Archive of Our Own ^beta

i want you to see what you can't see unless you have me

i'll be your other eye. i want to see what you see -

let me in.

there had been a moment when qifrey had thought it might all be okay.

how shameful.

the sweet oblivion of the victim, the poisoned freedom of the witch.

for one moment - it had felt like two parts returned - the needed reunion of two disparate halves. no more secrets, no more pain.

the moment you get to give back what you never wanted to take. that moment, under the night-blooming flowers, when they had both let out the same single broken sigh of relief.

but they were never whole to begin with, were they?

there were always impossible things separating them. this was never fate. they met by chance - their story wasn't written in the stars. and it's as qifrey suspected - even if the cracked segments of a mirror can be put back together, even if there's a magic that can do that - witches know the mirror is different now.

they know.

it is not quite as bad as it was before. not like back when olruggio would not even look at him. it is no longer the cold fury of a dampened flame. but even as they pass their days in the same place, crossing each other in the halls of their house, giving each other time, an atmosphere of incredible distance attends them.

even if they do not bring it all up again, it sits silent between them. even when they only broach tangential subjects, the matter is invariably invoked. it follows them like a ghost.

they sit one evening in their living area, after the girls have retired. qifrey perches upon the settle alone, where they would always relax together in the past - olruggio curls stiffly in a chair set by the fire. he nurses a drink, not alcohol.

the reflection of that fire may play in his eyes.

but qifrey can no longer quite tell for sure.

he does not know.

"I guess we might be summoned upon to offer our counsel, given how involved we've been in matters up 'til now," he murmurs quietly. they have been discussing the current state of affairs in the wake of mass brimhat captures. after a letter from beldaruit addressed to the both of them, they have no choice but to lend some talk to the weighty matter.

the sage insisted that they should keep to their atelier for now. they have been permitted to recover their faculties - to continue normal life - while the assembly is in uproar. they may rest.

as if it can be normal. yet it's a kindness, of course. for beldaruit knows too, now.

qifrey's last eye is failing.

"they will want to hear what you think, at least. considering your esteemed reputation," qifrey continues, risking a glance up. it's just not a good day for him - so close to the fire, olruggio's whole form is blurry; as if he too is part of those flames. the witch of light.

"I've never thought about it. I don't care." that witch turns his head in a brief glance - if he reads qifrey's politely incredulous expression, his own does not seem to change. his voice is blunt and tired. "solving society's problems - I've never had the headspace for that. they're on their own with this one."

his frankness on the issue is rare, on a level he has not been before. qifrey has never heard him speak of the rest of the world quite this disinterestedly. his own mind spins, sorting through expressions and statements through the years - times olruggio was cold to the knights, times he would have thrown out a little girl who might have brought them trouble. and when he accepted that girl as part of their brood.

qifrey may not be able to see it with precision, but the haunted aspect of olruggio's posture imbues those words with wrath.

"just protecting exactly what's in front of you -" olruggio flexes his hand towards the embers - "all along, I wanted to believe accepting that duty was enough. that's how I lived, all along. sorry to disappoint! you didn't realise?" his fingers stretch yet, as if to offer a hand right at this moment to the suffering. qifrey gazes at him with an aching heart. if the world had more people like him, there would be no big societal issues.

but he cannot state such platitudes any more, no matter how true they are.

"no, I get it. I don't have the answers for them either." qifrey's voice is dull. "that responsibility doesn't have to be ours." witch society is probably cracked forever down the middle too. like a mirror. "beldaruit says - in the letter, if you saw. he says - it's been decided. they won't just erase the memories of anyone whenever they want to any more."

olruggio is still looking at him.

"they'll find another way to fix all this, it seems. probably nobody should be able to wield that terrible power, after all. even if they think what they're doing is right." oh no. he had been desperate to cycle back to the topic, to get more of the words out - but now that it's time... what he's saying sounds so pathetically self-serving even to him that it makes qifrey feel sick. in panic, it keeps spilling from him, hands trembling in his lap. "I didn't convince myself of that, it wasn't like that. I didn't have that luxury. it felt more that I was prioritising your best interests - that's how it felt - I suppose, I mean, that's what they've always done too, though. on, on a larger scale." his words fumble dangerously, his face is hot - "that horrible, useful power, institutionalised for the people's best interests. I used it for yours."

he doesn't even know what he's saying. it can't be making things better. this isn't it. olruggio still does not look away. qifrey considers whether or not he should just excuse himself from the room - the ultimate cowardice.

at length, the other man finally speaks again, very still. the fireplace crackles, with tension.

"the day I met coco - when you said to me, 'you should take my memories too then, if you want to take hers'? I think that might be when I started realising. you couldn't say something like that so fucking casually unless there was something still really wrong."

he doesn't clarify whether he means that qifrey had a problem, or that he was the problem itself. there's no need.

olruggio continues distantly, having turned aside again. "I wouldn't have personally taken even a child's memories, of course - so I guess it's true, giving her into magic security wouldn't have been so different." the grim smile in his words is utterly humourless. "witches have some other person take the memories, in order for the rest of us to have a comfortable life. we all bear some shame, don't we, born into such a world."

"some more than others."

"indeed."

"... what's always been most wrong with me - or the most... antithetical, I suppose, to this society we've all made ..." qifrey hears his voice get a little sturdier, because now he has given up trying to say the right thing. at the very least, he can be honest about how much he resents himself. "is that I've never even been able to at least split this world into 'good' and 'bad'. not even between 'friends' and 'enemies' - good witches, and bad witches -" he remembers the whispers - the scorn and mistrust from other kids, other adults - "those categories have never felt easy for me like for others. it's just been me, and those I - those I love... those I still hate-"

olruggio cuts through his words the moment they become emotional. "give it a rest. s'not like I've ever really bought into 'good' and 'evil' either, as if it's that simple. as if that's sustainable."

"you're different." qifrey knows his own smile is bitter too, unhelpfully. "most people never question it. you want to do real good, to leave the world better than you found it. I know that's always been your wish. you should bear less shame than anyone."

"I don't know." olruggio has always shrugged off such praise, but the particularly cold and careless way he does it now is somehow terribly depressing. "I'm just like most of us are in the end - like foxcats, digging a burrow, holding tight in it. holding fast to what you find good, shutting out what you find bad - praying that bad stuff doesn't get any closer. pretty pathetic."

"but you've done incredible work in improving this world. even if it was for money, I know it was more than that."

"living a small life with a small family -" olruggio continues, ignoring him. qifrey gives up and lets himself become transfixed, knowing the man is trying to get out something he, too, needs to. as if this is the last chance they have. "even when I was young and people called me a genius or whatever the fuck, it hurt cause I knew I couldn't live up to that - not even in terms of skill but scope. I fled from the scope of the world - I decided to live with you in the middle of nowhere, after all. this is when I started to get it." he takes a quick breath. "every time you just - cooked a meal for me or whatever, that was such tangible good, it meant everything."

qifrey notices the past tense because it cuts like a knife.

he goes on: "I never grew up, I guess, right? sounds like a fairytale now. no... a fable, with an important moral. the more you shut it all out, the more it comes after you - I'm telling you I get that. with just one eye, you saw it coming, that's how it felt for you - right -" his voice is strained and painful, but he continues heedlessly, muttering into the flames: "I know you wanted to find it, cut out the roots, cut off the danger - cut off society's poisoned limb - eye for an eye - but I've no idea any more, which way leads to real peace, real safety. which way could've saved both our dignities."

qifrey swore he wouldn't say 'sorry' to this man any more if he could help it - sorry is cheap now. he didn't want to be in a position ever again where you only have 'sorry' left. so he just looks down into the threads of his blanket, strains his eye until it hurts, feeling his insides - his throat, heart and head - burn with pain. he expects more, but olly says nothing.

olly says nothing.

PART I

eye for an eye.

after all the girls have turned fifteen, they start spending weekends at the assembly. under beldaruit's strict guardianship, they engage in group work with other young witches. it's a new scheme to bring the next generation together - avoid alienation - harbour a sense of community.

to avoid the mistakes of yesterday.

qifrey's girls were invited ostensibly due to being so remote. although not exactly compulsory, and although having them away from him will always worry him, given all the elements at play he eventually agreed that it would probably be for the best. regrettably, for his health, it's a useful break. he knows everyone is trying to find the best solution. he just never knew the place could get so quiet.

technically, it leaves those days free for the men of the house to spend more time together. but often olruggio will work all through it, and they'll share barely ten minutes more together than ever they did. at other times, he'll finish early for a quiet walk together; they'll make a quiet meal for the two of them, and share a quiet glass.

necessarily, everything is different to before. there is no point wondering whether olruggio would avoid his company altogether, if not for the awkward requirement that he lend his assistance. his firm hand on qifrey's arm to guide their path on the hills for the fresh air. he cutting all their ingredients, he pouring both of their drinks.

perhaps it's not even out of bottomless kindness that he feels compelled to perform such extra labour. indeed like lonely, injured foxcats, they huddle together perhaps just out of an entirely animal urge for mutual care. calmly nursing each other's bitter wounds. before conversation ever becomes heavy again, olruggio will return to his room, and qifrey will go throw himself into troubled slumber.

he misses his girls just as deeply as he guiltily soaks in the extra time with his friend - scant as it is - time he can finally admit he has so long been craving all these years. no matter how stilted or painful it has become. it is stupidly easy now to realise a great number of things, at the time it now feels most inappropriate to consider expressing them.

each time that his pupils return with rosy cheeks and thrilling tales of their new classmates, he knows then that it's a good thing. for them, for society - whatever. they're the ones who matter most. they're the main characters now.

their eyes are still innocent despite all of their trials, their topics still sometimes totally unburdened by grown-up cares or concerns. compared to the hopes and ambitions of tomorrow, what even is a brimhat? what is qifrey's renewed horror at having to exist in a world where children are hurt every day, where people are heartless, where there will somewhere always be witches who explore chaos for the sake of it - testing the wicked limits of magic just to see what could happen? a world that makes you end up feeling like you might have been the same as them all along - not even because of your own questionable actions, but just because you too still feel unsatisfied.

a world where trauma pushed you down a wayward, restless path - neither the chaotic brimhat way nor the squeaky clean pointed hat road - a different way, his way alone - where you end up becoming your own life's sacrifice.

where even now, you can never put it all down.

"sometimes I still feel like I'm a conduit for all the darkness in the world." qifrey, that night for the first time ever - and despite olruggio's concerned frown - is the one who is deeper in his cups. he's never said anything like that to him in his whole life.

"you are a human being."

they are silent.

they are in the hills again the next weekend, when olruggio comes to stand behind him - almost as if to put a hand on his back in support. he doesn't, though. qifrey now has a walking stick to guide his footing, and brings it to a rest so as to listen to what his friend will say.

"maybe I would've done the same, after all." olruggio's voice is unfairly gentle, this time. qifrey flinches. "again - I'm not an idiot. I know it's because - of everything that's ever happened to you, that made you like this. there's a limit to how much you can be blamed. I'll give you that, at least."

yes, it's a wretchedly gentle sort of statement, and unbearable to hear.

qifrey looks out stressfully into the sun as his tear falls, at the blurry swooping of birds.

like, would he though...? in the same conditions? it's clearly something he has been imagining; both his generosity and rationality will have led him to. but even if he had been warped like qifrey, or had had the exact same things happen... there's something in olruggio's essential fibres, something so critically different that qifrey is certain he would have found another way. he's far, far cleverer - a true genius. someone who gets results.

and - and no matter what, he would not have let loose his heart as qifrey had. outside, here, barely a mile away from where they stand - under the stars, that one terrible night. maybe he would have ended up with the same secrets, but he would never have lost his footing at such a critical moment and spilt out his heart on a hill. he would not have let himself go.

he would be so good at it all that he would never be so desperate to let someone in. he would never have made such a fatal mistake. he would have been able to handle it by himself.

qifrey wants to express all this, this point he has been desperate to confess - something he worries has been unclear all this time - it is because I did not want to keep my secrets from you, that I ended up having to do what I did. I messed up because I love you. but he doesn't. none of it has ever been expressible.

they make for home.

next time, it is olruggio who has drunk a little more. when he pours his third glass, he realises that and pushes the bottle away from them. it's the first time qifrey has ever seen olruggio stop before he even gets into a good mood.

"know you'd choose differently next time. that's it, that's what'm saying," he mumbles over the wine, as if they're continuing the conversation from earlier. without the sun shining down on it, the moment feels hollow.

olruggio's offering feels foolish, inebriated, embarrassing in its indulgence. qifrey wants to snatch the glass from his hand.

"you don't get it. I don't know - I would always do what would save you." now he feels olruggio's eyes snap to his, sobered instantly. qifrey wonders at himself - why is he being so disgustingly honest? can't he just let olruggio pretend to have forgiven him? but he can't help it - he doesn't want to lie any more. "I would damage my soul ten times more to save you."

there is silence.

"the only hope for me is a world where I don't have to betray us to do that. that's why this hasn't worked so far."

"you wouldn't. we have t'keep..." olruggio continues vacantly, voice more brittle, but somehow even more insistent. qifrey's ears hurt with how much he strains to hear these last words - what he hears now could be the turning point. "we gotta keep looking for that world. 's'not over."

"yeah right."

"save me in the way that really matters - by taking me with you." suddenly, olruggio claps the goblet down to the table, and his voice claims back its solidity. "that's the only fucking way I wanna be saved. or don't do it at all. don't ever do it. don't do it to me. don't do it -"

"I know. I'm sorry - I'm so sorry."

"fuck off." he gets up, unsteady - pushing away with disgust the shaking hand qifrey offers, to help walk him back to his room. qifrey sits a good long while on the floor before he can rise himself.

he shouldn't touch him, probably.

actually, now that he can walk more confidently again, it's been a few weeks since they have touched at all. it's like it used to be.

it's fine.

it's just -

then why did you kiss me?

the thought comes unbidden, the blood beats in his ears - his heart snagging around the precious memory, of vital embrace - hand in his hair, cloaks upon them to shut out this horrible world.

if we're doomed, could you maybe not give me that? could you not let me give you that?

the deliriously bewitching scent of night jasmine. the way every single thing in his life had led to that.

of course. that must be it, then. perhaps it was meant to be like a kiss of death; the death of their relationship. the way you'd kiss a tombstone. the moment you start to say goodbye to something.

nobody mourned him the first time he was buried, so that's nice.

yes, surely it was out of pity. mercy? worst of all would be if it had just been a lack of inhibition - olly had pressed those fingers through his curls so desperately, he had wanted it too - he had. so... yes. even if it's the future they'd both still want, olly's good sense now keeps him from it.

it makes so much sense.

it's for the best.

qifrey has set his hat upon the counter one lonely evening. mechanically, he had intended to go out for a walk by himself - he'd just rest himself on the settle first. but he knows that the moment the girls had dashed through the gate window that morning, every bit of his energy had vanished with his smile.

without a companion for the encouragement, he has no will for it. he doesn't care.

some time after he has been curled in darkness for an hour or more, he hears what might be footsteps into the living area; but he does not stir. he no longer knows what to say. surely assuming qifrey to have fallen asleep, olruggio chooses not to disturb him.

the quiet continues so unbroken that qifrey almost forgets the man is there - but when he opens his eye, olruggio is still stood; facing the hat on the mantel. his gaze appears fixed and unblinking. he moves to pull the thin banner of black fabric through his hand - stares long down at that which had been his, and could be reclaimed at any time. his grip becomes tight.

a chill takes qifrey so tightly, a scream echoes in his bones so sharply, there is just the simplest feeling he has ever had in his life, overpowering him -

i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm

olly releases his grip, and walks away.

"did it even the playing field?"

olruggio stands by the steps to the kitchen, leaning against the wall. qifrey turns with a terrific clatter, dropping the saucepan he had been lifting.

he makes to find it on the floor, face burning - but olruggio easily gets it first. "don't cook alone - it's too dangerous. you should have come to get me."

the idea that he would have dared pass the bridge to olruggio's quarters in this atmosphere, knock on his door and ask if he could please come make some pasta, is truly laughable. even the playing field??

but somehow, he knows intuitively what the question means. he remembers, suddenly, what olruggio had said before - that we've both had something stolen now. qifrey had felt at the time that there was the unspoken: did it make you feel better?

using the tools of a brimhat, wielding a power. the one that had thieved his identity. did it feel better, to play the role of puppet master for himself? none of this has been said out loud. perhaps olruggio doesn't even mean those things - he would certainly never put it like that, even in his deepest spite. probably.

but so much of their relationship through the years has resided in the unspoken, that it became their home. that's why they ended up like this.

"did it make you feel better, even a little?"

"please don't say such a thing to me again."

somehow it breaks the tension. a bit. olruggio continues in a tone more like himself, voice of a muted and defeated quality. he places the pan aside, and leans on the countertop. "walking through the door to my life with you. opening that door, again and again. and you shut the door - you threw me out. but without the decency to throw me out for real - only in secret."

qifrey turns aside, swallowing hard. "I'm -" but he doesn't know what he is about to say.

"qifrey -" olruggio takes a deep breath, in a way so as to seize the attention. "just fucking listen to me. the only thing really, truly getting me up in the mornings, more often than not, was you. knowing I'd get to throw one back with you got me through the long, hard evenings sorting out everyone's shit, crafting stuff to make people happy, getting them there. I wish I could say that the mere thought of helping people out gets me motivated. it doesn't." he admits it heavily, painfully, calmly. it's the voice of someone who is almost ready to tell the whole truth. "there's the guilt that could do it, there's always been the shame of -" he too turns away, shaking off his own personal, painful memories. "but shame can't sustain you. it was you. do you get that?"

what is the point of telling him this now? would you have ever told me that, if I had never hurt you? qifrey wishes he could ask that, from the bottom of his heart - another selfish, self-serving question. he wishes he could have found out somehow long ago, even if olruggio had wanted to keep it hidden - it could have changed everything - that too, is a selfish and shameful wish. yet those insistent words echo in his heart. shame can't sustain you.

he chooses to laugh, voice thin and wet. "how could I not get that? you think - I love those girls of ours, but you think I'd ever have had the energy day in and day out to be a teacher, without you there?"

olruggio has opened the window, staring out into the night for some air. the cold takes qifrey back again, again to that moment when he had been sheltered, held underneath olruggio's cloak - wind in their hair, tears on their lashes. he hates now that it had felt like a bridge, the only way back to each other. the way that led somewhere else, the only place they had ever really wanted to go.

the gap had not been bridged.

it must be impossible. salvaging it back, building something new in the debris. there is one aspect of the matter that even now remains a taboo point to allude to - an essential aspect of memory magic. if olruggio had not been able to retrieve his memory - if qifrey had not given it back - if he had only been told what happened, which of course qifrey always planned on, when it felt safe - the man would not even be standing here. the distance between them would be so ludicrously impassable, he would have left.

the fact that memories can be restored willingly by the one that took them is not even something widely known - it's forbidden, of course. qifrey had had to work out the reverse spell himself.

it's exactly why he knows for sure now, that he will never be able to retrieve his own memories. in exchange, the threat over them all is passed. the disaster of new corrupt magics will not happen - he is free - his eye is destroyed - his memories have been annihilated. that part of him is finally, truly dead. the rest of him, the eye that is left - dying. but it's enough. that's what he convinced himself he was still living for - to exorcise the ghost. he no longer has to feel like a reanimated corpse on a string. he can fade away in dignity.

if only he had been aware long ago, that it was that simple - that cruel - that the memories just have to be returned willingly. but why would anyone know? for the knights moralis, the law is absolute - in their eyes, there would be no need to ever return memories to a criminal. when before has a memory ever been taken for love?

that both of them are aware - that qifrey had made his choice before he'd been sure there was a way back, is an agonising weight.

so he asks an honest and simple question of his own, now that he has nothing to lose - one he has never been so bold as to ask before. one he has no right to ask. one that must, finally, be asked.

"what even am I to you?" there is a wretched silence. qifrey replaces it instead, as a kindness to them both, with a fairer question - "what was I, then, before I ruined all of it? please. I can't take this any more."

"the oasis. the final oasis." olruggio says it under his breath, eyes hazy past the glass as if he sees the uncharacteristically poetic image before him. "something you look for - and then you don't go on. you stay there. you've found it." he could leave it there - but he keeps searching. his voice becomes yet more distant, as if he tries to keep up with the dancing mirage. "you build your life around it. there's no need to move from there. like... I dunno. this was it, before you even knew." unexpectedly, he turns and looks qifrey dead in the eye, the single eye. "I felt lucky - I'd found mine so early."

qifrey bursts into wet laughter again, gripping his knuckles together so hard they hurt. he looks aside; blinking quickly, wringing his hands. "but you can't drink deep from me. I don't have what you're looking for. you get it now - you'd better keep walking." he can't stop, because somehow, somehow, even this too is something he's been meaning to say all these years. "it's because I have nothing that this can go nowhere."

the words are harsh, but they don't flap olruggio. all he says back is, unreadably: "is that true?"

I had everything - that's what scared me.

they were going to cook - olruggio, suddenly, breezes past and seizes his cloak from where it hangs near the front door.

"I want to go there. I'm going to the place it happened. will you come?"

qifrey goes.

they don't head there right away. they wander, around the bounds of their garden. qifrey's tears are blown away, and he himself feels as small and wild as a leaf on the wind. he has a strong premonition this might unravel him completely, and yet on some other level, he is perfectly calm. all in all, not good signs.

they both know full well where it happened - right here by the house. they pass through on every single walk. olruggio stands there, hands on his hips and looking into the evening sky. not even at qifrey - straight up at that sky, into the far flung night.

the wind falls a little, so he speaks - as qifrey nears him unsteadily, olruggio says: "the girls seem so happy lately."

"mm. it's so good that when you're a child, you don't even realise that you still have something irreparably precious." standing here on the site of their pain, he can't let the conversation become casual. they'll just regret it. "I didn't want to let anything more be taken from me, olly."

that man gazes at him seriously, black brow furrowed in a complicated and emotional way. finally, they're getting closer to it. they're both tired now. qifrey knows it's coming. what he really needs to say.

let to speak, he too steps out into the night, raises his frail arms into the dark breezes. "when you become an adult, you can't bear having anything precious again. if something is precious, that means it can be taken - you know? that means someone will take it."

"you took it." olruggio murmurs.

a creature passes overhead, a bat or owl. "yeah. when it's a thing you share with someone, it's so delicate - so terrifying. you end up thinking: it'd be better if I take myself back, that I be the one."

that I take a piece of me back, a memory of me - and tend it in agony for my whole life.

the creature lets out a plaintive cry, as if seeking out its family, its mate. qifrey's voice wavers. "it's indefensibly selfish, isn't it? I felt more selfish before, though, actually. all the time we've lived here. I thought - my real selfishness had been in not taking myself back, something which would have been easier on you. that I was selfish, terribly greedy, in keeping you by me so long and living our lives together. me! me, on borrowed time."

"you could have told me that."

the creature's cries go unanswered. "I know, right? it would have been so easy to give in, too - I could have made it worth it, really basked in it. in the outrageous pleasure of living with you. the absolute heaven of breaking bread with you and looking after the kids with you and doing absolutely nothing with you. the heaven - of you. of whispering all my secrets straight into your ear."

it's just like that day. and as he did back then - olruggio lets him speak, staring as though entranced. to make the parallel complete, qifrey even lines up his shoes and hovers a little, lets the wind pick him up like a ragdoll.

"that night - I let go. I gave in. I had found someone I wanted to tell everything in my heart to, the same moment I realised I could not."

perhaps olruggio isn't in the mood for sorrowful theatrics, for he reaches impatiently to tug him back down - but qifrey twists, floating just out of reach.

"I opened my heart to you and then instantly closed it again. how did I even dare, right? it was like you said in the spire - you know, when you learnt about this eye being on the way out too." he taps the glass over it. "how dare I still be looking into that shit? and I know it was another selfishness - deciding things for you, that you'd be better off without me. oh, and the selfishness of daring to believe I am that important to you to begin with - though you'd never said a word to me about how you really felt, vainly I hoped it was true. that's why it always hurt, why it hurts, why it's terrifying - the truth - of you and me."

the red string of fate around their fingers - no, of choice, choosing again and again. their story didn't need to be written out - it's already just like the one of the falling star and the silverleaf tree. I fell so far for you. or am I the tree?

qifrey is prepared, now, to walk off into the darkness of the woods if olruggio agrees that this is it. if this is as far as they can go, he will go quietly. he won't kick up a fuss. he'll take it. the girls don't need him any more, anyway. they'll be fine now.

he's finally ready.

before them, the darkness - behind them, the front door of their home. they're at the crossroads. qifrey always has been, and olruggio stands there again now. it has to be him that chooses.

whether into your house, into your heart, into the place that exists between you and me. or to take himself back for good, in a way they can both remember.

the trees rattle, fathomless in their yearning for spring.

"why can you speak so calmly about this, if you think this is the end of us?"

qifrey smiles down at him, though it's a sad smile. "it's easy to believe, suddenly, that this is it. I'm trying to tell you - if you never gave me 'another chance', or however we might put it, I wouldn't blame you. not in any way. I've known all along - I don't deserve that."

the wind picks up.

"you were given one more chance when beldaruit took you up out of there."

the words are like a cold jolt. a confusing strike that makes his blood chill and boil - much more in shock than anger. olruggio's expression is unclear, though he is folding his arms as he cranes his neck. "sorry for going there. all the years I've known you, I've tried never to make direct reference to it. that horrendous experience -" he pauses, and then tries delicately: "when you were discovered. I didn't want to hurt you like that."

qifrey says nothing.

"but I see it now. I think trying to keep that pain to yourself your whole life, and never bring it up once - has done you harm, and me. isn't that true? isn't that still the root of all this?"

qifrey is silent.

"it happened - it's all happened - what will happen next?" after several weeks of not even grazing each other's arm in passing, olruggio reaches up again, to seize his elbow in a fierce grip. "what next? I want you to tell me."

whenever it's referenced - every time - every time since then, no matter how long it's been, he is sent back. whenever water touches him, he feels it pool around his ankles. whenever he's in a tight space, he feels the blood on his cheek.

whenever it finds him in nightmares, he dies again.

this time - for the first time - now he really wants this man to know how it feels to be him.

"why did you keep opening it? the lid to my coffin."

it's olruggio's turn to be stunned. qifrey abandons the peaceful narrative of crossroads, or an oasis or whatever the hell it was. on the ground now, he turns and presses his hands to the side of his own head, his scar, last eye wide.

"when I was in there, you know. I didn't want anyone to open it. I wanted to die, so that it would be over. that was my only thought." he laughs through the hot and agonising tears, the water that always, always finds him. olruggio's grip has slackened in alarm, but he has not let go. as the wild laugh fades, qifrey's voice finally breaks.

no thoughts, no feelings. just a pain that has become emptiness. it's only when they open the lid, the door - that the light comes flooding in and the blood runs again, and you realise what you have lost - your first memory is of strangers staring at the discarded mess that is you, in horror - and you get it - you realise how empty you are.

and someone keeps asking through the years, what's wrong, what's wrong, how can he help. let him in.

"why don't you fucking get it? do you know what it feels like to try so hard not to gain anything precious enough ever again, something that you could lose? to lose an eye - your watchful eye - your heart -" his broken cries echo in the night, like the haunting call of the wild creature. of a ghost, of a child.

"qifrey - I - come on. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you like this. hey," olruggio whispers stressfully, hands trembling and awkward on his arms. "come on, come with me." qifrey stops struggling, exhausted. he's going to just lead him home? doesn't he get it - that this is it, this is the moment?

"why do you always..."

qifrey told him, once, how even before now the pain would shoot through his empty scarred socket - especially when he cries - his olly must have remembered that, and is moved by pity. it must be pity, again, and now qifrey has to bear this greater horror: that of olruggio so disturbed by these tears as to be driven to apology - he who is so utterly blameless.

the shame is what blinds him, as olruggio pushes through the wordless accusations and tugs him by the hand, back towards their home.

and then past the shame, suddenly all qifrey can see is that light shining. through the lid of the coffin - no, it's the light of their door. the way out.

"if you'll leave it open, the door, I'll go with you. I'll go with you, and never turn away again. never -" his words are wept, nonsensical; olruggio's burning hold, not on his arm but his hand, is no less the strong for it.

"shut up. we're going home." the words are sharp, not soft. it's not pity. that's exactly why they comfort, and become the beacon there, cutting straight through the darkness. qifrey's heart beats and beats, restless with unspeakable emotion.

walking through the door to my life with you.

opening that door, again and again.

having it be opened -

again and again.

PART II

the miracle that colours the world.

if you want to try to take the colour from our world together, i won't forgive you for that

if you want to keep trying to restore that colour, i will allow you

after that embarrassing night, qifrey takes two days to himself. on the first, food is left outside his room - something that's usually the other way around. stew, bread, pudding... hearty, olruggio-esque fare. on the third day, the beginning of a new week, he hears him inform the girls on their return that their professor isn't feeling well. their dismay and disappointment is so moving that qifrey creeps timidly up the stairs to their workrooms, and catches them before they head to bed for a hushed and gentle round of "good night"s.

it's not just his mental state. his whole body hurts. but his eye is okay enough after a few days of taking it easy, so the next day he makes them a simple lunch - olruggio left out breakfast for everybody, though not showing up himself - and oversees an afternoon of peaceful self-study. after dinner, to his surprise, each girl hugs him, and he is treated to a round of the most interesting and silly assembly gossip they together can muster. qifrey hopes dearly that olruggio can hear their echoing and healing laughter. even if it wakes him up a little.

"if there is something that is bothering you, professor, I want you to know that you can confide in me," agott announces, seriously, before they retire. she has come up to murmur this close to his side, expression severe from what he can tell. she has always been one of the more perceptive of his pupils, though not always the most tactful.

"why, thank you, agott. I'll keep that in mind, though I'd like our relationship to remain the other way around while you're still under my care."

he looks up, at three other young ladies staring anxiously; postures all coloured with their personal style of concern. of course, he'd forgotten - all of them are perceptive, and terribly kind.

he laughs. "there's a lot going through my mind, since my health is still rather poor right now. there's a lot to sort out. but olruggio is always going to be around - so I don't want any of you worrying when you should be having a good time, and working hard for your next test, okay?"

"if professor olly is with you, then you'll be fine. that's how it is with you two." riche nods, satisfied.

"yeah, when he gets up on time... aren't you going to go to the healing spire soon? you should come with us tomorrow!" tetia urges, eyes big and blurrily entreating.

"are you really okay?" is all coco says, tone soft and complicated. qifrey's heart squeezes.

"yes, I'm okay. I'll be okay. and I'll take all that into account. good night, you silly girls," he smiles, corralling them away to their quarters with a slice of cake for each. "and don't forget your brushbug." the creature had snuck up around his neck, clinging in a show of his own style of fluffy comfort. pulling him free, qifrey sticks him on coco's head and bustles away. there's one more bit of cake to deliver.

he doesn't knock on olruggio's door. this thing between them will take more time. there'll be much more to say to each other, and probably some of it will be painful for a good while yet.

he leaves the treat outside it, under a simple little warming spell to keep it toasty.

and maybe olruggio won't even notice. but it was the end piece - and cut into the long, golden slice of cake: an attempt at the distinctive shape of their front door.

the next time it's just them in, qifrey takes a tray of savoury snacks. easy enough to prepare. he would have just left that too, but as his touch tells him the door is slightly ajar, today it feels appropriate to call through.

"olruggio? I'll leave this here, okay? sorry to bother you. am I bothering you?"

no answer. a distant, busy shuffling.

"olly?"

"I can't hear you, just come in."

shy, qifrey delicately puts his toe through the threshold and steps into their next era.

it feels like a good long time since he's been here. dark, the place appears even more of a mess than he remembers - but a comfortable and active one. olruggio lounges on the floor surrounded by lamps, sorting through notes and books. he dims the lights.

"set it there, will you?" he mutters awkwardly in distraction, gesturing to his little table. "cheers." qifrey does so, and then retreats back to the wall politely.

honestly, he's never spent a lot of time in here. so little that it's hard to rely on the memory of details to help his vision out. it's olruggio's domain. and past the move-in day when he helped out, he has no idea at all what the actual bedroom would be like now. there was the mutual and unspoken agreement ever since the very beginning, that that would be a bit too much. if he ever popped his head inside the atelier room for a word and olruggio's clearly in the far inner room - that's as far as he goes. their lives had to stay that much separate, at least.

of course, he has never had anyone into his own quarters either. he hadn't even intended to trespass into where olruggio works at all - it had just somehow ended up that way. perhaps wordlessly they had worked out that between the two of them, olruggio is the slightly more willing to let someone into his sanctum. qifrey knows the hammock serves as a bed often enough - isn't this space basically as personal as a bedroom?

perhaps he took it for granted that he's always been let in for a chat. only now he does he fully appreciate it.

maybe even this was too much.

"should I go?"

"huh?" olruggio looks up, frowning around a hunk of bread.

"do you mind me being here a moment?"

olruggio swallows, sighing over his book - some light scratches suggesting he makes what might be an unnecessary note. "does it look like it? I mean - sorry. I know it's getting harder to tell that sorta thing."

qifrey dithers by the door, fiddling. shouldn't he be able to recognise how olruggio feels just from his tone, what with how well they know each other? and how had he never realised this should have been his private place? did our lives just get too entangled? maybe it was a factor in things. how can he do right by olruggio's boundaries from now on?

"if you don't wanna be here, it's fine." the raised eyebrow is practically audible. "go rest."

"that's not it," qifrey insists. hadn't he come with a topic in mind? "well, anyway, so, um - I'll probably go with the girls soon, to see sinocia."

"this week? I'll come with you."

"no, it's okay. I think, the week after. I'm still... just, not yet."

olruggio looks up gravely now, waiting for further elaboration as he chews. when it never comes, there's another muttering sigh - a sigh of acceptance. maybe he gets that qifrey can only bear to talk to sinocia in private.

"fine. it's your business - I know you prefer that. but I'm here, any time."

moved, qifrey smiles weakly. "I told you - it's not that I've never wanted your help. it's just simpler, for now."

olruggio tosses his book down, crosses his arms. more tomes topple like dominoes. "are we getting nowhere? let me help you, for once in your life! you said the other night it'd be so easy to give in - do it, then. it's okay now! it's fine!"

ah.

qifrey squeezes his eye shut, trying to remain calm this time. he knows it's possible, and that it'll be easier from now on. but it's still not easy. leant against the wall, he watches the way the air seems to shift with the smoke from one of olruggio's firepits, and tries to assemble the words. hasn't he been thinking it through, these past few days?

"all along, you know..." he's been thinking even of the times that he felt disappointed, felt pushed away. they have to learn to meet in the middle. "I couldn't work out who wanted it more. I wanted to be closer, you wanted me to be closer..."

olruggio finally abandons any pretence of work, kicking the heavy materials away and resting back on his elbows. his voice is weary and boyish, as if it's some childhood argument. "yeah, so let it be that simple from now on. is it really so hard?"

"after everything, it doesn't feel like it's going to be easy. feeling like a burden on you is never going to be easy."

"nobody would expect you to not go after what you want at this point. I know you want what I'm offering." they're not even looking at each other, but oh how qifrey's heart flutters. "this life we have could be so worth it -" olruggio gestures in emphasis, knocking over another pile of something. "everything we'd begun to make together, it was basically perfect to me."

qifrey massages his eyelid, sighing deeply. "olly -"

"lemme speak. but to keep hiding the ways where it wasn't perfect - like I'm a kid in need of coddling, or worse, something even further beneath you. that's the most unforgivable part. but you know that. talking about this is useless, I guess." the black shape of his skirt shifts, indicating he's put one leg over a knee while staring up at his tall ceiling. "you know all your faults. going on about how you're so selfish like you do... it's fine to be a bit selfish - I just wish you'd be selfish in a more - like - useful and normal way."

"I don't think I know how to do that," qifrey can't help but laugh, painfully.

"well, that's that then I guess." he throws up his hands lazily, deadpan. "just trying to work out how to be a better friend here."

"it does mean the world to hear you say all this. even just remaining your friend is more than I deserve at this point, I'm so grateful -"

"you still don't get it. I hate that about you."

qifrey stops talking.

"and it's funny how sure you've been all this time that you know me. will you ever stop that?" abruptly olruggio gets up, pressing the empty dish carefully into qifrey's hands in a firm yet unavoidably intimate dismissal. "I've got stuff to do. look -" he stares at him squarely one last time. "we'll keep discussing this, until it makes sense to both of us. I do want to know more of your perspective - I'm going to trust that from now on, you'll at least be honest. I'll try to be, too."

qifrey nods, voice faint. "of course."

"and one day, we'll get there. or - yeah, we'll work out that none of this can work, however it's gonna be - at the very least, we'll know. I want to know for sure." the moment hangs heavy between them - olruggio bats at the air to dismiss the topic, seeming determined to deny even the very atmosphere. "I don't wanna talk about this stuff forever, damnit. I really don't. we've got so much more to talk about than this. there's so much more to us." he turns and pads away, shaking his head. "we're not just this."

"I understand." qifrey's murmur is still weak, fingers trembling around the bowl.

olruggio may glance back at him just once more - if he does, then they hold the gaze for a few moments longer. then one final sigh, in an unreadable manner. "I'll see you later."

necessarily, they must see each other to make dinner - but it has already been done before qifrey gets to the kitchen on time. expecting to eat his share alone, he is surprised when, for some reason, olruggio returns anyway and lingers by the table.

"d'you see the letter from beldaruit? another one."

"oh... yes, I saw."

"you didn't need me to read it?"

"no, it's okay. if I take my time, by the window and close to my face, sometimes I can still manage." then guiltily, and very uncomfortably, he adds, "though it does strain bad."

"well, we can't have that." olruggio rubs the back of his neck. "but it's not like I wanna read stuff addressed just to you, so this one's a bit of a pickle."

"I suppose we'll figure it out. I didn't get the feeling that a response is necessary, so let's not bother. I have no idea what to say to him at the moment."

watching him eat for a few minutes, sometimes struggling with his cutlery, suddenly olruggio sits down opposite. "hey," he chides, yet with a soft quality. "you don't need to use a knife. I knew it, I didn't cut the vegetables small enough. give it here."

qifrey doesn't pull the plate back, trying to stifle whatever sense of mortification rose up. it's not even that - he doesn't know how he feels. he's just - he's just hungry.

"I'm sorry I said you didn't know me." olruggio's pushed back the food and risen before qifrey can fully process that. "you want wine?"

qifrey hears the clink of two goblets on the counter before he remembers to respond, absorbed in thought and hundreds of tiny chunks of bladecarrot.

olruggio continues the topic for him as he pours. "I know you. thought I did, then realised I didn't - now I believe it again, but only 'cause it's our one hope now. it's my only chance. if I'm wrong again, s'true that this was all for nothing." it's clear now he's already had some himself earlier - perhaps to fortify himself for this. he speaks as though thinking things through right here on the spot, as wine will have you do; making it feel intrusive to witness.

not having come prepared, qifrey says the first thing that comes into his head: "so it's just because it's all or nothing? that's not like you." perhaps it's to cover up olruggio's soliloquy, to charitably veil his thought process for him. but who knows - perhaps it is like him. he doesn't know olruggio inside out - what does he know, really? qifrey is the one who balances on the edge, unable to fully commit to either road. olruggio has always pledged hard to the one he has claimed.

"doesn't it feel like all or nothing, sometimes? the important stuff."

"I guess sometimes. that's how it started, for me." having focused so hard on deciphering that ridiculously florid handwriting earlier, tonight his old master lingers in his thoughts. "beldaruit refused to take my memory. instead, I got to be a witch." he sighs. "hooray and all that." the sensory memories come in flashes - taking the man's hand, looking up at him in his chair, terrified of him and attached to him and unsure of him. "I did the same thing with coco. not taking someone's memory... to spare them the indignity, letting them keep it all. but ever since I was a kid, it felt like a narrow path. a path of thorns, just the lesser of two evils. a painful freedom."

the chain of linked hands, between beldaruit and him, him and coco.

beldaruit cutting through him and offering his hand to her - to save her from qifrey.

how that had felt.

"it's been years, my whole life, and I've had to wrestle with whether or not I'm even glad to have been spared that indignity. whether or not I'm glad I even survived to have to deal with it all."

olruggio is utterly still. qifrey goes on.

"I think he knows that, beldaruit." he slings one thigh over his other, looks up as if that's who's with him, right in front of him with that long hair all over the table. "he knows there was some part of me that, childishly, resented him for saving me. that wasn't as grateful as I should have been. I always wondered -" he pauses for a mouthful of rice. "did he refuse to take the last of my memories out of some kind of moral satisfaction? I also held coco up in my hands like I was holding some sort of lost kitten -" he feels his words fail away, the sweet memory gripping him. it had felt like holding himself.

and when he had embraced her in front of the tower of books, both hiding from a monster, he had been putting his hands around his own child self's back.

he had never planned on hugging his apprentices, something that still feels a bit too inappropriately parental of a thing to do. he wanted to keep that distance, to bolster their sense of privacy and independence. it's not natural to him - he had never wanted to be held as a child - so he had always thought. he thought he had never wished that beldaruit was able to stand, so that he could just hug him.

but it was only in that moment with her, that he'd realised how tiny children are. how their whole bodies shake with fright, because they are too small to know where to put it.

she was him.

"I didn't see either a - a tool, like you said, a means to an end - or a child in need of a responsible adult. I just saw myself. you were right. I was - I wasn't good. I wasn't a good teacher." he abandons his fork and takes up the goblet, scrubbing at his eye with the other hand. "ugh. anyway - with her, I made the all-or-nothing choice beldaruit sort of made. lived through that moment to the other side. and hated and loved that choice more than ever. only now that I am one can I really appreciate an adult's weakness."

even becoming an adult - surviving the child - it can feel like a betrayal. becoming the kind of person who makes all the honourable mistakes that just cause more issues down the road. he can't read olruggio's expression in response to this random tangent, so he appends, "sorry for bringing him into this. we don't have to talk about beldaruit any more."

"why didn't you just erase every memory of you that I had then, if it would make it all easier?" olruggio says very coldly, a cruelty, but the emotional tremble in his voice betrays how shaken he is by the things qifrey has said. so the silence had indeed not been a good one. it's weird - it's weird, isn't it? that they're doing things like this now.

his own voice is equally cold in response to such a trivialisation. "if you still feel the need to ask me something like that, you have no idea of the kind of weakness I'm speaking of. I am trying to tell you - I am begging you to understand, that I am not that strong."

it's still probably incredible progress that they're able to talk about this over wine and food now - or maybe a really bad sign.

do they even remember how to have a good time with alcohol any more?

why can they still not get there? why are they still going round in circles?

how on earth can he get it across? that he had snapped in that moment - "it was immoral. betraying you. betraying us. I just - damnit, why - just why did I tell you those things? why couldn't I just hold my tongue?" he laughs. "why... did I keep making the same mistakes, getting closer to a flame I couldn't allow to go out..." he swallows, gazing at him feebly. "knowing the closer I got, I jeopardise us both? it's so hard, it's so hard -"

"qifrey."

but now he ignores him. he fears what he might say.

"'cause it's the same! it's going to be the same! the only chance for me to be happy now is honouring your every wish and boundary - yet the closer we get, the more we do for each other, the less able I'll probably be to living up even to my own expectations. 'cause even now, you'd be safer away from someone who's already messed up - right - and even now I can't do the good and fair thing, running far away from you. what if sinocia says I'll get so blind I have to stay in the spire, live in the assembly, underwater - I don't want to leave -" he covers his mouth with his hands, stifling the waves, eye shut tight and tight - it wracks his voice, though. olruggio puts hands on his arms. "still, still so weak that I want to somehow live with you forever. I can't believe myself."

the kind of world that olruggio lives in - the real one, the good one - the living one - it could be so simple. and he had been looking down on himself in that conversation, scorning himself for wanting to live like a little foxcat, like an innocent creature. make your burrow, and do good by those who are important to you - in a simple and straightforward way. where you don't save the world but you don't harm it either. where you have a family, and you don't take anything away from each other. you fight together, save each other out in the open when you have to...

and if one of the little foxcats gets sick one day - goes blind... it wouldn't feel guilty being taken care of.

because it never did anything wrong.

I wish it could be that way. I want you, at least, to always remain in the world where that feels possible.

the world where you imagine I could be capable of being your fellow foxcat - the world I could have been good, too.

"I'm not - listen," olruggio has been speaking, heedless of whether qifrey is even calm enough to pay attention. he takes back his hands, but leans very close so that qifrey can look into his fierce and wet eyes, see the emotion there. "I'm not going to say anything about sinocia. there's no point in making assumptions there. I'm sorry, but - just go. we have to know."

"I know." he sniffles. "I will. I promise."

"besides that - shit - I'm your watchful eye -" olruggio runs a hand through his hair, leaning back now. "when I took on that responsibility, it was to identify any problems and keep you from doing anything you're not supposed to do."

"I know, can you believe how much I needed that, with the mistakes I was making? probably should have had two watchful eyes - three -"

"shut up!" they do know each other - how else could you say that to someone speaking through tears? "I've said this before - I have to accept some responsibility for what happened. I let you get that way."

the words cut deep enough to startle qifrey cold again. "yeah. if you'd known things would get like this, you wouldn't have come into my house to begin with - you shouldn't have."

he's sick of denigrating himself - it's pathetic - it's yet more depraved to wish olruggio would keep doing it for him, take it out of his hands. it would make sense - now is the time. does he even realise I blame myself more than he ever could? even now he lets me off too easily - that's why this is all still so inappropriate.

"we can't work this shit out until I blame you enough? you won't let me do shit for you until I've made you feel awful enough? can't we fill the cup between us, drink it down together? I'm sick of doing things apart from you. I'm sick of the distance you make." he's holding his emptied goblet out - offering his own warped narrative, a cup of blame. he sets it back down and pours another round moodily. "I don't wanna stay in your wretched coffin."

he really is taking another tack now, daring to go back there. but his voice is so painful, a specific emotion qifrey has never heard in there. he's been forever changed by that conversation, too.

he's never going to refer to that stuff politely again, like someone else would. it does create distance. now it's so much simpler, so much more honest - like: I know I can't understand it, so I won't pretend to. it's bad that that stuff happened to you. bad stuff is still happening to you. so what? what next?

in the quiet around their moody drinking, it's degrading too for qifrey to admit to himself, that he had no idea this was what he had really yearned for. to hear the real pain in olruggio's voice as if he does get it now, to feel the sympathetic politeness drop off. as if olly has been in there now - can remember it - the dread and claustrophobia of qifrey's trauma - can hurt, together, in the only way they can now.

"I'm glad you're here with me," qifrey whispers into his wine. "this is me being selfish."

"good. fucking finally. admit that selfishness - 's the only way. if you're not that selfish, I can't understand you at all." they look hard at each other. "I know you're trying."

qifrey hangs his head.

"I know you're trying." olruggio repeats, scuffing their feet together - the gesture curt enough that it gets him to look back up. "hell, qifrey. calling yourself the worst person ever and telling me it'd be better if you'd died before we ever met - d'you think that makes me feel better?"

the wet still flashing in his eyes is a surprise, though as is olruggio's way, as ever they burn with emotion - they do not melt. he doesn't lose his head. and as is often his way in the tail-ends of these dialogues, qifrey is stunned into silence all the same.

olruggio goes on, down into his empty cup. the bottle isn't going to last the night. "like, you really think that's it? think that's the answer here?"

qifrey finds his voice, has to cough into it a little. "don't know."

"don't you?"

he always asks such leading questions these days - just like a teacher. perhaps he would have been better at it, really. he has taught qifrey an immeasurable amount of things.

they retreat to their own thoughts, or maybe they're just catching their breath.

eventually the atmosphere gets so still, qifrey just lets his childish musing out, voice languid from drink.

"makes sense I don't get any of it. not like we met 'cause of fate. wasn't s'posed to be a witch. would've just been an unknowing." you would have found some other friend. I know you would never lack for them.

perhaps he would have indeed been like coco. mesmerised by magic that would never hurt him, because he could never touch it. it would never touch him. it would never take from him his eye, his heart. he could walk along olly's sparkly cobblestones, lighting up qifrey's way as if he was the one making it happen - wondering what kind of wonderful person could have made this miracle. cry just like coco knowing he could never be part of that one's world, realise just like her that he was not special. but because of that, magic would never have lost its alluring lustre.

unlike her, unlike himself - he would never have had to be disappointed by magic.

some other child would have been brutalised and left to die in a puddle - but at least he wouldn't have known about it.

olruggio's thoughts have gone in a totally different direction. as ever, it's a purer one.

"I'm glad we weren't fated to meet," he mutters, a little savagely it could be said. he shoves the goblets away to the plates, and his empty hand clenches - then uncurls. "choices keep us bound like this. means you can't blame your shitty ones on destiny. so I know 's'not easy."

qifrey had been gazing at him again, but at being directly spoken to like a child he now flinches away. "would be nice though, d'you see." his own voice is sweet and, again, cold. his head is so dizzy. "be able to blame fate for all the shit that wasn't my fault."

he's talking to olruggio, after all - someone whose choices had always been open to him. only the children who get thrown away by life end up wanting desperately to cling onto fate. if you can't even believe that - what's the point to any of it? olruggio ended up choosing power - just as he'd been expected to - for someone like him, is the difference between fate and choice really so significant?

though the regretfully grown-up part of qifrey gets it - of course he gets it - any witch, even a genius, sometimes wishes one had never been born into such a life. perhaps wishes it often.

he expects olruggio to say something like that, a sharp and offended reminder. but nearly everything olruggio says these days is a surprise.

"I told you - being a witch means making what you want to happen, happen."

qifrey stares - heart miserably fast to make up for a skipped beat. this heart is always playing catch-up now. it's something olly said long ago - they had been drinking then, too - hand upon hand - nothing had gone wrong yet, it was all going right - and he would dare say it again now? now?

but he can't mean it. he doesn't mean what he meant before.

if two witches want something, there's no stopping them.

their hands aren't touching now, but that only makes the moment feel even heavier.

the tone and revelations of that strange, terse conversation follow qifrey through the days that follow. curls around his spare moments. even the ones he's meant to be concentrating in.

he explains something for agott, who turns the page of his book for him, to save him the trouble. a daughter of arkrome, choosing to leave and make her own claim on this world. and she already has.

tetia stirs his tea for him while they chat about her work, laughing about her own outlandish idea. she still wants to make the world happier than it's ever been, just as much as she also wants that world to see her for who she is. he does.

riche plucks up a troublesome creature - "brushbug, no." - who had curled up on qifrey's chair, heedless of how he had been about to sit back down on it... vision not catching the pale fur against the white-painted chair. a girl who once yelled herself hoarse at him in public, with fury twice the size of her body - a girl incapable of storing all her emotions in so tiny a vessel, just as he had been at that age - though he had never worked out that what he had been feeling back then was anger. the wrath - for how adults just never seem to understand, even the few that try their very best.

and has he ever before realised just how he much he loves these kids?

before they had gone to bed the other night, olruggio had stumbled along with him to his room - escorting him there as a given. angrily he'd opened another bottle, but qifrey had managed to stop him before it got to a silly amount. it had already made the conversation get so odd, so unfathomable.

"if we're finally bein' honest 'bout each other -" olruggio had slurred, having deposited qifrey against his door and now fixing his attention with one defiant finger in the air, "I don' think you wanna die. not really."

"what?" it had almost slapped him sober. "I've - I've never said I do."

once, olruggio would never have ruined the mood like that. once he had been a happy drunk. it's still his nature - so inappropriately, his voice had been casual and light.

"think y've been sayin' it without really sayin' it. don' lie to me." he had swayed to a rest against the wall opposite, possibly hunched a little, so as not to sink to the floor. "but I don' think you - that you really -"

"that's a very kind thing to say." qifrey's voice had come out cool and distant. he had been quite proud of that. olly had stared at him, he thinks, very off-centre. it had been a nice change, to not be the only one who could barely see straight.

"fine - fine - I'll say, what I'll say then is, why d'you -" he'd taken deep breaths for his final words of the night, trying vainly to recover his full faculties for it. and striven on, regardless of any success achieved in that. "d'you remember, way back you said to me, why don't you live with me?"

"huh?"

"be my eye, my watchful eye, you said - live with me." his voice had become weak and keening, incredulous and desperate - "why don't you get it?"

as he mulls it all over through the week, listens to the girls' details on magic they'll show beldaruit and the other pupils, wakes up to arrange their bread and soup - he and olruggio made a huge batch lately which he unfreezes each morning - he dreads it.

the next weekend... where he feels like everything will come to a head. nightmares are no stranger to him, but at the moment they're not even like that - they're not like they were - they're flashes of everything he remembers, everything.

he used to wake up feeling like he was back there, that the bed was the coffin. he'd spring up pushing at the invisible lid, the sides of it, and only after several moments realise he was at home. a little more rarely, he'd relive the moment he pushed his hat onto that head and cursed his own soul, and wake up trying to grab it and get his olly free. he'd dream of the times his girls had been in peril, and he'd not get there in time.

everything flashes through his body, now. everything. he wakes up in a haze, coloured by it all.

he dreams of olly reaching down his hand, straight into the grave.

there must be one final thing to get off his chest. that's why it's all a mess in his head. that's why he's still dreaming of his death, too.

they say before the end, you try to clear your conscience.

"can I admit something? just one more thing."

they're in the living room, back in that delicate time after they've handed off the girls, done their chores; where they could part for the day - olruggio could get back to work - or they could keep going. early on a friday evening, when it feels like anything could happen.

"alright." if he had sounded wary, it would have been crushing. qifrey would have said - never mind. forget it. and it would have caused some new rift. but olruggio's voice is calm and open.

"you know when you said - this was a while ago - the night you met coco. that what I said shocked you." he pauses to secure a brief nod, and sits to join him - meekly, on the end of the settle. "I think some part of me wanted to shock you, just a tiny bit. I'm sorry." he breathes out, trying to put it right; this little unforgotten bit of pain. for some reason, this has ended up being the last piece. "I was so stressed out around that time. debating whether I should take coco's memories - something this world would call the 'right' thing to do. feeling like a monster for not wanting to. and like I said recently - I just wasn't sure."

olruggio crosses his arms, lets him continue.

"I'm not sure whether it was for my own ends, or because I didn't want to ruin things for her. I didn't even know myself, you know? and you - you intimating so coldly back then, that it would be the 'right' thing to steal a little girl's memories - insisting that, to me - it hurt, olly. the stress of having coco's whole future under my thumb, of give and take, all-or-nothing, of knowing people can be safer not knowing the truth - having it taken away-"

flashes spiral through his mind, just like at night - everything ever - his awakening, the tower of books, coco looking up at him - putting his hat on the man beside him now - "I've felt afraid," he continues, closing his eye. stop it, water. let me do this. "all this time to tell you so bluntly, but I have to: I'm so, so glad it's over I can't even express. more than you can ever know. I didn't think until now that you could ever get how glad I am - I never wanted it - I hated that sort of life. did it even the playing field? did it make me feel better? I was literally dying inside. every day -"

"okay." they nod at each other, wet eyes to wet eye again, and finally, it feels like olruggio really does believe him. "okay, qifrey. I get it already."

and the spell is finally broken.

they sit processing for a good long time, in a profound hush.

"you know... and I'm just having one glass, by the way. that was silly last time." qifrey politely refuses his own share. olruggio sets the decanter aside. "I've been thinking... have you ever thought about talking to anyone else about this stuff?"

startled, qifrey lets out a genuine laugh, though it's sore. "what, you mean like, therapy?"

olruggio takes a sip. "I guess. or just - you know, beldaruit or something. so he finally gets it too."

"hmm."

what would it even be like? there's no-one in the world who could do that for him, even someone trained for such things. it was impressed very firmly on him from childhood that his experiences were far too utterly exceptional. when your first memory is that you have none, and your second realisation is that you are basically a freak - even the words of kind adults like beldaruit just felt like blows. at this point he doesn't want to hear some stranger ask him how he feels.

you shouldn't have to deal with this. those are the words that would have helped him back then, maybe - but no-one said that out loud. at best, people just said things like you're safe now. but what adults said didn't match up with how he'd been treated, so it wasn't in the least bit believable. it makes you end up thinking: your memories could be taken again at any time, or you could be hurt in some yet greater way than ever before - maybe they'd take the other eye this time - and only beldaruit's protection grants you safety from that.

then you grow up, and the magic security council could still take your memories from you at any time, if they found out you were looking into something they don't want you to. even growing up doesn't save you from that. and even though he had been better at tracking down brimhats than those fools ever were! letting qifrey alone now to sort out his shit in peace is the only good thing they've ever done for him. you end up taking on the world alone, when no-one even asked you - and then you just mess up too because it's hard, until finally you don't even really blame them any more.

olruggio tries again, startling him out of the resentful reverie. "I don't think I can put things in a good way. there's gotta be people who could do it better for you."

qifrey smiles. "there's no-one like that. no-one can do for me what you do."

"pff."

"it's like you said, I know my faults. they'd be like... I don't know. they'd probably tell me - I'm too obsessed with the past. put too much value on memories."

"that's one way to put it." olruggio mutters, taking another swig. qifrey stiffens, confused. right - he's someone who has taken them from someone, after all. to someone he did such wrong by, it probably seems as though he values memories too lightly. the shame grips him again.

it must feature in his expression, because olruggio clarifies quickly, "no - no. I mean - it's like - you know, I never really thought doing all that made you selfish. I don't know why you put it that way. it's more like, you didn't even realise how much you could hurt me."

"what do you mean?" qifrey asks, weakly.

olruggio's voice becomes patient, and sad. "the way you talk sometimes, it makes me worry if you've ever really valued yourself. or your life."

"this again? since when are you a therapist?" his forces a teasing smile, though his cheeks are hot and achey. now he knows for sure the idea is not for him.

"I keep saying - some of the situation was my fault, too. I thought all along that I was getting across how much you mean to us, but I was crap at putting it into words back then."

"it's okay - I get it -" qifrey insists, covering his burning, unhappy face.

"just listen, would you? 'cause I know, I know that's how you think. it's hard. I bet it was hard. be so much easier if your only purpose in this world was bringing down brimhats, wouldn't it. and nobody could be hurt by you, 'cause you have no value anyway. if it was fate... but I know that's not all you want, 'cause you're a human. what'd I say? 'keep being the professor qifrey they believe in'. I wanna feel like my words back then had some effect on you. I dunno if you even got what I was saying."

"and you want me to be the qifrey that stops disappointing you."

olruggio doesn't deny that. in a way now characteristic to these conversations, he ignores the irritating interruption and keeps developing his own point, sure of something.

"I want you to be the qifrey you don't even know you can be. but I do. I told you - I'm putting my last faith in that. maybe it's a qifrey even I haven't met. and maybe then, you'll look back - and realise this was the turning point. when - augh -" suddenly he takes his hand. it's been a long time. "you realised -" he fixes his eye with a will. "how much damage you can really do."

qifrey can't move.

"how much what you do can hurt. 'cause -" he finally looks down with a sigh, at his limits now. face noticeably flushed in the light, his voice is small. "you are very important."

it's the kindest way olly has ever put this stuff. but somehow it hurts the most.

"that's enough," qifrey says, confused even at his own actions. he just knows he needs to get away, right now.

"because I'm right?" olly calls after him. but he lets him go.

he lets him go, and qifrey stands in the garden until it gets dark. he stands there maybe for hours.

right here he had cried all that dramatic morbid stuff, the night he thought it was over. how he had wished that could be the end - not of them, but the last time he had to bring that stuff up. so he could have the last word, and close the lid. let him mourn it alone, forever.

olly doesn't just do him the indignity of opening the lid any more. he acts like he can pull him right out of the hole that was not his grave.

that was not my grave.

he comes now, to take him in for dinner. practical, rational. yet when he puts a hand on qifrey's arm, he calls back to that same narrative.

"you are a living person."

qifrey's lungs channel the cold air. when he first met olly, and the boy had grinned at him - the first child to ever smile his way - it was like the striking of a bell. the gentle beginning, a sound as clear and true as a heart starting to beat. as when a fawn stands up and moves of its own will, not just because it has been told to live, but because it wants to. and it was just the echo, of a greater sound in the future.

this is the gong.

olly continues, not realising the floodgates have been lifted, that this is already the night the spell ends. the chains broken free. he does not know that he has already said enough.

"when you did it - right here - you felt like you had no choice." qifrey turns to listen wide-eyed, as if commanded. "from now on, there'll only be choices. you can always do wrong by me - to any of us. you could do wrong 'cause you wanted to. you could break our life down the middle like an egg. you could set fire to our house and drown yourself."

the stars are out. they shine in olly's eyes like a billion burning lights.

"what are you going to do? I want to find out what you're going to do." and then he turns and yells, with a voice coloured by tears, into the night. with a deep voice like a gong, a voice like a human man. "you're alive!"

he yells it as if he is also saying, I'm alive.

it's an angry voice. it's a living voice.

qifrey's heart beats, and beats.

I'm a living person. I can do things. I can do whatever I want. I can hurt people, take things from them, I can be hurt and have them taken from me. or I can cook a meal and hold someone close to me with my hands.

qifrey holds him close with his hands.

"you are critical to me," he murmurs wetly against that shoulder. it's probably not an appropriate thing to say. he shouldn't make it seem like he couldn't live without him. it's not healthy. they're both individuals.

but from this moment on, he will only tell the truth.

"fine," olly says breathlessly, impatiently. "it's okay." his grip back is also firm, but not desperate. it is the heavy and brief hold of someone who has decided there will be more embraces in the future, that there will be so much more life to live. this is not the end, nor is it the beginning. "now let's get the dinner on."

qifrey could watch him return to their home, watch his strong figure rimmed with the peaceful dark of night, and let the monotone image sink firmer and firmer into his mind. to make sure he never forgets it. he considers it. he can bear it only one moment - and then pushes past the lavender to join him, like a sheep to a shepherd.

like a half to a whole.

PART III

we're alive.

he waits until it's a good day.

until he wakes after a good sleep; refreshed and calm. before the girls head to their classes, agott and coco take it upon themselves to be the ones to escort him there - under the pretence of giving their greetings to sinocia. it's embarrassing, but somehow less so than if it had been olruggio.

if they'd all come together, it would have been too much like that one time.

he slots it in with his usual biannual tasks there - picking up the joint pain medicine olruggio has been using for years, general pain stuff, vitamins for the girls; all the things they've come to rely on from the health care team. a simple eye check-up is no great addition.

just a simple check-up.

"I know I should have come to you about this sooner. maybe it never would have gotten this bad," he admits, as the familiar nurse stands over him in a private room, cool fingers on his temple. "there were... reasons."

he expects her to scold him as heartily as he knows she is capable. strangely, she doesn't.

"it's better late than never, qifrey. late is always better late than never, okay? don't ever doubt that."

"thank you." his face warm, he lets her examine him.

she offers - or more like decides - to escort him back to the gate window. so as not to cause further trouble to everyone if he lost his way, pliantly he accepts. but before they leave the spire, she murmurs a few words into her colleague ermile's ear - perhaps to impart a few instructions for the next shift. and qifrey catches the broad hand on sinocia's back, the surreptitious and affectionate kiss on her cheek. politely, he looks away - feeling very complicated.

he can't find him.

not in the kitchen, not in the living room. not in the bath either. when he shuffles across the bridge, feeling his way for the door, there's no answer to his loud calls. even if the man were asleep in his bedroom, he wouldn't sleep through that.

qifrey can't see him.

his pulse is so fast once he's out of doors, he has to hoist his skirts and sit down for a break; straining into the wind for shapes he recognises. the sky seems wild, the clouds terribly quick.

that's when he hears a familiar humming, intertwined with snapping sounds.

olruggio is in the garden. the small section near the practice tower, clipping plants.

"oh, hey! you're back, eh?" he sets down his shears and moves close. "why'd you come all the way out here?"

qifrey looks up at him, feeling very small. "I couldn't find you."

"you okay?"

"yeah. yeah, fine. I got walked back." to hide the fluster that could be in his cheeks, he wanders away and kneels, to fiddle with what olruggio had been planting. he couldn't tell because he had been trying to figure out the plant's colour, but he realises now the effort had been fruitless. "what on earth is this... black-and-white grass?"

"just felt like using this space for something other than herbs. thought I'd put a few of these down first for decoration," olruggio explains cheerily. "I was out on the hills - thinking, we should take way more stuff in and grow it, so we don't have to go wandering any more. make things way easier."

"agh, that's right!" qifrey scrambles up, heart frantic again in dread. "the dinner!"

"you hungry?"

"no, I have to - I have to make it for the girls -"

there's a pause. "they're not coming back, qifrey. it's friday, remember?"

"oh - oh right." he winds to a halt, confused. they had said, 'see you on monday, professor' as they bounced off.

"holiday time again, mate." he pats qifrey's arm cautiously with his muddy glove. "eurgh, sorry. sit down properly for a bit, yeah?"

olruggio draws the garden chair out for him, and qifrey sets himself down. he wishes, profoundly, that he hadn't forgotten it was friday out loud.

"sorry. I'm a bit of a mess today."

"'s fine. so, how'd it go? bet it wasn't so bad, right?"

qifrey looks into the distant hills. it does seem silly now, how long it had taken. does olruggio wonder why it took him so long to get round to it? he doesn't even fully understand it himself.

when his eye first started to go places, he'd kept it secret so as not to call attention to it. it came to symbolise all of his fears during that time. and it had seemed linked more to magic than to medicine. it had been his curse.

more fundamentally, he just hadn't wanted to bear the extra burden of other people knowing about his agony. he wanted at least this pain to remain private. but after all the things they've gone over lately, he realises the yet more obvious truth. he never thought of the future.

he saw himself as a ticking time bomb. until the day he couldn't draw any more - he would achieve his goals - whatever happened after that, he had never dared imagine.

but he is alive.

life will continue. to ask from the bottom of your heart to be cared for, to seek a cure to your pain, first you have to feel there's a point to it.

first you have to value your future. you have to be able to believe in it.

"yes, it was fine. thank you for making me go," qifrey murmurs, at length. "it was time."

"and you'll go back regularly? you got something to take in the meantime, anything that can help now?"

"yeah."

"cool."

"I have things for you, too. I asked for double the amount of joint stuff." at olruggio's noise of disinterest, qifrey crosses his arms. "don't give me that. I know that's getting worse too - don't expect to be able to keep health things to yourself if I'm not allowed to."

"it's not that it's worse, just that it's both wrists now. but it's fine."

"yeah, so you need double the stuff! and what are you talking about? it's not just your wrists any more, right?"

"well, no, knees and, hips I guess, yeah. but I don't need them to draw with, so -" it seems qifrey can still pull off a good unimpressed face. "yeah, okay. I guess sinocia did say I need to go give her more details of that next time I'm there. 's why I was gonna go too."

"that's why you kept offering? right, you're coming next time."

"kay."

"it's because you're always cross-legged when you work! not good for you."

"mm. 'cept... I know a lot of witches though, and - think I'm realising it's not all of them who get bad wrists. sinocia thinks I have a, you know... predisposition for joint shit. a condition. it's just so annoying!" he squats down by qifrey's chair, leans his arm against it. "I wanted her to say - you know, take this medicine and it'll get better... instead she was like -" he adopts a scolding tone, for a startlingly good rendition. "it'll only get worse in the future, so you have to be good now!"

qifrey smiles. "yep. things are going to keep getting annoying from here on out."

"heh. I'll be good if you will."

"deal."

he wakes suddenly, the pressure of a warm shoulder startling against him. he's under a blanket. they'd sat down after their meal for a brief bit of wine like always, and - it had been such a good meal and such a long day, he'd gotten so sleepy - embarrassed, he draws away. olruggio coughs delicately. it feels very late. "gosh, I'm sorry. that was a waste of an evening. I bet that got uncomfortable."

"no, no... I mean." olruggio is rubbing the back of his neck, shy. "I didn't want to disturb you... supposed to be your holiday time, after all."

"and isn't it supposed to be your work hours? you said you still had things to do, right? I really hope I didn't take too much of your time." qifrey brushes out his clothes, light-headed but reluctant to leave it at that and just head off.

"oh, you know how it is." when he looks over, olruggio is tapping his temple loud enough for qifrey to be able to hear the gesture. "I'm a witch - was just writing magic in my mind. now I have some ideas for later. you helped me out."

"really?" qifrey squints, smiling. "you don't have to spare my feelings. just call me annoying."

now his friend is the one more flustered. "well, if you gotta know - I'm working on a new, improved warmstone, y'see. the specific, perfect amount of warmth needed for a good rest... you setting down your big noggin there helped me work that out."

"I... see." realising he is staring, qifrey turns to mask his amusement. "well... I think I better get to bed for real. thank you," he adds, collecting their glasses with some clumsiness. olruggio lets him go, nodding vigorously.

"yeah. uh. g'night."

with the combined power of two wills, next weekend they make it there.

"finally, we can make some headway!" sinocia beams at them. she wastes no time, first turning to olruggio. "so. as the other adult in his house, I felt it would be best to go through some things with you." his attention presumably secured, she continues. "I heard from qifrey that you were already aware of the deterioration in his sight."

olruggio nods. it was in this very building that he found out.

"and he knows that it's getting worse and worse," qifrey adds for him, softly.

"I'm afraid so. the reason -" she tilts her head, passing into a heavy and sad tone. "most likely being related to your other eye, the one you don't even remember having. it's horribly cruel, but sometimes the second can become affected after the loss of one... that's all we can say really, since we have no early records for you. potential reasons could be strain, or inner disease... especially if it was removed in an unsanitary procedure."

she doesn't know why or for what purpose he lost his eye - she has never asked. he appreciates her stupidly much for that, for not knowing.

"but if we proceed with treatment for now, and you come in regularly, we can monitor how things go from here - which should tell us a bit more about how things will look for the future." they take that in silently. "but there's no need to panic right now, okay? I know both of you are very good at taking care of each other."

qifrey turns down to his hands. beside him, olruggio shifts and corroborates: "mm. we're getting better at it."

sinocia's smile sounds tender, as she looks between them with some emotion. "with how long I've known you both, that warms my heart. I have every faith in you. and I hear you're the one who put a better spell on his lens, olruggio? that there was one there before, but you, ah - I don't know - put some kind of super good one on?"

qifrey laughs a little. "the one before was a spell I did, to block out harsh lights. but olruggio is better at - that kind of spell, so yes, it was him." maybe one day they'll be able to speak to unknowings even more openly - it would be so useful in these sorts of scenarios. it's hard to express to sinocia without details of how magic works, just how the situation has so thoroughly reduced his capabilities as a witch. there's no way he can carve such delicate and precise little circles into a tiny pane of glass any more. "it's an even better spell now, yes, and helps a lot."

"that's lovely!" she claps her hands together, moved by the splendour of magic. "we might not be able to share our secrets, but working together, magic and medicine can do even more for you. I'm so glad you can make things just a little bit easier - just like that!"

olruggio does his best to restrain the exasperation, shifting just slightly. only qifrey knows how hard scales of the blushing bride are to find, and how drawing something so fiddly and specific isn't an effortless task for any witch. thanks to that, not only is strong lighting eased for him, but if he holds something close to his face - a letter, or anything with detail - the lens emits a tiny bit of delicate light itself, so when he needs to, even now he can still sometimes make things out.

of course olruggio's mind would have whirred into generous possibilities, even before he witnessed qifrey fumbling with his mail. that's his way.

"the other main thing we can do for now..." sinocia continues, going through her notes. "is to make more lifestyle changes, so that you can remain as comfortable as possible for as long as possible. I'm going to run down the list I've got here... these are just some ideas, because maybe you have your own. so: in the shared areas of your atelier - low light everywhere just in case, as we've talked about. being accompanied as much as possible outside. if you are going to try reading, never longer than ten minutes at a time. ah - you don't have any stairs at home, do you?"

neither was really prepared for the sudden question - olruggio looks at him and then back to her, likely running through a floorplan of their home in his head. "uh... just steps, like - up out of the bath, for one. we got a room that's like a little bathhouse I guess, with a spell of plentiful water up at the top."

sinocia's thoughtful silence makes it seem like it's hard for her to imagine, so qifrey clarifies: "you float up before you get in, hang the water drop, and it's like a little bathhouse. with how many people there are always wanting a turn, we usually just run it all day."

"I always go to bed last, so I usually go turn it off. no need to really, since there's a drain that goes outside. just don't wanna drown the garden overnight."

qifrey smiles, thinking of the black-and-white grass.

"ooh, of course! I almost forgot you witches have those boots of yours! hanging a little fountain for yourselves! it sounds so nice, just like a spa." she taps a finger on the desk thoughtfully. "well... between your shoes and your stick, I don't think you should have many mobility problems around your house, the places you're familiar. but I really do have to request that you keep all your flying and floating to a strict minimum outside the home."

"yes," qifrey murmurs quietly. "I expected you would say that."

"kind of relatedly, I'm submitting a medical report today to the assembly's welfare council on your behalf. like I said, you're completely deserving of an extra subsidy now. if - I'm just saying if - you ever do have to stop teaching, this way olruggio won't have to take on tons more work to support your household! otherwise I think you'd finally collapse on us." she definitely wags a finger in his direction as they take that in. "as for your work commitments right now... I don't want to pry into any witchy secrets, but can you tell me what a typical day is like for you at the moment, when the girls aren't at the assembly?"

"it's a lot of self-study at the moment. with the age they're at, there's not much at all I need to demonstrate for them - as for the rest, I've worked out a back-and-forth arrangement with beldaruit."

"with sage beldaruit. I see," she smiles, voice gentle. she's not part of his own care team, as he has personal attendants - but they will certainly have crossed paths. and she knows that he was qifrey's master. she puts her elbows on the table, leaning closer for qifrey's benefit.

her face gets a bit less blurry, and he is better able to put together her heartfelt and determined expression. "having been taught by him in particular, I hope you've always been able to see - when the people around you - your pupils, friends, loved ones -" she glances at olruggio - "are aware of your needs and limitations, disability doesn't have to restrict us from either enjoying life... or being a positive force to those around us. it's not the end. it's just a new phase of your life, your important life."

he doesn't say anything, but she continues no less firmly - and takes his hand. he grips it. "every two weeks, I want you to come back and we'll talk about how things feel, and if you're recognising more changes. there are many people in your life who love you, and are prepared to do what we can to make this journey with you."

he swallows - when she takes olruggio's hand too, qifrey's eye tries to capture his. the man appears to hold the gaze briefly, then nod.

sinocia releases her kind hold, giving qifrey's hand back last. "I hope you'll be able to believe us, and let yourself rely on your support system."

"I'll give it a go," he smiles, finally trusting himself to speak. he expects now will be the time she'll bring up the likelihood of surgery or some other dreaded topic, but she finds fit to leave it there for now.

"and no more burns, olruggio, no more extra issues we don't need. and do your exercises, silly man! every day! NO exceptions!"

qifrey stiffens, not sure if this is the time for olruggio's patience to be tested. but he and sinocia have always shared a somewhat more familiar, teasing relationship, and he sighs: "alright, alright. you don't gotta worry about me."

"I do, though! don't exacerbate your joint issues, learn to live with them properly - or how are you going to be there for qifrey whenever he needs it? I want you to act more of a team than ever from now on. you need to take care of yourselves now, so things are easier when you both get older! be good boys!"

"okay, okay!" olruggio mutters, sounding flushed. "we will, I promise. we've got this. geez, sinocia."

ears hot, qifrey pinches the bridge of his nose; her tinkling laughter washing over them like medicine itself.

"it's not like you have to be here for me every moment. it'll never be like that."

once they're back home, the gentle atmosphere from the clinic has faded somewhat. heading into the bathroom together with their boxes of medicine, he misses sinocia's optimism. olruggio doesn't respond as he piles them away in the cupboard, so qifrey adds: "I still don't ever want you to feel like you can't-"

"what? not help you with this stuff? after what we've been through lately, you think I'm going to back out now just because you need some help cooking the dinner? we did that anyway."

"things might get really bad, olly. sinocia was just putting it nicely, so you don't freak out."

"she seemed pretty reasonable to me. I don't care how embarrassing it is, you're gonna have to let me help you. like with putting these eyedrops in." he opens the box.

"I don't want you to ever feel like you can't leave me," qifrey presses, taking it from him - hating the ingratitude of the gesture. it's all coming out of him suddenly, things he hadn't quite processed yet. "I mean - just for a bit, if you wanted to. or - as long as you felt like, even. I don't want to affect you so much. it's like you said - it was supposed to be about choices from now on. now sinocia's saying, look after him, accompany him everywhere - it's not embarrassing, it feels wrong."

olruggio leans against the wall with folded arms, tone irritated and confused. "the hell? everything she was saying made sense. all the shit we've been going over still for nothing? you said we'd look after each other from now on before we went to the spire - what's changed now?"

"oh gosh. I don't know." he breathes out, stressfully. "I'm sorry. this is really hard."

maybe it's because he couldn't find him that one time, and some part of him had thought - he's gone for good. he'd believed it, too. even after everything they've been saying lately. and then he'd been so embarrassed that olruggio had just been digging up the garden, doing his own thing, as is his right. qifrey had been the one who was lost. I always wanted to be able to find my way back to you.

"'course it's hard." he sits qifrey down on the lid of the toilet. "but it's how things are. and you've been affecting my life since we were kids - I'm used to it, dummy. living with you entails a bunch of stuff, and most's not your fault. there's annoying things about me too, I know that. come on, open that box up - I'll hold this." he has hoisted the mirror from the wall, where it reflects back qifrey's meek posture, curled up on the seat.

"if you want to borrow my stick because your legs hurt - you can. I'll leave it outside my door."

"I'm not the one banned from flying, right? when my hips hurt and walking sucks, I just float around. no problem. there's always ways." he holds the mirror close, so qifrey sees the flash of his own eye, his weak and tired eye. "always ways."

"yeah. sorry I'm bad at this. I thought I would be better, given that I was already - disabled, I guess, from the very beginning."

"you're incredible at this. I wouldn't be. what can I do, 'cept make shit? but you - even if... you know, things got really really bad, you'd still have all the stuff in your head. guess I have that too, but - teaching is about all kinds of things, right? not just drawing. me though, if I couldn't make fiddly little magic tools, delicate stuff, I'd be no use to anyone. yeah, could explain stuff to kids, could still do sightless magic, but nothing special. dunno what I'd do."

"you'd be of use to me," qifrey says quietly.

"get it now?" olruggio smiles. the mirror is shaking slightly - he is trembling. this topic is hard. yet his words are so firm. qifrey gazes at him, and then into the mirror, into his own face.

he lifts his head, and puts in a few eyedrops.

"eurgh."

they set back the mirror in its place, and head off for a meal - olruggio's hand on his back.

that night, he wakes up alone on the settle - but with the blanket drawn over him tightly like a quilt. the closest thing to olruggio putting him to bed. it's the same way qifrey's seen him tuck in riche before - often the first girl to get drowsy by the fireplace. neat and rigid, like a cocoon.

they're sitting close enough there the next evening that qifrey can tell he switches hands while writing. he does a lot of his work in here now so as to remain close by, and qifrey can feel he lays his left down for a rest - discarded atop their overlapping skirts.

tutting under his breath, qifrey reaches back into his belt satchel for a tiny bottle and holds it out.

"yeah, yeah. just lemme get down my thoughts first."

"do it now, or you'll forget! you think your left one doesn't matter because it's not as bad the right one, but that's what you said at first about that - and now your movement's become more and more restricted. now you can't bend your wrist past a certain point, right?"

olruggio laughs in surprise. "observant. how'd you catch that?"

"I'm not blind yet, thanks. noticed when you were using a pan, but you changed hands for no reason." they've switched to cookware that has handles so they're safer for qifrey to operate; pots and pans aimed at unknowings who can't use float magic on kitchen items while cooking. "well, fine. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to. but do it right after."

there is quiet for a moment. the shifting of paper, then a small, breezy voice that sounds suspiciously calculated. "it's just, I'm busy. I don't have a free hand to bother with doing that." he makes a show of turning a page and continuing to scratch away, in a demonstration of his remarkable ambidexterity.

qifrey purses his lips as he looks down at the ink-stained hand. how gentle it had been against the side of his head earlier, pulling back his hair so he could put in today's eyedrops. calloused and warm against his forehead - on his arm to guide him across a road - taking his cutlery from him to cut his food, fingers brushing together.

"may I?" he murmurs lightly, head tilted. olruggio doesn't answer, but shrugs his head in an impatient and shy gesture.

qifrey puts his thumb to the wrist, presses the ointment against the inflammation in the centre point. then sets his own pallid and bony fingers against the top of olly's hand - atop the fine and soft hairs there. because he doesn't look at its owner's face, because it is not easy for them to hold each other's gaze any more, it is less awkward for it. it is so comfortable. he does not look at him, he cannot see - yet he knows, he is sure that olly smiles until qifrey releases his hold.

finally, cooking side-by-side feels natural again. and in the end, it's not impossible.

it doesn't work as badly as he feared at all. they've worked out what recipes work best, where they can cut out steps that require laborious chopping. they have reduced the amount of unnecessary magical flourishes. olruggio takes the main role, but it's fine. the motions of collating ingredients, combining them together, then consuming the same meal that both of them contributed to - even if it's very imbalanced now, essentially it still feels the same - carries a weight deeper than ever it did. this is our meal - this is our life. live with me. even now those words echo in his heart. you're alive.

"your birthday soon," olruggio points out after, tapping their glasses together in a toast. he leans back in his chair away from his empty plate, casual in his satisfaction.

"mm. beldaruit was asking if he could visit on the day, the ridiculous man." qifrey eats their simple meal a little slower, savouring everything.

"geez... he's not actually coming here, is he? that's bonkers."

"no, no... he probably wasn't serious. I told him I'll see him when I see him. I don't know why he's keeping on at me - I've even downplayed it all to him so he stops being annoying."

olruggio has risen, and is idly cleaning glasses with a little water magic. "you know - he asked me something once." he laughs down at the dishes, a blunt puff of his breath. the deliberate pause lends what follows next with a confessional quality. "I'm so glad he has you, he said. if not for that, I would be so much more worried. or something."

qifrey waits for further details, eyebrows knit and the food's flavours soured.

"he asked me to take care of you, I guess. like - I entrust him to you, sort of thing." he turns, seeing how wide qifrey's eye must be. "I just gave him some vague answer, or, kind of didn't acknowledge what he was implying. this was ages ago, by the way. can't even remember when."

"typical," qifrey mutters, pushing his chair aside and grabbing a few dishes himself. he hopes his blush looks as angry as it feels. "good grief, that's embarrassing. I'm so sorry." he's appalled for olruggio's sake, though the man's tone was light. "he's never really gotten me. you can't expect tact from that man. really - stick a pointy hat on me and call it a day - then at some point, foist me off on someone else. just hand me about."

it wouldn't have been so embarrassing if not for the fact that now he does need 'looking after'.

"it wasn't like that," olruggio laughs, gently. "and he wasn't really ever like that, was he? he's been genuinely worried about you all this time, it's kinda nice, right?"

having never once heard him defend beldaruit before, qifrey does feel a little mollified. olruggio doesn't push it, seeming to decide that was enough of an admonishment.

he continues: "it was really embarrassing, but it was so like, frank, so pathetic, that I couldn't get annoyed at him at the time. just wanted to say, I'm trying, damnit." qifrey massages his forehead as he listens, turned away slightly. it had been such a nice evening, too. time for the headache tablets. "well, maybe we can blame him for making me pry so much all through the years. or maybe... I'm a bit similar to him - maybe I get him now. I dunno."

"you're not like him," qifrey interrupts shortly.

"but I do, I do get him a bit now. I thought too, like, that the best thing for you was to just - move on, that that's how people get closure. I wanted to be that for you, but it wasn't the time, right? I know now that it's just not that simple. I dunno why I brought this up. sorry." he takes a dish from qifrey, who had been gripping it tightly. "just forget it."

"if you have more to say, it's fine." qifrey mumbles tightly. "I mean - please. I'm listening."

"well, that's all really. just, that I wanted to tell him I'm trying. I wanted to tell you that. it was like, am I not good enough? tell me the ways - but maybe I had too much pride, 'cause it was like, I really felt sure that things were already perfect. we were finally living under the same roof."

"it was good. I was just..."

"I felt like saying to you - you're lucky, luckier than you think. some people - they just die, cold and alone." audibly he grips the plate just as qifrey did. "as long as I'm here, you won't be alone. I know it's not perfect, nobody's perfect, but - sinocia's right about how, I mean, that we should - we weren't communicating, right? back then."

qifrey tries to seek out his eyes, but olruggio keeps scrubbing away now, voice running on. "like - I ended up thinking, part of it must have been - was it 'cause I was always asleep most of the day? 'cause I'll get up earlier, I'll be there for you - if you'd just told me then, if you'd said, spend more time with me, or telling me what you need more of, 'cause unless you show me that you need it, I already ended up thinking it was enough before, or - we just needed more time though, I know that," he winds down, stressed. "I don't mind giving you more of my time - all my time, because I didn't give enough back then."

"olly... it wasn't like that. nobody could have given me what I needed back then. you get it, right?"

"yeah, I get it now. it was just so sad, and infuriating. like - hang the brimhats, I don't care about them - we're worth so much more. 's how I felt. we're not gonna lose to our bodies, either. I'm not scared." the fact that he does sound a little scared, that it's not just qifrey, is both alarming and comforting. "sorry - again, for bringing this up. it's not even about the fucking brimhats any more. or beldaruit, damn him. I get it now - you didn't feel whole back then. and feeling at someone else's mercy, I know now that it feels so bad. but we're not at each other's mercy any more. it's not like that."

I felt at your mercy from the day we first met - and you said 'hello' to me instead of running away. since instead of whispering about me in the ear of some other kid, you spoke directly to me, out loud, innocent words of inordinate kindness.

maybe qifrey will never be able to settle that debt in any kind of normal way. and it's scary, that this is like this - that you are always at your most beloved one's mercy, in a way. you have to ask them for help, and you could be abandoned by them. it does feel scarier, the more they rely on you, the more they know how much your body is in need.

you could be hurt by the things they say or do. or they could stick by you for the rest of their life. you could say something that would hurt them - you could hold them. and you have to work out, over and over again, what the right thing to do by them is.

you have to work out, what the next step is.

in the charged, expectant silence, he wavers; overwhelmed. it feels like olruggio's face drops a little, as if he had been waiting for the words qifrey should be saying, of further apology, of vow or - he drops his arms, which qifrey realises now he had been holding out.

olruggio had managed to communicate earlier that he had wanted his hand to be held. and perhaps just now, he had been inviting him for another embrace. it's possible.

but they can't just rely on gesture any more.

qifrey wants to swear to communicate how he is feeling, too - to ask what it is that his olly wants from him - what qifrey is allowed to do - but it's frozen in his throat, like ice, even now.

"it's okay. this is life, too," olruggio finally says, with a sigh. he turns to blow a little air magic around the dishes and pans, clean as if they'd never been used. as if back to square one. "we still just need a little more time, right?"

if qifrey's going to live, he has to face this. find the words. I will too.

just give us a little more time.

*

when the clock strikes twelve on the 'big day', they are perched on the roof of their home. hand in hand they had floated up, and now sit surveying the moon. in a cloudless sky, the soft yellow-white glow of that orb is too bright for qifrey directly, but he can at least let it shine down upon his head. like this they are as birds, or perhaps gargoyles.

"thirty, huh." olruggio comments, leaning against the chimney serenely. the smoke from the fire down there cascades above him like a halo. his own birthday had been a quiet one - two months ago had been a bit of an unstable time for qifrey, after all, so he'd had to rely on the girls to give olruggio most of the birthday fuss. normally friends like hiehart and alaira would have been invited over in the evening for some raucous drinking... but probably it hadn't felt appropriate. qifrey is still processing the guilt about that too. "but I guess we don't really know, eh?" olruggio continues, calm. the pause is cautious in the wake of such a bold statement - but qifrey doesn't wince. "maybe you're the older one. maybe you're still in your twenties!"

after everything, neither of them hold back from referencing the past any more, when it's due. the past, or the unknown. they no longer dance around the topic of qifrey's trauma as they did. olruggio once minced his words - now he never offers that mortifying kindness, just as he promised he wouldn't. it's true, qifrey isn't deserving of that. but if it was ever meant to feel like a punishment, it doesn't any more. now, it's a relief.

"no. if you're thirty, I want to be thirty. I'm thirty."

olruggio's voice doesn't hide his shy smile. "yeah?"

"only beldaruit is ageless. I'll go with you."

their shoulders are pressed together. the moon is vivid.

"alright."

they give him what he asked for his birthday - "an ordinary day".

it's about the same thing as he would always request, to the point where he's surprised anyone bothers checking any more. but as the words left his mouth this time, he realised he was actually asking for something extremely special. "if that's not too much to ask," he'd added, making it sound even more ridiculous.

when he had looked up, olruggio's blurry grin had seemed as soft as butter. "I'm sure we'll manage." he'd raised one eyebrow as exaggeratedly as he could make it to increase the chance of qifrey catching the gesture, and qifrey had.

the girls had wanted to prepare him a magical present - some kind of showy demonstration to showcase their recent advancements in ability, even though olruggio would have had to be called upon to narrate. they're so desperate to show off to him, to receive the fully involved praise he can no longer give, that they probably wouldn't have minded if he couldn't be exactly sure of what he might be seeing. coco had begged to hear any ideas he might have for magical tools they could try creating too, that could make his life easier.

"save it for your graduation," he'd told them, heart aching. "the only gift I need is a simple, quiet, happy day like always."

when he enters the kitchen and becomes surrounded by cheering, excited teenagers, he laughs, fighting off the hugs. "I said ordinary!"

coco giggles. "that's why we decided to give you the most perfect, the most extraordinary... ordinary day." they keep snickering at his confusion, and she appoints herself to explain further: "that's why, even though it's a saturday, we secretly begged sage beldaruit to all get the time off just this once - so we could be with you! an ordinary weekend, just like in the old days!"

"you girls! you need to ask me to get a day off from schoolwork." but he is laughing too, so bashfully that they must know their surprise is a successful one. and truly, it is so like how things used to be that all day his heart is moved, over and over again.

the foods he gets presented with for breakfast are so ordinary, the clamorous noise of a weekend lunchtime so ordinary, the way they share such a carefree day so ordinary; yet just as they suspected, it is exactly those qualities that make it so precious.

they know him, so well.

just like every year, they sneakily got up extra early too - and olruggio stayed up extra late - in order to bake a big cake, decorated with the usual magic circle sparklers that function like candles. he thinks riche was probably the one who added new tiny flourishes, that alter their light to be very dull, but also emit crackling sounds just like fireworks so that qifrey can enjoy them by ear.

"there's thirty candles," agott informs him in a stage whisper as they direct him.

"oh dear. you're not supposed to know how old I'm getting." he blows them out, or attempts to.

"it's okay," tetia pats him on the shoulder, affecting a commiserating tone. "it's time to face it..."

"you missed a few," agott whispers again. he tries once more. "nope. still some left."

"well, you girls do it for me. make sure my wish comes true!" they blow excitedly, batting each other out of the way for the honour. he thinks he hears agott's triumphant cackle, signifying the winner.

a terrifically sleepy olly emerges around noon for a slice, putting his hand on qifrey's shoulder as he takes his portion. he falls asleep out there afterwards, head propped not quite in qifrey's lap but almost; against the side of his thigh, snuggled under a blanket while they all enjoy the heat from the merry fireplace. brushbug is in qifrey's lap, curled up with olruggio's head for a pillow of his own. nobody feels the november chill, only the comforting blaze - no studies, no worries, only the simple and special magic of each other's beloved and familiar company.

it's all been simple magic, today. the easy kind of a big busy meal, of the childlike candles on a cake. in his sleep, olruggio seems to smile.

it does get a little silly later.

"we have to dance!" tetia is moping, from a pile of pink on the carpet - suggesting she has spread out the whole length of her frilly party dress around her by qifrey's feet, perhaps in protest. "we didn't dance at all on professor olly's birthday and I was really sad about that."

"I'm sorry, I know you like it, tetia, but we're not exactly... big dancers," qifrey laughs. "and I think you know that."

"but this is THE time to do it!" she insists, flinging her arms wide in demand for cries of endorsement.

"dancing is fun, tetia, sure, but use your head - professor qifrey doesn't want to trip. don't be a menace," agott scolds. but qifrey knows she's wearing her finest and most formal little velvet suit, as if having prepared for a ball herself. the fact that they're all dressed up for fun, even though he and olruggio are wearing whatever just like always, is pretty cute.

"but professor olly's really good at making sure he doesn't trip. I bet he would be a really good lead," tetia huffs.

the man next to him splutters on his wine a little. it still feels a bit alarming seeing him drink with the girls present, but they are getting older, so as long as a close eye is kept on the bottle - on very special occasions qifrey does allow it. it's hardly like it's a bad influence for them just to see adults consume it. indeed, surely not. maybe even for him also to indulge in a glass or two. it is his birthday.

it's just, now he's a little bit tipsy.

definitely not in the frame of mind to not make a fool of himself.

"tetia, I'm taller - so I'd be the one who leads. probably."

a small clamour erupts. she argues loudly and giddily, "but I'm saying, agott always leads me when we dance and I'm way taller!" and several other girls also voice their opinions on the matter. yes, he definitely forgot just how noisy the place could get.

loudest of all is olruggio, batting him on the arm insistently: "hey you! I'd totally lead, that's what I always do. you think I can't lead? and I bet I have way more experience. the nerve..."

qifrey spins to him, distracted from tetia and her dance partner - who are showing off a quick waltz to prove their point, agott's form looking utterly perfect. "huh? what? when do you do that?"

olruggio shrugs. "oh, you know."

"hey!" qifrey whines, light-headed and confused. "are you secretly some kind of incredible dancer behind my back?"

"like hell I am!" olruggio laughs. "just, you know. sometimes - noble ladies want to do it with you. dance with the witch, so you can say you did that. I don't know." he is sheepish, now trying to throw him off.

"oh? no noble men?"

"what - no! that'd be weird."

qifrey blinks, feeling pink. "it would?"

"I'm not gonna dance with some random guy!" olruggio splutters again into his drink, laughing as he runs a hand through his hair. "if it was with you, it'd be different, but..."

"but then why with women?" he doesn't know why he's pressing the issue - he'd find it weird dancing in front of people he doesn't know, full stop.

"'cause it's not weird with them, it's like, sure, I'll be your pal. geez, work it out. you drunk or what?"

"oh," qifrey mumbles, not quite sure he does get it, but also thinking that of course he probably does, and -

the girls are watching their exchange silently, but completely avidly. even qifrey can tell that agott has a rather unimpressed, yet interested, expression on. perhaps it's just his memory of faces she has pulled over the years. qifrey puts a little hair behind his ear, feeling flustered.

"we're not putting on a dance for you," he informs them, deadpan. disappointed, they return to their activities. every witch raised in the assembly does know how to dance, of course. both the witch's kind, performed without a partner and involving your soarshoes, and the regular people's sort in a ballroom. at some point, you learn something of it.

but it would be a bit...

"you'll do it later," riche shrugs. she's not very interested in dancing with her classmates, but she has been spinning brushbug around with her hand - probably making him a bit dizzy. "you always do your own things later. but it's okay, because it's your birthday."

"that's enough out of you lot, thank you," is all qifrey says, face in his hands. everyone is laughing at him for some reason, not at all unkindly. even olruggio, sighing against his shoulder.

to escape the chaotic atmosphere, qifrey eventually finds an excuse for a moment in the kitchen: that of depositing a huge bunch of crockery.

"ah, everyone's noisy as hell tonight." olruggio is cheery when he comes across him; the girls are changing out of their fancy, frilly outfits for bed, though qifrey suspects they'll be back. he somehow doubts they'll accept being sent away quite yet. with a clink, he knows olruggio has safely put away the bottle in the alcohol cupboard - which the girls know not to touch. "hope it's not been too much."

"nah," qifrey smiles wryly. "already took some headache medicine in the morning anyway. I had a feeling today'd turn a bit raucous."

"so true. tetia's gonna be such a silly drunk when she's older."

"too soon," qifrey groans, muffling a laugh. "that's still quite some years away, thank you. oh, I can't do this stuff." he gives the water magic up, having intended to clean things during the break in activity. he might still be able to do good sightless magic, but after a few drinks it's just a disaster.

olruggio sidles up, stumbling a little. "hey, leave it 'til later, dummy. ya don't wash dishes on your birthday."

"haha. very well."

as qifrey moves to head back to the fun, abruptly olruggio arrests his step. with those fingers around his wrist, qifrey turns to him slowly; eyebrow raised with a coy smile. but his heart is not slow at all.

"I'd only dance with you now," is olruggio's furtive murmur. he has come yet closer. he offers out his other hand, but, now far too shy for that, qifrey reaches down instead to their skirts - drawing the white and black reams of fabric taut together in an elegant monotone display.

"have you ever noticed how good we look together? like... our clothes."

"uh-huh."

"friends dance," qifrey continues nervously, not sure why. "though we haven't, before."

"they do," olruggio agrees. he spins him around, making qifrey laugh - once, twice - at the end of the third, he puts a hand on his back - and dips him, ever so slightly. breath sweet. words private. "happy birthday, silly man."

he is left blushing alone in the kitchen, olly humming some kind of song in his exit - perhaps a remembered melody from dances past.

the day ends where it started: lit up on the roof. though the girls have retired, though olruggio naps, in these final minutes alone qifrey feels restless.

truly, seeing those girls achieve their ambitions will be the real gift...

tetia, seeking out way after way to make others happy. agott, achieving her true potential... in pursuit of the truth of herself, as far as it will take her. no matter the distance. the older they get, the more he understands them.

riche too, so much... it's funny how similar she is to agott, something they might be quite aware of these days. the will, the drive, to discover more and more of themselves and become better able to express the beautiful truths that they find there.

coco had maybe laughed the most all day. but he still remembers how quiet, how profound her smiles can also be. her wishes have never changed, from her fundamental core. she seeks to do what she must.

whether that changes or stays the same forever, qifrey hopes she'll never forget that that's how it started. he hopes today taught her too, that it's always okay to go back to where it started.

"here you are," olruggio calls groggily, having awoken from his nap. again, again he finds him. "what're you playing at, eh? shouldn't be getting down from here after you've had a drink. I'll tell sinocia on you." he crawls carefully along the grooves of the roof to join him. "just kidding."

"I knew you'd come get me," qifrey smiles.

the moon is on them again. qifrey had wanted it to see him through the day, watch over the passing from that one shocking year of his to the next. it might have been full last night - it must have been - he feels somehow certain, it's the slightest bit less bright than yesterday. making it just a little bit easier for him, every night until it's new again.

"the day the worst thing that ever happened to me happened. a strange thing to celebrate, I always thought." in time, birthdays have gotten easier. first he learnt that he was supposed to smile, and finally it has become genuine. calmly, awkwardly, shyly - when he's been in his worst and most distressed birthday moods, he knows he hasn't been able to stop from also smiling a little coldly. it's been a hard life.

now, the cold has run out of him. now, his feelings are clear like the sky above - no hint of cloud, one orb reflecting light. just the day he died. just the day he was born.

"I'm glad you were born," olruggio mumbles, their arms pressed side-by-side. qifrey looks away, the statement always going to feel strange on this day of the year.

it's the sentiment birthdays are supposed to invoke. it's what they're all about. but what does it really mean, olly? he'd wondered it every year - we would never have met if the first me hadn't died - if I hadn't been found on this day - are you glad that happened to me? he'd looked at the faces around him, smiling as you're meant to and congratulating him on another year of life - everyone I know, I know because I suffered. I was never meant to be a witch - surely I wasn't - this isn't even my real birthday - I'm not meant to be here. so what are you saying? he turns, their faces close once more too, not having asked this aloud. he knows he shouldn't be asking such a thing any more, but the core of him wonders it still, wonders it hard.

"I'm glad you were born," olruggio repeats. his eyes burn white to qifrey's vision, caught by the moon. they're meant to be blue - like qifrey's - but at that angle, they burn like candles.

qifrey's eye burns too. he blinks rapidly - and whispers, "thank you."

he knows what living means, now. it truly is just doing what you want. doing what you both want. it's that simple.

can it be simple?

the night air should be cold. but it feels warm, olruggio's burning moonlit eyes made it warm.

it isn't even that long ago that he had wondered in confusion and pain, then why did you kiss me? he'd been hurt, confused, shamed, that so soon after olruggio had found out what he'd done, he had given him that. as if kissing a grave goodbye.

at some point it flipped, it flipped so strangely, and it's started to feel like olruggio has been helping him understand so many things he should always have known. to work out something he's never understood and still kind of doesn't. waiting for qifrey to get something. it feels like his eyes ask, now: then why do you think I kissed you?

qifrey doesn't want to read things in there any more, things he can't be sure of - it's a disservice. it's good that he can't rely on what he sees any more. one day soon, he wants to say out loud what he thinks, how he feels, what he wants to ask - and he hopes olly will too.

no matter what qifrey hears, he'll be ready for it. anything is better than not knowing - bearing any pain is better than having the choice, the memory of it, taken from you.

finally, finally, he gets that.

the choice, the memory, of pain - is a treasure in itself.

olly's eyes crinkle slightly, as if reading something in qifrey's one that he is satisfied with. and revealed well under the perfect angle of moon ray - his gentle, sly smile is so soft, so teasing, that it could drive one to ruin. to a point of madness, to work out what he means, what he's thinking.

and his eyes still burn, like little flames.

PART IV

what we want to make happen, happening.

the next morning when he wakes upon the settle, this time olly sleeps beside him. contorted slightly, so that the bulk of the blanket is on qifrey's side. even so his breath is unlaboured, peaceful. qifrey feels a deep and heady emotion not quite like any he has felt in his life - it fills his heart and dusts out all other information, leaving him feeling clean. in the first few moments of wakefulness - void of image or recollection, of dream or nightmare - he feels no shame. no guilt, no weariness. he doesn't even feel memory.

just the animal-like wish to bask in the warmth of a companion, safe from enemy, safe from hunger and pain. afraid only that he might wake him and change the colour of this moment, qifrey doesn't move or nestle closer. he closes his eye, and feels nothing - nothing but this.

*

"how is the pain?"

sinocia asks this so sweetly, as if she wishes she could just take it away for good. qifrey nods, accepting her hand into his again with a smile.

"it's a lot more manageable, now. I'm avoiding many things that trigger it, taking medication in advance rather than waiting for the need. and everyone around me understands. you were right. they wanted to help me."

"of course! I'm upping the dose just a little bit, to mitigate the progression of your condition. and we'll see how that goes, but, after looking at you today - I think the damage isn't currently spreading at the rate it could be, as long as you take care of yourself. and I know you will."

qifrey sits to rest himself in the waiting room after - olruggio had a few errands to run at the assembly, so they plan to meet here once he's done and return home together. the comfortable bustle around him, the comings and goings of other people with their own serious or simple ailments, is not stressful, not anxiety-inducing. he still hates being in the assembly - but for the first time, he sits in it enjoying a sense of community.

perhaps one day, even medical magic will be allowed again. one day. perhaps the magic council will work out a way for it to be feasible for people once more. it doesn't mean being a brimhat about it. pushing limits for the sake of it - surely it doesn't need to be like that. although he knows the wrongs that have happened through history often started out with such good intentions.

there are even, he knows, young brimhats whose memories were not wiped, who he believes are held in local custody. who have been deemed to have the potential for being reasoned with, heard from, made allies of. for the sake of a future that suits everyone; rather than just the old method of essentially erasing the reality of troublesome people from existence. of taking everything they have and banishing them to the isle of adanlee. he has no idea how it's all going to work. perhaps it will not work.

they're going to have to work that out for themselves.

whether it's selfish, whether it's putting his head in the sand or not... qifrey will be going back home tonight to his girls with his olly, and he won't be lending a single care to any other soul in the whole world.

suddenly, he hears a vaguely familiar voice. it tugs at him, so much so that he has to move closer - inching closer along the bench, he's sure of it - it's a member of the knights moralis. and he feels a surge of panic and dread that he should have to face them right now, see them again. but then he remembers something.

he knows too, that there is a private segment of this very building, helmed by witches - now reserved for memory trauma therapy. the very morality of that kind of magic is under review lately - it's not just him who knows how to restore memories once the danger has passed. but this program is experimental - in its early stages. the unclear boundaries between magic and magic-related mental health concerns render it delicate. it's only for high-profile local cases... right now, the only example he knows of is galga, formerly of the knights.

qifrey has never been quite sure of the details, for it had been his impression that galga had been relieved of his position due to an injury caused by a brimhat. it hadn't made sense to him, hearing from sinocia that he was here.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles, embarrassed, as he collides with the person who must have been sitting next to the man.

"oh, not to worry. galga seems to recognise you, were you friends?" the voice is masculine, gentle and unfamiliar.

"we've met. sorry... you are? forgive me if I should know you, I - well," and qifrey gestures to his glasses, smiling pleasantly. "it's not easy."

"I understand. no, I shouldn't say so - I'm his partner, but I never really met his colleagues properly, or anyone in his line of work. so don't worry about it at all."

his partner - qifrey's stomach twists complicatedly. it must be hard for him. "likewise. I'm actually a teacher, I don't have anything to do with that lot."

"oh, thank goodness," this man laughs, leaning close to whisper a surreptitious admission. "they're really not my type of people at all - I actually can't stand them. I'm so glad the spire has taken over galga's situation I can't even tell you. er, no offence, dear." after this aside to his lover, qifrey hears a deep-voiced laugh. "I am sorry that galga isn't really up to chatting with you - a lot of things still confuse him."

"no - I mean - forgive me for asking." qifrey drops his voice to a rude and awkward whisper. "he is here for magic trauma therapy?"

"yes, yes that's right." galga's partner responds frankly, at the same volume as before. "in his case, it was rather a lot of memories, though connected by a single thread that formed the theme taken. so, we're taking it very slow. it'll take a while before they're all in the right order, they say. some days he's very quiet - but it's going to be fine. he's going to be fine."

"I just - I had heard that it was a brimhat."

"yes, it was." his voice becomes complex, unreadable. "she decided, in the end... to give them back. to give him back to me."

qifrey knits his brow, utterly confused. "I... I see. sorry if that was a bit intrusive of a question. I only ask because..." he had almost been about to mention how relevant his own experiences were. some part of him - the ever resentful, ever lonely and damaged core part of him - his dead child self - wants to cry out how grateful galga should be. wants to demand to know how one of them could ever be so merciful.

but the rest of him realises it is different. for everyone, it will be different. he does yearn to inquire as to which brimhat could ever have returned memories willingly; how galga could have been fortunately brought back in this way - but he doesn't. for once, he decides to let the thread go. he doesn't need to know any more. it's their business. "I mean. I suppose you could say, I've been going through something similar with my own - with," his voice stutters. "with someone very dear to me."

qifrey's words feel weak, expressing not even the half of how much he has been going through this sort of stuff his whole life. but the warm smile in the man's voice sounds so genuine, it's as if he somehow understands very well. rather forwardly, the stranger also takes his hand in comfort; and qifrey is willing to let him. "I wish you all the best as well. with your dear one." curious, amused, kind - it's such an expressive, emotive tone that this whole encounter feels profound.

"oh, thank you," is all he can say back, just sounding a bit flustered himself. he hears sinocia call his name, and knows it means someone has arrived for him at the front door. "I'll be on my way." good heavens, olruggio almost saw him holding another man's hand. galga's skin being dark, against the clinical white environment qifrey's eye easily spots the polite wave of farewell.

he bows, then turns and scurries off.

the spin of the correspondence device, churning out a letter for them, disrupts the breakfast cooking. it goes on for ages.

olruggio got up early with him to prepare things for the girls, as part of his brave and heroic attempt to turn his sleeping schedule around for their new lifestyle. they had been exactly in the middle of proportioning jam onto bread - a delicate time for any interruption.

qifrey is the one who pulls off his apron to try to keep up with it coming through, plagued by a bad feeling. "ugh. even I can tell it's beldaruit from the handwriting. I think."

"yup," is the confirmation over his shoulder. "my condolences."

"great. thanks. making me strain to read something in the morning. it's hell lately."

olruggio wipes his hands on his own apron, then offers the least jammy. "you haven't told him that yet. look, the first line is apologising if I have to read it - it also says hi olruggio!! two exclamation marks... two."

the letter, once finished and performed out to him is indeed very long, but light and cheery in tone. beldaruit knows olruggio would necessarily be reading it too, after all. he does know that it's getting inescapable.

"you don't have to read it all word-for-word, there's clearly not much substance here. unless there's anything interesting."

"oh, okay. well... not really. he does say -" olruggio pauses in a mysterious way. "go out, go out somewhere. not stay indoors all the time. says he 'fully understands the difficulties, but no matter the struggle, you have to get fresh air' blah blah..."

"I do go out! we go out all the time!" qifrey fumes, resuming his task and accidentally putting what feels like a bit too much jam onto tetia's portion. fortunately, he knows the girl will make the most of it. "what a meddlesome old... who does he think he is, my..." he trails away. "ugh. whatever."

"mm..."

olruggio's voice is still a little strange, thoughtful, so qifrey puts down the blunt butter knife. "what is it? is there more?"

"oh yeah no, that's it. it's just - weird," he murmurs, putting down the lengthy parchment. his voice is almost a bit flustered. "'cause I just, I was gonna ask - do you want to eat out for once? my joints are annoying at the minute so it'd be nice, and we never do that. wanna?"

"...today?"

"no, no. we got stuff in the ice cooler for dinner. so like..."

"tomorrow?"

"yeah."

startled, qifrey considers it. he was never one for restaurants even before he could be sure of his surroundings. trying to relax in public now sounds completely impossible. "well... I mean, where?"

"karoon. I know somewhere real quiet, even on a friday. girls'll be gone for the weekend and everything." olruggio finishes up the sandwiches, and gives qifrey his bowls of soup and bread. "just give it some thought, we don't have to."

qifrey nods distractedly, leaving the seemingly random topic for later - he's still mulling over the letter as he eats. what with how he compartmentalises his emotions about the man, whenever the topic is brought out, he can't help but dwell there for a bit.

he visited beldaruit recently, a time he dropped off the girls - or rather, he had had no choice, as sometimes such interactions are inevitable. both he and olruggio had been invited back to his chambers for a chat. probably the first time the sage had summoned the pair of them in there since some day in childhood, no doubt for a scolding about sneaking out together. realising that made the room seem smaller. he'd discovered beldaruit had been hanging on to a birthday present for him: a complicatedly enchanted quill, that can - if qifrey speaks clearly into it - record whatever he says for him.

with olruggio acting as proof-reader, they've come to realise that it's hardly a perfect art. and what with how difficult and expensive the delicate tool would have been to have commissioned, and how the special ink set into the wood needs to be replaced, it's not a terribly practical tool. unlike the magic correspondence set every witch's house has, such a thing as this would only be worth it for the significantly visually impaired.

so society hasn't bothered to work out something more useful yet.

but he knows beldaruit wanted to give him back the freedom of words, the ability to write out his thoughts in privacy. to be able to send his old master a letter, if he doesn't want to see him in person.

qifrey doesn't want to imagine how emotional the conversation could have gotten if it had been private.

there's just so much he could say.

the letter is still on the table where they sit, so even now he gazes over the blurry and elegant strokes. qifrey had secretly tried to imitate that beautiful handwriting as a child, and had never quite managed it. now he never will. "I've always hated him and always loved him. and I've realised, it'll always be too awkward to express any of those feelings. I think maybe even now he wonders just how I feel about him."

although the serious topic is not really one suited to the homey scent of soup and leftover jam buns, olruggio obligingly slots into it. "I know you always sent him fancy magic tea on his birthday. every single january, right? that probably gets across something."

"not much of a gesture, really. I just... can't say any more, right now. I don't know. maybe one day. it's what it was - it's what it is." he sighs theatrically, deciding to try voicing one thing, at least. "guess I want to believe there was some part of me that wished to spare him worry... but maybe it's giving me too much credit. and maybe I do see him as my family, but there's just nothing he can do for me now, anyway."

olruggio watches him work it through with a muted, generous gaze. that's how it feels.

"anyway - I've never fully told him how much he annoys me either, after all," he adds airily, after they have finished their meal. collecting up the roll of parchment to stuff in a drawer, he drifts away from the table. it's only barely past dawn - beldaruit woke early too. did he have trouble sleeping? was he writing all night? "telling coco about my past and causing all that trouble... trying to foist me off on you..."

"I don't mind, though." olruggio smiles, following at his side still.

"oh, I see." qifrey tries for a dry tone, but he knows he is smiling too. "glad to hear."

"come on... he wasn't like, washing his hands of you. it was..."

"okay, okay," he sighs, flustered. "he cares, I know. whatever. what am I even supposed to do with that?"

"nothing. just sit with it."

"just sit, huh." he leans his arms behind his head. "and will you sit with me?"

"already am, aren't I?"

he watches the emotions play over olruggio's eyes, or rather imagines them there - the mood still calm, sober and affectionate. drinking in this atmosphere, it's obvious, qifrey knows - it's clear, how much it can help just having someone listen. just telling them things. as long as it takes.

always, always twinned with the fear that secrets can be weaponised against you. told behind your back, harming someone else. and there olruggio sits, tilted closely towards him and smiling, knowingly - taking it in, committing it to indelible memory. telling no-one, harming no-one.

qifrey has almost drifted away, eye closed to rest it after the strain of trying to read in vain.

"I wanna go on a journey with you. just us." olruggio's voice is dreamy too, as if he also had begun to doze. being awake at this time is not natural to him yet. qifrey's heart flutters at the sweet words, a little uneasily. "not something big. just, on the hills... we could walk to some of the hard-to-get places. all the villages far from gate windows - help the folks out a bit when we get there, simple stuff I could do in a flash. I've still gotta do my season duties before the snows come in, after all. or we could go in the summer. do what we gotta do for folks, but before that, nothing... just - hills. with you." his voice had been sparkling with optimism, but he becomes meek at the end, losing the rest.

qifrey considers saying the reasonable, the rational: I don't know if it would be a good idea.

instead, he murmurs: "me too. I want to walk along a river with you. it would be okay if we were like this - if it would be okay -" and he puts his fingers within the crook of olruggio's palm, where he could feel it resting against his own knee. olruggio grips it gently, and is bolstered on.

"we'd sleep in a little cave, in the middle of nowhere - just like when were kids. or lie under the stars, maybe, that'd be nice too."

unlike him, qifrey was never one to nod off out of doors even before all this. but nestled against this shoulder perhaps, under cloaks and upon the softest heather...

"okay," he says, as if it were not just an idle fantasy but a plan. "I'll go anywhere, olly, just take me there."

"I will then."

their bodies weigh them down, but if he lets go of that, he feels like a bird; like a seagull who flies straight over the sea like a whistle. a seagull who almost drowned once, but survived - is still injured, but lives on - they must exist. and yet it's qifrey who lets go of his hand. "I wish we could."

"we will," olruggio states, his voice not having changed. calm as the sea.

I wish, I wish, I wish - and the other one turns that wish into magic, into a miracle.

I want to go there - I want to go there with you. I want to take you somewhere incredible.

and he says we'll go there. he says we will.

parted for the day, he realises maybe that was the moment; when he should have drawn olruggio to his feet, and embraced him. qifrey realises that he had wanted to - had wanted to several times lately, but it still hasn't happened.

he also feels sure that they can never go on that journey of theirs until he has done this.

and he knows, he knows that it will never happen - until he can find the words to ask for such a thing.

it's not just him. right? there's something that still keeps them weighed to the ground. there's something that keeps them from flying free over the sea.

there's something, still, that keeps making him withdraw his hand in the end.

is it pride?

does pride still attend them? or pride's real name, fear?

not wanting to be rejected, not wanting to be hurt, not wanting to be the one who makes a wrong step. there have already been so many.

once he got a second chance at life - the cost being memory. he got a second chance with his olly, the cost being memory again - having to bear painful ones.

he knows, because he's someone who's used to this lesson: you only get one more chance.

and this time you have to make it worth it.

*

the next evening, there is a curious stillness in the house.

the specific stillness that can only be attributed to two men arranging their attire for a night on the town.

"I don't know..." qifrey had deliberated, when olruggio inquired into his interest again. thinking about having to go somewhere totally unfamiliar, feel weird he can't read the menu, being around other people... but the moment he was coaxed with: "come on... let's go get taken care of," he gave in.

why not.

he's not sure if it feels right using the gate window to the sword of stars for this, though he's made his peace with mister nolnoa and coco's friend tartah. he has long since made his confessions. and even though his relationship is necessarily stilted with them now, after hearing about his current condition the elderly man still offered a permanent way through his shop to the whole family whenever they need access to town. it's the deep, foolishly generous sort of kindness only the elderly would give, and qifrey wants to honour it.

it's just they usually make use of it for getting groceries. not for - whatever this is.

he'll take by some lemon cake next week.

as for getting himself ready now, there's not a lot he can do - he doesn't own a huge array of clothes. he is, of course, perfectly capable of dressing himself, though slipping on something he hasn't seen in a while feels rather peculiar. how quickly the details can slip from you. in the end qifrey selects a thick blouse he knows is patterned to an intricacy he can no longer appreciate, and just puts it over his usual dress.

normally he doesn't care terribly that he can't tell much from a mirror any more, but as he paces by the door... his hair just doesn't feel brushed enough, and he'd love to know why.

"hey. you ready?" familiar footsteps approach him.

"well, it's just. I also really want to wear these earrings, but - it's hard," qifrey admits, voice trailing away as he suddenly feels ridiculous. some part of him expects olruggio - who looks down at the little silver chains with their blue ornaments - to ask is this necessary?

"these are pretty," the man says instead, inspecting them cheerfully. "c'mere then."

the moment is more intimate than qifrey realised it would be, fingers warm and gentle on his earlobes. but it's comfortable. "they just - clip on here... like this? oh yeah, it's kinda fiddly. hang on..." it takes a moment but not too long, given how predisposed olruggio is to delicate work. qifrey was going to ask how they look, but he forgets. olruggio taps one of them so that the dangling chain shimmers, and all the beads must catch the light.

in the darkness of olly's hair, the reflections must look like stars.

the moment over, he draws back and seems to adjust the black shape under his throat. shyly, qifrey extends his hand to feel the fabric; only then knowing that it's a thin cravat of sorts. the mutual, unspoken realisation now is that they're both wearing things they didn't even know the other owns. the fabric of this suit is familiar, though - it's the formal velvet jacket usually saved for party invitations from the fanciest of noble clients. with the pretty golden tassels. sometimes he leaves it open a bit to expose a little of his chest, but evidently not today.

"are you, um, wearing the pleated skirt? that... it goes well with this."

"ah - yeah."

oh, the pleasurable luxury of selecting a pair of earrings, putting on a fancy blouse. of catching just the flash of his face in the mirror, and knowing that it must be a little pink with nerves. and still not having left, standing in the familiar and unfamiliar atmosphere before what could surely, surely, only ever be described as a - as an... outing.

"well, let's be off. sheesh," is the sum of olruggio's final appraisal, grabbing qifrey's walking stick for him by the door; noisily dusting off dust that probably is not there from himself. he worked hard putting enchantments all down that stick lately, to make it feel light as a feather. they'll surely think of more ideas too. when he turns, against the floorboards the spin of his skirt makes it shift like a slant of night sky.

"here," he adds, offering his hand before their gate window. qifrey takes it - is lifted through - and clings tight. it being late, the shop is dark and quiet - mercifully - and they use the key they were given to escape unharried onto the pavement.

qifrey does not let go; absent-mindedly stroking the wrist he knows hurts. olruggio even pulls him closer as they walk, though the street does not seem busy. "right, so - this place. it's not far." and he actually being good with directions, they find the establishment easily. when they enter, he just gives his name to the staff and they are immediately led away - which is strange.

what's stranger is that even though qifrey had squinted his eye upon entering, now that they pass into a different area he realises there's no need. he can tell the place is lit dimly and perfectly according to his taste. after one waiter takes their hats and cloaks for storage close by, another starts graciously reeling off the entire menu by his ear.

after they've chosen their dishes and are left alone, qifrey reviews the kind and personalised service; and hisses with a laugh, "what the heck? what's with this place?"

olruggio hums airily. "oh, you know."

"you crafty witch! you asked them in advance for good lighting."

"well, maybe." he laughs. "shh, they're coming back with our drinks."

over wine - far fancier than the sort they normally drink - qifrey continues badgering him, "but you suggested this so randomly. just yesterday. and you said we didn't have to come - I don't get it."

"'s fine. if you'd said no, I'd have - I dunno, come by and told them. it's called booking a reservation, qifrey."

"it's so kind of them, though."

"pff, nah. they've got a reputation to uphold, 's'all. I was invited here by some fancy man once to discuss a commission, it's not some hovel." but his grin sounds satisfied.

"yeah, they know you've got connections," qifrey teases slyly. "you're not someone to cross."

"oh, you should see how pissy rich people can get when restaurants don't cater to their every need." olruggio scoffs, nudging him in the ankle. "you ask for something politely here, they're like, no, thank YOU."

"well. I appreciate it very much, olly."

"I mean, it's so damn dim I can barely see your face, so that's a shame for me," he laughs, again - qifrey coughs to hide his profound embarrassment at that statement, the sweetness of which he feels sure his companion is somehow oblivious to.

as could be expected, the meal is good. they being the fine cooks they themselves are, he'd like to think it's not wildly different from something they could make... but more importantly, they didn't have to make it. he didn't have to struggle over it, didn't have to feel bad that olruggio did most of it. the only guilt is in that it will count against their household finances - but don't most people go out around their birthdays? it was just his thirtieth, wasn't it? and hasn't he not gone out to eat in years?

in the gaps between mouthfuls, they chat idly and happily - the low light rendering the atmosphere cozy and confidential. at first olruggio gives brief description to their surroundings, knowing it provides some sense of security - but what with their ankles still touching and that deep, soft voice always so close, qifrey thinks it likely he doesn't look away after that.

not always something that settles the nerves when you can't be sure of your dinner partner's expressions, but olruggio's getting better at things too. better at putting more of his character into language. he distributes the sardonic lift of his eyebrow into shrewd words, puts more of that delicate olly-ish smile into a voiced laugh. for qifrey's sake alone, he has become more and more open in expressing himself.

qifrey gets to hear proof, over and over again, that olly wants him to keep being able to read how he feels. wants it more and more.

the dessert, a peach spice pudding qifrey had liked the sound of, is so good that it feels cruel to keep it to themselves. so he can't help but bring up their girls. the evening has become so intimate in its setting that his nerves prompt it.

"I wish they could taste this! I think all of them would like it, even though it's so sweet it burns the back of your throat - agott hates things like that though, doesn't she. not keen on anything too strong. but it's so good that I'm sure she'd put the complaint aside." he nibbles away at his little spoonful. it is good.

olruggio appears to be watching him ramble with chin in hand, leaning back a bit. he drains his fancy goblet lazily. "I'm sure assembly food is doing its best."

"but it's nothing like this! and there was never enough variety in the vegetables those meals had. it's no wonder we were scrawny all the time, nothing like our strong girls who can run around all day. I worry that the portions must be too -"

"will you stop fussing over them for one evening?!" olruggio's tone is huffy and brusque, but qifrey is getting masterful at this now - he can hear the flustered amusement deep in the tone - "this is about you and me!"

he's seized qifrey's hands as if in admonishment, but in the shocked pause that follows - punctuated by the clatter of the spoon - he feels fit to instantly drop them. then barks, "no, yeah. assembly food. hate that shit. be a miracle they survive the weekend." he then shovels in his own mouthful with a will.

it's tremendously awkward for a moment - qifrey smothers a snort at the absurdity of it all - and then they both laugh sincerely. their heads bonk together, hunched like that over the table with shaking shoulders.

"dummy." olruggio brushes their knuckles together again, soothingly. "weirdo. if you haven't got anything more to say, it's fine. it's still nice that way." he nudges qifrey's head with his. "that's how we are."

so, is it true? it doesn't all have to be put into words?

it just feels like there is always something missing lately; that in the silences, he is doing something wrong. but as olruggio sighs, the kind that comes out of a bashful smile, qifrey has to believe that it might be okay. for there not always to be the words for this kind of feeling.

olruggio always said so much, in that way of his, without ever spending many words at all. that's why qifrey misses all those expressions - he'd say so much, in just a glance. in just a warmstone, just an unnecessary dessert he'd randomly make for his five housemates without even a portion for himself.

a long time ago - a very long time ago, his mannerisms had seemed curt. even today, it can come off as gruff. but qifrey has realised the incredible grace in it.

olruggio would make a good dancer. any kind of artisan.

qifrey tried so hard in the past to put on grace, to wear mystery. to seem enigmatic, with what goes unsaid - to leave people wondering about just what he knows and just how many secrets he has - or to seem totally oblivious - it's been an asset, at times. but it was just an act. it's always been an act. so olruggio, with that one utterly artless performance that is his whole life, is a marvel.

"you are extremely beautiful to me," qifrey says - for him, this is what feels natural. even when it's hard, he will always want to find the words. his date chokes a little on his wine, as if those words just now were something special; as if olly doesn't express what's special about him with his every move. without even trying. "sorry." qifrey adds, smiling. now, he finally feels calm. "at least it's about you and me."

if you're embarrassed by what I just said, why aren't you embarrassed just by existing, showing off that careless grace everywhere you go?

the conversation after that remains muted, but it's okay.

that's how we are.

they immediately glide back outside when they get home, the fathomless atmosphere of the night not one it feels time to give up. yet it's different, here under their sky.

totally unlike that of the streets of karoon, unlike the underwater assembly, unlike anywhere else in the world.

"are the stars out?" he whispers, knowing the moon is. but it is dim.

"yeah," comes the answer near his ear. "bright as anything."

"tell me."

olruggio pauses, voice becoming weightless as he looks up into the vast spaces. "moon almost new, pinpricks of light. a clear, good night."

"the best."

they sit, incredibly close, on the bench near the front door. they've left it open, perhaps so that the wind passes through their whole life and blows out the unnecessary.

"are you sleepy?" qifrey murmurs, a little disappointed, as olruggio's head droops onto his shoulder.

"not really."

"oh." he swallows. "it was good wine, wasn't it?"

"yeah. glad we can have fun drinking again. been ages since we got properly drunk, though."

"no, there was that time not that long ago that we did - when we got drunk and started being a bit mean to each other." he regrets recalling that instantly. "I'm sorry. forget about that." what if he's ruined the whole evening?

"can't," olruggio says, a calm word into the wind. "you can't make me."

their ankles touch, like before.

"I was resisting, a bit," olruggio is going on. "drinking. knew it'd just make me honest, when I was supposed to be being upset. it's pathetic - wrong - but deep down, even then I just wanted to relax with you, have fun with you, heal. feel good. wasn't appropriate, so I resisted."

"that's what I'm sorry for."

"I'm not a complete animal," he laughs, deadpan. "not like I need to drink - just do it 'cause I'm happy and wanna keep feeling happy. 'cause it tastes good and the company is good. so good, I don't wanna let go of it."

their hands also touch.

"I want to be happy, too."

"aren't you?"

"I can't tell. I can't see my face in the mirror." it's a weird thing to say.

olruggio tugs his hand, until qifrey leans to face him. "lemme see then. I can see all kinds of stuff. know you can't, but - and I know you need to be the one to see it, but -" he stares far into qifrey's clouded eye. "look, I knew it, you've got everything in there - whole ocean of stuff. even if you can't see, I can see in there."

"what are you even talking about?" qifrey mumbles, blushing deeply. "sure you're not drunk?"

"been watching you a long time," olruggio insists. "been looking at you for a long time."

too overwhelmed, qifrey stands and walks away into the grasses, hand cold with the parting. suddenly, it is horrific to imagine being looked into.

to him, the sky is dark - the moon must indeed be moving to new, almost into a complete black circle. he remembers how that looks, different to the night around it. a shadow of its own. and it will grow again. it keeps going. and qifrey thought he'd die out here, thought he could ever leave this house.

he'd seen it as an inevitability. an eye for an eye... closing the circle. cutting loose from the cycle.

he hears another pair of steps through the rushes, cautious like approaching a wild animal.

"sorry. it's been nice - I don't want to bring you down. I feel strange. I'm strange."

"I mean, that's why I love you."

qifrey looks back, wind picking up his white fabric like wings. for a moment, the moon is frozen in its restless orbit. "you love me."

olly nears. he pulls down that fabric, rubs the arms underneath to warm them. "yeah? I've told you that before. don't do this, it'll hurt," his voice is cracked a little, as he presses a thumb against qifrey's eyelid, pushes the tear free. "is it the wind? let's return."

confined to darkness, qifrey insists: "you have not." he pushes him away with no strength, hands curled defiantly at his neck.

"but I have since the beginning."

qifrey sifts through memories, this one, and that one, and all of them, and every time he's held his hand, and the single time they kissed, and the handful of times they've embraced, and argued, and went into danger, and yelled, and lied down in the tomb, and cried - made beautiful magic together - and - and right near the beginning, in a cave, a tiny fire -

"I don't remember," qifrey whispers. the tears pool around olly's trembling thumb.

"it's okay. just don't forget now."

closer still, qifrey can hear the other man - can hear him crying. it would have been visible, but he hadn't known. it would have been a rare sight, but he can't have it. olly shakes just as he does, is thin and frail and strong and living in the moonlit wind, just as he is.

why does he always feel calmer the moment he realises olly is as scared as him?

he has raised his own hand, to cradle that cheek in a mirror image, both of their hands around the whole. "can I -"

he feels his breath against his.

"can I again -"

"please."

he presses his mouth into the centre of it. it's not like last time, when olly had held the back of his head, sunk fingers into his hair with a shy craving.

their lips tremble, hard, with emotion - it is not so soft and wild.

but this time it is the return of both pieces.

what is like last time is that he whispers against olly's cheek again, cries his fears, "if you want to push me away, to stop this, you'll have to be the one to do it. it has to be you."

it has to be you, it has to be you.

"I have been reaching out to you, from the beginning."

you can't see anything when you do this. not even when you do it again. neither party can. it's a moment of pure sensation - purer than the first time, because of the trials of fire to get here.

not even when you do it again, and again.

"I love you, too." saying something against a mouth makes it feel like it's not you who's saying it.

"I know that," is the response, in between breaths. "I told you, I've been watching you."

like he'd been told they would, they do drift off under the stars.

as he'd wanted, his olly does set him down again into the grasses, right inside their fancy clothes and cloaks as if at the end of a journey. qifrey clings like a child, like an adult, like a human being.

"I won't forget."