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Qifrey hatches his plan a week after the second time Olruggio makes himself forget and he has to return to lying to him. The whole thing is agony, pure and simple, and he can't bear it in this moment. He doesn't want to die he just wants to live, to have what everyone else has, to… to…
Stealing a small knife from the study area is easy enough. He's fairly certain they use it to open letters but it's got a sharp point and thin blade so it'll do well for the task. Hidden away in his room for the evening now, he sits and stares at it on his work desk while idly curling Olly's ribbon around his fingers. He remembers from reading that removing a Silverwood seed from it's host has had… unpleasant results in the past but he's a unique case, maybe—maybe he has a chance of finally being free of this affliction. He just has to pry it out.
Partners in pain. Olruggio has taken the hit twice already now, he reminds himself. He can handle a little temporary pain if it fixes this, if he can finally be free. He snatches up the knife before he can hesitate further.
It takes a few tries to get the blade close to his eye socket to begin with. Qifrey stops, arms hanging in the air and blade pointed down, and stares up at it. His body seems to actively push back against it, not wanting to risk mortal danger like this, and he has to power through the desire to flinch before finally settling the tip of the knife near the inner corner of his eye. He sucks in one deep inhale and, while exhaling, pushes the knife into the socket.
Pain. Burning and stinging and a shooting pain all the way from his eye down his spine, arching his back uncomfortably and making him rip the knife away. A few droplets of blood scatter across the floor, dripping down his face and onto his sleeves. Whining in the back of his throat, he tightens his grip on the knife.
Pitiful. Weak. He can't even handle a little discomfort? For the future, for Olruggio? Squaring his shoulders and clenching his jaw, Qifrey raises the knife to his eye again. This time, when he presses he angles it inward, toward where an eye would be, and meets the resistance of the seed embedded there. If he can just get the knife tip dug in a little he can pop it loose like a cork out of a bottle…
He pries at it, feeling the roots in the back of his eye tug at his skull a little. It hurts, it hurts so bad but all he can think of is the life he could have with it gone so he keeps going. Keeps working it, twisting the knife a little, until it just starts to seem like the seed is pulling free. When it does, however, his vision whites out suddenly and pain washes over all his senses. Qifrey drops the knife, faintly hearing it skip across the floor, and drops to the tile hard on his knees. Reflexively, he curls in on himself and shudders, body trembling until the pain subsides.
"It's not fair," he whispers, face pressed to his knees. "It's not fair, it's not fair it's not fair!"
His chest heaves and he sobs so hard he gags, hugging his arms tight around his middle. All he wants is a little comfort. All he wants is a little peace. All he wants is to crawl to Olruggio's room and curl up in his arms and cry until he can't anymore but even that comfort would be dangerous, would be enough to start the tree rooting and rip away that little snippet of peace he so desperately wants.
He doesn't hear the door open but he hears a little gasp and looks up, still clutching his stomach, to find both the best and worst person possible in this moment looking at him. Qifrey feels his lower lip quiver and has to force himself to look away from the confused and distraught expression on Olruggio's face before another sobbing fit erupts out of him.
"Qifrey, hey hey, what's going on? Did you get hurt or...?" A few steps toward him and then Qifrey hears him kick the knife. Olruggio stops, breathing even absurdly soft, and Qifrey peeks up to watch him reach down and pick up the knife. "Oh…"
Think of an excuse. He can't think of anything. Qifrey hugs his arms tighter around his middle. Strangely but blessedly the blood on his face is gone but it's still on the floor, on on his sleeves, on the knife… Olruggio makes up an excuse for him, apparently, as he kneels down in front of him.
"Hey, hey c'mon…" he whispers, holding his hands out. He's gotten rid of the knife, stashed somewhere safe probably. Qifrey wants to touch him even if he knows it's a bad idea and even if he isn't sure he won't come apart if he stops holding his ribs. After a long moment of hesitation, he takes them. Olruggio doesn't even flinch at the blood on his sleeves, just squeezes his hands. "I wondered why you were spending so much time alone…"
Qifrey wants to crawl into his arms so so badly. He's so close he can feel how warm he is—his hands are so warm. He can smell him; campfire and old books. It would be so easy to do it, he knows Olruggio would open his arms the moment he inched closer. He could do it, he could just—
The back of his eye socket burns and Qifrey flinches. His fingers tighten around Olruggio's before sliding out of his hands to wrap his arms around his middle again. Warm hands rest on his shoulders instead, helping to steady him. So gentle, so kind…
"You don't have to hide from me," Olruggio whispers, painfully gentle.
He doesn't know. He can't know. He may never know. Qifrey wants so desperately not to hide but there's no other way. But for now he just nods and chokes on another sob.