Archive of Our Own

"Have you heard?" they say, nudging each other as he walks past, whispering in a way that's not quiet at all. Even with a fair number of steps between them, Olruggio can hear every word quite clearly. "The rumors were true it seems."

"Look at his hat," they say, as he sits alone at lunch, sweating buckets. Qifrey's lesson with Beldaruit is running long, which might actually be a good thing because if he were here right now, it would certainly be much harder for Olruggio to keep a straight face with all these eyes on him.

"Told you they had something going on," they say, giggling, not even bothering to keep their voices low, making Olruggio's pen halt mid-stroke, and his barely-gathered concentration shatter pitifully.

"It was dumb of you to even bet otherwise," they snicker.

"Ugh, I thought they were just friends, okay?" they whine.

They argue, they laugh, and they look at him, and Olruggio forces himself to focus again, as though his face isn't burning up, and he doesn't have a golden tassel attached to his hat.

The torment he has been experiencing since the third exam seems to be exclusive to him, because Qifrey is somehow way too unfazed about all this. It's almost like he doesn't even hear any of these rumors about them, at all. And Olruggio doesn't understand how that's possible, because people aren't any less loud when the two of them walk around the Great Hall together. While his heart starts beating in his mouth upon a brief glance or a hushed whisper their way, Qifrey just continues walking without a pause, and going on about whatever it is they’re discussing at that moment, like everything is normal. Like he doesn't have a black ribbon swaying behind him.

He doesn't even bring it up. And everyone, literally everyone except Qifrey is talking about it. Some senior witches Olruggio only knows by name, and some he doesn't. Junior witches that apparently don't know gossip is supposed to be done quietly when in public. Some teachers, who are kind enough to just smile to themselves, and many other students that do much more than that.

Even the last person he wants to hear a comment on this matter. He isn't sure what he did to anger the stars to this degree, but they must surely have cursed him.

"What are you staring at?" Olruggio finally lashes out at the boy, who's been shooting sidelong glances at his direction since the moment he has sat down. Qifrey is late again, and Easthies is eating his lunch in an annoyingly slow manner right across from him like there isn't any other place left to sit. Maybe there really isn't. Olruggio doesn't know; he cannot really bring himself to lift his head and look around in crowds these days.

"Nothing," the boy nonchalantly answers, dipping his spoon into the dessert on his plate. Dewberry pudding. Looks delicious. "Congrats to you and Qifrey, I guess, but it's a bit stupid to exchange hat ornaments. They're a sign of who your teachers are, after all."

"It's—" Olruggio exclaims, worked up, before stumbling miserably over his words. He's not really a person hard to provoke, but he always considered himself someone who's at least capable of acting with maturity in such situations. Though, doing that is harder than anything lately; and especially right now, when it’s Easthies of all people sitting across the table and making snide remarks.

About him and Qifrey going out. The furious fire inside him dies with the same speed it flared up, and rushes to his cheeks instead.

“We’re not dating,” he says, like a deflated balloon. 

"You're not?" A genuine surprise replaces the boy's condescending expression, if only for a brief moment. He frowns. "Then why on earth do you have each other's ornaments on your hats?"

If only he knew. If only he knew why Qifrey took his ribbon without a word, and like that wasn't enough, put his own tassel on his hat, not even bothering with an explanation. If only he knew why he is so afraid to ask Qifrey again why he did that. If only he knew why everyone has been talking about this non-stop for days as if they have absolutely nothing else to do, and why this mere gossip just bothers him that much.

Embarrassingly enough, his master’s words are similar to Easthies’.

"I don't meddle in your youthful pursuits, Olruggio, but I'd prefer you two choose another accessory to exchange if you want to show your relationship," his master says, his expression somewhere in between cautious and disapproving. "Your hat ornaments aren't really appropriate for that sort of thing, you see. I don't think Beldaruit would be too pleased with this either."

"I-it's not something like that," Olruggio stammers. From the looks his teacher had been giving his hat ever since he came back from the exam, he knew this subject would be brought up at the first opportunity.

"It isn't?" His master raises a brow, his curiosity mildly piqued. "Then why do you have Qifrey's tassel, pray tell."

"I don't know," Olruggio whines, practically burying his head in the books in front of him. His nose is almost touching the sigil on the open page. A cooling spell wouldn’t be half bad right about now. "I dozed off for a bit after the trial while he was in the Tower of Tomes, and he apparently switched it with mine then, some time after he came back."

Still hunched over on the desk, he turns his head meekly to meet his teacher's eyes. "I asked why but he suddenly looked at me like he was about to cry. He seemed a bit down that he couldn't find what he was looking for in the tower, so I didn't want to press much."

"Hm," his master muses. "That is quite odd indeed."

He doesn't ask any more questions after that. But on his way back to his room, Olruggio finds himself thinking about that day again, after having pushed it aside for days because it was making him flush.

Come to think of it, Qifrey's demeanor really was odd then. And it is odd now, the way he keeps zoning out lately; his pen just sits idle in his hand while they’re studying, and his eye often wanders out of the windows while they’re walking. Even as they’re talking, he sometimes drifts off to another world for a short moment, somewhere Olruggio doesn’t know, and immediately apologizes to his friend upon being noticed, with that strange smile that's been plastered on his face ever since that day.

He arrives at his room. Steps into the dark, and stands there for a couple of seconds before lighting his bedside lamp, lost in thought. They still see each other every day but Qifrey hasn’t come over to hang out in the evenings in a while. He hasn't gone over to his room, either.

When the dull light fills the room, he dismisses the thoughts that are once again threatening to rush into his mind and flops down onto his bed.

*

The next day, he finds himself in yet another one of those conversations he just can't seem to escape. The girl finds him sitting alone in a corner just outside the main hall, reading. A small, unsuccessful attempt of Olruggio to escape the still-ongoing gossip mill. The moment she spots him there, she comes skipping over, her eyes brimming with enthusiasm. 

"Sooo, Olruggio," Alaira says, right after the shortest greeting ever, grinning from ear to ear. "Any news you want to share with me? I'm all ears."

"Don't you start too," Olruggio complains, holding the book in his hands up to his face. He then closes it and slaps it down on his seat next to him, dejected. "Whatever you heard, it's not true."

"Huh? How come?" Alaira furrows her brows. "You mean you and Qifrey haven't started dating?"

Olruggio would find everyone’s nearly identical reactions funny, if the subject were literally anything else. "No, but the whole Great Hall seems to be convinced that we are."

"Frankly, it's not a rumor too hard to believe," murmurs Alaira, plopping down next to Olruggio. She gives a flick to the tassel hanging innocently from the tip of his hat. "Then, how do you explain this?"

He cannot. Only in the absurd, nonsensical way he understands it. Alaira listens curiously as her friend talks about his exam day, and how withdrawn Qifrey has been ever since.

"That's weird," she says, offering a comment similar to his master’s when Olruggio finishes speaking. Weird, and its variations really are the only words capable of describing all this. "I was planning to tease him too when I see him, but on second thought, I guess it's better if I don’t. Poor Qifrey. He was so hopeful about the tower, too. Coming back empty-handed must have disappointed him a lot."

"Yeah. He's said he was fine with not being able to find anything, but he's been a little out of it lately."

"And he didn't tell you anything?"

“No, it’s like I said. He just seems reluctant to talk about anything regarding that day, so I cannot really bring myself to ask.” Olruggio huffs. “And every time I catch him spacing out, he keeps saying he's just tired because Beldaruit gave him so much work or something.”

“Mm,” Alaira ponders, her gaze lost in the ocean stretching out before them and above. "Maybe he's trying to process things on his own. I’d say give him some time. He’ll open up to you eventually."

"I hope so."

A few children are playing tag in the distance. Olruggio absently watches the little girl in the middle chasing after the others in frustration as the rest scurry away from her among giggles.

"I wonder..." Alaira begins, and Olruggio's attention turns back to her. Her eyes are narrowed, like she's deep in thought. "Could Qifrey have taken your ribbon as some source of comfort? Like, maybe carrying something from you brings him solace or something?"

"Can you not?" Olruggio's expression crumple as he blushes for the umpteenth time this week. If this whole thing has taught him anything, it's that he goes red way too easily in matters like these. "I'm already having a hard time over here."

Alaira leans in to peer at his turned away face. "Why?” she asks, trying to meet the pair of eyes hidden behind the messy, black strands. “Are you afraid your feelings might be one-sided or something?"

Olruggio jumps in his seat. "Wha— I don't have—" he stammers, something beginning to buzz in his brain in the instant, the heat spreading rapidly to his ears and his neck, and, and, Alaira is just looking at him so calmly, so seriously like that and he—

"I-I meant I don't have feelings— I mean, I—"

Alaira saves him the struggle, which is nice of her because the same few words keep spinning in Olruggio's mouth, but he cannot turn them into a coherent sentence for the life of him.

"Whoa, calm down," she says, placing a hand on his jittery shoulder. "Didn't mean to get you all stirred up."

"I—" Olruggio splutters once more, pathetically, then buries his face in his hands.

"Hey, it's okay to have a crush, Olruggio," Alaira says, voice kind, as if to calm him down. She pats his shoulder comfortingly for a few times. "It happens. And, it's kind of obvious anyways."

"...It is?" Olruggio parts his fingers to look at her, the blatant admission rolling from his tongue surprising even himself. With the way how restless his entire body has become within seconds, he doubts he could convince the girl otherwise even if he tried anyway.

"Mhm," Alaira nods, laughing lightheartedly. "Don't worry. It's kind of obvious on Qifrey’s end, too."

The words keep echoing in his head. After Alaira leaves. During his lesson, in which his teacher keeps asking if he’s been listening. At night, as he tries to focus on what he is reading, and as he lies in bed a few futile attempts later, the book tossed aside in defeat. It's kind of obvious on his end, too. Can this really be true? Could these thoughts, which have been flitting around in his head, which he's been stubbornly shooing away so that they wouldn't take shape, have been living in Qifrey's mind for a while, too?

The admiration he has for his best friend is unquestionable. It shows, bright as the sun, and just as impossible to hide. Yet it has never felt like this before, swelling to a point as though it might burst his heart, making him act all jittery.

Crush, Alaira had said. He wouldn’t have even thought of calling it that a few years ago, but now? Considering that the rumors circulating around them get to him that much, did these feelings cross the line of friendship at some point which he didn't even realize? Has it come to this, like a seed finally sprouting after growing quietly underground for years? 

It’s possible, and it suddenly freaks him out. He lies still on his bed, watching the reflection of the ocean waves dancing on the ceiling. Love has never been a topic that got brought up often in their conversations. They do sometimes talk about it when it’s about other people but not as much when it comes to themselves.

Qifrey has always seemed pretty uninterested; for all Olruggio knows, there has never been anyone he has shown an interest in before. Not one that he mentioned anyways. Olruggio may have had a couple of people he found cute, but that was about it; let alone liking anyone, he had never felt anything strong or significant enough that he felt the need to put into words.

What he is experiencing right now though, overwhelms him to the bone. If this truly is love, he wonders if it’s normal for him to feel so suffocated, and for his heart to race this wildly at the same time. He would expect love to feel nothing but pleasant, as something so beautiful to have inspired countless fairy tales. 

He doesn’t know if he is thinking all these just because he got too caught up in the stuff people have been saying. He doesn't know what to make of this feeling, a stranger to his heart. The only thing he knows is that whenever he tries to picture a future, there has never been a single one where Qifrey isn't beside him and that has always been the case, long before any of these. The possibility of them being apart has never even been on the table. 

In those many scenarios, wherever he wakes up in the morning, he always runs to his friend's side. Whenever something bothers either of them, they still go to that ramshackle shepherd's hut in the Naakiwan Downs, lean their backs against the crumbling wall and pour out their troubles. They sneak off through windowways again, when the adult responsibilities get too boring, and get lost in the narrow streets of cities, still chattering after they return about all the things they've seen and are yet to see, until their eyelids get heavy with sleep.

With his fifteen years of life experience, this is the only future Olruggio can imagine. He knows all too well what his master would say; that life can be far more complicated, unexpected in ways he can’t understand right now. That there is so much more he is yet to experience beyond this fishbowl of a world he knows.

That people may come and go. His master is a wise man and Olruggio always holds his words in high regard. Harsh reminders to roughen up the edges of a child's dream, to let him down softly, just in case.

Still, despite it all, he is sure as his own name that this big and old world isn’t waiting for him to explore it all on his own. There are dreams that have been talked about under starry skies, and plans that have been made during sleepless nights.

He thinks about them graduating, like birds that are ready to take their first step into the void, stretching their wings. They’ve grown quite tall, wearing elegant cloaks that reach all the way to the ground. Like proper witches, and real adults. They even have beards now, more than a few sparse strands; although Qifrey looks a bit like an old man with his white, long beard slapped on his still young features.

His friend has always said he wanted to live beneath the stars, above the ground, and here they are, not gazing into the suffocating depths of the ocean. Instead, they are watching dragons soaring through the blue-violet night sky.

Here, it’s easy to tell the difference between night and day. "Olly," Qifrey turns to him; stars spin in circles above their heads. He wears a different hat now but the black ribbon is still there, fluttering nimbly in the wind. "That day, I lied to you," he says, voice as soft as the breeze around them.

"What?"

"I found something in the tower about my past," he continues. "My father was a dragon. Isn't that crazy?"

"What?" asks Olruggio again, like one of those animated dolls that keep repeating a single word.

"I couldn't tell you that day, because I was too surprised myself. I'm sorry," He is looking at him so, so affectionately that Olruggio is left to wonder if he’s ever seen Qifrey with an expression like this before. "I'm sorry for taking your ribbon without asking, too. Everything had me so confused. I wanted a part of you to always be with me."

And he reaches out to hold Olruggio's hand. A dragon flies from so close, almost right over their heads. Olruggio feels a warmth surging through his chest as their fingers intertwine, and it’s cozy, and also intense; his heart pounds viciously as if it wants to leap out of his body and leave him for good. Thump, thump, thump, thump...

With a sharp flinch, he snaps his eyes open where he lies. It's morning. Night and day are the same color here at the bottom of the sea.

His chest tingles with the remains of the warmth from his dream, his pulse still just as wild. He must have kicked the blankets off at some point, for they are all piled up in a heap in the corner near his feet.

"Stupid Qifrey," he mutters as he sits up; it's as though literal steam is coming out of his ears. His hand goes to his chest, clenching the fabric of his pajamas dazedly over his heartbeats. "Why did you have to put these thoughts in my head?"

He closes his eyes, and listens to the deep sounds of the ocean filling his ears for a while. Then he gets up, splashes some water on his face from the vapor bubble until the wooziness washes off, and slowly gets dressed, draping his cloak over his shoulders. Puts on his hat. He is getting somewhat used to the tassel; it matches with his hat, at the very least.

His stomach growls, loudly and impertinently. It’s still relatively early; out of habit, he wonders if Qifrey is awake yet, so that they can go grab some breakfast, but the mere thought of it is enough to make him cringe in shame after everything that played out before his eyes last night.

He stands there in the middle of his room, feet glued to the ground. The last thing he wants to do is avoiding his best friend because of some, some bizarre dream, but if he's this fidgety now just by remembering it, he can't even imagine how he'll act when Qifrey is right in front of him. Just perfect, he thinks. Like this tassel thing wasn't already putting him on edge enough.

It will be weird now to go eat by himself without telling him. Maybe, if he makes up some excuse like his master summoned him or something... He can probably get it together by the time they meet for lunch. Or maybe if he's lucky, Qifrey already has an morning lesson today, just like he did yesterday, and the day before, too.

He isn't sure why Beldaruit is pushing Qifrey so hard when they have just passed their third exams, and especially when he's so visibly distracted, but his friend is constantly in lessons nowadays. They've also been spending the past few evenings either studying in the library, or Qifrey’s holed up in his room, saying he needs to work on the myriad of homework Beldaruit had assigned.

Upon these thoughts, something unsettling suddenly stirs inside him. Qifrey is somewhere between present and absent for days, he talks little, and outside of eating or studying, he doesn't suggest doing anything together, either here or outside. And neither does Olruggio. Despite being aware of this abnormal silence on his friend, he's been brushing it off, not even thinking of joining Qifrey in his room to keep him company as he allegedly works on his assignments.

To top it all off, he is now even considering to actively avoid him. And all because of, what, a few silly rumors that got him embarrassed?

All of a sudden, a terrible sense of shame and clarity hit him at the same time. It's true that he hasn’t been asking him about the tower and that day in general so as not to upset Qifrey further, but there is not a single, valid reason to distance himself from his best friend like this, especially after the huge letdown he experienced very recently, when he needs support the most.

Given the way he has been lately, there is a good chance he is more shaken than he lets on. There hasn't been such a situation in a long time but Qifrey tends to bottle things up. Olruggio knows him well enough by now to know that.

Whatever this feeling is, making him have dreams that he cannot just go running to tell Qifrey about for once. Olruggio had forgotten to be a good friend first and foremost, and he has to make up for it right away. Has to make sure his best friend knows he’s there for him, at all times, like a sturdy tree rooted by his side, if he ever needs somewhere to lean against.

The messy pile of books on the floor catches his attention for a moment, like it physically pulls Olruggio’s gaze. The encylopedia of aerial creatures sits on the top, the one he found squeezed between the massive books in a corner of the library a few weeks ago, and took to show Qifrey later. His friend has hundreds of these but his eye still lights up like he's seen gold every time he comes across a new one.

He snatches the book off the floor swiftly and heads out, almost running, his steps echoing in the dark, gloomy corridors.

*

Qifrey’s room is a tad messy, in a way Olruggio is used to seeing. His clothes are piled on the chair in the corner, his desk cluttered with books, notes and ink bottles that were forgotten to be thrown out. Despite all those, his bed is neatly made, on which he is currently lying face down, while Olruggio sits on the floor with his back against the fuzzy blanket hanging over its edge. 

Olruggio had to knock a few times before Qifrey finally appeared on the other side of his door, sleepy and still in his pajamas, apparently just woken up. His gaze was thick with drowsiness, alongside a slight confusion as he stared at his friend who had come running over to his door the first thing in the morning, still trying to catch his breath. 

Nevertheless, when Olruggio invited himself inside, holding up the book and the bag of scones in his hands with his bright grin he hadn't been showing in a while, a small, sincere smile had also appeared on Qifrey's tired face in return.

After he changed out his pajamas and hastily tidied up a little, which consisted of making his bed and shoving the stuff lying around kindly to a corner, they devoured the scones in a flash, leaving not a single one in the bag.

Now, as Olruggio flips through the pages of the encyclopedia he brought, and Qifrey does the same with his own book, debating on the species of that one dragon they’ve seen last month from a distance in the Downs, Qifrey seems to be in a good mood; laughing and frowning as he claims it cannot have been a glass-scaled dragon unlike what Olruggio insists, that they rarely leave northern coasts, especially not now in their mating seasons. Olruggio doesn’t see why not, since he often spots dragons of cold climates flying around in the skies of the Downs too, ones that he used to see a lot in in his hometown as a child.

All this talk makes him want to tell Qifrey about that part of his dream where he had a dragon father, because it's funny, and absurd enough to make his friend laugh. But that would just risk cutting the ropes of the two blades hanging over their heads; one, that it might remind Qifrey that his past is still an unshrouded mystery, and the other, that it can easily deepen the already faint blush on Olruggio’s face as he skirts around certain details of the story.

Except the tiny, tiny butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Olruggio is content with the way they are right now. He had thought he wouldn't even be able to face Qifrey only a clockmark ago, but everything feels the same as always. Back to their usual selves, bantering, talking about this and that as the day rolls. Like they hadn't taken their third exams yet, like nothing happened to make them lightly stumble on their path towards their future; still the two starry-eyed witches that walk side by side, hoping the journey has nothing but good things for them in store.

Still, unspoken things don't just disappear, and there's still a long, black ribbon tied to the tip of Qifrey's hat on his nightstand.

And still, Olruggio is more than okay with ignoring the butterflies, and staying within this nice, familiar illusion. But when the door suddenly swings wide open, he is forced to remember once again that he is living in a changing reality.

Beldaruit, or rather, a smoke clone of his, appears in the doorway, spruce and shipshape as ever. A slight surprise appears on his face when he spots Olruggio inside, clearly not expecting to see him there this early, before it quickly gives way to a mischievous smile.

"Oh my, I'm very sorry to interrupt," he beams, his gaze on them filled with more affection than usual.

“I told you not to barge in like that,” Qifrey deadpans, without even sitting up from where he’s lying, turning his head towards his teacher.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, my dear apprentice. Habits, you understand. I'm working on it," he apologizes, sincerely, then turns to the other boy. "How are you doing, Olruggio? Are you studies going well? Hope your teacher is in good spirits."

"I'm good," Olruggio replies, sheepish. "My master's doing well, too. He sends his regards."

"I'm very glad to hear that. Please give him my regards as well." he says, letting out a small sigh before he continues. "Anyways, Qifrey, I just stopped by to tell you I'll be moving to my room in the Eastern Tower today. Some matter that apparently requires my attendance has arisen. Come meet me there for our lesson tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright then, I'll be taking my leave. I'll leave you two to it," he says. There's a tone of amusement in his voice. Olruggio gets a small, anxious knot in his stomach, and sits perfectly still in his spot, afraid to move, hoping the man's excessive cheerfulness isn't stemming from what he thinks it is. Qifrey on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be finding his teacher’s behavior anything out of the ordinary; his attention already turned back to his book, he impatiently waits for Beldaruit to leave as soon as possible.

Olruggio finally relaxes a little when Beldaruit leans forward to grab the doorknob and his chair takes a step out of the room. Only to realize it's far too soon, because just as he thinks he is finally in the clear, the man's next words create the effect of the circle of an explosion spell having been closed inside the room.

"Have fun,” he chirps. “Ah, how beautiful young love is."

Olruggio blushes on the spot, instantly. He can't seem to do anything else these days.

Qifrey, however, reacts differently. Eye going wide, he snaps his head towards Beldaruit, sitting up rapidly. His brows are knitted, as if he’s misheard what was just said, and trying to make sense of it.

"What?"

Beldaruit pauses in his joyful pose upon his student's abrupt reaction, his sealchair only halfway turned around. He turns back to them, thrown off by Qifrey's puzzled, frowning expression.

"You two... since you started going out, that's why I..." he attempts to explain, trailing off with hesitance as silence triumphs over his voice. 

He gets no response. Qifrey blinks. Olruggio isn't even in a state to say anything; if someone were to hold a tomato next to his cheeks, nobody would be able to tell their shades apart.

“Aren’t you two dating? I thought you exchanged your tassels because of that.”

Qifrey's fists clutch the blanket, stuck staring at Beldaruit. And Olruggio is stuck staring at Qifrey, so intently, as if it's only him who holds the answer to that question.

"No," Qifrey replies at last, and despite the faint confusion in his voice, sharply. Like a sword to a heart.

“Ah,” Olruggio can literally see the words flying away and abandoning Beldaruit, all his previous merriness vanishing in seconds. "I-I see. Seems like I made some assumptions on my own. I apologize. I— well, I'd better leave."

And he does, leave, disappearing into mist with a puff. Leaves the two of them to suffocate in the heavy atmosphere of the room. Qifrey still isn't looking at Olruggio, and now with Beldaruit gone, he has no one left to look at; his head bowed, his gaze is fixed on his dangling feet. It's like he isn't even there.

Very slowly, cautiously, he lies down again, turning his attention to the open page of the book sitting on his pillows. Olruggio does the same with the one on his lap. Neither of them speaks.

These species are known for their shimmering blue scales and red fins. They usually inhabit areas with low temperatures and dry climate, however...

Olruggio's eyes return to the top of the page. And again. And again. Until the silence grows so thick that it almost begins to weigh physically on his shoulders.

It’s as though his heartbeat is echoing inside his skull. He's sweating buckets again. When he manages to gather enough courage to take a look at Qifrey, unlike his restless self, he finds him lying stiffly in place. He looks almost petrified, motionless as a statue.

Is he embarrassed? Did he get angry at Beldaruit? Is he even aware of what everyone's been saying? Qifrey is his best friend, but Olruggio has no idea; nothing even remotely similar to this has ever happened before in all their years of friendship.

He wants to break this uncomfortable silence, no, he has to, because Qifrey doesn't seem to have any intention to do so, and Olruggio doesn't think he'll be able to handle it if they keep sitting there without a word any longer.

"Hey," he says, jumping to his feet and praying to the stars that his face isn't as red as he fears. "Who cares about some stupid rumors, right?"

Who cares, right? Not like it was him who lay awake for clockmarks last night, trying to make sense of a flock of foreign emotions raiding his head.

"Huh?" Qifrey snaps out of whatever he was thinking about and turns to his friend, who is staring at him a bit too intently. Olruggio notices his shoulders loosening for a brief moment, as if he was expecting a different question.

His eye flits to his hat on the nightstand and back to Olruggio for a split second. "Yeah,” he mumbles, a little absently. “Right."

And he smiles, in that strange way again. It's even more awkward this time, full of cracks and flaws. He looks so tense that even his curled lips cannot quite hide it. Let's drop the subject, they almost say.

Does the idea of them dating disturbs him so much that he can't even say a word about it? Olruggio doesn't understand why he is this nervous; it's not like he is calm himself, but Qifrey looks like a rubber band about to snap under that strained smile.

"Qifrey," he says, trying his best to suppress the unease rising within him. He reaches out to place a hand on Qifrey's shoulder. "Are you okay—"

Suddenly, before he can even touch his shoulder, his friend flinches, and flings himself backward with such a force that his back hits the wall with a thud. Olruggio's hand is left hanging in the air. For only a few seconds, Qifrey stares at him in horror, pressed against the wall and legs pulled up to himself, as if he has just seen someone dying before his eye.

"I—" he manages, panic flooding his face upon the sight of Olruggio standing there wordlessly, taken aback by his reaction. "I'm sorry, I—"

He doesn’t even attempt finishing his sentence, before he throws himself back onto the pillows and buries his face in them.

Olruggio stands there, at a complete loss as to what to say, or what to do. He watches Qifrey clutching the pillow even tighter each passing second, his expression a total mystery. Olruggio wants to reach out to his friend, to tear his head away from the pillows, to ask him what's wrong, but he hesitates and lowers his hand, letting it dangle by his side. It's as if there is suddenly an invisible wall in between.

None of those stupid rumors he had been dwelling on matter. Neither do these feelings that's been nagging at him. They don't matter, because if that's how Qifrey sees it, then that's how it is for him, too. It's not worth losing his best friend over. Not at all.

"Qifrey, just forget about everyone else. When have you ever cared what others say?" he insists, desperately trying to turn everything back to the way it was just a few minutes ago. It’s slipping through his fingers. He isn't even sure if Qifrey is listening to him. “I mean, you still haven’t told me why you took my ribbon, but why do people automatically assume it’s something romantic, right? It’s dumb. It’s—”

"I didn't take it," Qifrey says suddenly. His voice comes muffled through the pillows. “You gave it to me. You don’t remember.”

What, Olruggio thinks.

"What," he says. “How? Why?”

“Olly,” says Qifrey with a shaky voice, without lifting his head. Is he… crying? He curls up more and more where he lies. More and more walls keep rising in between. “I want to be alone right now.”

Something crushes Olruggio's heart and crumbles it into tiny pieces, like bread. He can feel his stomach turning upside down.

"A-alright. Sorry if I said anything weird. I—” He takes a dejected step backwards; all the strength has fled his legs. “I'll be in my room if you need anything."

He gets no reply other than a shuffle. He leaves.

The whole day turns into a torture after that. When his room begins to suffocate him, he goes out to study but thoughts don't leave him alone there either. Nor in the library, nor in the dining hall, nor when he returns to his room late in the evening. He doesn't run into Qifrey anywhere. He wants to talk to someone so badly; he had looked for Alaira at some point towards the afternoon, but hadn't been able to find her anywhere either.

He doesn't understand a thing. Why has everything, which was so simple, so normal just a week ago, suddenly gone so complicated? Why isn't Qifrey talking to him? Why did he react that way, so strongly that he almost cried? Why didn’t Olruggio stay by his side and left his friend curled up there, instead of trying to comfort him as he should have?

And why does his heart still feel like it's being ruthlessly stomped on?

And just whatever did Qifrey mean when he said it was Olruggio who gave him his ribbon? It's true that he had waited quite a while for Qifrey to return from the tower that day, apparently long enough to take a nap, but could he really have done something like that and just not remember it? If that's really the case, could he have blurted out some other things as well? But that's impossible because he very much doubts he would forget such a thing, given how many restless days and nights this whole ordeal had caused him.

Once again, nothing is making sense. However, there is one thing certain, and it's that his friend obviously doesn’t share these unfamiliar feelings that’s been invading his mind, and now crushing his heart.

Olruggio got too caught up in what people were saying, thoughts he wouldn't normally consider got in his head, and he put his friendship at risk. That’s what happened. Qifrey must have heard the rumors too, it's impossible that he didn't, and he clearly got uncomfortable. So much so that when Beldaruit asks them about it he freezes in his spot, and he winces in horror when Olruggio tries to touch him. Despite Olruggio's mind visibly being in a state of disarray, he doesn't explain him anything, or even talk to him.

He doesn't talk to him. Even though they tell each other everything, ever since he got out of the tower Qifrey isn't telling him anything. Doesn't tell him what he's thinking, what he's feeling. Something unknown goes on inside his head. No matter how much Olruggio wants to uncover what’s been lurking there in the dark, it feels so far away from his reach as of now.

Will things be awkward between them like this from now on? Will their friendship, which he had always thought as everlasting, fray, further and further, laced with unspoken things, until it snaps where it's worn thinnest?

He doesn't know. He doesn't even know what he's feeling. His emotions are in such a chaos that he's about to get lost inside them.

When it gets too tiring, he sleeps. Maybe he cries a little before he does.

*

The next morning, before his thoughts even find time to start gnawing at his mind, Qifrey appears at his door.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he says, his voice timid. "The third exam was a bit too much for me. At first I didn't think it was a big deal that I couldn't find anything about my past, but I guess the disappointment hit me later. I've been a little irritable since then. I didn't mean to act that way."

When their eyes meet, Qifrey gives him that smile once again. It’s pliant, and apologetic, probably meant to show he is now fine after yesterday, but it ends up setting off something entirely different in Olruggio's head.

A memory flashes through his mind, a face just a few years younger, smiling in the same exact way right before he stole his map and ran off. If he were to put the two on top of each other, they would be almost indistinguishable.

"How'd you know I left?" yells the young Qifrey, staring bewilderedly at Olruggio who has just jumped out of the windowway kicking him in the back. "Smiling was supposed to put people’s guards down, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I lied to you that day," says bearded Qifrey, dream-Qifrey.

“There was nothing there for me,” says the Qifrey from a few days ago. He looks genuinely sad as his eye follows the soft waves of the sea before them. “There’s no reason to go back.”

“I’m not giving it back!” he cries out, clutching the black ribbon tightly and pressing it against his chest. “I can’t. It’s—”

It's as though the ocean has swallowed all the sounds around them. Qifrey watches him placidly and with a little bit of anticipation, fidgeting with his hands.

Olruggio snaps out from his thoughts when he remembers he needs to respond to his friend’s apology. “It’s okay,” he says. He looks carefully at Qifrey's face. There’s not a trace of the worries that's been plaguing his own mind since yesterday, but something else. He cannot really fathom what it is; he seems calm, but it resembles more of a sky before a storm.

“Qifrey, you know you can always tell me if something’s bothering you, right?” he asks. He has to; he needs him to know. Whatever happened there that day, whatever he found, or didn't, in the Tower of Tomes. Whenever he feels like talking about it. Even if it's never. “You know I’m here for you, always.”

It's like something cracks behind the mask. That’s not a trick you pull on your friends, a voice shouts inside Olruggio, one that belongs to years ago. If he were to repeat those words now, they would come out much quieter, maybe a little resentful. He doesn't do it. Is this what growing up is like?

“I know,” Qifrey says, a somber tone in his voice. “Thank you, Olly.”

“Of course. That’s what best friends are for!” Olruggio replies, too enthusiastically that it comes out a bit awkward. He hesitates for the briefest moment, but reaches out slowly to pat Qifrey on the back regardless.

Qifrey flinches again, very subtly, but doesn’t pull away this time; on the contrary, he leans into it, ever so faintly. Olruggio catches something genuine finally flickering behind his eye, even if it's a bit rueful.

The tension melts away and disappears. It's a friendship of years, and something they obviously both hold dear. It was ridiculous of Olruggio to even think it could end so easily, over something so trivial like that.

They head out to grab a bite to eat, then maybe study a little. Olruggio doesn’t speak about the matter any further. He has told Qifrey he can talk to him whenever he wants, for now, that should be enough. Until then, all he can do is try to be a proper best friend: someone reliable, someone Qifrey can depend on no matter what, without hesitation. And make sure that he never, ever forgets that. 

It seems like a few butterflies are still alive down his stomach, but he won’t think too much about it. These feelings, all sparked by those blasted rumors, are bound to die along with them once the whispers start fading. Emotions are exhausting, and all Olruggio wants is for things to be the way it always was.

So, he changes the subject by talking about the glass-scaled dragons they read about in the encyclopedia yesterday, and their observation trips they had to take a break from to prepare tor the third exam. Qifrey laughs. They debate whether or not to sneak off to Downs next evening. Or maybe they can go to Ezrest instead; Olruggio has been craving those prism lemon pies of the bakery in the main square. Their teachers don't scold them for these outings as they used to, since they are not twelve year olds anymore; even so, they decide it's better to not tell them regardless.

The tassel and the ribbon hang from their hats, staying where they are. And Olruggio doesn't ask him anything, not until Qifrey tells himself.

*

*

*

The less big, now older world orbits the sun quite a number of times, as Olruggio learns the truth behind his master's words. Like all the other people who have passed through this world before, his fifteen year old self wasn't strong enough to stand unwavering against the currents of the ever-changing life either, persistent as he was. Despite that, his vision of a future turned out to be not so far-fetched, as he sees; though all these years up to that point have brought with them an amalgamation of many feelings that are now not so foreign.

Yet, there are still things he doesn’t know, as is only natural. Things he is still pulling himself back from asking, once out of the purity, the stubbornness of his heart, that have now turned into a bitter waiting game. They sometimes linger at the corners of this lovely place they have pulled up from the ground, fleeing into the cracks of its bricks whenever they hear the four distinct, cheery voices. No good really comes from them, Olruggio has come to learn, and he would rather they watch this warm scenery from where they hide than have them running around underfoot. It's no trouble; they've known their way around the Downs for almost as long as he has, after all.

Still, he is only human, and no matter how good he has gotten at it, he can keep his mind from wandering and wondering only so much.

“Y’know, I never asked why you took my ribbon, Qifrey,” he says. He may be a little drunk, and it might be showing in the way he rolls his words in his mouth, but the air is way too pleasant for a winter night that he just allows himself to get a little sentimental. Perhaps that two day journey from Ezrest made him reminisce their youth laden with similar adventures, where they often slept by the coziest flames. Or it may be tonight’s flashy sky above that’s making his heart bleed. 

“I suppose you did not,” Qifrey replies, with that tone so carefully even around the edges.

He gingerly places a hand on his own knees, lightly grasping the fabric. His friend had almost perfected the subtlety of his acts of anxiety over the years, and Olruggio simultaneously got better at catching them, even with the way his head is getting increasingly heavy. He knows how this goes. A signal for Olruggio to take a step back, in this endless dance of moving back and forth, which they haven’t partaken in for what feels like a long while. He is still clumsy at it at best. Had to learn all the steps all by himself. 

“D’you remember how people never seemed to shut up about that? Never understood how you seemed so unbothered.” he goes on. It’s Coco and that kid’s wee bracelets that have pulled this dusty memory from among the others, no doubt.

"Is that so?" Qifrey muses, pensive. "I never noticed."

Olruggio can easily believe this, if it's about those earlier days when they were still naive and sparkly-eyed. But Qifrey has grown into the politest liar since then, now saying he has never once encountered an assumption about their relationship to the face, nor the waxing-and-waning gossip of the Great Hall until the time they graduated, and expecting Olruggio to believe him. No, he doesn't really expect him to believe, he just kindly asks for him to play along. It's impossible for even liars like Qifrey to hide the love beneath their eyes. Olruggio doesn't remember when exactly he first spotted it there.

Like always, he doesn’t let him down. “Lucky you," he says, taking another gulp from his chalice. "D’yknow that they teased me so much back then that even I thought they might hold some merit. How foolish it all sounds now, right?”

Qifrey takes in a breath. And like clockwork, smiles, as he watches the night-blue fields in front of them. That decade-old plea rises from deep down where it's been buried inside Olruggio, shrilling like those ancient laments of the witches of Ghodrey. He has never understood how he's never once pushed, never once begged for answers when it's so loud like that. It rings in his ears from within, as passing seconds stack on top of each other.

“Right?” Olruggio repeats. He is slurring. Stars seem as though they are getting closer from beneath his eyelids that keep falling down.

“Come, Olly,” Qifrey says, his voice soft, softest, as he pries the chalice out from his loose grip, and gently probes him up from the porch, hooking his arm around his shoulders. Olruggio lets him, leaning into the warmth as much as his friend allows, a moth to a flame. “Let’s get you to bed.”

His adolescent years are far behind now, and he has gotten better at holding his tongue after crossing a certain degree of drunkenness, but perhaps it's a part of him that's doing it on purpose. Times like these are the only moments he can afford a few drops of honesty to seep from the walls he so reluctantly raised. Kind, his friend calls him, but he is undoubtedly placing him on a pedestal too high, for he takes a tiny amount of pleasure from cornering Qifrey like this. A small revenge he would never normally indulge in, that, to Olruggio, resembles way too much of a child crying and cavorting for attention.

Maybe it’s fine, he thinks, for Qifrey ain’t that far off from him when it comes to these little moments of indulgence, for he pulls him against himself closer than necessary, pressing his cheek against the top of his lolling head. Maybe it’s fine. He won’t remember much of it next morning anyways, and Qifrey can go back to guarding his precious secrets behind his those walls of his, that are much sturdier than Olruggio’s.

The atelier’s warm air greets them when they step inside. "'S there even a reason?" Olruggio mumbles, his vision slipping away from him further and further. “Are you ever gonna tell me why?”

“I probably will, again,” Qifrey says, like a whisper. This might be a dream for all Olruggio knows, akin to that one he saw when he met this warm feeling in his chest for the first time. How drastically different, and how similar at its core.

He doesn’t know what Qifrey means by that. He talks such nonsense sometimes, his friend. It’s nothing he isn't used to though, and the words are flying away anyways, as his feet start to carry less and less of his weight, and he is out like a light.

And it’s all right. All right, because he’s never been one to not follow his heart, which is what brought them to this cherished wreckage of theirs, and turned it into a place he can call home in the first place. It has settled inside, beating soundly alongside the clutter of kitchenware, the tapping of the rain against the roof, the constant lighthearted laughter that just seems to hang in the air. With the tender stares, sometimes fleeting, sometimes lingering; and all the bantering, and discussing, and arguing, and loving. It's the same as it has ever been, and the same as it always will be.

It’s all right, because he is right where his heart is. He only wishes his friend could find his way back there, too.