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Qifrey comes to his room the night after they've contained the Silverwood. Because Olruggio didn't go to his, because he wanted Qifrey to chase after him after stammering out his love in front of everyone they knew. He needed it, really; he needed to know Qifrey would chase him, desired him the same way. So when he opens the door and Qifrey is standing there, slightly hunched and wringing his hands, relief washes over him.
"Hey."
"Olly." Qifrey's voice is so small, so shakey. He keeps nervously working his hands like he's trying to scrub them with soap. "Can I come in?"
Olruggio sidesteps, wordless, and lets Qifrey slip inside before he pulls the door closed behind him. Standing in the middle of the borrowed room, half curled in on himself, Qifrey looks small for the first time since they were boys—since before he grew almost a head taller than Olruggio and learned how to hide behind a smile. Olruggio wants to pull him into his arms and hide him from the world but he just lingers with his hand still on the doorknob, waiting to be told what he can do now.
"I don't know how to have what I want," Qifrey says softly, "but I want it so bad, Olly…"
He has to swallow the lump that brings up in his throat, ears burning. "What do you want?"
Qifrey turns to him and forces his hands nervous hands still, tucked close to his body, before spreading the fingers on one and making a sort of grabbing gesture at him. He lingers there, gaze averted and hand clenched in a fist, before Olruggio clears the space between them in a few steps and reaches for the hand. When he takes it, sliding down to curl his fingers around Qifrey's wrist and pull it toward himself, Qifrey gasps softly but doesn't pull away.
"We can start there," he assures Qifrey, smiling as twitchy fingers wrap around his wrist in kind. "We can start wherever you need to."
Qifrey takes a moment to debate his options before gently pulling on Olruggio's wrist and leading him over to the bed. He climbs onto it, fully clothed but kicking his shoes off on the way up, and Olly follows his lead. They lay down on the quilt, facing each other and hands still holding each other's wrists. Then, very carefully, Qifrey adjusts his hold so he can twine their fingers together.
"Thank you," he says, still sounding so impossibly small.
Olruggio squeezes his hand gently. "Don't gotta thank me," he says, "I want you here."
He wants this. He needs Qifrey to know that, he needs him to know how badly he wants anything and everything they can have now. Qifrey gives a quiet little sniffle of a sound and nods.
Olruggio lays there, quietly watching Qifrey and feeling as his chilly hand slowly raises to the same temperature as is own. He smiles when Qifrey looks at them briefly, like he's surprised by this, before squeezing his hand carefully again.
"Can I touch you anywhere else?" he asks.
Qifrey nods. He reaches out his other hand, nervous twitching fingers returning, and takes Olly by the wrist. Guides his hand up to his cheek, pressing the palm against it with his own. Smiling, Olruggio rubs his thumb over his cheekbone and Qifrey lets his eye close.
"You're beautiful," he mumbles, almost more to himself than Qifrey but he's delighted when it makes him smile anyway.
"Your beautiful one eyed wretch," Qifrey jokes, leaning into his touch.
Olruggio shakes his head and tuts softly at him. "I've thought you were gorgeous since the first time I saw you," he insists, "don't start."
Qifrey opens his eye briefly, smile going wobbly, and then turns his face to nuzzle his mouth into Olruggio's palm. He presses a kiss there, tender and nervous, before peeking at him again as if waiting for a response.
Olruggio gives the only one he can think of. He turns Qifrey's face gently and brushes his fringe back so he can plant a kiss on the eyebrow over Qifrey's missing eye. He doesn't know if the eyelid doesn't hurt, if it's safe to touch there, but he gets as close as he can all the same. When he pulls back he finds Qifrey looking at him like he's in shock.
"What's the matter?" he asks, back to rubbing his thumb over Qifrey's cheekbone. Then he freezes, noticing tears welling in the corner of his eye. "Ah, are you alright? Did… did that hurt?"
Choking back a sniffle, Qifrey shakes his head. He presses his hand over Olruggio's again, holding it to his cheek. "No, it didn't hurt," he promises, then, "please do that again?"
So Olly does. Again and again, lingering long enough a few times to just breathe in the smell of Qifrey's hair and savor the feel of his lips against him. To have and to hold and to cherish.
Carefully, he shifts his hold and cups his hand under his chin to tilt Qifrey's face upward. He pauses, staring at Qifrey's flushed face, cheek still damp with tears, before leaning just a touch closer.
He's kissed Qifrey before. He doesn't remember it but he has. And somehow muscle memory almost kicks in before he can stop himself and ask what he wants.
"Can I kiss you?"
Qifrey smiles, nose scrunching up a little, and says, "If you want to."
"I want to," Olruggio whispers, leaning closer. "I want to so badly."
In the end, it's Qifrey who closes the gap. Presses their lips together in a quick peck that he tries to immediately pull back from and only sends Olruggio chasing him, pushing their mouths together again in a desperate way that pushes Qifrey into almost rolling onto his back. Laughter muffles against his mouth, warm and loving, and Olruggio pulls back to shoot him a sulky look.
"Don't laugh at me," he says.
"Wouldn't dream of it, my star," Qifrey coos back.
He places his hand on Olly's chest and then runs it up slowly, until he can press his palm to the skin exposed by the low cut of his shirt. The contact briefly feels like lightning before it fizzles out into a pleasant, warm glow in his ribcage.
"What a miracle you are," Qifrey says, more to himself than to Olruggio. He smiles and slides his hand up and over his shoulder to cup the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb against the side just behind his ear. "You're so warm…"
Olruggio cups both his hands around the one Qifrey still has tangled with his, bringing it up to his mouth and puffing air over it softly. "You just have cold hands," he shoots back. "Bad circulation, maybe?"
"Maybe," Qifrey admits, before adding, "two things can be true."
There's a lapse of silence, both of them just breathing, and then Qifrey untangles their joined hands to gently press it against Olruggio's cheek. Seeking skin contact. Unable to find more himself than Qifrey's face, Olruggio reaches up to tap his fingers against the front of his throat, covered by the straps of his collar.
"Can you undo this?" he asks. Qifrey removes his hand to tug them loose and before he loses his nerve, Olruggio presses further. "The whole thing?" He runs his hand down Qifrey's chest over his shirt.
As if parting his hands is a terrible burden, Qifrey visibly forces himself to sit up. He tugs his skirts up to undo the straps around his thighs and Olruggio watches, throat dry, before he's caught looking and the other man smiles sheepishly at him.
"Show you mine if you show me yours?" he prompts.
Fumbling, Olruggio sits up and goes scrambling to untuck and remove his own shirt. He undoes his belt, tossing it somewhere onto the floor, and Qifrey laughs softly at the loud thump it makes. When they're both free of their shirts they lay back down, facing each other, and Qifrey hesitates just briefly before pressing both his hands to Olruggio's sides like he's trying to frame his torso with them.
Qifrey's chest is flushed near his neck from clear embarrassment at being exposed, which Olruggio finds extremely charming. He doesn't comment on it, however, instead opting to place a gentle hand on his ribs and rub at the skin there. Qifrey mimics the gesture with his own hands and his eyelid droops, contentment washing over his face.
"My hands are warmed up and you're still warm," he says, voice almost dozy.
Olruggio smiles. "I'm warmer if you're closer."
Qifrey raises a finger to tap against his lips. Olruggio resists the urge to nip at it. "Patience," he whispers, "I'm getting used to being allowed to have this."
"Me too," Olly teases, grinning at him. "At least you remember we've done this before." Qifrey winces and he gives a little "shh" noise, leaning closer and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Sorry, too soon to joke about that."
"You're allowed to joke about it all you want," Qifrey replies, "but it doesn't make me feel less guilty."
"Not yet, give me time." It's a promise, one that Qifrey does seem to take to heart at least.
Qifrey slides his leg forward, pressing the ankle between Olruggio's and pushing his socked toes against the small gap of bare skin. He rubs against it, like he's testing the texture of his ankle somehow. Ticklish, Olruggio resists the urge to twitch at the sensation.
"I want to glue myself to you," Qifrey admits, voice hushed almost to the point Olruggio can't hear him. "I had to avoid touching you too much… it always made the roots spread."
"We can take the rest of our clothes off," Olruggio offers sheepishly. "Doesn't have to… be anything else."
Qifrey shakes his head and a lump starts to form in his throat, rejection burning across his nerves, before it is quickly settled by the next words out of his mouth. "I want to, so bad, but I can't yet, Olly," he looks almost pained about it. "I'm scared I'll wake up…"
Olruggio leans in and kisses him. Presses until he can get Qifrey to really relax against him, mouth barely opening so he can taste his breath. Then he nips at his lower lip, pinching it between his teeth, and pulls back in a drawn out tug.
"Ow," Qifrey whines, shooting him a sullen look. "What was that for?"
"Didn't wake up, did you?" he asks.
Qifrey's pout morphs into a hopeful expression but he keeps his lip pouted out. "Didn't," he whispers, then, "you made your point, now kiss it better?"
Olly kisses him again. Gentler, slower, tempting fate by scooting a few inches closer on the bed so press firmer into it. Qifrey doesn't pull away but when they break the kiss he's even more flushed, tips of his ears pink and breath coming in short huffs for a moment before he settles again.
"Pants next," Qifrey offers, toes still rubbing against Olly's ankle.
"And not skirts?" Olruggio asks. When Qifrey nods he shrugs and untangles himself to squirm out of the article of clothing. Qifrey hesitates so when he lays back down he gets to watch most of the process the other man goes through, endearment burning in his chest like a flame.
When they both lay back down, settled close but not touching, the first point of contact Qifrey makes is his toes against Olruggio's ankle. They press there, hesitant at first but eventually fully pushed as hard as they can against the skin without kicking his leg away. His toes splay a little, almost framing either side of his ankle, and Olruggio makes a face.
"What?" Qifrey asks, smiling like he's pretending he doesn't know.
Olruggio huffs at him and reaches down, hiking his skirt up enough to grab his leg behind his knee and pull it up until his foot is tucked behind his calf. Qifrey freezes for a beat, eye wide, before his expression simmers into a pleasant little grin. Olruggio doesn't move his hand, instead rubbing his thumb against the side of his knee.
"Is this where I find out you're ticklish after all these years?" he asks.
Olruggio snorts at him. "I don't want you grabbin' me with your toes, is that so weird?" Qifrey wiggles his toes against his calf and he bites down a loud laugh, instead coming out half choked. "Stop that."
"You're just jealous I can grab my pen with them when I drop it."
"Maybe a little."
Qifrey grins at him and places a hand over Olruggio's on his knee, tugging at the wrist until he slowly slides it up his thigh. They go a few inches before they stop, Olruggio's palm pressing into the meat of it.
"It's this alright?" he asks.
Qifrey smiles. "Is it alright with you?"
"Don't dodge the question."
"I'm not—"
"You are," Olruggio huffs, "say what you mean." Qifrey stays silent, hesitant, and he goes to pull his hand away. The grip on his wrist tightens, urgent. "Qifrey…"
"I want to touch you there," he says finally, squeezing at his wrist again. "So it has to be alright in reverse."
Olruggio clicks his tongue. He shifts, grabbing Qifrey's wrist instead and guiding it to his own leg. He presses it firmly against this thigh, still covered by his skirts, and feels Qifrey grip tightly at the fabric.
"Say what you mean," Olruggio repeats softer. He lets go of Qifrey's wrist and after a moment of hesitation he pulls the fabric up slowly so Qifrey can press his hand to his bare thigh. "Say what you want."
"I want a lot of things," Qifrey whispers, dipping his face down to hide from Olruggio's eyes. "I can't say them all yet."
Olruggio leans in and nuzzles a kiss into his hair. "That's fine," he says, "just ask for what you can."
Qifrey hums softly and pulls Olruggio's leg up until it's hiked over his hip, hand pressing along the back of his thigh and lingering just shy of the swell of his ass. Then he rubs back down, to the back of his knee, before sliding up again. Olruggio shivers and sucks in a slow breath, forcing himself not to react too intensely to the feeling so as not to spook the other man.
He doesn't want him to stop. Wants this to keep going as long as they can…
"Let me…" Qifrey tries, fumbling with his request. "Please…" Olruggio isn't sure what he's being asked until Qifrey pushes his body forward, nudging their hips together. He lets himself be pushed over, Qifrey settling between his legs above him. "Oh…" Qifrey whispers, like he hadn't planned for the sensory experience this is. He shifts a little, like he's going to pull back, and Olruggio loosely wraps one of his legs around him to catch him.
"Don't go."
Qifrey gives this nervous little laugh, sounding winded, but doesn't pull away. He presses forward a little, leaning over him, and Olruggio feels why he'd tired to pull back pressing against his groin.
"Eager?" he asks, teasing. He's been at war with his own body since that first kiss.
Qifrey winces a little. "Yes and no," he admits, "I want to. I just don't… know if I can yet."
Reaching up, Olruggio cups his cheek and Qifrey leans into the touch. "We've got all the time we need now," he assures him. "Don't push yourself."
Lowering his head, Qifrey nuzzles his face against Olruggio's chest. He sighs loudly. "I want to enjoy the view without it," he admits.
"Just think about something embarrassing," Olruggio offers, combing his fingers through Qifrey's hair slowly. "Like, uh, Sage Beldaruit walking in on us." Qifrey's lower body pulls back, contorting him at an odd angle with his cheek still smooshed to the spot over his heart, and Olruggio laughs. "Works like a charm!"
"Ugh," Qifrey sighs, "maybe it's for the best we couldn't do this as teenagers. I'd have crawled out of my own skin about that…"
"I think we can make up for it now," Olruggio offers, grinning. "Want to plan a visit to the Great Hall maybe?"
"No," Qifrey shoots back, firm enough that it makes Olruggio laugh.
"Ah well, worth a shot," he replies, huffing happily when Qifrey settles back against him.
Their bodies flush, legs tangled together and Qifrey's head on his chest, it feels like… home. Perhaps the most comfortable Olly has been in years; since they stopped sharing a bed occasionally as boys for reasons he didn't understand until very recently. And even then, Qifrey never got this close…
"And here I thought you didn't want to be touched all this time," he mumbles, watching as Qifrey leans into the feather-light touches he trails over his cheek. "I feel… bad." Qifrey makes a confused sound and he shrugs. "I know I couldn't have done anything differently, I just… wish I could have. It's not fair."
The unfairness of the whole thing was enough to make anyone crazy, really. They'd been denied closeness and comfort for so long. Unable to reach out when they both so desperately wanted to. Unfair barely covered it, really.
"It was unfair to you," Qifrey says quietly, "you always liked being close, always were drawn in, and I had to push you away…" He reaches up and rubs at his eye with the back of his hand. "I used to wonder if you'd leave eventually. Find someone who did want to touch you. Sometimes I told myself that would be better; if you left on your own. But you never did…"
Olruggio huffs softly. "It's always been you," he whispers back. "I never could have found anyone else that compared. It would have been unfair to them."
Qifrey shifts and nuzzles up under his chin. "Stupid man," he grumbles, then immediately corrects himself in a mournful tone. "Nonono, you're not stupid at all. You're the most brilliant, kind man I know and I don't know what I did to deserve you…"
Laughing, Olruggio rubs his hands up and down Qifrey's back. "I can be a little dumb," he admits, "mostly bullheadedness does me in." Then, quieter, "I'm glad I stayed. I'd do it all over again for this."
Qifrey takes in a long breath and then lets it out just as slowly. When he moves again, it's to press a kiss to Olly's chin.
"I'm glad you stayed," he agrees, then, "I'm glad I stayed too."
Olruggio slides his hand down to tug at the fabric of Qifrey's skirts lightly. "Can we take these off?" he asks, "I want to be… closer."
"I want to crawl inside you and live there," Qifrey shoots back playfully. Olruggio nods energetically, chin bonking lightly against Qifrey's nose, and he laughs loudly. "Yes, we can take them off now."
Stripping down to just their underclothes they crawl back into each other's arms, nestled close on their sides again. Olruggio tosses his leg over Qifrey's hip and Qifrey tucks his foot behind the back of the knee on his other leg. Hands reach up to cradle his face before sliding back to tangle in his hair and Olruggio sighs contently through his nose.
"So warm," Qifrey repeats for the nth time. He leans in and presses his lips to Olruggio's forehead. "I wish I could have held you sooner. I've been cold for so long I've forgotten what warmth is."
Olruggio rubs his hand up and down Qifrey's ribs. "I'll help warm you up," he promises. Qifrey squeezes his eye shut and let's out a relieved sigh. "I can keep you warm."
"I'm tired," Qifrey whispers, like a secret. Like he hasn't been tired for years. "Can I sleep? Will you be here when I wake?"
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Swear it."
Qifrey leans in and kisses him. Slow, tender, a little nervous. Then he nestles in under Olruggio's chin, arm slung over his waist. "Okay," he whispers, "I don't think I could bear thinking this was a dream." Olruggio reaches down and lightly pinches at his side and Qifrey laughs. "Ow, alright alright… not a dream. Lucky me."
Eventually, dreams do find them. But they're gentle ones, ones that don't rip away the future yet again after so many years fighting for it.
Morning comes early, though not for lack of trying to sleep in. Olruggio blinks blearily in the early light, trying to figure out what woke him at all. It feels strange, really, trying to puzzle out why he would wake up when he's so warm, the puff of Qifrey's white hair pillowing his chin comfortably. Then, he feels it—a faint tickling against his throat. Like fingers, like… leaves.
Frowning, he leans back to look at Qifrey and finds his missing eye has sprouted a small, silver branch. The growth is new; thin with soft, fresh leaves. He cocks his head and reaches down without thinking to touch it, fingertips dancing across it ever so lightly before he presses his thumb to the outside corner of Qifrey's eye and rubs gently at the slight crinkle there. The beginning of crow's feet from years of smiling. It feels reassuring to know he'll be smiling and meaning it now, at least.
"Mm," Qifrey makes a small noise and shifts. Tries to press himself back against Olruggio's chest but meets the resistance of his hand and his face contorts into a little frustrated frown as he leans against it.
"You sprouted, love," Olruggio tells him softly.
Qifrey, eye still closed, whines in clear distress. "Nooo," he moans, "not more…"
It's certainly more than the core they'd planned to remove today. Olruggio swallows the guilt that bubbles in his chest about it; they'd worked so hard on all this to be sure Qifrey could have comfort, could feel love. Price to be paid or not, it was worth it if they got to have this life. He hopes, anyway…
Qifrey seems uncomfortable, so Olruggio takes it upon himself to slip his clothes back on and go speak with the doctor who'd planned the procedure about it. He doesn't understand all of it but he knows they'll be doing this with Qifrey awake and without anything for pain, something that feels close to torture… They start prepping, saying something about needing to work fast if it's grown, and Olruggio watches them sweep by before returning to Qifrey, who is sitting up in bed, dressed and with a cup of tea one of the nurses brought him.
"You don't have to stay," he says softly, reaching out to take Olruggio's hand when he moves to sit next to him. "It won't be nice to see."
"I'm not leaving you to this," Olruggio counters, almost offended.
And despite all his attempted bravado, Qifrey gives a little sigh of relief. "I was hoping you'd say that…"
It doesn't make what comes next any easier to be there for. The flurry of work quickly relegates Olruggio to a corner, as near to the bed as he can get, while the doctor and nurses first inspect Qifrey's eye and then begin to slowly work at carving the growth out of the socket. Qifrey doesn't make much of a sound at first, which is somehow worse, but after the first few cuts his breathing gets harsher, the bodies shielding him from Olruggio's view mostly but what peeks he get showing him tense, whole body taught.
There's bloody cloths and scalpels, someone holding Qifrey's face still while the doctor works. Carves him, Olruggio thinks. Like he is the tree, being pruned of old or unwanted branches instead of a man in pain. Do the other hosts of the Silverwood feel pain when the tree's branches are harvested or are they simply too gone by then? His mind clouds, heartbeat in his ears and rolling waves in his stomach, until he hears a small sound break free.
"Olly…"
Qifrey sticks his hand out between the gap of bodies and flexes his fingers, desperate. Olruggio can only see the smallest sliver of his face in the next space, eye wide with fear. "Olly," he whispers again, pleads. Olruggio wants to take his hand and pull him away from the people causing him so much distress but he can't, he can't, they have to do this—
"Please," Qifrey sobs, face contorting and trying to reach for him just a little further.
Olruggio lunges forward, grabbing his hand and wrapping both of his around it. He squeezes, feeling Qifrey return it, and shuffles forward on his knees until he can kneel next to the bed between two of the nurses. They let him, seemingly opting to let whatever calms Qifrey even a little overrule any other rules.
Qifrey tries to turn toward him and a hand firmly grasps at his jaw, trying to still him while they work. It's as gentle as it can be but the sight still makes bile rise in Olruggio's throat. Don't, stop, let him go. He doesn't say any of this, just presses closer until he can press his forehead to Qifrey's temple and it seems to still him.
"Sorry," he whispers. Both to Qifrey and the nurses. One of the women rests a hand on his shoulder, comforting. Qifrey squeezes his hand. All is forgiven, he supposes. "I love you," he tells Qifrey, trying not to listen to the sound of what is being done to his other eye. "I'm here."
Qifrey squeezes his eye closed and tears leak down his face toward his temple, ending up damp on Olruggio's face too. He's not sure if he's crying too to add to them or, really, if it matters who's they are. He wants to cry, so that's enough.
There's a wet sound, the doctors still working, and Olruggio winces at it. It sounds painful and the way Qifrey squeezes at his hand tells him all he needs to know about it. It seems to get worse, until Qifrey is pushing against the hands holding his shoulders down and trying to squirm away. Or, rather, trying to squirm toward Olruggio, trying to get back to him, pleading his name again in little desperate rasps.
"Olly—pl—nn—" Qifrey chokes out a sob, still trying to get to him. Olruggio presses closer just to try and help still him, not wanting Qifrey to hurt himself even more in this.
"We're almost done," the nurse whispers, gritting her teeth to try and steady Qifrey's arm.
"Shh," Olruggio tries, letting Qifrey squeeze his hand till it burns somewhere deep inside it and his fingertips go numb. "Shh, just a little longer."
Qifrey makes a noise he's never heard before in all the time they've been around each other. It sounds like it comes from the back of his throat—a cut off shriek, maybe. The sound of the doctor working, for a brief moment, reminds Olruggio of carving into a fruit with a melon baller—just more wet. Qifrey opens his mouth but no noise comes out as he mouths out some sort of curse or just a sound that doesn't have enough force behind it to make itself audible. Then the doctor pulls his hands back and Qifrey goes full body limp against the bed, sucking in a sharp breath that dissolves into coughing sobs. The nurses step back and Olruggio lunges forward, halfway crawling up onto the bed to press himself into Qifrey's side the second he can.
The doctor and most of the nurses file out, the one who had put a hand on Olruggio's shoulder lingering and fiddling with some wound dressing items on a tray. She doesn't seem urgent about the whole thing, so for the moment he focuses his attention on Qifrey. He looks paler than usual, face smeared with inky colored blood, but the second he's free to move he sits up and curls into Olruggio for comfort.
Qifrey burrows under Olruggio's chin, trying to make himself as small as he can in his lap. Warm blood drips from his face, soaking his shirt, but Olruggio props his chin on his head and looks at the nurse with a severity he hopes doesn't come off as glaring. She doesn't deserve it, even if he feels like his face unavoidably looks like a scowl.
"Leave," he says, "I can mind him."
"Call if you need anything," she says softly.
"I will."
And she leaves, bless her, so Olruggio can turn his face down to nuzzle his way into the space Qifrey's is hidden in. He's still sobbing, though quieter now, and gripping at Olruggio like he's terrified one of them will be ripped away. That side of his face looks swollen, a little bruised, but the growth of the Silverwood is gone…
"Qifrey," Olruggio whispers, voice shaking. He pushes until he can bump their foreheads together. "Hey, hey talk to me?"
"I don't—I-I don't—" Qifrey hiccups and scrunches his face up, trying to organize his sobs into words. "I don't want an-anyone to t-touch me but you."
Olruggio swallows and rubs his forehead against Qifrey's. "I gotchu," he whispers, "m'not gonna let anyone else touch you."
Relief, somehow, sinks into Qifrey. He goes a little limp, leaning into Olruggio's embrace further. "Okay," he breathes, "okay. You promise?"
"Swear it."
Qifrey sinks down to press his cheek against his shoulder, breathing starting to even out. He sniffles wetly. "Okay."
When Qifrey's breathing evens out a little, Olruggio shifts to lean him back and get a look at his face. The left side is really swollen now, a nasty bruise blooming on his cheek, and the empty socket is still bleeding, eyelids scrunched closed over it. For a brief moment he wonders if they did more harm than good before forcing it down; the Silverwood growth is gone and that was the goal, he reminds himself firmly.
"Here, let me help," he whispers, grabbing a wet rag from the basin next to the bed. He presses it to Qifrey's cheek gently, pausing when he flinches before wiping at the blood smeared across his skin. "Looks like it hurts."
"Nnhuh," Qifrey mumbles, nodding very slightly. He closes his other eye and pulls in a slow breath to steady himself as Olruggio wipes below his missing eye.
"I know you don't want the doctors near you right now, but will you let me try and patch it up? So you won't have to be bleeding everywhere…" Olruggio asks. Qifrey seems to debate the question for a moment, chewing his lower lip, before nodding. "Alright. S'gonna hurt when I have to pack it," he warns.
Another shaky inhale and Qifrey nods, opening his eye. "I know," he says, "but you'll be gentle."
"M'not trained for it," Olruggio chuckles softly, rubbing a crust of blood from the corner of his eye. "So it won't be the best job."
"But you're careful with me," Qifrey reasons, voice quiet, "so it'll be alright."
Hard to argue with that logic. Olruggio nods and gently rubs at the bloody eyelid now, trying to clear as much as he can before they bring gauze and bandages into the equation. "Always am," he agrees.
Once he's cleaned around and in the socket as best he can, Olruggio carefully packs in a few wads of gauze. Qifrey grips his forearm hard, nails digging into his skin, but stays still for the process. It's only once he's done, bandage holding everything in place, that he seems to realize he's left little bloody half-moons in his wake. Nervous, he rubs at Olruggio's arm.
"Sorry," Qifrey whispers.
Smiling, Olruggio wipes at his arm with the same dampened, bloody rag and shrugs. "It's fine," he says, "nothing I can't handle."
Settled some, Qifrey leans forward and butts his forehead against Olruggio's shoulder. His voice is still raspy when he speaks again, could probably use some tea. But that's an idea for later, when he's less obviously on edge.
"Did you mean it? No one else has to touch me again? Will you handle the new growth… next time?" he asks softly.
"I swore, didn't I?" Olruggio asks. He presses a kiss to the other man's temple. "What's a little blood between us, huh?"
This earns him a shaky little laugh. He loves the sound of it, especially after listening to Qifrey wail and sob in pain. "Partners in pain indeed…"
"Ah, don't call us that still," he tuts, shaking his head. "Hardly fits anymore. I get to take care of you and hold you… Nothing about that is anything but bliss."
"Mm, partners in bliss doesn't have the same ring," Qifrey remarks, still slumped against him.
Olruggio smiles. "We'll work on it," he promises.
They lapse into silence for a moment, just breathing slowly, until Qifrey pulls in a shaky breath. The exhale rattles his shoulders and Olruggio squeezes him a little tighter, worried. This, sadly, only seems to summon a choked up little sound.
"Sorry," Qifrey whispers, "I'm sorry." He reaches up and rubs at his eye with his sleeve, sniffling. "I thought I was out of tears."
"Shh, don't worry about it," trying to squeeze just a bit more love into him, Olruggio presses his face into Qifrey's hair. There's another tremble, Qifrey hiccuping on a sob. "I gotcha…"
Qifrey burrows himself further into Olruggio's chest now that he can, clutching at his shirt. Even with his swollen face he seems to value the closeness over avoiding the risk of further irritation. Olruggio rubs his hand up and down his back.
After a moment of choking half sobs the dam finally seems to break and Qifrey whimpers. He presses his face into Olruggio's neck and sobs openly. At first, Olly lets him cry but as the sobs become more choked, shoulders shaking, he gently takes hold of Qifrey to pull him back to face him.
"Hey, hey," he whispers, "breathe…"
Qifrey wheezes in a breath once, twice, then rattles with another sob. Olruggio presses closer, hands on his shoulders, and nudges their foreheads together.
"Qifrey," he says slowly, "breathe. Just like this…" He sucks in a long, slow breath and waits for Qifrey to finally manage to do the same, holding it together, before they both let out a slow exhale. "That's it," he smiles, soft. "Again, okay?" They repeat the process, Qifrey's breath shaking but managing to follow Olruggio's lead anyway. "Good…"
"Hurts," Qifrey rasps.
It worries Olruggio and he clutches at his face, turning it to the side to look at the bandaged spot. It still looks irritated, so he asks, "Where does it hurt?"
And Qifrey, hiccuping through another sniffle, rubs at the center of his chest. "Here," he says.
"Oh," Olruggio whispers, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's okay, just keep breathing."
For his part, Qifrey makes a good effort to. He keeps rubbing his hand against his chest before Olly replaces it with his own, massaging into the spot gently. This seems to settle him and Qifrey slumps forward a little, holding his arm again but this time like he's afraid it will pull away without warning rather than it causing him discomfort.
"You're more calm than I thought you'd be, actually," Olruggio says, smiling faintly. Qifrey makes a quizzical noise and he nods. "I don't know if I could breathe evenly in your place."
Qifrey snorts softly. "I-I only am because of you."
"Huh," Olruggio grins, "I'm more magical than I thought I was."
Qifrey sighs, something close to content, and nuzzles his head up under Olruggio's chin. "Will you stay?" he asks. As if that was even up for debate…
"Not going anywhere," Olruggio promises, "should know that about me by now."
A laugh answers him. Small and shaky, just a little bit pained, but a laugh all the same. It feels like such a relief to hear, to feel against his throat, to know Qifrey still has them in him…
"I know," he says softly, words already slurring a little with exhaustion. "S'just checking…"
"Want anything for pain?" Olruggio asks, knowing he has a limited time to get such things out of Qifrey at the moment.
Qifrey makes a little "mm-nh" noise and shakes his head. "I have you. S'all I need…"