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"You be my star, I'll be your sky
You can hide underneath me and come out at night
I turn jet black, and you show off your light
I live to let you shine."
- Boats and Birds by Gregory and The Hawk
Qifrey never allowed his mind to roam.
He didn't allow himself to dream too much, nor indulge in his own mundane thoughts.
For his mind had a tendency to elevate those mundane thoughts into much more elaborate fantasies.
He'd distract himself by keeping things in the palm of his hand....Whether that was a pen, or kitchen knife, or book, or a plant even.
Feeling things around him kept him grounded like he should've been.
Staying grounded, staying in the moment, and staying awake, would keep him alive.
When those dreams and fantasies stretch too long, or.... When they grow too vivid, too comfortable, the centipede in the pit of his stomach begins to crawl.
Cooking kept him grounded. Heating the yam into its softest, slicing through it like butter, then gently and delicately separating the tiniest of bones from the flesh of the fish, the sautéing on the final stage, and the textures that made the meal.... Is what fulfilled him.
His eyes may have failed him.... But his hands did not. He relied on feeling around himself, making out textures that the blur of his eye couldn't find.
The pen in his hand felt not like a pen, but an extension of himself, carried by sheer muscle memory, and the decades of lines and curves and the bump on the middle finger and ink stained hands.
Including the one spell he had drawn the most.
Memory erasure.
Engraved into his very being, burned into the fibre of his tendons, enough for him to draw it when unconscious too.
Whether he liked it or not.
This particular night, Qifrey had set out of the Atelier into Kalhn, with his dear friend Olruggio.
Oru made sure to put Tetia in charge of making sure the girls sleep and don't snoop around.
The work was mundane, to Qifrey atleast. They were tasked to carry out fixes of everyday problems of the people in the city surrounding the tower.
Unclogging a water pipe that connected the drains of five houses, repairing street lamps drenched in water, creating protective and yet invisible barriers, et cetera.
Olruggio got all but one task done before he got swarmed by a small fan following. Their faces glowing from excitement, eyes sparkling, upon witnessing him do good work. Said good work, was just him drying up soaked lumber with a spell similar to the link rings, but on a larger scale.
A man threw his arm over his shoulders, weighing him down more than his thick velvet coat already did. Several pat his back and shoulders, and one clasped his hands too, whilst profusely thanking him for everything he's done.
Qifrey watched from a distance.
Something twisted in his guts.
His nose twitched, and he pressed his lips into a line.
Olruggio of The Torch. Bright, radiant, and glistening like gold under a sharp burning sunset. Eyes followed wherever he went. He may have looked mundane, but out stood his purity, his honesty, his kindness, and his ever so beautiful irradiance.
His dear friend and his guiding lamp, pulling him out of murky waters without ever trying.
Qifrey turned away, fiddling with his coat. Turning it around his finger and letting go and doing it again.
All those hands that roamed around Olruggio, and none of them were his own.
Damned in this endless cycle of erasure and reliving the same memory over and over and over again until he's grown so desensitized that he feels nothing when he unclips the fold in his cap and closes the circle on his dear friend's forehead.
Because of that..... Abhorrent, warped, and vile seed that grew it's roots thinner than his own veins, ravaging his insides and keeping him from wanting that which every living thing wishes for.....whether fish, bird, dragon, liongoat, scalewolf, insect, or human;
Comfort.
Qifrey sometimes thinks about how much comfort he'd feel if he finally let himself go. If he finally let himself fall into his friend's dear hands.
The thought alone makes the silverwood burst forth.
And so, Qifrey's hands are weighed down by shackles, unbreakable and yet invisible, keeping everything to himself and stepping away from the gleaming blaze that Olruggio is, lest he gets too close and ignites himself.
He breathed in the nightly air, tightening his right hand around his left elbow with enough pressure to make it hurt, and will the roots back to their crevices.
"Thank ye' kindly, sir Olruggio!"
"Ain't much.... But you're welcome anyways."
The mage murmured as he rubbed his nape.
"Except, you are quite brilliant, Oru."
Qifrey chimed in, speaking clear enough so others could hear. He smiled gently.
"Don't undermine yourself now."
".......Right..."
Olruggio rubbed his neck and turned away. If Qifrey's gaze had lingered even a second more, he'd have noticed the red in his face.
With that, Olruggio and Qifrey decided to drag themselves to Mr. Nolnoa's to have a chat.
That's where the old grey-bearded fellow enthusiastically suggested a tavern where the three could ease their nerves and drink at. Yes, he made sure to send young Tartah home prior to that.
Qifrey swore he could see the light flow back into his dear friend's eyes, upon hearing the word 'tavern' slip from Nolnoa's mouth.
Himself though, he wasn't much of a drinker. He only made sure to accompany Oru and keep him from stumbling into consequential and maybe even disastrous interactions and situations.
But a problem arose today. He wasn't sure how this even occurred.
Olruggio had decided to order something new, something he hadn't had before. Some fiery new alcohol that witches and commoners alike gossiped about.
But, by the time it arrived, Oru had his head flat on the table.
With the initial recipient out cold on the table, both Nolnoa and Qifrey were hesitant on what to make of this threatening looking drink on their table.
It wasn't really threatening, just. Unfamiliar.
"Yknow Qifrey, I have quite some experience when it comes to-"
"No, Mr. Nolnoa. I can't let you drink this."
"Why not? I'm not a lightweight."
"You.... You're a senior citizen. It's in my best interest you keep you healthy and happy when you return home to your grandson."
Qifrey smiled, before eyeing the drink. It looked no different from what he'd seen before. Nolnoa scratched his head.
"Yknow, you don't have to drink that, young man."
".......Yes, but...."
Qifrey couldn't tolerate the sight of food wasted. (Very different from when he'd waste food himself as a child in the great hall)
When Richeh puts her vegetables aside, he's stern and makes it clear that she can't waste it. Not just her, but all the girls and Olruggio too.
That too though, was Olruggios habit of never wasting a meal that slowly absorbed into Qifrey like he was a sponge soaking water.
Qifrey understands the importance of food and every granule that's made with love in a kitchen. Even if it was alcohol.... There was most likely someone behind it, as tired as his friend, who brewed it up for them.
And so with not much thought, he licked some salt off the rim and chugged it all in one go.
It had a gin base with a sour effect like a raw herbal medicine, but melted into something tangy. It heated up his throat rather quickly, and it burned him as he swallowed it. Like any other alcohol, but somehow a bit stronger.
He grimaced and his face scrunched up, and he let out a noise that half sounded like a growl and half like someone trying to clear their throat before speaking. This made Nolnoa move his glass of water into his line of sight, prompting him to drink it.
Qifrey didn't think much of it, and parted ways with old Mr.Nolnoa, wishing him safe travels.
He poked around Olruggio to see if he'd wake, which surprisingly enough, he did!
This gave him a good chance to scold his friend.
"You ordered a rather costly drink, Oru... And then you didn't have it at all."
"M' Sorry Qif, I just got a bit excited is all!" Olruggio slurred, clearly trying to keep his head from swaying to and fro.
"The idea of trying new Alcohol is, uhm, nice, y'know!"
It was when Olruggio and Qifrey were flying alongside eachother back to their Atelier with their sylph shoes, that strange effects began kicking in.
The white haired witch was always keen on remaining sober, and only having that which his body can handle. If neither works, then atleast he's practiced his entire life to keep up a straight face.
But he wasn't sure what part of that drink caused his entire body to burn up, as-if he were feverish.
His feet misaligned and the wind spell deactivated, almost causing him to tumble and fall mid flight.
Thankfully his watchful eye, being surprisingly watchful enough to notice the difference in his behaviour, caught him by his waist and arm before he could fall.
"Qifrey, what's wrong!?"
Olruggio hovered with Qifrey laying weak in his hands. He wrapped one of Qifreys arms over his shoulder before calling out again.
"Hey.... Did you have too much to drink?"
He scoffed when Qifrey grumbled.
"It's usually you carrying me around like a sack of caprice yams....."
Qifrey had never felt this way before. His mind was hither-tither and nothing that left Oru's lips ever reached his ears. His vision swam around him like fishes and the lights of his atelier that was so near, but somehow seemed miles upon miles away.
Olruggio quickly deduced that no words really worked, and dashed with his sylph shoes to their Atelier.
Before the teacher could realise it, he was on a chair in their kitchen.
It felt like he'd been spun around twenty times and told to walk straight.
Every part of his body felt flush with heat. It was a stable 'buzz' like feeling throughout his being. It was pleasant.
"Just ya' wait a minute. I'm making you some Rocklodge ginger tea."
Olruggio.
His voice reverberated and bounced inside Qifreys head, like his ears were fine tuned to that alone and nothing else.
The 'buzz' in his body, was not stable or pleasant anymore.
It gradually, dangerously, began burning.
He craned his neck back, to sight the source of the voice.
His watchful eye skillfully peeled the ginger, making sure to not hurt himself as he was rather drunk too.
But for the first time, he wasn't as intoxicated as Qifrey was.
The teacher gazed at his dear friend's back. He had shed the cloak on a chair, and only stood with his black skirt and white tunic that strategically had his nape fully visible like a feast to his eyes.
Qifrey gulped. His entire body bloomed in warmth yet again, as if an ancient fire had been rekindled. His palms grew moist with sweat and so did his face.
"Ol..ruggio...?"
He quavered, barely audible, and his watchful eye caught it.
"Yes, Qif, give me a moment. I myself can't really focus..."
His eyes trailed down from his nape, drawing a straight delicate line down to his lower back. He never let his mind wander but now... It felt as if he was being pulled into it.
His breaths taken were deeper and more measured, a futile attempt at keeping himself at bay.
But ultimately all normalcy bolted out the window when Oru turned to face him.
His eyes deep blue like the midnight sky felt brighter and clearer unlike anything he'd seen before.
His visage as delicate as the day he realized that he was to spend the rest of his life with this man.
Olruggio was saying something. Or asking something. He couldn't hear it.
Qifrey never allowed his mind to roam.
...... But he couldn't say the same about his hands.
"Damn it, you're really too far gone ain't ya."
Olruggio turned back around, putting the boiling teapot away for cooling before searching for a cup to pour it into.
"You don't usually let yourself go, what's the--"
Olruggio froze when he felt two hands wrap around him from behind.
"Wha-- huh!?"
Qifrey was pressed in against Olruggio's back, his chin resting on the latters shoulder. His hands gently grabbed his waist, before giving it a firm squeeze.
"Oru..."
Olruggio stiffened straight as a stork when Qifrey cooed into his ear, which stained a diffused red along with his cheeks.
"Qifrey... What are you-?"
The teacher then slowly, and gently, pressed his lips into the back of his watchful eye's neck, eliciting a shiver down his spine.
Something like a mix of surprise, and a shameful kind of pleasure ebbed in waves through Olruggio's body.
He tightened his fingers around the kitchen counter, and bit back a sound that would embarrass him for life, if it had come out.
This time, he'd let his hands roam.
Even it was indulgence just for a moment, he wanted to feel what was rightfully, his own.
His dearest. His watchful eye. His light, and his reason for being.
Olruggio didn't stop him.
Deep down, somewhere in the lowest pit of his soul, he wanted this.
He'd always reached out, but Qifrey was an open smoke of nothingness, only manifesting when he truly wanted so.
He's left grasping at air hoping that one day, one day he grabs a hold of his arm, and-
His body jounced when Qifrey's feverishly warm hands slipped under his tunic, tenderly tracing his musculature, as if he were a sculpture made of clay.
Olruggio's knees shivered and his chest grew warm, forcing him to lean into the kitchen counter more.
"Goodness Qifrey.... What even...."
He muttered under his breath, overwhelmed at the sudden onslaught of sensations he's never felt before.
"Have I ever told you....."
Qifrey sighed into his neck with his warm breath
".....How beautiful you are, Oru..?"
"Qifrey..."
Olruggio took a deep breath, before firmly pulling out both of Qifrey's hands from under his tunic.
"You're drunk."
He turned around to face the teacher fully, his back now away and one hand on the edge of the kitchen counter.
There was no hiding on the fact that the watchful eye craved for more. They were closer than they've ever been, breathing eachother's warm air, sharing the space of eachother's bodies.
Qifrey's hands laid on his waist, gentle, but reluctant to let go that easily.
Olruggio one hand on the counter behind him, and brought up his other to Qifrey's chest, pressing it gently as he felt the heaving of Qifrey's chest from every shallow breath he took.
The heat in his stomach spread to his chest, face, and even to his thighs where no amount of suppression could hide the flaring heat from inbetween his legs.
Despite the deep presence of the longingness to cling on more, just a little bit more, keep pushing ahead, Olruggio couldn't let his dear friend carry on under the influence of intoxication.
"I can't let you act like this... Not when you're away from your usual state of mind, Qif."
He gulped as he straightened his voice into something more authoritative, hoping it reaches his mind.
"No Oru... I'm- I'm quite alright. This is okay."
Qifrey politely smiled, very obviously trying to seem contained.
He dipped his head into Olruggio's exposed clavicle, nudging into his soft skin and breathing it in.
"I need this, Oru."
"No you don't, Qifrey. Not right now...."
Olruggio unconsciously tilted his neck up despite protesting against it. His hands hovered above Qifrey's neck, resisting the urge to pull him closer.
"Why not...? Just once. Or twice. Just my hands... My hands alone."
Qifrey's grip on Olruggios waist tightened, pressing himself further in.
He couldn't let go. Not when they're already this close.
It wasn't fair, was it? Live through days and weeks of Olruggio bathed in the affection of strangers and friends and family alike but never, ever, himself.
It wasn't fair. He wanted something.... Even a semblance of possession. A small grain of satisfaction. Something to feel. Someone to hold. Someone to embrace and someone who'd cradle him.
"Olruggio... Please..!"
"Qifrey!!"
Olruggio grabbed his shoulders and shoved him off.
The both of them quietly stared at eachother, Qifrey's hands still lingering- But he seemed taken aback.
They read eachother's faces for a moment. Qifrey was eager to get closer but Olruggio was eager to end their day with no big mistakes, like this.
He knew, that if they go any further, Qifrey would awake with guilt eating his bones like freshwater Piranhas. Alcohol is a dangerous substance and has a longer list of ruining days than fixing them.
Olruggio sighed heavily, before softening his grip. He looked into Qifrey's heavy-lidded eyes, before bringing his calloused hands to caress his face tenderly
"I'm sorry.
But you'll regret this.
You and I both know this."
Qifrey stiffened
'You'll regret this.'
Something tore through Qifrey's chest.
He couldn't understand what exactly it was. Did someone stab him? Was it the silverwood?
It was a searing heat, like water shattering the walls of a dam, except it rose up to his throat feeling like acid.
Qifrey instinctually grabbed his pointed hat, almost lifting the flap. His fingers moving before his mind off of pure muscle memory.
"Ah blimey- Here it comes."
Olruggio fumbled on the kitchen counter, speedily grabbing a vapour bubble.
It infact wasn't the silverwood. He lowered his hat- but then, clasped a hand over his mouth, swallowing back the bile that suddenly arose from the depths of his stomach.
"C'mon, out we go. I saw this from ages away."
The both of them had just managed to shuffle outside the door and into some nearby thickets before Qifrey let out the contents of his stomach.
He puked unceremoniously while Olruggio pat his back. He doesn't remember the last time he puked, maybe it was deep down in the depths of The Great Hall, when his stomach decided to flip upside down because it couldn't digest the coriander dish plated for lunch.
"Never.... Never again...."
Qifrey nearly wheezed out, clutching his cloak from the front to not get it dirtied.
"It's my fault.... I needn't have ordered whatever that was.... Curiosity killed the cat."
Olruggio bent down near Qifrey whilst rubbing his back, with pursed lips and a crease between his eyebrows.
‘But I guess, satisfaction brought it back.’
He thought to himself, before judging his own thoughts. Was that even right to say…?
When they returned inside, Qifrey slumped onto the couch and laid down, muttering incoherent words and grumbling to himself.
He was still inebriated, sure. But he had curled in on himself completely out of shame.
Somewhere, he was grateful that he'd gone and coughed up whatever stirred in his stomach. Indeed, his throat and the inside of his nose burned and his eyes watered, but it brought up a harrowing wave of discomfort to shut down the roots growing inside him.
If he had continued....
"So you're skipping the tea, I presume?"
The watchful eye crouched near him, a cup of Rocklodge ginger tea in hand.
Qifrey turned around, stared at the tea, then exhaled shakily. A deep seated tide of drowsyness encompassed him.
"Oru... I..."
"It's okay. Rest up."
Olruggio sat down criss cross with a huff.
".... You have a long day tomorrow."
Qifrey's eyelids hovered for a moment, watching Olruggio sip the tea in front of him.
He wanted to speak, say something, but his body didn't seem too cooperative at the moment.
That fleeting moment of intimacy shared between two people that have known nobody but eachother, had come to pass. He didn't want it to.
But again, he felt shame. His body was out of his charge and had acted on its own.
Had he just made it worse for the both of them..?
Had he ruined any chance of truly and really getting to be on par with his dear friend?
Alas, he couldn't know how the future would go. Nobody could.
As of now, he turned back around and let his eyes rest.
Olruggio couldn't relax so easily. He rubbed the rim of the cup with his thumb, fidgeting with it.
There were moments, sprawled across months and years and the past decade where their touches and their gazes would linger. There would be moments where in an entire room of people, they'd still catch eachother's eyesight. They'd watch eachother when the other wasn't looking.
It was there. It was all there.
But that was it.
Qifrey felt like the moon. Always there. Always present. But even then- so, so, far away. Olruggio could bring his hands up to his face, make it seem like he was holding the moon, but never felt his fingers there.
Olruggio wanted to be the star in the night sky that Qifrey blended into. For it was Qifrey that saved him, gave him hope, that he was still capable of being a witch that could save other people.
But until his dear friend finally decides to take form, into someone or something thats truly tangible and real, he'd always remain a distant observer.
So for now, all he could do was this;
He set his cup aside, and quietly shuffled to Qifrey's now sleeping figure, that somehow didn't snore even in the deepest of slumbers.
He brushed his snow-like white hair from his face, tenderly, dearly, ensuring he didn't wake.
He supported his right hand on the backrest of the couch, and kissed his forehead softly.
He lingered for a moment, before kissing him on his cheeks as well.
He straightened up, and only then did the embarrassment steam up from his stomach and out his ears, washing his face into a pink color.
“Ah what am I doing….. I needa get my head checked…!”
Living in this atelier kept Qifrey grounded, it kept him alive. Being alive with Olruggio only meant one thing-
A day would come where they could finally rest in eachother's presence. Just them and the girls they've raised.
This hope rested in both their hearts, regardless of the mess they’d fall into.
Some day, Qifrey wouldn't have to desire and keep desiring and Olruggio wouldn't have to ache and keep aching for something more.
One day Olruggio would reach his moon, and one day Qifrey's hands could hold his star.
For now though, Qifrey slept through his messy hangover and Olruggio quietly rested beside him.