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They were here again.
How many times has this happened now? Two times? Seven? Twelve?
Qifrey had long since lost count.
The pattern never changed. Either Olruggio confronted him, or Qifrey finally broke beneath the weight of his own guilt. He would confess everything, laying his heart bare. Olruggio would stare at him in disbelief, his face twisting with hurt and anguish as he bit back whatever words first rose to his lips.
And then, because Olruggio was Olruggio, he would forgive him. He always did.
And without fail, the silverwood roots would begin to grow again.
This time was no different.
Olruggio had been the one to confront him. Perhaps his search for the Brimmed Caps had become too obvious. Perhaps his behavior had shifted too much for even him to hide it.
It hardly mattered.
Olruggio knew him too well. Better than anyone.
Under any other circumstance, that fact would have filled Qifrey with warmth. It always had, really. There was something profoundly comforting in being known so completely by the person who had stood at his side for most of his life.
Now, it only made this harder.
The silverwood stirred, thin roots pushed out of his missing eye.
Qifrey removed his glasses with trembling fingers. Tears gathered in his eye as he let out a small, self-deprecating laugh.
“I’m not sure how much longer this trick will work, old friend.”
He turned the glasses over in his hand, thumb brushing over the spell inscribed into one of the lenses.
“My sight is fading. And I fear that, comfort or no comfort, the silverwood will take me eventually.”
He smiled, it was a soft smile, but sorrow clung to it.
His eyes slipped shut as tears traced down his pale cheeks.
At some point, he had made peace with the possibility of dying. After years of fear, rage, and desperate hope, acceptance had settled over him.
Part of him had even wondered if this was what he deserved.
Perhaps he should have died years ago instead of selfishly stealing Olruggio’s memories and chaining him to this endless cycle.
When he opened his eye again, Olruggio was still silent, that alone felt wrong.
Usually, Olruggio would already be moving, rushing to his side with that familiar panic hidden beneath his stern expression. He would grumble under his breath, call him an idiot, and begin sketching the memory spell before the roots could spread any further.
But not this time.
Olruggio stood frozen, horror etched across his face so stark that Qifrey nearly flinched.
He had never seen Olruggio look at him like that.
“You want me to erase my memory,” Olruggio said at last, his voice dangerously quiet, “knowin’ that even that won’t stop you from dyin’?”
The silence that followed was deafening. The breeze stirred their robes, but neither of them moved.
Qifrey lowered his gaze to the glasses in his hand.
“I don’t want to ask this of you, I hate these moments. I hate that your kindness keeps saving me when I have no right to ask it of you.”
“NO!”
The word cracked through the air. Qifrey finally flinched, and for a moment, the briefest moment, the silverwood stopped.
Olruggio’s eyes were wide and glistening with tears. His face was flushed with anger and grief, and his hands clutched at his hair as though it were the only thing holding him together.
“I can’t lose you, Qifrey—I can’t!”
His voice broke.
“Please. There has to be another way.”
He took a shaky breath, his chest heaving.
“I’ll leave if that’s what it takes. I’ll disappear from your life. I’ll search every corner of the world until I find a cure, and I won’t come back until I have one.”
His eyes met Qifrey's. Desperation written all over his features.
“I’ll stay away. I won’t be your comfort anymore.”
Even now, even while his own heart was breaking, Olruggio was willing to carve himself out of Qifrey’s life if it meant giving him a chance to live.
Qifrey loved him for that, loved him so fiercely it hurt. A sad smile touched his lips.
“You and I both know that wouldn’t work.”
Olruggio’s breath hitched.
Qifrey stepped closer, his expression impossibly gentle.
“You’d follow me from the shadows within a day. Two, if I were lucky.”
Despite everything, he saw Olruggio’s mouth twitch. Qifrey reached up, brushing his thumb beneath Olruggio’s eye to catch his falling tears.
“And you could never bring yourself to break the girls hearts. Or mine.”
Olruggio let out a broken sob, the sound tore through Qifrey. He had seen Olruggio cry before, every time, in fact.
But never like this.
Never with this hollow, defeated despair.
“You’ve already accepted death,” Olruggio choked out. “You’re talkin’ like it’s inevitable!”
Qifrey’s smile faltered because Olruggio was right. Somewhere along the way, he had stopped fighting for himself. He had accepted that one day the silverwood would claim him, and had simply hoped to delay the inevitable.
He had not realized how devastating that surrender would be to the person who loved him most.
“Please, Qifrey,” Olruggio whispered, his voice trembling. “Please don’t look at me like that. Don’t act like you’ve already gone.”
Qifrey opened his mouth, but no words came out. Olruggio stepped closer, tears spilling freely now.
“I can’t lose you. I lov—”
The word died on his lips. His eyes widened, as though he couldn’t believe what he had nearly said.
But it was too late, Qifrey had heard enough, it made his heart flutter.
For a single moment, the fear, the guilt, and the pain all fell away, leaving only the words hanging unfinished between them.
And then the silverwood roots burst forth once more.
There was no more time to talk. Only enough time for Olruggio to snatch up his pen and begin drawing the spell, his hands trembling as he worked, and for the two of them to exchange one final look.
Oh, Qifrey had always known Olruggio cared.
But hearing it, almost hearing those words, was something else entirely.
He should never have spoken of death so casually. Should never have let Olruggio see how willing he was to accept it.
The realization settled deep in his chest, joining the many other guilts he carried.
And perhaps that guilt, too, would keep him alive a little longer.
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