Chapter Text
Nothing could've prepared Olruggio when he opened the door of the atelier to the sight of distress from Qifrey’s young four apprentices all standing anxiously around a boy their age, dressed in a tattered clothing.
Olruggio freezes the moment he recognizes who exactly he's looking at, eyes caught on to the familiar white hair that could only belong to his beloved friend.
“Professor Olruggio!” Coco cried, her hurried steps echoing in the otherwise quiet atelier. “We found Professor Qifrey in the bath—”
“We heard a noise—”
“Professor Qifrey said he was going to try out a new water spell—”
The children's voices mixed with one another, all sharing the same worry, and Olruggio feels his heart squeezes.
The boy — Qifrey — seems to notice that the girls have sort of moved away from him in favor of nearing Olruggio. He hugs his tattered clothing closer to him, and folds in on himself from where he's sat on the floor, just a few steps away from the unlit fireplace. Seeking whatever warmth he could find.
That prompted Olruggio to move. He pats Coco's and Tetia's heads, both girls standing by his side seeking solace.
“It's alright,” he says reassuringly. To the girls, to Qifrey, and to himself.
He looks over to Agott, who looks back at him with determination to do well already lit alive in her eyes, and asks, “Could you go to my room and bring me my link rings?”
Agott nods immediately, understands which magic contraption Olruggio wanted and sets off towards the stairs.
He feels another pair of eyes looking at him, awaiting for any sort of thing to be done.
“Richeh, can you prepare a light meal? Something with soup, perhaps?”
She nods, “Richeh will make it delicious.”
Tetia raises her hand as she offers to help Richeh, and the two wastes no time heading for the kitchen.
His hand finds the top of Coco's head again, and he has to lower himself to her eye-level before asking if she would be willing to go back to the bath to collect Qifrey's things.
“I'll go, Professor Olruggio!”
Hearing footsteps from the stairs, they both turn to see Agott returning with the link rings. “I'll go with you,” she says.
“Just his stuffs,” Olruggio reminded them. “If there's anything amiss inside, don't touch it.”
Agott hands him his contraption, and promptly leaves with Coco.
Then there's quiet. He can hear Richeh and Tetia cooking in the kitchen along with the fading sound of footsteps of the other two, but the living room is now encased in silence and shrouded with a growing darkness.
He wears the link rings as he moves toward the fireplace.
“Hey, I'm going to lit the fireplace in a bit,” he says gently. The last thing Olruggio wants to do is to spook Qifrey into folding in on himself more than he already is. He hasn't moved an inch since the girls moved away from him.
No encroaching in on his space, clearly. But then he needs to be close to him for the link rings to do its job as intended. Olruggio crouches in front of the fireplace, made quick work of the glyph on his palm quire before ripping the page off and setting it on the fireplace.
The fire sparkles to life, and he hears a young boy's surprised breath from behind him.
Moving on muscle memory, Olruggio’s right hand closes the quire and tucks it into his pouch while the other hand reaches for the fire logs to stack them up inside the hearth. “That should warm this place up real quick.” He turns to face Qifrey, and feels his gut punched in the next second.
Qifrey hadn't lifted his head from his hands hugging his legs, but his eyes are exposed. His eyes — eye — zeroes in onto the fire. The hair that covers his right side are already beginning to crease with blood, added with the wetness of both water and dirt. Despite that, Olruggio finds himself more focused on the look reflected in Qifrey's eye.
The boy doesn't blink against the bright colour of fire, he takes it in greedily with how widened his pupil is. It is as if he's afraid if he looks away for even a second, the fire would die.
Olruggio, still crouching on his knees, makes sure to stay within his sight as he tries to move closer to Qifrey.
He stops short when the eye snaps to him, and quickly raises his hands where Qifrey can see it.
“This is going to help warm you up,” he shows Qifrey the link rings worn on both his thumbs. Qifrey's eyesight falls onto it. “It's designed to dry off things quickly, and it's harmless. I promise.”
Qifrey jerks back from his word, his hands falling off from his knees as he tries to move back.
“No,” he croaks. His face that was covered behind his arms earlier now exposed for Olruggio to see the fear painted on it.
Olruggio doesn't move to follow him but says, “I promise you it won't hurt.”
“No!”
“Qifrey—”
“Lies! It hurt. I don't—”
The rest of his words fell on deaf ears as Olruggio’s brain short circuits. His headspace now devoid of any other thoughts, giving room for the word that it hurts to echo in his mind.
Olruggio doesn’t know the full story behind Qifrey’s past— only knew enough to not question him about it. He doesn’t need to ask for more details when the words themselves had painted the picture:
A boy who had lost an eye, obsessed with escaping the Great Hall to reclaim his memories.
Olruggio didn’t care who Qifrey was before he ended up under Beldaruit’s care. He didn’t mind the occasional whispers about an eccentric boy with no past to tell. And Qifrey himself has never talked about it, so Olruggio didn’t ask.
Maybe he should’ve. Maybe he should’ve cared more. Maybe the reason why Qifrey never brought it up was because Olruggio isn’t someone he could trust.
No, that can’t be it. Qifrey trusts him. Otherwise…
The sound of pots and kettle from the kitchen steals his attention, he hears Tetia’s bright voice telling the food to be delicious! and Richeh’s quiet repeat of it.
Qifrey trusts him. Olruggio would be doing their friendship dishonour by questioning it. Not when he’s now having four young apprentices under his care and by extension— falling under Olruggio’s care as well.
He swallows heavily, feeling the guilt sneaking in. Someone had told Qifrey the exact same words then proceeded to hurt him after. The boy before, being lied to, and suffered the lost of an eye and his memories.
Olruggio feels sick to his stomach. He swallows again, eyes focusing back on Qifrey who had stopped squirming at Olruggio’s sudden silence. They stare at each other, at a loss of what to do.
Qifrey is still wet though, and he needs to be dried off quick before the cold grows on him. Luckily, Agott and Coco reappears from the stairs.
“We found Professor Qifrey’s magic items on the floor,” Coco reports. They both remained at the foot of the stairs, a polite distance away from Qifrey who has shied away again. “But his palm quire…” she trails off hesitatingly as her hand presents the soaked papers.
Olruggio couldn’t be more relieved for the opportunity. He beckons for Coco to bring the item to him. “What of the rest?”
“In good condition,” Agott speaks up. She casts a glance towards Qifrey before meeting Olruggio’s eyes. “We’ve placed them inside the professor’s room.”
“Thanks, you two.” When Coco is a hands away from him, Olruggio turns briefly to the boy to address him. “I’m going to use these link rings to dry off this quire here,” he thumbs back to the item. “Then you can ask Coco whether it hurts or not, since she’s holding it.”
Coco’s back straightened at the sudden task she’s given, and Olruggio feels the fondness tugging his lip upward at the scene. These girls adore Qifrey to bits, there’s no question about it.
Not bothering to check whether Qifrey’s attention is on him or Coco, because waiting will only put the boy on the spot, he joins his thumbs together to connect the link rings. It glows as warm air spreads toward Coco’s awaiting hands. The soaked pages of the quire starts to sway as it dries up.
When he’s sure that it’s dried up perfectly for good use of the ink again, Olruggio disconnects the rings and throws Qifrey a smile. “Told ya.”
Qifrey’s gaze moves from the quire to meet Coco’s eyes. He doesn’t speak, but the intention is clear in his furrowed brows. Coco stumbles around her words to say, “It doesn’t hurt!”
And then, because she loves magic too much, she rambles on, “I was soaked from the rain before and Brushbuddy was too but then he sneaked into Professor Olruggio’s room and then I sneaked in to bring him back and then I got caught by Professor Olruggio who was holding Brushbuddy before he handed Brushbuddy back to me and then I noticed Brushbuddy was completely fluffed up and warm and dry—”
“Coco, you’re—” Agott tries.
“—and then Professor Olruggio used the link rings on me and then I was dried up perfectly.”
Agott sighs, “You confused him.”
Olruggio looks at Qifrey, who had clearly tried to follow Coco’s excited ramblings but got lost halfway through it. He understood what Coco wanted to tell Qifrey; that it didn’t hurt. Qifrey must’ve caught on too, because the boy slowly moves his attention back on Olruggio.
He then wanted to ask the girls to move into the kitchen, but Agott, who’s too perceptive for her age, beats him to it when she tugs on Coco’s arm sleeve and takes her to the kitchen without a word. Coco, on her part, follows along. Her hands hugging Qifrey’s palm quire.
Olruggio gives them a second after silence descended down again before showing the still worn link rings to Qifrey.
The boy doesn’t move, but he doesn’t refuse either so he takes that as his cue to come near him. When Olruggio lifts his thumbs to connect the rings, he reassures Qifrey again, in a quiet voice that it won’t hurt.
Qifrey’s eye glances at him for a quick second before snapping back to the contraption, unblinking, yet trusting.
When the ring glows, and warm air starts to engulf Qifrey’s small form, the boy’s breathing hitches in response. Olruggio has to remind himself to breathe, his own eyes fixed on Qifrey’s expression. Suddenly not trusting the contraption to work following its purpose, as if the link ring wasn’t made by him— like it could actually betray Qifrey’s trust and hurt him.
They stayed silent throughout the process until Qifrey lifts his hands to study them. Only then Olruggio takes a small step back in his crouching form.
“Not so bad, is it?” he asked. Unable to bear the silence of watching Qifrey turn his hand this and that way to confirm that what was told is actually true.
But then he makes a pained whimper, hands flying up to his right side of face— covering his right eye.
“Does it hurt?” Way to go to ask an obvious question, dumbruggio.
But then Qifrey shakes his head, expression souring and Olruggio panics because oh no he’s in pain isn’t he, he just doesn’t want to admit it because of trust issues oh no he looks like he’s about to cry—
And then Qifrey’s expression isn’t souring anymore, his lip stops quivering, and he looks at Olruggio weirdly.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Voice surprisingly steady.
“Huh?”
It is only then that Olruggio belatedly realized he’s been floundering his hands in the air, a habit he usually unconsciously do when he’s either embarrassed or restless.
Young Qifrey doesn’t ask again, but his hands fell away from his face. He looked suddenly mature at that moment, like he’s collected himself enough to not hide away any longer.
Feeling rather abashed at the turn events, Olruggio coughs into his fist and brushes his sleeve before standing to his full height.
Qifrey doesn’t look as reserved as he was before, but the boy doesn’t budge from where he’s still huddled against the wall. The only current adult witch contemplates for a moment whether he wants to bring Qifrey to the kitchen or have the girls bring him the dinner— but once again, the apprentices beat him to it.
Tetia’s head jumps out from behind the stairs, and with a bright smile announces that dinner’s ready before promptly disappearing off again.
Olruggio glances back at young Qifrey, raises his eyebrow in question when the boy stares back at him.
And then he stands up, wobbly still, but it is a movement nonetheless. Olruggio’s body moves before his mind can catch up, and he helps Qifrey to properly stand on his own two feet with a gentle hand holding his arm.
Qifrey said nothing and didn’t recoil from the touch. He stands there then, waiting for Olruggio to lead him as his eye studies his face again. As if trying to gauge what sort of person Olruggio is.
The man himself only realizes that he’s in very close proximity with Qifrey when their eyes met. He doesn’t know what to say, tongue suddenly folding in on itself and refusing to give way for words to come out. So he silently lets go of Qifrey’s small arm, walks to the kitchen knowing that he’ll be followed.
As he takes the steps down into the kitchen, the girls have already finished setting up the table and are each awaiting on their usual seating spot. Their eyes were all focused on Olruggio, but he caught the quick glance they all threw towards the kid following him from behind.
It’s an adorable sight, were the situation not so unfortunate.
They had dinner in a relatively quiet atmosphere, with the girls occasionally saying a comment or two about the food. Qifrey ate in silence, with little portion that Olruggio is sure can’t be enough to sate a human’s hunger. But then again, he’s just thankful enough that Qifrey is eating together with them, albeit he spoke not a word.
When they finished, the girls wordlessly begins to clean the table. Richeh swiftly snatched the bowl that Qifrey had used — startling the boy in the process — but she merely nodded upon seeing that his bowl is clean.
Olruggio then brings Qifrey to his atelier.
“This is my place,” he explains as he enters the door. “It’s a bit messy, so mind yourself.”
He walks to the hearth, intending to light the fire up. There were quiet shuffling behind him before Qifrey appeared next to him. His eye follows every movement Olruggio makes as he conjures up the fire glyph. When it’s done, Qifrey wordlessly settles on the floor, arms hugging his knees as his gaze focuses on the fire.
Olruggio leaves the young boy to his own device as he moves around in his atelier, gathering the needed items. He only crouches down next to him after Olruggio had picked the things he’d wanted. He places the small basket on where Qifrey can see it before quietly saying, “I need to clean your wound.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he replied. Voice equally quiet, the tone unattached. His attention elsewhere, not on the dried blood on his skin.
“The dirt still needs to be wiped off, though.”
“I’ll do it myself.”
“Okay, but you’ll let me look at it afterwards.”
“…fine.”
His heart tugs painfully at the stubbornness that couldn’t be anyone else’s but Qifrey’s. Olruggio finds himself missing Qifrey, in that moment. It’s a silly notion, when the person beside him is still Qifrey, but it’s as if he’s introduced to a new colour and saw just how much their friendship is lacking that hue.
Qifrey moves to take the clean cloth, ignores the bowl of water prepared beside it, and sets to wipe his face as best as he could— which meant, he’s just scrubbing the cloth all over his face.
The sight reminds Olruggio of Qifrey at the very beginning of their friendship.
Qifrey, who had been cold to everyone not because he’s heartless— but because he doesn’t know how to navigate around with only an eye paired with lost memories.
Olruggio swallows thickly, and excuses himself to check the bath where Qifrey had faced the mishap. When he returned, he inspected Qifrey’s wound gently. He hovered a little too long from Qifrey’s hair that shadows his right side of the eye, and the boy notices.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he repeated. Again, with a weird expression written all over his face at the sudden solemn that washes over Olruggio.
Pushing through the sick feeling in his stomach that only seems to grow stronger with each passing second as he looks at young Qifrey, he brushes away the hair and has to reign in from showing too much emotion on his face at the sight that greets him.
It isn’t a gnarly sight, nor gory to cause nausea, and he can’t see the hollowness behind it as Qifrey has his eyes shut. But there’s still some blood crusts caught in his lashes, and Olruggio questions himself whether he has the right to wipe it off.
Young Qifrey, on the other hand, feels the hesitance radiating off of Olruggio. He then huffs, a little exasperated.
“It really doesn’t hurt.”
“It’s not that…” Olruggio trails off.
“What then?” Qifrey’s eyebrows dip. “Unless you’re revolted by this?”
“No,” he rebuked immediately.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s complicated.”
“How?”
“Qifrey, you’re my friend.”
“What does that have to do anything with this?”
Everything.
Qifrey continues, “You say you’re my friend, but you’re acting like this is the first time you saw my missing eye. How close were we then, if we took in apprentices together but I’ve never showed you my wound?”
Olruggio’s hand reaches for the cloth, soaks it in the water to stall time. To think.
How close were we?
Isn’t that a question for the Three Sages. He doesn’t want to ruminate over this when he has to clean the blood and put him in clean clothes, and then maybe encourage him to take a quick bath— but Qifrey’s aversion to water would be hard to reason with, especially now.
So, clean the wound, have a change of clothes, and then bed.
Only then will Olruggio allow himself room to think.