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Drabble on Qifrey (Witch Hat Atelier)

There was a time, not so long ago, where Qifrey thought dying might be a release. It may have coincided with his first and last trip to the Tower of Tomes, to the first time he had to wipe Olly's memories, to the last gapping rift of sorrow carved in his flesh.

Now, Qifrey wants nothing else but to live. He wants it fiercely, so much so that it burns every minute of every day. Because, every day, he witnesses Coco come up with a novel application of a basic spell, he spies yet another small smile on Agott's stern face, he watches over Richeh, nose now diligently buried in books and he chuckles at Tetia's infectious energy.

Qifrey wants nothing else but to bask in the small, simple successes his apprentices bless him with every day.

He can't.

Silver roots twist under his skin, threatening to burst out and ruin this tranquil life every single time he wishes for peace. The brimmed caps can keep his right eye, for all he cares. The gift of settling into a warm home with the people he cherishes is what he despairs to get back.

It was manageable, with just Olruggio. After all, the both of them made sure to ease the ache by plaguing their relationship with lies. Qifrey can't do the same with the girls. The guilt of stealing his best friend's memories is already hard to tolerate, so he knows: the day one of the girl learns all his secrets is the day he'll have to embrace death.

Even if now, he wants nothing else but to live.

On days where it all grows too painful, he wishes he died years ago. He wishes that Beldaruit never found him under that tree, that Olruggio left him to drown; that Olly didn't come up with the torturous plan of erasing his memories again, and again, and again.

If only Olruggio had let Qifrey plant his roots earlier. If only Olruggio didn't care so much. If only he didn't make the same choice every time he rediscovered their secrets, to the point that Qifrey doesn't even bother to ask anymore before every wipe. If only Olly had just given up on Qifrey.

It's Olruggio's fault that Qifrey can't give up either.

They forged a home. They built their place. Olly gave him so much; Qifrey can't even loathe him in peace. As much as he resents him in his darkest moment, Qifrey can't help but love that impossibility of a man.

Hence his growing desperation, gnawing at his inside each time he watches the girls eat his cooking with sparkles in their eyes, each time Olly enters a room with a light grin, each time they go for a walk outside when the weather is nice, each time they speak, they laugh, they smile.

Qifrey can't wait to be a truthful, entire part of his own life. No matter how impossible, and forever out of reach it feels.