@devilbreaker olruggio › " you know you don't ha- " a sigh leaves olruggio as he sits down " coco also probably needs a haircut but since you want to.. beard also needs some trimming. "
" hmmm ... yes, i suppose she could. i'll ask if she— " mumbling along beneath their breath until the second part registers. there's a long drawn out pause which results in a breath caught in their throat. it isn't an outrageous suggestion, it's hardly even a suggestion at all but ... an invitation. knots take root in his stomach; tightening until a wave of nausea overtakes him. qifrey's fingers thumb starts to rub his fingers just out olruggio's sight, tongue flattening to the roof of his mouth. " it's ... been awhile, olly. " this not mumble. this, in a low voice without jest.
the precursory days of the atelier when youth still grasped for its dear life into the rolling twenties, olruggio had once been frustrated with the upkeep of said hair. qifrey had figured he'd be accustomed to it— assumed he preferred it long and unruly for the sake of teasing him for it. however, during a misfire of a spell ( oh, even the best of them could make mistakes. even the brightest, the most capable such as he ) olruggio had singed his hands. of course, he didn't much make it their problem. told qifrey it was fine to stop worrying; told qifrey it wasn't the first time, but as most things tend to be ... it was not fine.
it came quietly, the request. a tired, disgruntled voice requesting such a simple thing as trimming both hair and beard. it was then qifrey learned he'd done it himself, it was then they realized just how tired olruggio really looked up close. they'd laughed and joked, trying to avoid the task ( if they touched him he may fade away, if they touched him they may never be the same ). qifery never quite obtained hair further than a fuzz and often times forgot of their own wispy strands until it obscured what remained of his vision. yet still ... they did. slowly, methodically, careful not to cut or irritate skin so close to one of the most vital points of the human body.
but that was so long ago, wasn't it? everything was so long ago and yet the feelings do not change. perhaps if qifrey touches him, they may never be the same.
" if you insist. " olruggio doesn't have to insist and doesn't have to properly ask. though they do not look at him, they can feel the way he stares. the quiet, suspended patience beneath that gruff exterior for qifrey's decision. they know where he keeps the straight razor and the cream, only stuttering to locate a proper towel. it's a quiet, almost ritualistic setup as almost everything is for qifrey. it's quiet ... it's quiet in general as it always is around olruggio. there aren't many who would know them like this— pensive, unanimated. the girls certainly don't and he intends to keep it as such until ... he isn't sure until when. olruggio says something shaking qifrey from his thoughts and he puffs out a little laugh. " what, is it bothering you that much ? you know i have little to no experience with this. it's been awhile, give me a second. " he hopes the slight tremble of his fingers aren't visible. " sit down, would you? take off your robe. unless you like to be an itchy sod. "
olruggio compiles with his own retorts, but soon that blanket of silence submerges them both. qifrey dampens one towl with the vapor bubble, gently wiping at his face. then he applies the cream. each step is slow, careful ... eye narrowed and focused. worries plague his mind ( good. every touch is a reminder of the weight of my sins. every detail of this man's face a manifestation of the burden. ) and leave him speechless. his hands have stopped their shaking in favor of precision and careful movement, but olruggio has grown stiff and posture far from helpful. qifrey sounds a sharp 'tsk' and yanks his face up by the chin, exposing the underside for a better angle with the razor. " oh would you cooperate. it's like you want me to ... " again, the knots. the twisting. he doesn't breathe as he stares into those narrowing eyes. he, too, is suspended, but breaks it first with a hurried complaint about neck strain. he stares for far too long. mouth agape with his lost words, fingers frozen. ( gather yourself. now, qifery. you mustn't forget. you can't make him forget something so harmless- )
" well, olly, if you'd prioritize your own body's wellness you'd not feel like old beldaruit now would you ? " quickly shot to spark controversy, to stifle the ... hell, qifrey cannot place a name onto the weight. it works, it strikes the match. olruggio tempers back and qifrey does the same until the chin beneath his fingers feels hot in the flareup and the tension annoyance instead. it is then he continues until it is back to it's tamed glory. it's hurried in the wiping of stray strands, the washing of his own hands. the tips of his fingers tingle both from the sharp hairs and the closeness. the lower of his knees had knocked olruggio's, the two eyes which stared up at him—
as he spins around from his tidying, his hands clasp together. " now then ! since i have done my part i believe i will leave the discussion with coco up to you. my wrists are wrung dry, olly. aghhhhhh. " he sighs with far too much drama, hands coming to rest on his waist as he slumps. it returns to the bickering, the rattling of qifrey's collar. the knots in his stomach wane, but never quite find themselves undone.
if he remains here in olruggio's sight, freshly remembering the shape of his jaw, he'll ruin this for everyone. he'll sully his own heart even more.
