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Qifrey was developing a deep hatred for the atelier’s floor.
Sure, it looked all sorts of ornate from above; it supported the walls fine and kept the rugs snug in place. But at times like this, when he was tethered to it with minimal chance of a prompt separation, nasty comparisons surfaced in his mind:
It feels as if I’m sitting in water, when it’s cool like this from the evening air. It’s hard and uncomfortable, like jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff. It’s so far down, far from the stars. I need to get away from it. I need to get up.
He tried to rise, only an inch.
Wading through a pond of broken glass would have been easier. Everything ached. What felt like the weight of the sky pressed him back down to the floor.
He sighed, unsurprised. Then he glanced in the direction of the girls’ rooms, to make sure nobody had slipped out to witness the pathetic display. They were asleep, he knew, but he just couldn’t bear it, them seeing him like this, so he had to check. Apprentices needed faith in their masters. He wasn’t exactly inspiring any right now.
The coast was clear. But even that tiny movement of his eye plunged him back into the realm of pure agony, where he’d previously been drifting somewhere within nearly unbearable.
The pain always began in the socket of his missing eye. Searing hot, limb-numbing, utterly compromising. From there it crawled down, until no piece of him was left relieved. There wasn’t a specific trigger to avoid, as far as he could tell. Nothing to ease the sensation. He might have an idea, if he remembered the act itself, the gouging out of his eye…
He didn’t. So, floor it was.
It didn’t used to be so debilitating, he considered as he watched the night sky through the window. The pain was nothing new, yet it was like as his remaining eye faltered, it dragged the missing one down even further with it, stretching the suffering out for longer each time. That made no sense. Still, it was how it felt.
In the midst of his wallowing, a light abruptly sliced through the darkness. He saw its reflection in the window before he saw it, and carrying it, he saw one very, very big problem.
Shit. Olruggio.
Just Qifrey’s luck. He knew Olly’s sleep schedule was abysmal, but coming out at this exact moment with a lantern that held enough force to give Qifrey a dozen and a half migraines was plain cruel. Qifrey didn’t know how he looked right now, but it couldn’t have been good. He forced himself to sit a little straighter, to smooth the crease out from between his brows.
“Would you dim that?” he said, still gazing outside. “I fear the girls will think the sun has risen early and come out for breakfast.”
He heard Olruggio huff. There were approaching footsteps. The light did, indeed, grow dimmer. Olruggio’s reflection in the window became hazy, and Qifrey turned to face his real self. Please just let me make it through this conversation.
“I stopped by to replace the lamp in your room,” Olruggio said. His gaze was tired and his hair was a bit disheveled, but there was a stubborn set to his shoulders that meant he wasn’t going to be easily dismissed. “You weren’t there.”
“I have yet to find a spell that deposits a witch in two places at once, but I’ll let you know if I do,” Qifrey replied.
Olruggio motioned for him to scoot over—which Qifrey barely managed without grimacing—and plopped down next to him. “Hardy har har. You think you’re so clever.”
“Not so clever, just moderately.”
Olruggio shook his head. The left side of his face was illuminated softly by his contraption. “The only thing you are so is irritating. What are you doing out here?”
Qifrey’s fingers twitched against another wave of burning in his right socket. “I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking,” Olruggio repeated incredulously. “And you couldn’t do that in your room?”
“I cannot imagine why you are so hung up on my location, of all things.”
“You’re right.” Olruggio crossed his arms. “What I should be asking is if you regularly curl into a fetal position and stare blankly out the window at night, or if that’s a new development.”
Can he hear the strain in my voice? Qifrey wondered. Is it shaky? Can he tell how awful I feel?
He forced himself not to dwell on it. “Hypocrisy, thy name is Olruggio. I will not accept a lecture from the night-lurking beast himself.”
“Come on, now. Don’t deflect.”
Qifrey wrung his hands together beneath his cloak. How could he convince Olly of anything in this state? It was difficult to think of something mollifying to say with his mind in such a jumble.
He considered, briefly, telling the truth. Admitting that his scar ached sometimes didn’t exactly convict him of anything. And yet he was afraid. If he let one thing slip, what if everything else came rushing out after it?
Worst of all…what if it felt too good? Those many times where Olly had figured it out on his own always filled Qifrey’s heart with too much shame and dread to make space for any relief. But if he made the decision himself…if he spilled his guts, right here, right now….
He didn’t want to ruin everything for something so selfish.
“Qifrey? What is it?” Olruggio said. Oh no. His voice had gone all soft with concern. The misery must have shown on Qifrey’s face. Pull it together. Control it.
“I’m alright,” Qifrey lied. Then he lied some more and said, “I was thinking about that tea that we bought a few years back, made from those shrubs in the southern marshwoods. I heard this past winter wiped most of them out, so it’ll be hard to get any more for a while. We just ran out. What a shame.”
Olruggio blinked at him with that sort of astounded, confused expression that he’d been sending Qifrey for almost two decades. “...You cannot be serious.”
“You know how Richeh’s picky about her flavors, but she liked that tea a lot, so I always mixed it into the pastries. I don’t want to break the news to her.”
Olruggio was quiet for a long moment. “It’s worrying.”
“I know. It’ll be ages until I find something else she likes.”
“No. It as in you. You’re worrying me,” Olruggio clarified. “You’re telling me something but your face tells a different story. It’s like a fable with an underlying moral. I don’t mean just now, you’ve been doing it for a while. If you have something to tell me, there’s no reason to hide it under layers of superficial complaints.”
Qifrey raised a brow. “Superficial? I assure you I had quite a fondness for that tea.”
Olruggio’s frown deepened. “There’s no need for it. It’s just us. What’s going to happen?”
If I let it all out? Probably, you’ll be sweet about it, Qifrey thought. Forgive me, dote on me, and all. Which, regarding the stipulations of his continued survival, would be equivalent to running into a den of hungry dragons and yelling “Yoohoo! I’m made of meat!”
Qifrey shook his head. “Don’t think so hard. I don’t need to come to you whining like a child after every slight inconvenience. Missing tea, concerns over my teaching ability, bad dreams. Staring out the window is more than enough to alleviate these small aches.”
“You’ve been having bad dreams?” Olruggio asked.
Qifrey sighed. “You missed the point, dear.”
“Your whining isn’t so terrible.” Olruggio nudged Qifrey with his leg. “I know I grumble, but occasionally it’s a welcome distraction. And you know I’d go find that tea for you, winter be damned.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Olruggio ran a hand down his beard, considering Qifrey’s words carefully. “So you don’t want me to? Or you do?”
“I don’t want to make your life harder, that’s what I don’t want,” Qifrey said. “You do too much for us already, it would be ridiculous to taint your peace with my silly gripes.”
Olruggio scoffed. He flushed slightly at the earnest praise. “Now we’re both speaking in vague platitudes. Too much of this, and we’ll fit right back in with those highbrows at the Great Hall. I’m not your client, you have no duty to protect my mood.”
“Spoken like a truly business-minded man.”
“Oh, shut it. I’m saying you don’t have to sit out here in the dark. I don’t like not finding you where you’re meant to be. Come complain about tea in my workshop, or something, if you must.” His voice grew weak at the end. After so long, he still couldn’t offer these acts of kindness to Qifrey without getting embarrassed.
“So I should stop this because it upsets you, and yet you said I should not worry about soiling your mood all of five sentences ago? Am I following correctly?” Qifrey teased.
Olruggio glared at him. “Must you make everything difficult? You know what I’m saying.”
“Mr. ‘Speak Plainly’ cannot follow his own instructions.”
Olruggio leaned forward. “Well, I never brought southern marshwoods tea into it, so at least I have yet to reach rock bottom.”
Qifrey threw up his hands. “It’s good!”
The corner of Olruggio’s mouth twitched up into a near-smile. He reached out to do—something: give Qifrey a playful shove, fix a piece of his hair, put an arm around his shoulder, something—and in that instant, at the first feather-light brush of his fingers, Qifrey’s body remembered that he was still meant to be in debilitating agony. Maybe the pain really had ebbed for a moment, or maybe Olly had occupied too much of his attention to feel it in full for the past few moments. But it had returned now, heavens it had returned.
Qifrey jerked away from the touch. His back hit the windowsill. There was a terrifying instant where he was so overwhelmed by the awful sensation that he couldn’t speak, couldn’t see, could barely think. It was like being stretched in every direction, every bone and tendon snapping in tandem. He must have buried his head in his arms at one point—he could pick up on the faint floral scent of the cleaner he used for his cloak.
Olruggio’s voice reached him slowly, distantly, like he was speaking from underwater. “—frey? Qifrey? What’s wrong?”
Qifrey pieced himself together enough to process the scene; he’d collapsed into himself. Olruggio had rushed forward, maybe to catch him, and now hovered over him. Hand raised, a centimeter above Qifrey’s arm, like he was afraid to make contact, like he assumed he was at fault for Qifrey’s sudden breakdown. Never your fault, never, Qifrey thought with great exertion.
“I’m…” Qifrey’s voice sounded horrible and hoarse even to himself. “I’m…okay…” He put every ounce of effort into straightening back out. His vision struggled to refocus, and he felt overheated from the effort.
“Okay?” Olruggio managed to sound afraid, irate, and nonplussed all at once. “You don’t look okay to me. What happened?” Again, louder. “What happened?”
Qifrey felt his control over the situation loosen as if it was a physical mass unwinding in his chest. He racked his brain for anything to say. He couldn’t have Olly digging into this now, he didn’t want to deal with the fallout, he didn’t want to have to hurt him.
He decided he must let go of that one tiny thread. He must give a sliver of truth, and make sure nothing else followed it. I was too scared before, but I must try now.
“It still—” he choked out. “It still hurts sometimes. My eye. The one I don’t have.”
For a few beats, the only sound was his shallow gasping. Then, the rustling of Olruggio’s clothes as he shifted slightly away.
Olruggio, of course, knew more of Qifrey’s past than anyone else. He’d witnessed many of Qifrey’s outbursts as a child; a bitter, disgruntled child, he was. Though they’d never spoken of it outright, most of Qifrey’s pains showed plainly then. Which meant that what he was really telling Olruggio here was, It didn’t get better, I’m just better at concealing it now.
Qifrey knew it was like a gut punch to Olly, knowing that Qifrey wouldn’t confide in him. The whole night, really, couldn’t have felt great to him. I’m sorry. I wish you hadn’t found me.
But this knowledge, this guilt, also unfurled another emotion in Qifrey: relief. It doesn’t feel good, even when I choose to say it. I’m safe. I’m safe.
Olruggio finally spoke. “This whole time?”
“Worse recently,” Qifrey admitted quietly. Though, as soon as the words escaped his lips, he knew they were a mistake.
Olly, with the mind of an inventor, rushed to think of a cause and a solution. “Is it stress from taking care of so many apprentices? Dammit, Qifrey, if you need help, you can have it, you could have had it forever ago. Or is it your diet? When did recently start? How can I help you?” His tone turned desperate at the end. He never usually prattled on like that—he was truly shaken.
Qifrey shook his head. There was nothing to do. “I just didn’t want to worry you or the girls, or have you think I’m incapable.” I am. “It won’t affect my teachings. I’ll make sure of that.”
“I don’t care about your teachings,” Olruggio hissed. “I mean, I do, but—Qifrey, you can’t live like this.”
Qifrey had to shove down a twisted, wry smile. If only you knew. It’s the only way I can live.
“It’s not so bad, really. I’ll come to you next time, If that’ll make you feel better,” Qifrey said. Lied. Not that he had much mobility in this state anyway.
Olruggio closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. He didn’t seem very convinced. “What am I going to do with you…” he muttered.
“Do nothing,” Qifrey said, trying a different approach. “I appreciate the backup, you know I always do. But this is my issue, and I need you to trust me to deal with it.”
Qifrey knew it was wrong, tugging on these specific strings. C’mon, Olly, don’t you trust me? Don’t you have faith in deceitful, conniving old me?
“I trust you,” Olruggio said. Qifrey felt his heart shrivel up in real time. “But trusting you in general and trusting you to take care of yourself are two different commitments. The latter would require a miracle of magic not yet known to humanity.”
“All magic is a miracle.” Qifrey wrapped his cloak snug around his shoulders. “And you have plenty of it. Please, have some faith.”
Olruggio gave him a long look, full of emotion even Qifrey couldn’t entirely place. Eventually, he sighed, then shook his head. His brows were drawn together and there was still a frown on his face, but his passionate desperation had seemed to drain away and be replaced by weariness. In the end, Qifrey putting Olly through heaps of stress, or disregarding his own health, was nothing new. They’d danced this dance so many times over the years, it was more muscle memory than anything; waltzing over the ghosts of their past selves and wondering right up until the end whether it would end differently this time.
It never did.
Qifrey brought his fingertip to the cool glass of the window and traced the shape of a star, leaving behind a faint impression. “When I can’t rest, and I’m sitting here, I adore you all so much. Of course I do in the light of day as well…but warmth and laughter seem so much stronger when contrasted against cold and silence. It reminds me of why I go on. So I guess in some ways, my affliction is a blessing.”
The quiet stretched on for so long afterwards, he thought Olruggio was done talking for the night. That was alright. Because he stayed anyway. He didn’t come closer, didn’t pull away, simply sat, steady, next to Qifrey, and watched the stars twinkle above.
Then Olruggio whispered, “I don’t need distance or cold to strengthen my affection for you. Put some faith in me, too. That’s all I ask.”
Qifrey closed his eye, feeling the pain pulsing behind his lid in an erratic melody.
“Okay,” he whispered back.
***
Three days later, he found a bag of marshwoods tea waiting for him on his desk.
“Oh, Olly,” he murmured under his breath. How much had he spent on that? Qifrey had been too busy with the kids to catch him leaving. Of course he would actually do it, of course.
Qifrey’s mind, as it tended to, jumped to make a comparison.
He’s like…he’s like…something that I’m bound to, stubborn and unmovable, and…
“He’s the damn floor!” Qifrey exclaimed.
There was a beat of silence. Then a tiny, “Um?” from below.
He suddenly remembered where he was, and blinked down to find all four of his apprentices giving him blank stares.
“Uh oh,” Tetia said, eyes widening in horror. “Master’s really lost it now.”
“He’s speaking nonsense,” Richeh agreed.
“Maybe he’s sick?” Coco suggested.
Agott just frowned.
I deserved that, Qifrey thought, laughing. He picked Tetia up, and she shrieked in delight, laughing along with him. “You’re right, girls. I am speaking nonsense. Come now, how do you feel about brewing some tea? This kind is rare, you know, so it’ll taste extra special.”
Richeh recognized it, and her eyes sparked. Coco rocked back and forth, always curious, always eager to learn. Even Agott quickened her pace to follow them to the kitchen.
Qifrey was far from okay. He knew the pain would be back—probably soon, probably worse. But there was no use in agonizing over it now. Sun streaming through the window, surrounded by people he loved most, he knew that these moments would come back to him in the window’s reflection at night, and he could trace the joy of them into the glass, and find another reason to go on. Besides, regardless of how hard he pushed it away, he had a source of endless support behind him, under him, holding him upright. Keeping him afloat.
He really had no room for hatred, not with all this love to carry.