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Olruggio woke because bright patches of sunlight were spreading unevenly across his face. He screwed his eyes shut and lifted a hand to block them out, already knowing with quiet misery that going back to sleep was not an option. Any moment now the girls would come downstairs for breakfast, which meant there was not a single chance of a peaceful morning. Though that was his own fault - falling asleep on the sofa again.

He stretched, propped himself up on one elbow, and peeled himself off his makeshift bed. Several blankets that had been draped over him with deceptive casualness slid to the floor. Had he pulled them there himself? Unlikely. One was suspiciously similar to Coco's spare throw, and the other had definitely come from Qifrey's room.

Judging by the sun hitting him square in the face, morning had stopped being early only a few hours ago. The sounds from the next room confirmed it - Qifrey was probably setting the table. Olruggio stretched again, joints cracking, and got to his feet. He still had two - no, three - unfinished projects, and he really could not keep lounging around. Besides, and this was something he would never have admitted even to himself, he loved slow unhurried mornings in the kitchen when Qifrey hummed quietly to himself. It always made something in his chest hum in answer - a foolish feeling, but a strangely wonderful one.

The hallway floor was warm underfoot - Olruggio silently thanked every higher power that it was not winter. The kitchen door stood slightly ajar, and the clink of pots drifted through it and all the way down the corridor. Coco and Richeh had their heads bent together over some small stone on the table.

He stopped in the doorway and let himself have a few seconds to simply take it all in. Qifrey always looked particularly captivating bathed in morning light - as if he had been made from the brightest thing the sky could find, as if the sky had deliberately made him unreachable and deceptively soft. It was dangerous territory, letting himself think about that for longer than the few half-asleep seconds it took to dismiss it. Olruggio had never considered himself a romantic or a poet, but here it was somehow very difficult to stay quiet.

"Good morning, Master Olly!" - Agott squeezed past him through the doorway, nodding primly and taking a seat at the small table. Coco snapped her head up and happily tugged the other girl closer, pulling her chair in.

Hearing his student's voice, Qifrey turned at once, and one of those soft smiles of his spread across his face - the kind he scattered freely in every direction. His gaze moved across the children and slid up to the man in the doorway. The smile went a shade gentler. Olruggio squinted and nodded, pushing the uninvited thoughts away.

"You're just in time for breakfast," - Qifrey turned back to the stove, but even so there was something terribly warm in his voice. Olruggio said nothing, rubbing his eyes. He crossed to the counter and stopped beside Qifrey, reaching for the kettle.

"Who wants cold compote? It's still hot, but you're welcome to try cooling it down if you remember the right spell," - the witch turned to face the girls, smiling.

"Don't use magic at the table," - Olruggio cut in drowsily, though he made no actual move to stop them, and instead reached for the kettle.

"Me!" - Coco thrust her cup forward at the same moment as Richeh - though the latter did it without a word.

"You don't even remember the spell," - Agott muttered, and then pushed her cup forward as well.

"If I can't manage it, you'll help me," - Coco's beaming smile lit up the kitchen, and Agott immediately went flustered, turning away sharply. Olruggio hid a smirk in his sleeve, still bent low over the tea. Coco could be... very like Qifrey sometimes.

"Pour some for me too!" - Tetia's voice floated in from the direction of the staircase, followed by a loud thud. The girl had nearly tumbled off the landing and arrived at the table straightening her hair with great dignity.

"Of course, little ones," - Qifrey smiled, and Olruggio had to turn back to the kettle before he was blinded. He was beginning to understand Agott better. Smiles like that, first thing in the morning, were like sunlight through coloured glass hanging above a doorway - you were not afraid of being burned. You were afraid of not being able to look away. Qifrey turned back to the pot on the stove and, without taking his eyes off it, reached a hand out toward Olruggio.

"Pass me the ladle, darling - it's above the washbasin."

Olruggio nodded absently and lifted the ladle from its hook. Only once it was in his hand did his spine go rigid, and he froze, trying to work out whether he had actually heard what he thought he had heard. He glanced quickly toward Qifrey - the witch was, by all appearances, perfectly unconcerned, setting out cups on the table, his outstretched hand hanging in the air like an exhibit for the prosecution. As if nothing had happened.

Olruggio was not easily fooled. He knew this was some kind of elaborate game he was being drawn into, one he obviously should not agree to play. And yet he slowly raised the hand holding the small wooden ladle and held it out toward Qifrey. He did not need to turn around to feel three pairs of eyes on his back - thank goodness it was only three.

He made the mistake of glancing sideways a moment later, which he immediately regretted. Qifrey was looking directly at him, a faint smile on his face. Olruggio focused hard on keeping his expression neutral. It was just a ladle. He had done this a hundred times.

"Thank you."

Qifrey's fingers skimmed across his hand as he took it, and Olruggio flinched, pulling his arm back sharply. It really was not fair. Qifrey turned away again, leaving him alone with three silent stares and an overwhelming urge to say something. This could have become awkward very easily. Olruggio exhaled and went back to the kettle. His ridiculous feelings were not going to be the reason for an uncomfortable situation that left them avoiding each other for days. Besides, Qifrey had probably just been trying to make a joke. Since the girls hadn't reacted, perhaps he would simply stop.

"And the salt too, darling."

Or not.

Coco was having a hard few days. It was not difficult to notice - she had grown increasingly tense, and a mountain of crumpled paper had been rising steadily around her work table. Right now she was sitting in the main lesson room, redrawing the same rune for what had to be the tenth time, her expression thoroughly dejected. Olruggio had been watching her out of the corner of his eye for the past twenty minutes - and he was fairly sure Agott and Tetia, bent over the table beside her, were doing the same.

Richeh, for her part, remained undisturbed. She was currently sitting on the floor attempting to mix a new variety of ink. Olruggio probably ought to have been more concerned about this, but if he was honest, it seemed like a bad idea to intervene. He had already stopped her from doing something catastrophic five times today - from jumping off the roof to attempting to unravel a flying carpet for research purposes - and each time she had resolved the situation more competently than he had.

The upcoming fair was wearing on him. If only Qifrey were here... which was, of course, the problem. Qifrey was not here. He had shut himself in his room that morning, promising to finish urgent work by breakfast, but it was now approaching dinner and the door had not opened once. The girls had been occupied with their own things since morning. Had Qifrey given them some kind of... assignment?

Tetia giggled as the rune between her fingers exploded into a tiny shower of sandy sparks, making Agott, seated beside her, frown. Olruggio glanced up from his work, but the girls had already bent their heads back down. Well, whatever it was, it did not look like any assignment he recognized. He suppressed the urge to click his tongue. Was something actually wrong? He supposed he could check on the witch - but Qifrey had taken in the food left outside his door, which meant he had not disappeared...

Coco dropped her forehead onto the table with a soft thud and went still. Olruggio sighed. He had not intended to worry. There was nothing particularly complicated about this, was there? He was not a teacher, but he was perfectly capable of managing a handful of children. He pushed aside the papers in front of him and gave a quiet cough, drawing attention. Every girl turned to look at once - all except Coco, who stayed where she was but angled her face toward him.

"So... what have you been studying lately?" - at this, even Coco lifted her head, though she didn't quite sit up.

"We've been working on-" - Agott was already on her feet, moving closer and spreading out her half-finished runes.

"Are you going to teach us? Really?" - Tetia leaned forward, cutting across her. Agott's frown deepened.

"We've been working on-"

"Will you show us how to make fire dragons? I could really use one."

"Richeh, no," - Agott said sharply.

"No, Richeh," - Olruggio echoed, doing his best not to laugh. The girl gave an unconcerned shrug, looking entirely untroubled by this - "I know you're all in the middle of something, but since Qifrey isn't here... why don't we see what we can come up with together?"

Watching the girls' eyes light up, Olruggio decided that perhaps teaching was not so terrible after all.

Perhaps even too not-terrible. It was only when Tetia nearly fell asleep mid-sentence that he realized, with some shame, that children could not be expected to work until midnight. Getting back upstairs with a drowsy Richeh and a stumbling Tetia was no small task, but honestly, it was his own fault.

Coming back down, he slowed involuntarily in front of Qifrey's door. No thin strip of light showed beneath it - as if whoever was inside had gone to sleep long ago. Or was not there at all, which was a thought Olruggio preferred not to entertain. To hell with it, he had promised not to worry. What was he, a babysitter? Qifrey could do whatever he pleased... it would just be nice if he didn't always insist on carrying everything alone. Olruggio rubbed his forehead tiredly. He was worrying too much again. That stupid little verbal game the witch had been playing had thrown him completely off balance. It was too easy to believe, when someone spoke to you that gently. Because the truth was - Qifrey was right, and that was the real magic of it. A few words, a few soft touches, a strange unbroken stream of endearments over dinner and on the way into town - and he was almost able to believe that the other man actually felt something.

He did not knock.

He walked on slowly, glancing into the nearest room. Agott had dozed off with her head on the arm of the sofa. A stack of identical half-drawn runes had spilled across her lap. Unlike Richeh, she could not be carried to bed - she would always wake if disturbed, and startle badly. The right thing to do was leave her be. Beside her, a small glow-wisp above the table lit the papers in front of Coco. The girl had her head bent very low, her hair falling like a curtain over whatever she was working on. Even so, Olruggio could tell at a glance that these were not simple practice runes.

"Have you tried making something of your own before?" - he said, settling carefully beside her. The girl startled as if she hadn't heard him approach, and gave a small uncertain nod. That same faint sadness flickered across her face - barely there, quickly gone - and Olruggio caught himself making the comparison again, involuntarily, to Qifrey.

"Something specific, or just...?"

Coco shook her head, but the quiet look didn't leave her face. Olruggio exhaled. This was exactly why he wasn't a teacher.

"It doesn't matter. I won't finish it for a long time anyway," - her voice came out very soft. Maybe because she didn't want to wake Agott. Or maybe because she didn't want Olruggio to hear.

He sighed and rested a hand on her head. Coco looked up at him warily.

"Would you like me to take a look? You know I helped Agott with her spells before. I promise I won't lecture you - as long as it isn't something forbidden," - he lifted one corner of his mouth, watching her face - "Let's look at it together, and then you can show Qifrey the finished drawings when he's back."

Coco nodded - hesitantly at first, then with more conviction - and quickly spread a pile of papers across the table, sigils of every possible size from tiny to enormous. Her eyes were still tired, but something familiar was slowly kindling in them.

"You can look at these... those ones Agott already went over, I still need to finish them, that's what I was just doing..." - she held out a stack of drawings, all of them incomplete. Looking more closely, it became clear that more than half were inverted complex sigils - an unusual number of them relating to water, cold, and... ah. There it was. He glanced at Coco, who had picked up her pen again with fresh energy, the tip of her tongue peeking out as she concentrated on drawing new lines.

Olruggio bent low over the sheet of paper, hiding his smile. He worked through several pages carefully, and when he finally looked up, Coco had fallen asleep with her hands folded under her cheek, pen still loosely held in her fingers. He exhaled slowly, watching her breathe for a moment.

"She must have worn herself out," - a familiar voice close to his ear made him flinch and turn sharply. Qifrey had come to crouch beside him, head tilted to one side in that curious way of his. It made him look like a bird - an owl, perhaps. Or something rather more ridiculous. Olruggio rubbed the crick in his neck and stood.

"You were gone a long time."

He did not wait for an answer, and Qifrey did not offer one. Instead Olruggio reached for the blanket draped over the corner shelf and settled it gently across the girl's shoulders. Not knowing what else to do with himself, he stayed where he was, arms crossed. He probably looked irritated, which was fine - better Qifrey think that than realize how much easier it suddenly was to breathe with him back in the room.

The lamplight played shadows across Qifrey's smile as he reached to tuck in the edge of the blanket.

"Should we carry her to bed?" - Olruggio murmured, wincing immediately at Qifrey's look - "What? Her back will hurt in the morning."

"Quieter, darling - she's sleeping."

Olruggio was almost certain Agott had been awake and listening for the past several minutes. He was equally certain Qifrey knew this too. That look was back in the witch's eye - soft and faintly apologetic, as if he were sorry for something. Olruggio shook his head, not quite managing to hold back a smile. He had missed this - was it strange, to miss someone who had only been gone a day? His ridiculous little game, his particular kind of silliness.

"Speaking of which, you should get some sleep too, Olly," - Qifrey stood and steered him gently toward the door - "Something tells me, sweetheart, that you didn't sleep the night before either."

Olruggio still could not work out why the witch kept doing it - it was not an accident, not a tease, he did it in front of the girls and when they were alone. An elaborate game that Olruggio lacked the nerve to stop - and again, because of that idiotic feeling in his chest. He ought to look up and, for his own sake, laugh it off, tell him to quit with the pet names meant for sweethearts and not friends. Because lord knows he was already far too ready to believe in something impossible.

Instead he simply walked on quietly toward the exit, muttering under his breath about deadlines and unfinished projects, trying not to think about how gently his name sounded in the other man's mouth.

"We're going to the festival again!" - Tetia nearly bounced off the floor, clutching a small piece of paper in both hands. Olruggio sighed and reached down to flick her on the nose. She gave a small yelp, but the smile didn't shift.

"We are not going anywhere. I simply have to attend an event. Some ruler's birthday, or something of the sort..."

"You won't bring anyone? Not even Master Qifrey?" - Tetia looked mildly crestfallen, and reluctantly held out the stolen page from the message receiver.

Olruggio rolled his eyes.

"Master Qifrey doesn't like these things - he guards his peace carefully," - he threw his cloak over his shoulders and smoothed his hair hastily - "Besides, damn it all, I only found out about this at the last moment."

"Will this festival be like... the Silver Eve?" - Coco's quiet voice made him blink and stop. The worry on her face was plain. Oh, hell. How had he forgotten? Olruggio crouched beside her and ruffled her hair gently.

"I promise it won't be. You won't have to save anyone - you have my word," - only once he saw the smile return to her face did he stand, straighten his clothes, and head for the portal. He caught Qifrey's eye and leaned in slightly, dropping his voice:

"The festival was hard on Coco - don't push her too hard."

"As if I ever have, you great softie."

Olruggio narrowed his eyes but said nothing, only turned back to the portal circle and drew the last few symbols.

"I know this isn't Silver Eve, but be careful all the same."

"Good grief, Mum, relax," - Olruggio glanced back at the man with a smile. Qifrey smiled in return - and they stayed like that for a few seconds, before the other witch's gaze shifted to something behind Olruggio's shoulder. That odd expression crossed his face for only a moment, before a smile replaced it and he pressed a hand to Olruggio's shoulder - making him start - and nudged him firmly through the open portal.

"Good luck, darling!"

The portal closed behind him before Olruggio could answer.

"Well," - Utowin, now standing shoulder to shoulder with him, raised an eyebrow - "Congratulations?"

"He only said it because you were going to hear it," - Olruggio muttered, fighting the blush spreading up his face. Damn it, he had thought Qifrey had stopped doing that - so why again? And why was Utowin here of all people?

"And that's... supposed to make it better?" - the man raised his eyebrow again, swirling a champagne flute.

"Yes. It was just a joke," - Olruggio scanned the room but didn't recognize a single face. Wonderful - today was not his day. The fastest approach was to congratulate the host and slip out before Utowin could-

"Right," - the guardian's eyes narrowed - "Well, you can tell him I'm busy and you're not my type. I have to find Easthies somewhere in this mess - good luck."

"What are you-" - but within a few seconds Olruggio was left standing bewildered in the middle of the crowd with a heap of unasked questions. It was unusual for guardians to be invited to events like this - unless as security, which still didn't explain the champagne. The idea that the man might actually be friends with someone here seemed even stranger. Olruggio shook his head sharply, trying to clear it. Everything was moving too fast, and he was here for a very specific reason, not to think. He spotted a small table in the corner of the room and decided the simplest solution was a drink.

He regretted this somewhere between the third and fourth glass of something surprisingly strong. He was no longer sure he remembered where the portal back was, so he simply leaned against a cool column and closed his eyes. Drinking to get rid of thoughts had been, to put it gently, not his best idea - the longer he stood there the more thoughts came, tangling and blurring into one enormous knotted mess that...

"Okay, I think you've had enough," - a hand swiftly removed the glass from his grip, and he opened his eyes and tensed immediately.

Of course it was Utowin again. The man didn't even look tired or drunk - and he still had that half-full champagne flute in his hand.

"I'll decide when to stop," - Olruggio said flatly, closing his eyes again.

"Impressive - you've somehow gotten even more irritable, I didn't think that was possible," - Utowin said cheerfully, stepping closer and setting the glass somewhere out of reach, to Olruggio's considerable regret. Apparently this showed too clearly on his face, because the man added quietly, as if to himself:

"Maybe I should send word to Qifrey... or ask Easthies to do it - oh, that would be funny."

"No, not him..." - Olruggio muttered, pressing his knuckles against his eyes, which had for some reason started to water. Damn it - he had now made a fool of himself in front of this specific guardian, who had always treated him in such a... peculiar way.

"Oh hell, don't cry - I won't ask Easthies, I'll do it myself-"

"I'm not crying," - he straightened up and, to prove the point, frowned. This apparently came out very poorly, because Utowin made a sympathetic face and leaned against the column beside him.

"Not Qifrey? I thought you trusted him, with everything. That's usually how it works when someone calls you darling."

"I don't call him that."

"You're deflecting."

Olruggio rubbed his forehead irritably. He wanted very much to ask what the man wanted from him, but even now the witch was aware it would be a bad idea. He consoled himself that at least it wasn't Hieheart.

"I mean... you should trust him. You've always been together. As long as I've known..." - Utowin corrected himself, as if the distinction mattered - "almost as long as I've known."

"Right," - Olruggio wished he still had the glass. Conversations like this were so much easier to drown out.

"You just..." - Utowin clearly disagreed. He waved a hand vaguely, making Olruggio wince at the motion. He was quiet for a moment before he found the words - "You love him so much."

"It isn't enough," - Olruggio murmured, almost to himself, after a small pause, staring at the empty space where the glass had been. He realized, suddenly, that he did not want to hear whatever came next. The fact that Utowin stayed silent for longer than a few seconds was already answer enough.

"I need some air."

Nobody stopped him.

The sky above the balcony was clear and open. So clear that Olruggio almost regretted coming out - it felt less harsh indoors. He lowered his eyes to the floor, watching the glowing tiles beneath his feet. He didn't move far from the door. The railing seemed too quiet from here, and the voices drifting from inside were almost lulling. He didn't know how long he stood there - the noise at his back flowed on without interruption, threading itself into his slowly drifting thoughts.

"Utowin got in touch to say you were practically dying somewhere," - a familiar voice came from somewhere above him, and Olruggio reluctantly lifted his gaze from the glowing tiles. Qifrey was hovering over the railing, leaning forward slightly, a faint smile on his face. After everything, he still looked like that - as though he hadn't just flown several kilometers because of a stupid joke.

"But you seem fine. How was the party, sweetheart?" - the witch landed lightly on the railing.

It was almost certainly not the alcohol, but something lurched in his stomach, and warmth flooded through him all at once. When Qifrey looked at him like that something very warm stirred in his chest, and his head went heavy. It was growing harder to outrun, harder with every day. He felt, right now, that he could simply reach out and press his face into the witch's hair, trace a line of kisses down his neck, breathe him in, fill his lungs with him.

"I'm not dying," - he managed.

"Well, Utowin sounded very... convinced," - Qifrey stepped down lightly from the railing and moved closer, catching him by the waist - "Can you stand?"

"Utowin is just being difficult because Easthies doesn't call him darling," - Olruggio muttered, and allowed himself, for once, to think about nothing at all - simply leaning into the offered shoulder.

"Of course he is."

Olruggio hummed in agreement, focusing on keeping his footing. He took a step, steadied by Qifrey, and stopped at the edge of the railing. The world below looked so small from here - and suddenly he was no longer entirely sure the nausea was not the alcohol after all.

"We might want to use a portal..."

"There's a room full of people you fled, through whom I had to navigate while looking for you, and several of them were quite unpleasant. I don't think you actually want to go back in there."

Qifrey was right, which was irritating. Could the man not be worse at something - anything?

"There are plenty of things you're better at than me," - laughter came from Qifrey's direction, and Olruggio dropped his head, letting his hair hide the flush spreading across his face, hoping the other man would mistake it for the alcohol. Of course he had said that out loud.

"Shall we go, darling?" - the quiet voice sounded right beside his ear, and Olruggio had to look up.

He watched, faintly dazed, as glittering air-serpents poured out from the room behind them and circled Qifrey, flashing bright reflections through his glasses. How was he supposed to not follow him?

Watching Qifrey work was pleasant. The chance didn't come often - more due to Olruggio's own habits than anything else. Snowflakes spiralled through the air, meeting in a precise dance.

This was one of the annual checks - shorter than the one the girls would eventually have to make. A brief inspection of the northern roads, and honestly Olruggio could have managed it alone, but he was very glad Qifrey had come with him. At the very least he was not alone among the snowfields - and if he happened to be stealing glances at the other man while they worked, well.

They were sitting beside the carriage, the enchanted horse still hitched, having just finished this stretch. There wasn't much left, and they were both hoping to be done as quickly as possible.

"We need to go a little further west - there should be a track from last time..." - Qifrey was bent over the map as always, looking for the shorter route. Olruggio simply watched him - this might have even counted as deliberate unhelpfulness, had Qifrey not been concentrating for both of them.

"What does it matter, we're stuck here until morning either way," - he tried to sound irritated, but it was difficult. The only thing he could actually focus on was the quiet murmuring of the man beside him.

He should have grown used to this by now. Loving someone who could not love you back in the same way should have become routine. The soft humming from the next room should have stopped turning him inside out long ago, and his chest should have stopped tightening in the evenings when he watched from the doorway as Qifrey rested a proud hand on the girls' heads.

Or now.

Right now the snow settling in the other man's hair looked like the kiss of some ancient star-god. The blizzard around them seemed to keep its distance from the witch - or almost. His glasses had gathered a faint crust of frost, and the tip of his nose had gone red.

Olruggio thought that he was so, so tired. His eyes stayed fixed on the other man's profile.

"The last stop is a few miles ahead and then we can head to the settlement and open a teleport from there back to the atelier. Or would you rather camp in the forest, my dear?" - Qifrey's murmuring was like a lullaby. They had been out here a good while - neither of them wanted to leave the girls for too long... especially with Beldaruit. That single thought was enough to sharpen his mind considerably.

"You're doing it again," - Olruggio muttered, leaning back. His heart was beating too fast, and the cold wind tangled his thoughts before he could catch them.

"You don't like me calling you darling? I can find something else," - Qifrey's voice carried a faint note of amusement - "You didn't object when I started."

"It wasn't so bad," - the protest came out weakly - "you could have come up with something worse. I don't know - you could call me... a star?"

"You want me to call you a star?" - when Olruggio turned, one blue eye was fixed on him, unblinking. He realized, not for the first time, that he kept doing this deliberately - looking into the other man's eyes and saying nothing, stretching the moment out. Maybe, if he did it enough, he would remember it forever.

"Very well - I'll call you a star," - Qifrey's words came out barely above a whisper under the night sky. How could he say things like that so easily? Olruggio could not understand it, could not understand this person.

How did someone stay this close and this far away at once? How could one man, incapable of loving in return, contain everything worth loving? Olruggio pulled his cloak tighter around himself, trying to bury the thoughts. He caught himself thinking, not for the first time, that making this trip alone would have been simpler - even if not as good.

Qifrey seemed to notice something was wrong, because his head tilted to one side in that quiet familiar gesture and he looked up from his work to watch his friend. Olruggio felt a wave of heat rise through him - a simple, urgent need to say something, a need to reach out and touch the tightly pressed line of the other man's lips. Every gesture, every word only made it worse, feeding the want - the want and, what was worse, the belief.

This could not go on.

But he listened to the quiet breathing beside him and could not do a thing.

Olruggio had not expected to face this feeling again so soon.

Qifrey had gone. He had been absent for several days, and the atelier had descended into full chaos - except in the places that had grown terribly empty instead. When Olruggio returned from a job, the man had already been gone a full day. And he had simply believed it.

A day later, after a dozen hours of restless sleep and still more restless waking, he noticed that there were fewer things in the atelier. He noticed the girls watching him with barely concealed panic, and only Coco was suspiciously quiet, giving nothing away when asked.

He opened the door to Qifrey's room carefully and stepped inside. He knew this room well - or thought he had. Now it was... nothing. Not a single thing remained that could have recalled the witch in any way. And it was then that Olruggio understood Qifrey was not planning to come back. He stopped at the empty work table and thought that this had always been going to happen eventually. How many times had he looked at this room and imagined it empty? How many times had he thought about Qifrey leaving?

He had been ready for it, in a way. As if this man had never been the kind to stay, and every moment spent together had been borrowed time. Cold air drifted through the room, making it feel larger than it was. Making the empty space Qifrey had left behind feel larger. What had the witch actually expected? That Olruggio would finish training the girls, or hand them off to someone else? That they would all simply... forget him? As if Qifrey was something that could be forgotten.

Olruggio clenched his hand into a fist, but could not make himself bring it down on the table. What a mess. The person closest to him in the world - his friend, his... his person - was gone, and he couldn't even be angry about it properly.

But Qifrey had not simply left him. He could have made peace with that. A few years, or maybe a decade - but he would have learned to live with the thought that Qifrey didn't need him. No - it wasn't Olruggio he had abandoned. He had walked away from his whole life. And that was wrong.

To hell with it. This might be Qifrey's choice - but Olruggio had been his friend for more or less ever, and he deserved some kind of explanation. This idiot could not simply run off taking a piece of Olruggio's heart with him - especially since in its place he had left something else entirely. The man pressed his lips together and with a sharp motion pulled his hat off his head. His hands were trembling slightly. He stood for a moment, looking at the familiar cord dangling from the tip, then tore it free and walked quickly back to his room. Utter idiot.

The small tracking device was safely in his pocket when he came quickly down the stairs. He stopped at the door to check he had remembered the portal scroll, when something tugged sharply at his hem. He looked down into the faces of the girls. Even the brushbug, curled anxiously around Richeh's neck like a collar, was staring at him.

"You're... you're not leaving like Master Qifrey, are you?" - Agott asked quietly. He flinched and bent down to her level at once, forcing a light smile.

"No. I'm going to bring him home."

And that was what he chose to believe.

With the tracking device, it didn't take long. He spotted a distant figure in the fields, beneath an open sky, beside a small stream. Qifrey turned in surprise at the sharp sound behind him as the witch landed, barely keeping his footing.

"Olruggio..." - but he didn't let him finish, stumbling forward and catching the man by the sleeve.

"You're an idiot, you-" - Olruggio cut across him, not even letting him say his name - "How could you just leave? Did you think about what the girls would think?"

"I explained everything to Coco, and she would have-" - the still-bewildered Qifrey shook his hair back - "Why are you even here?"

His gaze slid across the other man's dishevelled figure, traveling from floor to head and stopping at the end of the hat cord. Something shifted in Qifrey's expression.

"Ah. I see. Of course you wouldn't leave it alone - I should have known..."

"You should have, yes - of course you should have! You didn't explain anything, God, do you know how frightened I was?"

"This was better for everyone. I didn't want the girls... didn't want you... didn't want anyone to have to live with that thought, and... oh God, I simply cannot say this," - Qifrey looked lost. Frightened. Olruggio pressed his lips together, thinking the witch had probably not expected anyone to come looking for him. What could be serious enough for this? None of the thoughts that came to him were good ones.

"You... wait. Were you planning to simply walk off and die somewhere? Is that your idea of a good plan?"

"I don't want anyone to know about this! And least of all them. You!"

"Stop talking about everyone else, for God's sake - think about yourself. How would you feel, dying out here in the middle of... where even is this?"

"It doesn't matter," - Qifrey looked away, hiding behind the lock of hair that fell across his face. There were too many thoughts spinning in Olruggio's head - he was afraid his heart would break through his ribs, that his legs would give out. He was afraid he would fall to his knees and simply weep, because he understood nothing and did not know what he was supposed to do. He had had his suspicions, had known for certain that Qifrey pulled away from things - but how had he missed... let this slip...

"We'll find a way through it, whatever it is - we... I..." - the words tearing out of him sounded desperately inadequate.

"No. You don't understand," - Qifrey's eyes were full of sadness. Unbearable - seeing him like this. Almost close enough to touch, almost close enough to reach - and still hearing him wall himself off from someone else's care.

Olruggio exhaled. Well then.

"Kiss me."

"What?" - the hand Qifrey had been quietly reaching toward the hat cord went still.

"Let me teach you to be selfish," - oh, that sounded like a bad idea - he could tell by the way Qifrey was already stepping back. Too bad he had no intention of letting him go.

"Selfish? Why, if this is..."

"Oh God, is it really that complicated?" - Olruggio almost groaned, closing the distance and grabbing the man by the shoulders - "Just once, and then you can erase my memory again or whatever you like..."

"Why would you... if this is your way of making me stay, you don't have to..." - Qifrey's voice came out broken.

"Even if you can never think of this the way I do," - Olruggio could not stop talking, cutting across the other witch again and again, who kept watching him with that stunned expression - "I'm not asking you to explain anything if you don't want to. You don't have to stay if it's too hard. Just... look - I'm allowing myself to be selfish. Let me have this. I know it isn't fair, but just once..."

And in the next moment unfamiliar lips pressed softly against his brow, stopping him mid-word. His eyes were closed, so he could only hope this was not a dream. Those lips traced downward to his ear, drawing a line along his cheekbone, and then a light, barely-there touch came to rest on his closed right eyelid. The breath moving steadily closer to Olruggio's lips was cool, but it burned more than any magic. One more kiss landed very close to his chin, and he breathed in sharply as Qifrey's lips hovered just opposite his - for only a moment, before descending with that same careful deliberateness. Olruggio's hand tightened convulsively on Qifrey's shoulder. He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe - he wanted to forget, because it meant the kiss might never have to end. He felt a quiet sound rise in his throat and pulled back in alarm, but Qifrey followed and kissed him again, deeper this time, lips weaving together in an intricate pattern. He seemed to be trying to take everything he could, making Olruggio tip back imperceptibly as the witch absorbed every sound he made. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were still half-closed and his breathing was unsteady. Olruggio suspected he did not look much better - and pressed down a rising wave of pride at the thought that this was his doing.

"You have no idea," - Qifrey said quietly, and his rough voice held Olruggio's thoughts hostage for one more moment. But in the very next instant the witch's expression fractured.

"Oh God. You have absolutely no idea."

Olruggio frowned. Genuine alarm was spreading across the face of the man who was still cupping his face in both hands, as if he'd forgotten where he was, staring somewhere past him.

"You have no idea... and now you probably have some idea, and I can't erase your memory..." - Qifrey's voice was dissolving into a stream of incoherence - "And I was going to do it, but now I can't, because it would be dishonest. I don't want to remember this alone, I can't just... I'll make you miserable."

Olruggio's hand gently folded over Qifrey's, which was still pressed against his cheek. The other witch startled, and his gaze came back to the man in front of him. Olruggio exhaled and let himself rest in that touch for just a moment, closing his eyes again. If it was hard to breathe, it was surely not from tears.

"I know."

He feels the other man's heartbeat stutter, feels him try to pull his hand back, so he holds the hand tighter and opens his eyes.

"Or rather - no, I have no idea what you're talking about. And if you don't want to explain, you don't have to," - his voice had sunk to a whisper, the words becoming more and more like a prayer - "Just stay. Don't go."

"It will be difficult. It's... not something that can just be explained."

"Nothing is ever simple. I need you. The girls need you. Everything else... everything else we can work through."

Olruggio felt rather than saw the other man's head come to rest on his shoulder. He raised a careful hand and moved it through the other's hair, not understanding how he had lived without the feeling of another person beneath his fingers. It felt so... permanent. As if this was the piece that had always been missing. His palm slid to the other man's face, and he flinched at the sensation - leaves? Suddenly Qifrey's words made a little more sense. He felt the man beside him tense, and brought his hand back to his hair. He would explain when he wanted to.

When he was ready.

"We could have done this sooner," - Qifrey murmured into his shoulder.

"What - talked?"

"That too, but I meant the kiss. We could have done it much sooner. It might have been easier."

"No?" - Olruggio's sharp question made the other man lift his head - "I wasn't even sure you considered me your closest friend."

"I've been in love with you since I was about... fifteen? I knew for certain by twenty."

"But that was a joke," - Olruggio stared at him - "all your 'darlings' and 'sweethearts' - that was just a stupid joke to wind me up."

"A joke??" - now it was Qifrey's turn to look outraged.

"Wasn't it?"

"No! Stars, no!"

"It sounded like a joke to me," - Olruggio muttered, pulling at the cords on his sleeve.

"How could you think I would joke about... about anything that had to do with you?" - Qifrey's voice dropped again - "the brightest star in the night sky?"

Something bloomed in Olruggio's chest all at once, enormous and uncontainable. How had he ever considered letting this man go? He raised a hand to Qifrey's collar and pulled him close, nearly sending them both off balance.

He swallowed a sound against the other witch's mouth, kissing him deeper and harder as his hands got lost in the layers of the other man's clothing. He was still full of that want, that need to hold Qifrey as close as it was possible to hold anyone.

But his hands kept losing the buttons, and the breath between them grew slower and slower.

"You're going to fall asleep," - the other witch murmured, making no move to stop the kiss, and in fact giving him no opportunity to answer - his lips moved across Olruggio's parted mouth, stealing a few more minutes of coherent thought.

"No," - Olruggio muttered drowsily, suppressing a yawn - "no, I won't, you can carry on from where we left off."

"After I take you home."

"I came to take you home," - the man muttered, patting his pockets - "Damn, I think I've lost the portal..."

His hand still gripped Qifrey's clothing, pulling them into an awkward shuffling dance. He felt quiet laughter rumble in the other witch's chest.

"All right, we can... we'll stay here tonight and find the portal in the morning. And you," - he yawned again, jabbing a finger into the witch's chest - "are not going anywhere. And we are going to talk about your... death, about the thing with the tree, and everything else you owe me besides telling me you love me. And then we're going home, because the girls are worried, and honestly leaving Agott and Richeh alone in an empty atelier sounds like a... dangerous idea..."

"They're alone??"

"I sent word to Hieheart and Beldaruit!"

"Those are quite possibly the two worst options..." - Qifrey exhaled, sinking onto the grass. Olruggio lay down beside him, looking up at the stars with heavy eyes.

"They missed you."

"I missed them too," - Olruggio's hand found Qifrey's in the long grass and held it tight. Right now he felt like a student who had skipped lectures, chest full of light, messy happiness.

"You're staying," - Olruggio repeated, feeling his eyes grow heavier - "because believe me, I will find a way to bring you back."

The answer was a soft laugh and the cool press of lips against his temple. The quiet breathing beside him seemed to drift further and further with each passing minute, laying a thin boundary between sleep and waking.

But he was not fooled. The hand holding his stayed exactly where it was.