Nev

“It’s heartbreaking. It’s like I would be killing a person.”

“Pardon?” Qifrey turns to look at you. 

You lean back to get comfortable in the cushions and look up at the wooden beams of the ceiling. Sighing, “Just a witch’s musings…”

Receiving nothing as a response, you continued, “To erase the memory of magic… Or even erasing memories at all… Oh, what am I even saying?” Shaking your head, your wry smile does not give Qifrey peace.

Qifrey feels his insides churn. It’s dizzying. Disorienting. How such simple words could turn his world askew. The cold of the night is seeping into the hearth and his insides are crawling and chewed up, how can you sit so serenely by the fire none the wiser?

He scrapes his composure. “Killing a person?”, he finally replies.

You blink for a moment, surprised he entertained whatever words tumbled out of your mouth. Glad to have something to say though, you ramble on. “Not depriving them of life… It’s like you removed a version of themselves. When they come to their senses again, are they really the same? Are they the same person from before?  Fascinating to think about. Yet it is so heartbreaking…”

You close your eyes. The warmth of your atelier brings your tensed shoulders down from the tiring day, guiding your body towards sleep.

Qifrey, sitting near, was as taut as a string. The warmth of the hearth does not do anything to combat the chill in the air. What musings his dearest (friend) has that could undo a man like him. A monster bubbles from his stomach, and its tendrils crawl and freeze every nerve and fiber of his being. Guilt comes as a massive, rushing wave towards him while his consciousness renders him immobile. He hates water.

He dares to look around the room, and his eye catches the ribbon ornament of his pointed cap. His gaze follows it only for the monster in his stomach to grow and reach his throat. A storm surge slams into him, hit with every instance of the cap's button being unclasped. The Tower of Tomes. Olruggio. The night before he left the Great Hall. You. The Beginnings of His Atelier. Olruggio. You. Too many to count? Too many that he doesn’t want to remember? He doesn’t know.  He feels underwater. He hates water.

“Qifrey?” Like a siren’s song, he hears his name. Your eyes meet his blues. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Once you know you have Qifrey’s attention, your eyes pan towards his cheeks, widening at the sight of his tears. 

“Oh goodness! I’m sorry, I didn’t… I don’t–” Still shocked at his tears, you’re unsure of what to say or think. “I-I’m sorry Qifrey! Did I say something wrong? It was only just a thought, y’know! I’m  just thinking about the Knights of Moralis! They protect us! It just sank in me that I can’t stomach if I were the one to – oh, I’m so sorry, please don’t cry!” You face him and wipe the tears running down his left cheek. 

He was crying? Qifrey snaps out of it, leans down and covers his face. He breathes a shaky laugh. 

“No need to worry. I’ve just never thought of it that deeply…” He lies. His words feel like vomit to him. I hope you never forgive me. He raises his head and seeks to meet your eyes. He sets his glasses to the side, and breathes out a laugh he hopes doesn’t seem tense, “The hearth’s heat makes people a bit sentimental…”

“Oh…” Still unsure if Qifrey’s alright, you open your arms. Wanting to ease the tense atmosphere, you smiled at him. “Do you want a hug?”

 “I…–” Qifrey blinks. Then he huffs out a laugh, the tension in his shoulders dropping, even if slightly. He nods with a smile, leaning towards you and gearing his head towards your shoulder. He dares to inhale and bask in your warmth. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, as his hands find respite on the center of your back.

You hum and pat his head gently. Feeling wet drops on your shoulder, you close your arms around him further. You can never tell what Qifrey is thinking in times like these, and you have never found the right words to comfort somebody. So, you stay. The atelier’s walls are the only witness in this cold night.

Qifrey stays too. Alarms are ringing in his head, his heart tearing into two. It still comes back to him. The Tower of Tomes. His tassel and Olruggio’s ribbon. The night before he left the Great Hall. The button on his cap and the one on your cloak. Olruggio’s anger turned to understanding. Your eyes when he said those three words. His pointed cap and the sigils hidden inside.

Enveloped in your arms, Qifrey feels a crack. His hold on you tightens. Tears well up in his eye and dares not to glance at your face or his cap.

As the night grows deeper, you can’t help but wonder how much pain he has gone through in the times you were apart. When the days keep you both busy with your apprentices in your ateliers. How much has he gone through? How many secrets does he only keep to himself? 

You have known Qifrey for most of your life, ever since he stepped foot in the Great Hall. You, Qifrey, and Olruggio being the trio that was always causing headaches for the masters. From being apprentices, and now as fully fledged witches, he has seen you. You have shared so much of yourself, your dreams, and worries to him - and yet no moment comes to your mind when it's the other way around. He seldomly talks about himself, and you hope that he would share some of his burdens with you too.