Without the ability to see— sacrificing his last remaining vision to cure the host deepening its roots within him— Qifrey had been under all matter of care and surveillance.

Images of white lights, faint blurs of silvery leaves and spindly roots curling around him and suffocated him behind his closed lids. They darkened, melding into a churning back mass, a damning darkness that snuck its way into his very lungs. Fire engulfed the mass, enraging the burning in his torso. He began coughing, gasping.

There was another flash of light, like a cloud breaking apart to unveil the warm glow of the sun across a horizon. He saw a figure, and a familiar one at that.

“Olru—“ He coughed once more, chest tightening, throat closing.

He awakens with a sharp gasp. His vision is blurry, mere blobs of muted colors can only be seen. Qifrey feels the drying sweat clinging to his skin, making him sticky. He draws a hand up to his neck, wiping any excess sweat off of him.

What…where am I?

“Back home.” He gasps, not realizing he had spoken. His gaze widens as he raises it to find the voice before him. There, in front of him, through muddled shapes of black and blue there’s no mistaking who sat by his side. “You were mumbling in your…unconscious state.” Olruggio says lowly, quietly so as not to alarm Qifrey any further. He almost forgot how soft his voice could sound against his ears.

Unable to gather his thoughts or any memories, Qifrey wipes the other side of his neck. He flinches when he feels something touch his naked arm.

“It’s alright, it’s a towel,” Olruggio says gently. He lets Qifrey feel it for a moment, watching the way he looks down at the rag with pinched brows.

“My vision…it’s…”

“The Silverwood is gone. But a price was made in return…Qifrey…you…” There’s a deep pang that hits his chest, drawing the towel to it to dampen the pain, Qifrey folds into himself.

“I know…Spare me the details for now…” Silence. Qifrey dries his damp skin as rain pats against the window. He doesn’t need the explanation, at least not yet. He’s not ready. Would he ever be? He's been fighting for a cure and answer for so long.

Had Qifrey forgotten who he was in the process?

He cracks his eye open, lights pours and it feels as if someone cast the brightest light upon him, making him flinch at the white hot pain that makes his head pulse. Qifrey’s palm presses hard into his lid, rubbing it. Fingers wrap around his thin wrist and he knows it’s Olruggio. He feels the warmth emanating off of him before he hears his voice once more.

“You must drink, Qifrey,” His voice is quiet and reverent. It hits Qifrey’s ears and vibrates his entire being. Like one of his comforting spells— he feels warmth envelop him at just the sound. His hand tightens into a fist around the towel.

You can’t dwell on it…this comfort…this…

There’s the sound of ice clinking against ceramic and a mug sits itself into his palm. “You must…please.” Reluctantly he tips the mug to his mouth and drinks the water. His throat was burning with each gulp, that tightness never loosening. He lets out a sigh when he swallows the last droplet and looks to the faint shape he recognizes as his dear friend.

“You’ve been by my side this whole time,” He hands the mug back to him, “Haven’t you, my old friend?” Qifrey’s voice attempts to recreate the soft tones but the dryness of his throat still had it straining and grainy like rough sand sliding against stone.

There’s a grumble, a rustling of cloth when Olruggio scratches the back of his messy bed head. “Of course I have, dammit. Can’t have you dying on me, not when we finally got you free of—“

“How did you figure it out?” Qifrey asks in a low tone. Olruggio only stares at him for a moment. He’s so much smaller in this vulnerable state. The grey colored duvet wraps around him like a veil of smoke. Qifrey’s head drops momentarily in shame and the other can see the faint discoloration at the roots of his scalp.

His hair is…changing color…

“I always figure it out.” Olruggio says with barely any wavering in his voice. Qifrey smiles faintly and for the first time in a good while, he chuckles.

“That’s right…of course you do.” His best friend can’t help but let his own smile escape.

Olruggio’s chair creaks under his weight, he leans forward with his elbows perching on his knees. “It’s good to hear your voice, Qifrey.”

That warmth once again. He lets his eye open and Olruggio is dimming the harsh light by being so close to him. Qifrey reaches out to what he can assume is one of the tassels on his sleeve. He rubs it between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s…it’s good to hear yours. I…missed it very much.” The words taste right on his tongue but feel wrong on his lips. He can’t be saying those things not when he knows the strange crackling he can feel within—

But wait. Nothing. Qifrey feels nothing. His head doesn’t ache, the phantom pain of his missing eye doesn’t make itself known. His grip tightens around the tassel to find ground within himself. Olruggio watches, debating if he should comfort him. In the past he’d pull away and hide his face.

He decides he’ll let Qifrey come to him.

Another creak of the chair and Olruggio stands, the ribbon on his sleeve weaves past Qifrey’s grasp. He stares at his half open palm wondering if his eyesight would just clear and he’d be able to actually see clearly. But nonetheless…

Olruggio huffs, “You must be hungry, hm? The girls made a stew just for you. I’ll get you a—“

“Oru…” His voice softens but hits Olruggio like a punch to the stomach. “I’d prefer if you stayed with me a bit longer.”

He can see the silhouette of his childhood friend turn to him and he can feel the warmth of his stare. He feels Olruggio’s eyes travel across the exposed part of Qifrey’s body.

“Of course.” He says with a blanket of sadness across his tone.

They sit for a while longer together, the unspoken words mingling between them and feelings blooming more and more. Qifrey’s chest aches with a new found feeling as the lack of roots make his chest feel hollow. Floods of emotion fill his lungs and his heart pumps harder than ever before.

݁꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱

Two months since Qifrey’s loss. He had gotten the hang of recognizing familiar shapes within their atelier, gaining more confidence in his steps without needing to support himself on the wall. It felt silly, being a teacher and having your own students teach you the way around your own home, but it felt even harder to accept the compliments, the warmth and love he had for these girls. He can’t help but feel something missing— as if the absence of the silverwood only created more strife within him.

It’s late when the inner demons of his mind gnaw on this issue. He can’t sleep and so he finds himself in the kitchen for a midnight snack.

“Everything you did…everything you put them through…and you can’t even see anymore.” He chops a mountain apple into eights.

“Was any of it even worth it? What do I have to show for my hard work?” He chastises, sweat beading at his jawline. He goes to push up the bridge of his glasses only to be met with damp skin. He slams a fist into the counter and the cutting board rattles.

A creak of the floorboards alert him. Olruggio stands holding a lamp, his night shirt hanging well past his feet and pooling at the floor. He looks like he had just been in a deep sleep.

“You could have woken the girls. Qifrey, what are you doing?”

“I,” he cuts off, turned toward him with a look of distress. “I just needed something to clear my head.” His steps come closer and the light grows. Olruggio stands beside him.

“A mountain apple won’t be much. Here,” He reaches over to something that Qifrey recognizes as the tea kettle. Olruggio fills a mug up with steaming milk and swirls a douse of honey in the liquid. He places the mug in front of his insomniac friend’s hands. “Come to the living area.” He grabs his hand, letting their fingers lock and Qifrey gasps at the feeling. Skin-to-skin with Olruggio was—

“What are you waiting for?” Instead of the feeling of roots tightening inside his head, he only feels the tightening of Olruggio’s hand. He tugs him closer but with a gentleness.

“Sorry. I’m not thinking straight tonight.”

“We’ll get you unwound and straight again then.”

Qifrey takes a few steps but falters when he’s pulled a different way. “Wait— living area— but—“

“You will sit on that damn couch and eat.” Olruggio was taking no excuse and Qifrey had to obey. He was sat at the couch and Olruggio fit himself beside him. On the loveseat, his friend leans back in his spot and watches the other with an index finger resting just below his nose. There’s an awkward silence except for the quiet sounds of Qifrey’s crunching on the fruit and sipping of his hot drink. Olruggio is first to break the silence.

“You realize how much I worry about you, don’t you?”

There’s a pause, Qifrey sips slowly and lowers the cup to his lap and doesn’t look to his friend. “I do.”

“And you realize how much I care for you?” He sounds angry, betrayed, confused. He has every right to be furious.

More silence. A nod. Olruggio stares at the side of Qifrey’s face. Hair obstructs the upper half of his face from view. He can see his lip quiver.

“Yes.”

This time Olruggio is quiet for a moment and the silence sits uncomfortably between them. Qifrey’s guilt creates a pit in his stomach, one that makes him repulsed at the half eaten apple in his hand. He sets it down and wipes his fingertips off the handkerchief given to him.

The weight on the couch shifts as Qifrey sets this plate and mug on the coffee table before them. Olruggio slowly sits up, leaning towards him.

“What do I have to do to get you to trust me now?”

Qifrey’s still as stone, his blood going icy and hands clammy in his lap. He swallows harshly around the lump in his throat.

“I don’t know…” He lowers his chin and takes a deep breath. “Having you worry over me, knowing I could never accept the comfort of your kindness…it pained me.” Qifrey’s fingers flex and pinch at his night gown, rolling an embroidered leaf between his fingers.

“I let you think it was all your fault. That all the blame of my emotional turmoil was a result of your lack of help. It was never that way.” He can’t bring himself to look at Olruggio for he can already see the pained glisten in his eye.

“You blame yourself for my distance. I’ve never deserved the kindness you’ve shown me.”

The weight shifts once more and Olruggio presses his knee against the side of Qifrey’s thigh. “And yet I still give it.”

Something snaps like a twig within Qifrey. He hunches over, hands cupping his face. He feels the faint tears escape him.

“You should hate me.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” Olruggio says with a tilt to his voice. He smirks slightly at Qifrey who’s huddled into himself. “You know you couldn’t escape me if you tried.”

Qifrey actually smiles under the palms of his hand. He slowly lifts himself back to his upright position and wipes away at the lingering teardrop on his cheek. He barely tilts his chin towards his partner.

“I’m selfish…despite everything I’ve done to you…I’m glad you still stuck by my side. Even though I don’t deserve it.”

A dismissive hand flaps up and down. “I’ll have none of that. You are a selfish bastard…but you’re my selfish bastard and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Olruggio forces himself into Qifrey’s line of sight. His one eye widens at the shape he knows is his friend. His cheeks tinge pink.

“And I’m yours…right?”

Nodding slowly, Qifrey’s hands gather a bundle of his clothes into his fists and he fights back tears once more. Olruggio’s gentle hand cups his cheek and wipes the wet edge of his eye. They’re so close like this, it hasn’t been the first time but something about the air between them shifted the last few weeks. Something they both don’t have to confirm.

Olruggio’s stare travels across the softness of Qifrey’s face. His eyelashes are a mix of small brown and white hairs and his pale blue eye flickers across the others features. He almost wonders if he can truly see him right now. Qifrey’s lips part.

“Oru—?”

Olruggio leans in and presses his lips to Qifrey’s. The bristles of his hair tickling his partner's lip. His bottom lip caresses Qifrey’s top lip so softly that he knows this kiss in of itself is requesting permission.

Is this okay? Are we allowed to do this?

Qifrey kisses back, tilting his head to suck in the gasp that escapes Olruggio.

It’s sickening, the guilt that plants itself deep within Qifrey’s bowels. It festers as if the Silverwood hadn’t ever left. His hands find purchase on Olruggio’s shoulders and he fists his clothing harshly. For all the guilt, all the selfishness and wrong doings for survival, he couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go.

Their lips do the heart-to-heart. Olruggio’s hot breath tastes of the milk and honey he made and his lips are as warm and comforting as his spells. Like the selfish man he is, Qifrey takes and takes from him and moves his lips together with his partners to ensure he’s memorized every ridge and edge of Olruggio’s mouth. His hands wander, finding his fingertips at the edge of the hem of his night gown. Exposed skin and the little hairs on his chest sends Qifrey’s heart rate into the stratosphere.

Olruggio feels the way his other half melts into him and he hears his heart thump hard and fast against his ears. Taking a leap such as this one is quite possibly the scariest thing he’s ever done but the fruits of his labor are not lost to him. When Qifrey’s hands sit at his chest, Olruggio lets an arm circle around his waist and pull him closer. Without breaking the kiss, they successfully sit facing one another.

The sounds of their heavy breathing fills their ears, encouraging more. Olruggio craves the small breaths that escape Qifrey’s mouth— latching his lips back to his to cut off the sound and swallow it into his lungs. His night shirt gets tugged taught, leaning over until the back of Qifrey’s head lands on the love seat's arm rest. This doesn’t deter them yet but instead makes them fit together much like Olruggio’s magic rings. Their bodies joining into one and spreading warmth between them.

A leg slots itself between Qifrey’s, lifting the gown in the process. His cheeks burn and his lips quiver when he realizes just how little he has on underneath. His hands still at Olruggio’s chest, draw into fists and pull him closer. Desperately needing him and ignoring the screaming voice in his head that tells him to pull away and put an end to this.

“Qifrey,” Olruggio breathes against his mouth. His rough facial hair stings on his soft skin but the warmth of his breath eases it. His old friend cups a hand around his hip, fingers flexing under the hem of his night gown. He waits for Qifrey’s signal.

His hips rise from the love seat and Olruggio pushes the bundle of cloth over his hip and exposes his entire lower half. They break away for a single moment, their eyes meeting for the first time since this began. The glistening of the lamp mirrors in Qifrey’s a warm orange hue flickering against them. Half of Qifrey’s face is engulfed in light, the other as black as the dark side of the moon. Olruggio lets his other hand run through a strand of Qifrey’s hair, the subtle change in color growing out now into a beautiful auburn.

“Are you okay?”

Qifrey shakes his head. “I’m terrified.”

Olruggio stares back. “Me too.”

The one beneath takes the initiative and their lips meet once more. With shaky breaths and trembling hands and lips, their mouths part to invite their tongues to slide against one another's. The feeling is indescribable to Qifrey. He had held himself back for so long, thought of this so many times, pictured it in his mind every night but never once did he think it’d become his reality.

The feeling of Olruggio’s tongue against his teeth, his fingers creating indents in the soft flesh of his hip. The throbbing between his legs that grew and grew until finally when he attempted to thrust up into the air, he felt himself bump against the thickness of Olruggio’s thigh. Everything stopped once more.

Eye’s trailed down to where Qifrey twitches, the lamp making his skin a warmer tone and accentuating the glisten of wetness at his tip. He curls into himself once again.

“I…Oru…I’m—“

Olruggio lifts his night gown to reveal his own throbbing passion. The pair of them red faced and blinking at one another. Even Qifrey can tell what was before him.

“Me too,” he assures, letting the gown fall and pool around the base of him. Olruggio’s hands draw towards the dips in Qifrey’s hips. His thumbs dangerously close to the coarse hair framing his partners hard on. A whimper escapes both of them and they both seem to twitch at the same time making them giggle. His left hand lays flush against the flatness of his waist and he slides it until Qifrey’s shaft sits flush in the crook between his thumb and index finger.

Olruggio lines himself against Qifrey’s shaft, momentarily drawing his palm to his mouth and spitting into it. It’s a shock when a wet palm cups them both and Olruggio gives a curious thrust. The other lets out the faintest moan before covering his mouth so as not to be too loud.

“Olruggio—!” He whispers harshly. “What are you—“ The hand around them squeezes and Qifrey’s thighs flex at the pleasure, his toes curl. So warm and hard against him, the spit creating just enough slickness between them. More precum beads at their tips and Qifrey feels it dribble down to his stomach. The room grows warm, Olruggio’s chest heaves with each slow thrust of his hand. He’s girthier and heavier than him and warmer too, their shafts slip together up and down as a rhythm is finally set. Qifrey meets his thrusts, one hand grasping at the cushion beneath him while the other holds tight to his old friend's shoulder. It’s too much to bear, the mix of emotions that swirl around his chest, the pleasure winding its spool taught in his pelvic area. The feelings of his muscles tightening under his soft skin.

Olruggio whispers his name into the night like a prayer. “Qifrey…Qifrey…Qifrey…”

His hips jolt.

“Olruggio…I…I can’t— I can’t resist.” His head thrashes side to side. That tightness grows into something wicked that he can’t ignore much longer.

“No one’s telling you to,” he says breathlessly. “Come,” he pleads.

Coupled moans escape them and whispered obscenities release between them as Qifrey’s body trembles when it succumbs to the pleasure. It seeps out of him like honey in slow, even spurts— painting his milky skin. Olruggio’s not too far behind him, losing control just as quickly and fisting the both of them as his ropes come out farther than the other’s. Mixing together on Qifrey’s stomach that rises and falls with each gasping breath.

They still for a moment, the aftershock of their orgasms still playing out as they both unevenly throb together. The stickiness of them set rather quickly but neither one made any attempt to move just yet.

Qifrey’s first to catch his breath. He wipes the sweat from his neck and lays his palm to his pulse to calm it further.

“Wha…what do we do now?”

Olruggio’s quiet for a moment, long enough that they both begin to soften and he leans down and swipes some sweat from his partner's brow.

“That was selfish of me,” he ignores Qifrey. “I’m sorry.”

His wrist gets captured in Qifrey’s grasp and he nuzzles his face into his half open palm. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t have let it happen if I didn’t want it…”

“I didn’t even ask—“

“And yet I still accepted.” He can already see the firm frown on Olruggio’s face and he uses his thumb to soothe the crease on his furrowed brows. “I’ll forgive you when you clean me up, how about that?”

A breathy chuckle and the creak of the couch can be heard as Olruggio rises. He brings back a damp cloth and water.

“You didn’t even finish your milk and honey,” he chastises as Qifrey chugs the water.

“Someone didn’t give me much of a chance to.”

“Pfft, right…” Olruggio takes the glass back. “Should I see you back to your room?”

Qifrey turns to him. “I’d like that very much. Would you be willing to stay with me tonight?”

Olruggio’s cheeks redden and he scratches at the back of his head. “As long as you behave.”

“Who misbehaved first tonight?” Olruggio grumbles, grabs his wrist and pulls Qifrey with him.

“Alright, alright, enough questions, back to bed with you.”