Gender not specified, but female intended
The door didn't creak when it opened. It never did anymore. Qifrey had fixed that long ago â oiled hinges and a quiet kind of magic that made all the noise go away. It was, eventually, a habit of slipping in and out of rooms like he was afraid of disturbing something fragile. To him, you were.
Tonight, he wished it would creak. Something that could warn you that he was back after hours.
You didn't look up. You were sitting at the small table by the window, chin in your hand, tracing the same circle into the paper over and over. The candle beside you had burned low, wax pooling and spilling out of the plate like it was trying to escape its own shape.
"You're late," you said softly, not accusing â just noticing.
Qifrey paused in the doorway. He had rehearsed this. On the walk back. In the alley behind the atelier. Under his breath, over and over, until the words lost meaning and became something hollow and sharp.
None of that helped now. Nothing would help now. The words he rehearsed, left his thoughts the moment he saw you. So focused and determined... and content. He was about to ruin all of that.
You hummed, still not looking at him, too immersed and focused on the spell you were working on. "Did it go well?"
There it was. The question Qifrey was waiting for all along. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a careful click. The quiet felt heavier now, like the room itself was holding its breath. You could tell the shift in the way he stood. It wasn't soft and reassuring anymore. Serious and too the point.
Your finger stilled against the table. You lifted your head slowly, eyes finding him across the dim room. Just a flicker of confusion at the way he stood there, rigid, like a statue that had forgotten how to pretend to be alive.
He couldn't move closer. Crossing that small space between you meant telling you the most heartbreaking news you didn't want to hear. But he had to tell you anyways. That was the whole point of his arrival back at the atelier.
"They've made a decision," he said.
Your brows knit together slightly. "About what?"
He didn't answer, looking away gently. Looking away like he was losing someone important. That look, you hated most. Your chair scraped softly against the floor as you stood, the sound sharp in the quiet. "Qifrey," you said again, more firmly this time, "what was the decision?"
He forced himself forward, one step, then another. Each one felt wrong. He can't undo any of this now and it was his fault. He could have kept silent but that would just make him a criminal too.
"The Three Wise... reviewed your case," he said carefully. "Your magic. The incidentâ"
"I know what they reviewed," you cut in, voice tightening. "What did they decide?" There was a tremor there now.
Qifrey hated that he was the one putting it there. He stopped a few feet away from you. Close enough to see the way your hands had curled slightly at your sides. Enough to see the way your eyes searched his face, desperate for somethingâanythingâthat didn't look like this.
"They're going to take your magic," he said. "And... your memories."
The words fell between you like something solid.
The silence was deafening for minutes. No words spoke, neither of you looked at each other. You both just stood, silent. And then... you laughed.
It was small. Disbelieving.
"That's not funny," you said, shaking your head. "Don'tâ don't joke about that."
The laughter died instantly. "They can't," you said, in protest. "Theyâ Qifrey, they can't do that. I didn'tâ no one was hurt, I fixed it, you said it was under controlâ"
"I followed the rules after that!" You were desperately trying to reason, your hands following your words, exaggerated and dramatic. "I didn't touch anything else I wasn't supposed to, I stayed inside the bounds after that, I listenedâ"
"I know," he repeated, softer this time.
"Then why?" Your voice broke on the word, sharp and raw. "Why would theyâ why would they do that to me?"
Because they're afraid of you. Magic that came from the incident was forbidden magic. The world they protect has no space for mistakes like yours. Because I couldn't protect you from them.
Qifrey swallowed all of it. "They believe it's the safest option," he said instead.
Your face twisted. "Safe for who?"
You staggered back a step, hitting the edge of the table. The candle wobbled, flame flickering wildly before steadying again. "No," you whispered. "No, no, noâ there has to be something else. An appeal, a delay, anythingâ"
"I argued. I pushed it as far as I could," Qifrey continued, his voice tight, controlled in that way that meant it was one breath away from breaking. "But the decision is final."
"Final?" you echoed, like the word itself didn't make sense. "They can't justâ this is my life, Qifrey!"
The words hit harder than anything else you'd said ever in your life, in the life he's known you. You looked angry.
"I am," he said, too quickly. "I'm telling you now so we have time toâ"
"To what?" you snapped. "Prepare? Say goodbye? Sit here and wait while they come and take everything from me? While they come and take you from me?"
Your voice cracked, splintering apart under its own weight.
"They're going to erase it and I won't be able to feel it anymore," you murmured. "I won't be me anymore."
"Don't say that." The words came out harsher than you intended. You choked, turning away from him, one hand coming up to press against your mouth. "Are you kidding? You're okay with this? With us..." You trailed off, all the memories you shared with him.
Qifrey stepped forward without thinking. "Heyâ"
"Don't."Â You flinched away before he could touch you. "I need you to not do that," you said, your voice trembling. "Don't fucking do that."
You let out a broken laugh. "Sorry?" you repeated. "You're sorry?"
"But you're the one telling me." You turned back to face him, eyes shining now, tears finally spilling over despite how hard you were trying to hold them back. "You walked in here," you said, voice shaking, "and you just... you just said it. Like it was nothing. Like you weren't handing meâ" You broke off, breath hitching painfully.
"Like I wasn't breaking you," Qifrey finished quietly.
"...yeah," you whispered.
Deafening silence again. So desperately you wanted to break so you did. The question you've been bouncing around in your head.
"When?" you asked finally.
Qifrey hesitated. "....Soon."
Your eyes closed, rubbing your hand through your hair. "Qifrey."
"They can't do this," you whispered, over and over, like if you said it enough it might become true. "They can't, they can't, they can'tâ"
In an instant, he was in front of you, catching you before your knees buckled entirely. "I know," he murmured, pulling you closer despite the way his own hands trembled. "I know."
Your face pressed against his chest, your breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. "I'm scared," you admitted, so quietly he almost didn't hear it.
"I know," he said again, his voice cracking now. "I know, I'm soâ"
Your fingers clenched weakly in his clothes. "...stay with me," you said.
Qifrey tightened his hold on you. "I'm not going anywhere."
"...I won't remember you though," you said. "You can't say that. You can't promise that. I can'tâ" You choked, gripping him tighter. "I can't wake up in a world where you don't exist to me."
Qifrey's arms tightened around you instinctively, like if he held you close enough, it might anchor you hereâ anchor this feeling here forever.
"They're going to take you from me," you said, the realization settling in fully now, crushing, irreversible. "Not even... not even by distance. Justâ gone. Like you were neverâ"
"I'll still be here," he said, the words desperate, fragile.
"But I won't know that," you cried. "I won't feel that. You'll be a strangerâ no, not even that, you'll be nothing, you'll be no oneâ"
Your hands fisted in his robes again, like you were trying to hold him in place against something inevitable. "Qifrey, what if I forget your voice?" you whispered. "What if I forget the way youâ" You broke off, shaking your head. "What if I forget everything?"
He didn't have an answer. Because you would.
Qifrey pressed his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut. "Then I'll remember," he said, his voice barely holding together. "I'll remember enough for both of us."
"That's not fair," you whispered.
"...tell me something," you murmured.
"Something I can try to hold onto," you said. "Even if it doesn't stay."
"You always hum when you're concentrating," he said softly. "You don't notice it, but it's there. And you tilt your head when you're confused, just slightly, like you're trying to listen to something no one else can hear."
"And you," you whispered, "you always pretend you're not tired. Even when you can barely stand."
He huffed a weak, broken laugh.
"...yeah. I don't want to forget you," you said.
"Please don't let me forget you."
