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Olruggio can hear the distant rumbling of thunder as he ascends the steps in search of something to drink before retiring to bed. Rain drums heavily against the roof of the atelier, and where Olruggio may find the sound soothing, he knows at least one other resident will be kept awake by it.
“–you a kind of personal question, Professor?”
It seems that Coco is one of them, her voice carrying down to Olruggio even through the rain.
“Of course. What do you want to know?”
Qifrey, unsurprisingly. He’s never done particularly well in this kind of weather.
“Are you and Professor Olruggio, um… together?”
Normally, Olruggio would never eavesdrop on a conversation he has no part in, but Coco’s question catches him off guard, and he freezes, hovering in the stairwell. His ears and face are starting to burn, and his fingers tighten around the stair rail.
Has he really been that obvious?
He’d always thought he’d done a good job at keeping his feelings under wraps. Qifrey is the best thing to happen to him after all, and Olruggio doesn’t want anything to potentially jeopardize that. It’s not that he thinks Qifrey would treat him differently, or that he’d reject him, or put distance between them; he’s too kind to do that.
Olruggio just can’t imagine Qifrey reciprocating his feelings in such a way. Qifrey has never expressed interest in romance with men or women, and Olruggio wouldn’t dare assume he’s an exception, even if Olruggio would like to think Qifrey is his best friend and Olruggio Qifrey’s.
Their current mutual affection is more than enough for Olruggio. It’s not rejection he’s terrified of, it’s Qifrey’s selflessness that does. Qifrey cares for others in a horribly self-sacrificing kind of way, and Olruggio doesn’t want to be the reason Qifrey enters a relationship he doesn’t want just to make Olruggio happy.
(There is, of course, an element of personal cowardice here. Olruggio is many things, but in denial is not one of them.)
Qifrey’s surprised laughter snaps Olruggio out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts. Despite being the cause of his accelerated heartrate and burning cheeks, Qifrey is still what grounds him.
“My, you really did mean it when you said it would be personal.” He sounds just as amused as he is surprised, but his voice is still gentle.
“I’m so sorry!” Coco squeaks, clearly flustered. Olruggio can imagine the flush rising in her cheeks. “I know it’s none of my business!”
“It’s quite alright,” Qifrey chuckles in response. “There’s no need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“If–if you don’t want to answer…”
“It’s nothing so complicated. Olly and I don’t have that kind of relationship, but I can see how it might look from the outside.”
Olruggio lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He’s not sure if it’s relief or disappointment he’s feeling as he tries to compose himself so he doesn’t look so guilty–or flustered–when he surfaces.
“I see,” says Coco in a small voice. There’s a short pause where nobody speaks, and the sound of rain fills the silence. “Professor Qifrey, do you love Professor Olruggio?”
The silence drags on for a little longer. Olruggio should just give up on the drink and go back down to sleep, or maybe work on another one of his projects. He’s not sure what answer he’d prefer Qifrey to give, and he’s not sure he should listen in, but it’s like his feet are rooted to the stone beneath him.
“Of course I do,” Qifrey says, so quietly Olruggio almost misses it in the rain. “I love him very much.”
The honest admission takes Olruggio’s breath away. Suddenly, his heart is hammering in his ears, making itself painfully known.
“Then… is it because he doesn’t love you back in that way?” Coco asks.
No! Olruggio wants to shout. He wants to run to the top of the stairs. He wants to grab Qifrey by the shoulders, shake him, hold him, tell him he’s an idiot if he thinks Olruggio doesn’t love him that way; if the only thing holding them back from being more has been both of them being too stupid to confess–
“No,” Qifrey says. Olruggio can hear the slight, pained smile in the way he speaks. “I know he loves me.”
“Then… why?” Coco sounds lost, her confusion echoed in Olruggio himself.
“Because it’s too dangerous,” Qifrey admits after a pregnant pause. “I… care too much. I don’t want him to get hurt on my behalf.”
It sounds like the truth. It probably is the truth, at least in part, so why does it sound like a lie?
“Are you happy like that, Professor?”
This, Qifrey doesn’t hesitate to respond to. “Of course,” he lies, with what must be a guileless smile. “This is more than enough for me.”
Olruggio finally finds his feet. His fingers loosen around the rail, which has gone warm under the palm of his hand. He turns around and practically runs back down the stairs, back to the safety of his room, where he can surround himself with projects he can pretend he needs to work on.
Qifrey loves him. Why doesn’t that bring him joy?
Olruggio closes his eyes, his heart aching, his head pounding, and his breaths coming in too fast.
This is more than enough for me.
Once Coco’s returned to bed, having drunk her fill of warm tea and worn herself out talking, Qifrey remains alone in the kitchen, nursing in his hands a cup of tea that has long since gone cold.
Without his glasses, the interior of the atelier is blurry. Qifrey thumbs the frames carefully, his gaze dropping to them. His mind wanders to a circle woven carefully into Olruggio’s hat.
I know he loves me, Qifrey had told Coco. He hadn’t wanted to lie to Coco so boldly; to do so would be an insult to her brightness. But he hadn’t told her the truth, either.
If I could, I’d take that away from him too.
The wry smile that pulls at his lips comes with a familiar twist of self-loathing. Qifrey closes his eyes and drinks his cold tea, little more than mildly bitter water.
There is no comfort in it. Qifrey thinks that’s alright.
(Olruggio awakens the next day with a parched throat. He goes upstairs for breakfast. He greets Qifrey and the girls. Qifrey offers him a cup of tea, which he accepts. Outside, the storm has passed, allowing the sun to shine through. It’s a beautiful day.
And nothing changes.)