made him quite nervous. It was as if a switch had flipped, and Olruggio's practiced acquiescence to Qifrey's careful distance was eroding.

Usually, he had several months between incidents. It had only been a little over a month since Olruggio had confronted him about what happened at Serpentback Cave, but he thought that the other night had been a rare coincidence.

Two weeks later, when he found himself cornered against the wall, his hopelessly kind Watchful Eye examining the spell carved onto his glasses with concern, he faced the impending doom.

"Your eyesight's getting worse? You never told me," Olruggio said, hurt evident in his voice.

"I haven't told anyone," Qifrey mumbled, mentally kicking himself for not being more cautious. "I didn't want to worry you." He had been reapplying adhesive to his glasses when Olruggio had walked in, startling him and making him drop the frames right at his feet.

"You're meant to worry me! I'm supposed to be here for you, and help you in any way I can. I want to help you." The same words had been spoken countless times. Olruggio's determination rose like rogue waves despite being effaced by his own plan. "Trust me, please!" He reached out and grasped his shoulder. "What's happening to your eye?"

Qifrey swallowed. It was too late. He didn't have a lie prepared, and his hesitation had stretched out long enough that it wouldn't have been convincing enough anyway. He looked over at where the cap and spell lay on his desk.

He tried his best to seem detached whenever the curse reared its head, at least on the outside. Even after all these years, he was afraid to break down if he thought too deeply about what was happening in the moment, and made himself wait until after the deed was done to wallow in his misery.

"Wait." Olruggio caught his wrist after seeing the seal, much like he had done on the unfortunate night two weeks ago. "Why are you doing this? Tell me the truth."

I need to move faster, Qifrey chided himself. Are my reflexes getting worse?

"I can't do that, Olly. You would forget it anyway," he held his voice steady as he recalled the other's prior request. "You'll forget that we even talked, or that you walked into the room at all. I'm sorry."

Ten minutes has to be enough. He fixed the ink accordingly.

"I don't care! I still want to know." Olruggio was resolute. "Even if I forget. You owe me that much. What's happening to you, Qifrey?"

I might as well tell him, he reasoned to himself. It'll disappear regardless. He bit his lip, spell at the ready.

"I'm cursed," he started. "The Brimmed Caps experimented on me as a child." These words, too, had been spoken over and over. "Do you remember the Tower of Tomes?"He stood stiffly as he stumbled through the clearest explanation that he could muster, recounting their promise while still not divulging the nature of the curse. Olruggio watched silently, rapt with mounting horror.

"I am the host of a parasitic Silverwood," Qifrey confessed. "I can dispel it, but it feeds on my peace, Olly. It will keep taking root." The most difficult part of maintaining his demeanor was always the expression of pure sorrow that etched itself into the lines of his best friend's face.

However, the worst one was forgiveness. For Qifrey, the anger turning to sadness and sympathy and then, an extension of warmth, a step towards him—it was deadlier than any blade. Unlike the slow unraveling of branches he had experienced while mired in emotions, the Silverwood did not hesitate now, slicing through his empty eye as it delighted in the instinctual relief that flooded his body.

He hastily pressed the seal down onto Olruggio's forehead while he still had the fingers to do so. Then they fell, one slumping to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut and the other sliding down the wall of his own accord, a withered leaf on the wind.

His head lolled onto Qifrey's shoulder. A few seconds ticked by before he blearily blinked his eyes open.

"Huh? Where am I?" He squinted up at Qifrey. "What happened?"

"You must have dozed off," he smiled as brightly as he could. "I found you here and thought I should wake you up."

"Strange." Olruggio he rubbed his temples. "I don't remember that." Qifrey's smile tightened.

"Why don't you have some lunch," he said lightly. "Perhaps it will come back to you." He received a slightly confused nod as he left the room.

Forgive me for my transgressions. Or, don't forgive me. Leave me, free yourself from me. Just please, don't let it come back to you. He slowly unclenched his hands, leaving behind the faint imprints of fingernails where they had dug into his palms without him noticing. I'll make sure it doesn't happen so soon again.

It had been a singular week since the last incident, and he was panicking at what could be going wrong. The night by the fireplace was happenstance, and after that was coincidence, with his friend simply being in the wrong place while he had his guard down. But, three of anything was a pattern. Three was a sign that his precariously constructed house of cards was falling, and Olruggio's newfound persistence might not be temporary.

The details hardly mattered, but he had been accosted and questioned again, the answers drawn out of him without recourse. He had wanted to come up with a more believable lie about his vision and his search for the Brimmed Caps, but he had been busy with his apprentices for the past week to give it much thought.

His quick explanation served as a distraction while he changed the seal to erase a period of time. Olruggio had thankfully mentioned at the beginning of their conversation that he had formed his theory about Qifrey's eyesight had been formed two hours ago.

It was difficult, not being able to use the same spell anymore, but he couldn't go back to it if it would hurt Olruggio. He really did seem brighter and more alert after changing the design, and a few more seconds of drawing was a small price to pay.

Qifrey glanced back up, feeling strangely patient eyes on him. The truth about his curse had been uncovered, but the roots had not grown yet. They had been unpredictable as of late, and tormented him by writhing under his skin without yet breaking the surface. He knew they were inevitable; it was a taunt.

"So, what's for dinner?" Olruggio leaned against the desk casually. Qifrey was speechless.

"I told you, I'm going to have to wipe your memory." The cap dangled limply from his hand, ribbon trailing on the ground.

He wondered why Olruggio never tried to run while he had his moments of indecision. Even though the door was across the room, had their positions been switched, Qifrey might have tried to make a break for it.

"Aye, I heard you. Doesn't change my question, though."

"You won't remember, Olly. I used to only wipe what you knew of my secret but… it was hurting you. You won't remember anything from since you found out."

"Tell me anyway." Olruggio shrugged. "I'll ask again later."

"You're being awfully calm about this." Qifrey stepped closer.

"You're awfully calm yourself," he retorted. His shoulders slumped. "You've clearly done this before. You said you made a promise to me, then I believe you. I trust you. Even if this whole thing's terrifying." Then, he laughed.

"You know, all I want is to talk with you honestly. It makes me happy to know I can right now. So what if it disappears?" He inhaled sharply and grasped Qifrey's shoulders, looking directly into his eye. "I don't know when I'll have the confidence for this again." Qifrey prayed he wouldn't feel the twisting branches underneath his robes.

"I love you, Qifrey." Olruggio smiled with the warmth of the sun. "I've loved you for longer than I can say, in every way you can love someone."

Olruggio had confessed twice before, when they were younger. The first time was around a year after the Tower of Tomes. When the rumors about them were finally beginning to die down, he had come up to Qifrey with a shy smile and a flower held out in front of him. "They were right. I do have a crush on you." The Silverwood had broken free just as Qifrey had reached forward and accepted the flower with barely concealed glee.

He had cultivated his distance after that, but one Silver Eve, he slipped up, carried away by the dancing and the lights and how his friend glimmered under the stars so beautifully. He had forgotten about the curse, and blurted out his own confession before he could stop himself, the two of them tucked away in a quiet corner beneath the sky. They had kissed, their first and only kiss, and Qifrey was giddy until the universe painfully reminded him that he was not meant for that sort of happiness. Olruggio offered his memories without hesitation.

Qifrey vowed to never let the Silverwood leave his mind like that again, and it didn't.

The last time had been another quiet night, after they had decided to begin their new atelier. Qifrey had frozen at the casual yet hesitant declaration of love, unsure how to react. Though they had never left each other's side, he had tried to maintain an emotional barrier, knowing that crossing the line would only ever end in disaster. Olruggio waited patiently for his response, reassuring him that whether or not his feelings were reciprocated, their friendship would never waver.

It was enough to break him, to begin a new cycle even though no secret had been told. After years of keeping his emotions under control, he was bound within his body and rooted to the ground, blooming as he watched his beloved muster a smile and save him once more. He considered changing his mind about their plans as he sat with his silent tears afterwards, but he knew Olruggio would not be turned away so easily, and it would do nothing against the curse.

He had been standing still for too long, his face unmoving and brow lightly furrowed, and Olruggio's expression dimmed in disappointed acceptance before he stepped back. Why had the branches not grown yet? Perhaps his knowledge of their time being marked, that it was impossible for him to return his feelings, and his growing guilt at Olruggio thinking he was being rejected, was together keeping them at bay.

I love you too! he yelled in his head in anguish. Stars, I wish I could tell you. It struck him. Why shouldn't I? He reached out. This moment is gone already. He could picture the look of joy on the other's face, how it would feel to draw themselves close and live in that minuscule eternity—

He didn't get the words out in time. The wood breached his eye, his chest, and his arms in brutal, curving spikes as he dropped the completed seal onto Olruggio's horrified visage.

"I love you too," he murmured as he caught him in his arms. The curtain fell. There was no applause.

Qifrey sat at the kitchen table in the dead of night, mournfully staring out the window. The bright cup of still-steaming fairy tea he had brewed was failing to calm his mind.

Wood sorrel might have been better for the occasion, he thought bitterly. Though I suppose my melancholy is best left untreated.

The string of unfortunate coincidences in the last several weeks had left him uneasy. Worse yet was the fact that the Silverwood had grown unpredictable. He was unused to the branches emerging in a creeping ripple rather than a surging wave.

Perhaps I am more anxious than usual. He sipped his tea. Or perhaps the curse is mocking me. It was always a challenge to grasp the balance of his own emotions. When did he feel too much peace? How much sorrow was enough to stave off the curse? The questions grew more difficult to answer with each passing month of restrained domesticity.

Maybe I should resume my search in earnest. Although now, when Olruggio had grown so curious, was possibly the worst time to continue his investigations into the Brimmed Caps. Am I being paranoid, or is he really more insistent?

He racked his brain for any sensible explanation. It has to be the spell. Nothing else has changed. What if those blurry remnants of memories still carried the pain he felt in that moment? What if, in erasing them fully, I'm erasing the lingering wariness that would prevent him from approaching me again so soon? The idea terrified him, and he pressed his face into the palms of his hands.

Even alone with the stars overhead, he took care not to murmur his words aloud, and it served him well when Coco trudged into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

"Oh, Master Qifrey," she said upon seeing him. "Sorry, I was just getting some water." She paused. "Are you okay?"

He reacted with a start, relaxing his pinched frown and distressed contemplation into a practiced, graceful smile.

"Of course," he replied warmly. "Having a late cup of tea, is all." He busied himself with fetching the water from its orb. "Is everything alright? It is quite late, are you having trouble sleeping?"

"Not really. I was just nervous, I guess. So much has been happening." She wrung her hands. "I keep thinking about it."

Qifrey wished she was less of a mirror to him. He knew he was to blame for her circumstances, and ached to go back to their first meeting and be careful enough so that her life would not come to a screeching halt as she was thrown into a new world. All he could do now was be a source of trust and comfort for her, as much as possible.

"That's understandable, Coco." He knelt down, meeting her gaze. "What you have been through would be a lot to handle for anyone. But you're not alone. Your fellow apprentices are here for you, and you can always come to me with your worries as well. I'm happy to help when you do." She stopped twisting her hands, her shoulders dropping slightly.

"Why don't we talk about what's on your mind tomorrow? Tonight, it's best not to dwell on it. Rest is important too, you know?" Coco agreed and left with a renewed bounce in her step, and Qifrey sat back down with a heavy sigh.

I should take my own advice. Best not to dwell on it.

Another week passed before he was confronted anew. The explanation was second nature now. He would say he was cursed, and that he was trying to make sure their lives could go on. Olruggio would press further, demanding the sordid details. As long as the roots stirred slowly, he had the chance to say them.

If there's no danger, if I'm not about to burst the way like on the hill before Silver Eve, then I owe him that much.

He had always kept their conversations short before, not wanting to risk the tree growing and additional memories being made that would be erased, making the past hazier for Olruggio. Now, at his own request, there was a dividing line between the dead time and the living, a gap that only Qifrey would remember. The haze would be an opaque blankness. There was no point in trying to preserve any gaps of sunlight.

He answered his questions, being honest while trying to tiptoe around the declaration of forgiveness that would make their stolen time come to an end.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" Olruggio said bluntly, catching him off-guard.

"Yes." Qifrey replied, a barely audible whisper.

"And?" He did not hide his desperation well.

He knows he will forget, Qifrey reminded himself. He still asked. There's no point in lying.

"And I love you too," his voice broke as his hands left the seal on the desk and rested lightly on Olruggio's shoulders. "But we can't— this time is—"

"Gone already, I know. You told me." Olruggio brushed a wayward strand of hair away from his good eye, pinning him with his gaze. "I still want you anyway." He leaned in slowly, cupping the back of Qifrey's head and bringing it down towards him, giving him the space to pull away.

He didn't pull away.

They collided, and Qifrey leaned into the devastation of a promise, etched into skin, that they both knew they couldn't keep. Olruggio's lips were soft against his own, his beard scratchy against his chin. They moved in tandem, on instinct, grasping each other in a tight embrace and refusing to let go.

Olruggio kept kissing him, long and slow, and Qifrey responded in kind, pausing to catch a breath before leaning forward again, and again, and again.

Their movements turned frantic, heated, years of yearning finally bubbling to the surface. Olruggio trailed kisses down his cheek and then the side of his throat, leaving faint, burning spots of warmth.

Within his eye, and beneath his beating heart, the roots began to unfurl.

This will end, Qifrey repeated as he gripped onto black robes like a lifeline, even though they were the opposite. He held his lover's face, pouring forth all his devotion while basking in his own self-loathing. This will end, and he will know none of it, and I will have to pretend that it never happened.

As long as he was mired in his sadness, then for a moment he could have everything he desired. As long as he kept the inevitable loss and lie at the forefront of his mind, then the Silverwood would wait a second longer.

He opened his eyes, closer to Olruggio than he ever thought he could be, and took in the curve of his lashes, the slope of his nose, the slant of his brow. He was overwhelmed by the all-encompassing sensation of touch even though he had craved it for so long, shaking under the weight of being cherished. I don't deserve this, Olly.

Olruggio pushed him against the wall, drinking him in deeper. The minutes slipped by silently, and his sorrow began to scab over. Their breaths grew faster, short gasps of air in hurried rhythm.

A branch twisted from his eye, blooming across his forehead. Before Qifrey could push him away, Olruggio pressed a final kiss underneath his lower eyelid, leaves rustling his hair as he did.

"It's alright, I promise," he said as he handed Qifrey the cap, brushing away the other's trailing tears and gently guiding pale, quaking hands above his head to cast the spell. His eyes shone with understanding, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards. Whenever Qifrey had not taken him by surprise, and he was able to realize what was happening, he always smiled at the end without fail.

After the magic had taken hold, Qifrey carried him back to his room this time, instead of the couch. He couldn't risk being seen by his students.

He returned to the scene of the crime later, sitting on the floor in a puddle of emotion. Qifrey brought a hand to his aching lips, trying to piece himself back together. He did not know what to make of the want thrumming beneath his veins, running alongside the perpetual guilt.

He could not bring himself to regret it, not when Olruggio had held him like such a precious, miraculous thing and when Qifrey had gotten to tell him how much he meant to him, ephemeral as it was. He breathed in staccato between sobs, clutching at his hair.

He is my undoing, and I am his.

Three weeks later, they went on a date.

Perhaps the spell needs time to settle, Qifrey thought as he hurriedly explained their circumstances yet again. Maybe that's what keeps driving him to confront me. He could go back to using the spell variant from the Tower like he had before, but he didn't want to risk making Olruggio tired and confused.

"Let's go to Kalhn," Olruggio said, pinning up the flap of Qifrey's cap before he could complete the circle and handing it back to him. "We need groceries for the week, and our ink stores are running low."

"Alright," Qifrey replied hesitantly. "I'll ask you to come with me when you wake up." Olruggio shook his head.

"We can go now." He smiled. "There's no secrets between us right now. It'd be nice to exist like that, for a bit."

"Running our errands will take time, and you won't get those hours back. I wouldn't want you to fall behind on your commissions—"

"Don't worry about my work," Olruggio brushed him off. "If I had any pressing deadlines, I wouldn't offer in the first place. When I wake up, I'll think you went to get everything yourself." Qifrey glanced at him, considering.

Oh, how he wanted. Oh, how it would hurt.

He agreed, against his better judgment, and they set off.

The town was bustling as usual, a gentle breeze lifting Qifrey's ribbon into the air as they trudged along the cobblestone paths. Countless conversations blurred into each other around them, settling into a low rumble. He could still hear Olruggio clearly amidst the din, talking as if he didn't know that the entire afternoon would be wiped from his memory.

He did know, and he still chose to come here anyway.

Qifrey lurched back, jolted from his thoughts as Olruggio entwined their fingers, clasping their hands together.

"Olly?" He glanced at him nervously, eyeing the crowd. They had made their way down onto one of the quieter streets, and heard the echo of quiet chatter from a smaller scattering of witches, all walking in groups of two or three.

"I'm not that famous," was the gruff reply. "Probably won't be recognized outside of the square. We're not out of place here." Indeed, there were several couples walking arm in arm on the path, out for a sunlit stroll.

He let go of Qifrey's hand when they emerged onto a busier road, splitting off to do the errands they had come for. Olruggio went to fetch ink while Qifrey collected groceries for the week, warmth still lingering on his hand as he approached shopkeepers with a polite smile.

They reconvened a few blocks down from The Starry Sword, Olruggio holding up the satchel of ink in triumph.

"I've always wanted to take you out on a date, you know," he said to Qifrey with a smile. "Sorry this is the closest we'll get for now."

The sky was far more blue than it had the right to be, with puffy clouds rolling across its vast expanse in perfect harmony. Above, the sun shone brightly, casting its rays down onto the town like an embrace. Qifrey was having a very difficult time being appropriately miserable.

The two of them found a seat at the top of a nearby staircase and stared out at the rippling ocean waves, teal and overlapping and iridescent. They sat holding hands again, neither of them having the presence of mind to pull away as they watched the water crest and crash down before rising again, a pantomime of breathing.

I'm robbing him of a perfectly nice afternoon, Qifrey reminded himself, as he had been doing for every moment he felt at ease, even if the stress of potentially triggering the curse in public made it less likely to actually happen. He won't remember what the sky looked like today because of me.

He ducked into the narrow, shaded alley to their right, hoping that the darkness would stifle some of his joy from Olruggio's unbridled affection. The Silverwood was not awake yet, but it would be soon if he couldn't get his emotions under control. Olruggio followed him into the dark passage.

Of course he did, Qifrey sighed.

"We should leave," he whispered.

"Qifrey, have I ever told you—"

"Yes, you have." His voice dropped lower. "You have, and I feel the same. Of course I do."

"Then," Olruggio gripped his sleeve, "before we go—"

He reached up, and Qifrey was the one pushing him against the wall this time. As his hands wrapped around his shoulders, Olruggio stammered before closing the distance between them, the two of them suspended in their own little world.

I need to stay anchored, Qifrey thought as his lips traced Olruggio's racing pulse at his throat. I cannot forget what I am, what I have done. What I will continue to do.

After several long moments of synchronized breaths and wandering hands, Qifrey pulled away from the kiss. The guilt he felt was enough to keep the curse from at bay, but he could not afford to be distracted and have it emerge while they were outside like this.

"We should go."

"Now? Are you sure?" Olruggio's cheeks still held a faint blush, his hair mussed. Qifrey put on his glasses and straightened his robes, and watched his lover do the same.

"Yes, now. We need to go."

They returned to the atelier, preparing for the inevitable. The sky was still a bright, clear blue, but clouds covered it more than before.

"There has to be another way," Olruggio declared as they crossed the threshold. "One that won't make you suffer this much." He looked up with determination in his gaze.

The hope that grew in Qifrey's chest was strong enough that a branch burst through his eye.

"There isn't. Not that we know of." He balled his hands into fists, trying to keep the roots from spreading.

Olruggio relented upon seeing his plight, closing his eyes. The spell was placed. The cycle continued.

The next time, they went to Olruggio's room together.

"I can get there myself. I'll end up there anyway," he pointed out. "Saves you the trouble of needing to carry me." After Qifrey had explained his circumstances and what was going to happen, Olruggio had taken his hand, and Qifrey had not shaken it off.

He led them up the stairs of his workshop, the happiest man at the foot of the gallows.

How much longer will he fall for the same excuse? Qifrey was nervous. Something in the other witch was keeping an internal counter of their closeness, pushing farther and farther every time, despite being completely unaware of what had previously transpired.

He seems tired, he mused, worried. Olruggio had dark circles again, though not as pronounced as they were a couple months ago.

"Have you been feeling alright?" Qifrey asked.

"I'm fine," Olruggio mumbled. "This commission's just taken longer than I expected." They arrived at his bed, and he sat down, leaning against the headboard. "I was tired anyway. At least I'll get some rest, I suppose." He gazed longingly at Qifrey, who stood over him hesitantly.

The Silverwood is still calm, he reasoned. I can afford a moment before this all goes away. Olruggio held out a hand, beckoning.

"Will you stay?" His voice was rough. "I've wanted you for so long." Qifrey was quiet, a lump heavy in his throat.

"You'll forget," he choked out. He looked down, mentally tracing over Olruggio's white-knuckled grip on his sheets.

I barely survived kissing him, Qifrey smiled to himself sadly. I certainly can't handle anything more. He took a seat beside his would-be lover.

"We can't go far," he said, nerves thrumming with anticipation and grief.

"Anything you'll give me is enough," Olruggio replied. Between the two of them, he tended to be more easily flustered, but Qifrey's cheeks warmed at the honesty of his words.

"I am a selfish man, Olly." He raised his head slightly, their lips inches apart. "I want you so much, even if it won't last."

"Then I'm selfish too!" he responded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You told me what'll happen, you're not tricking me." He wrapped his hands around Qifrey's waist. "So just come to bed with me, won't you?"

They did not get very far at all, but they lay together without their cloaks or skirts, Qifrey in his undershirt and pants and Olruggio in his flowing white tunic. Their hair was askew and their fingers intertwined, a messy tangle of limbs and kisses.

"It isn't fair that I'm stealing this from you." Qifrey spoke aloud for his own benefit, his heart aglow from their proximity. The reminder was what allowed him to stay grounded and soak in forbidden comfort one moment more. He was lost in an ocean-blue stare, the only waters in which he would willingly drown.

"You can remember for us both," Olruggio murmured into his ear. "And I'm still here right now." They were close enough to feel each other's rapid heartbeats.

"You ever had a dream where you forgot what happened?" he continued, his eyes falling shut in contentment. "And you wake up, and all you know is it was probably something wonderful? It doesn't mean you didn't dream it, aye?"

Qifrey exhaled. He could feel the Silverwood's branches pushing against the skin of his back and scraping under his eyelid. This had been a terrible idea.

This is for him, not me, he thought as he began to pull away. I'll give him whatever I can offer, the warmth he deserves, and I can suffer the ache of loss that I need.

Olruggio felt his absence and opened his eyes, accepting the sight of the outstretched spell.

"Wait 'till I'm asleep, would you? I want to hold onto this for as long as I can."

So, Qifrey waited, sitting by his bedside until his breathing evened out. He watched as the circle dissolved into smoke, the magic taking hold.

I'll remember for us both, he swore silently. I promise.

The sun had risen. Qifrey's fingers moved sluggishly as he braided the strands of his collar around his throat. It was his morning ritual, and the intricacy of the design helped him wake up. He was hazier than usual. After the fabric slipped from his grasp thrice over, his hands fumbling to hold it closed, he sighed and went over to the mirror in defeat.

His mind was slipping along with the fabric, into the same circles of rumination.

How many times have I given him the same excuse of falling asleep? he thought as he brushed his hair over the ruins of his right eye. It can't possibly cover up the gaps in his memories much longer. He will get suspicious soon, surely, if he isn't already.

I need to do something so that this stops happening so often. He carefully cleaned his glasses with the hem of his robe before affixing them to the bridge of his nose. Perhaps I can continue my search for the Brimmed Caps again in earnest.

No, that won't do, he shook his head. They're already after Coco. I can't risk putting her in more danger by trying to go looking for them right now. Besides, if Olruggio finds out, it would defeat the whole purpose of it.

He still needed to fix the collar. As he gazed into the mirror, the image of his beloved came to him unbidden. He imagined calloused hands gently crossing the layers into place, tracing over the skin of his neck. Briefly, he let himself dream.

Perhaps, if it is early enough the next time he finds out, he might…

Qifrey froze. His heart felt cold in his chest. The icy blue reflection of his eye pierced through him.

I'm looking forward to it, he thought numbly. He loses pieces of himself whenever he gets too close, and I'm looking forward to it.

He wanted to strike down those who had cursed him. No, he wanted to claw at the mirror at his own accusing gaze.

"How monstrous," he whispered aloud. "To even think about wanting this, after all that he's done for me."

Maybe it was fine. Maybe the hatred that he felt towards the face he saw in the mirror would be enough to keep the Silverwood at bay for a long, long, time. Maybe Olruggio truly was happy like this, living as a piecewise function.

He turned around, closing his eye tightly.

I don't know what to do. Please, someone tell me what to do.

The collar still lay unfinished and limp against his shoulders. Behind the dark of his eyelids, he saw his friend's prone, falling figure, the last second of each one of their cycles playing on repeat. Qifrey fought down the bile rising in his throat as he weaved fabric over and under, intertwining. He knit himself together on the outside as his heart unspooled.

He is not here, and he is not coming. It's better this way. Get over yourself.

Qifrey swiveled back again, practicing his smile. The least he could do was always make an effort to wear the kindness that Olruggio had taught him so generously.

He took five breaths, each one carefully measured.

Another day awaits.

Perhaps there are times, where if it has been raining for long enough, you might forget why you're holding an umbrella, until you drop it and the rain soaks you to the bone.

It happened again: the confession, the reciprocation, the kiss, the warmth, and the fall. Qifrey continued to be stricken with guilt and yet when Olruggio reached out to him, he gave in twice, thrice more. Each incident ended the same way, with him by his lover's bedside in a mocking vigil.

What worried him most was that slowly, his anxiety was abating. Despite knowing whatever time they spent together would be erased, a small part of him latched onto the fact that it wouldn't be the last.

The balance is tipping, he thought as he stared out the window towards the horizon. It has to end, doesn't it?

It was morning, and he was sitting at the kitchen table. Dawn had broken, and his students were still asleep. The faint chirping of birds bled through the walls, and Olruggio strode towards him with a question on his lips.

Qifrey could sense what he was about to say. He had started leaning forward instinctively, even though the other had yet to speak.

Oh. It has to end today.

We've built muscle memory, he realized ruefully. He had accidentally torn down the distance he spent years practicing, letting Olruggio chip away at the fortress until it crumbled to nothing. Now, he met a face free of hesitation, and fought to keep his hands from seeking its solace.

He was too happy, even in a series of fleeting moments. The tendrils of the curse twitched in his skull as Olruggio stretched out in the chair next to him.

"Something's wrong," he said solemnly. "Isn't it, Qifrey?"

How can I end it? He wanted it this way. Going back to the old spell would hurt him. He's been feeling so much better. He nodded in response, not sure what to say.

"I woke up this morning," Olruggio continued. "And found this at my bedside." He slid over a scrap of paper with the undeniable sketch of a half-finished memory erasure seal.

Qifrey froze. There was no chance he had actually forgotten it there. Careless. It's alright. I can say it was for my own study, maybe? Before he could react, his glasses were plucked off his nose.

"No!" he exclaimed. Olruggio was already scrutinizing them, as if confirming his suspicions. Did I rub my eyes too much yesterday? What did I give away, for him to put together the pieces? How much does he know already?

However much it was, the ending was clear.

If he used the same spell again and wiped clean all of Olruggio's day from when he had awoken, Qifrey would know it was going to come up again. His heart had already settled into its rhythm. It would be too tempting to stretch out the time, steal some happiness, and also keep him as whole and hale as possible. It would be what both of them wanted, and it would give him solace. It would remind him that he was loved back.

The only way out was to restore the distance between them that plagued him, which might be impossible. There was no guarantee that breaking his word and using the old spell—leaving Olruggio hazy and tired and health likely worsening—would reverse the determination that had arisen in his subconscious.

If only I hadn't been so weak to my emotions, and just refused to give in the first time. He took in the form of his most cherished companion, and even now, could not bring himself to regret in full.

Qifrey brushed his fingers over the spell's outlines.

"I tried so hard, Olly. I'm too happy with the way things are. It can't last. You've found out about my curse over and over, and you'll keep finding out."

"How can I help?" Olruggio tugged the paper back out from under his hands. "How do we fix this?"

"You'll need to erase my memories. All of them." Qifrey felt his eye well up with tears. At least he will be free of me at last. His heart fluttered against his ribs. A branch tore through his wrist, winding its way around his arm as Olruggio reared back.

"What? No!" He examined the Silverwood, horrified. "How can you even say that?" The roots were spreading too fast, a thicket carving its way through his back and shoulders. The pain sang in each nerve, and the sound of skin ripping open echoed through the kitchen.

"Help me outside," he begged. "Please. I need to be outside." He stood up and stumbled, the remains of his vision blurry from his panic and sorrow. Olruggio looped an arm around his waist and hauled him out the door into the open air. Branches scraped against the doorway as they went.

The sky was lined with pink and orange, with the painting of sunrise still incomplete. Qifrey tried to back away, but his legs were weak and unsteady.

"You said you're too happy," Olruggio said while stepping forward, refusing to let him leave. "Take my memories instead, then. As many as you need to feel guilty. That'll work, won't it?"

"I've done it," Qifrey replied morosely. They were both trying to maintain some semblance of composure as the tree rose up around him, but he could hear the strain of desperation in Olruggio's words. "I've done it so many times, but it was affecting you badly. You asked me to change the spell, so I did, but it isn't working anymore."

"Then do whatever you used to!"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't care!" Olruggio yelled back. His shoulders dropped. "I don't care if it hurts. This'll kill you. I can't lose you." He gripped the wood encasing his arms.

I am so tired. A weariness grew deep in Qifrey's bones as he fell to his knees, the sprouting tendrils rooting him to the ground. I don't want to go back to how it was before. I don't want to wipe his memory again. What is the point of my endless misery?

Olruggio dropped down to sit across from him, love and concern written plainly on his worried face.

"I can't do it anymore, Olly," Qifrey whispered. "I can't. I'm so sorry. Tell the girls I'm sorry. Take care of them." An odd halo of peace was descending over him. He faintly registered twisted roots covering his body, numbing all sensation in his limbs as they began to close in.

I have countless regrets, he thought as he looked up at the sky. Of course I do. But everyone will be better off this way. He took in the watercolors of dawn overhead and how the light glinted off Olruggio's hair. The sun bathed him in a golden glow and illuminated the tear tracks on his cheeks. In the end, this life was a miracle. Far more of a blessing than I deserved.

"Please," his voice broke. "Just let me die. This was enough."

A pair of hands reached inside the rapidly forming cage to cradle his head.

"This isn't enough, Qifrey," Olruggio said thickly. "It wasn't nearly enough. Not for you, and certainly not for me. Not with how you're suffering." He shifted forwards, splinters of wood digging into his palms.

"It breaks my heart that it's the only way we know, but please, stay with me a little longer."

"I don't want to keep you at arm's length forever after knowing how it feels to be close to you." Qifrey was drifting farther, and his voice growing fainter.

"It won't be forever," Olruggio was sure. "Things will go back to however they were before, but I'll fix it one day, I promise. I'll rip out your curse myself if I have to." Qifrey met his eyes. "If you can't have hope, then don't, but hold on for our life. For our children. Hold on so I can remember someday that you love me back."

Our life. Our children. Qifrey shuddered within the Silverwood's prison, hearing his promises spoken so plainly. Olruggio's blazing determination broke through his creeping, poisoned peace, bright as the pyreball he lit over ten years ago as he vowed to return from the Tower with an answer.

Alright, my love. He was finally registering the pain of the constriction around his chest and throat. You win. You can save me again. He didn't have hands to write with or ink to draw with.

"You'll have to do it yourself," he croaked out. "Erase your memories from the moment you realized I was cursed this morning. Do you know how to draw the seal?"

Olruggio nodded solemnly.

Let this work, Qifrey prayed. He hoped the Knights' spell would be effective just once more, and that Olruggio wouldn't wake up the next morning with the same realization. If he did, the Tower of Tomes' memory spell would fix it. I'll have to start bottling my tears again.

The other witch had his pen, but not his palm quire. He ripped off a corner of his sleeve to use as a canvas, drawing swiftly as the tree's opening narrowed to a single gap large enough for his eye. Olruggio kissed the bark where it covered his lips and pressed the seal to his own head. He cracked a weary but genuine smile before he collapsed.

For a terrifying moment, nothing happened. The branches did not open, and Qifrey heard his blood pumping furiously through his veins, fear setting him alight.

The sky turned golden as the sun rose fully. The Silverwood receded, releasing him. The haze left him along with the tree, and he crawled over to where his beloved lay limp on the ground.

A dam broke and Qifrey wept, holding Olruggio tightly to his chest. He cried both in anguish and in anger for nearly giving up.

It really is unfair. We were so young, and we've tried so hard. I won't let them take more from me, even if that means going back to orbiting you. He pushed down his hope. The sun's rays warmed his skin.

I promise, Olly. As long as I'm cursed, as long as you're here, I'll never let myself find peace.

Several minutes prior, Olruggio had a fraction of a second to make a decision.

There has to be a way where he doesn't suffer. He traced his hands up the tree. There has to be. Qifrey was waiting for him to draw the spell and return them to a cycle that he assumed had begun years ago.

He had lied.

He hadn't puzzled together the curse this morning. It had been in the evening two days ago when he found Silverwood leaves on his pillow, and tried to figure out where they could have come from. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had stumbled on something important and wrote down all that confused him—the leaves, his hat tassel, the gaps in his memory when he was supposedly napping but couldn't remember falling asleep, Qifrey's missing eye—it was all connected. He didn't know why he was convinced of it or what had stopped him from investigating it earlier, but he researched the Silverwood tree.

He arrived at a theory that was impossible, ludicrous even. However, if there was the smallest chance that he was right, then Qifrey was in grave danger, and had been for years.

And, he had also been erasing his memory.

Olruggio left a warning for himself before facing him. If he was right about Qifrey being a Silverwood host, and he couldn't remember the next day's events, he would take that as confirmation.

He breathed a sign of relief when he was asked to write the spell. At last, he would be able to find a different solution, as long as he didn't let on to Qifrey that part of his memory remained.

A lie only a friend would make, he supposed.

I'll keep my distance, and I'll keep searching for an answer. I won't confront you again until I've found it. He closed the circle, locking eyes with Qifrey before the spell hit him.

But I promise you. I'll make sure you find peace.