You understood the value of secrets. The vulnerability of telling the truth was often too much trouble when one could just hold their cards close to their chest. But keeping big secrets from the people you loved the most? That was something you would never understand.

So when your boyfriend started doing it, you wanted answers.

You started with innocent questions about him. Giving him the chance to tell you why he had chronic migraines, why he was terrified of water, things like that. Qifrey would answer calmly, but never gave away anything that felt real. So your questioning got more direct.

That's when you started seeing the other side of Qifrey. He was still calm, but the way ice felt calm. There was a new firmness to his answers, an edge in his eyes. He was trying to warn you to drop the subjects and continue about your day together. But you were done accepting vague answers about things that mattered to the man you loved.

"Qifrey, just tell me," you said, standing behind him in the kitchen. "You can trust me with anything, you know that."

Qifrey didn't turn around, but his movements got more jerky. Setting down a mug too hard, stirring the pot on the stove harder than normal. "I do trust you, darling. But you don't have to know everything."

"But I do deserve to know something," you pleaded.

Qifrey finally turned around with a quiet fury. This was a level of anger you'd never seen in Qifrey before, even when your brushbuddy Puff got into the ink. "Just leave it alone," he raised his voice, not quite a shout but definitely louder than his usual.