(no subject)
Written for the second fanfiction contest at kkm_wolframfans
Title: The Rain Falls Along the Road
Author: _pratz_
Prompt: Metaphor (No. 1)
the rain falls along the road
the rain drizzles as the season rustles slowly
returning to the name of silence
we see: the trees outside are wet again
no one refuses it. Then we understand, suddenly
of the secret message
when the wind is wet and free of dust
when no one feels the need of haste
(the rain falls along the road; Sapardi Djoko Damono, translation by me)
As a boy from an age when almost every road is made of hard asphalt, Yuuri should have known better that it is not easy to keep walking steadily under the rain on a Shin Makoku road. The land under his feet is wet and slippery, Wolfram’s hold on his right arm the only one that keep him in balance.
“Don’t lose your balance,” Wolframs warns softly, his breath warm on Yuuri’s ear. “There’s no need for a king to fall in public.”
Yuuri is almost tempted to roll his eyes. Is it really his fault if he does fall? No. But then saying it aloud would only call for a heated replay from Wolfram. So he does not.
The world narrows down to Shin Makoku to this road to the two of them. It looks that simple, but for Yuuri, it does not, really. Under the light rain, there is only solitude. Not a lonely, chilling solitude, but ones that ask him to drown in the quietude of it. He has just come to realize it now.
Or, maybe, it is because of Wolfram, with the smell of sunshine and green grass and Beautiful Wolfram forever enveloping him, that Yuuri now gives a thought about the rain. Conrad has ask for a leaving earlier, leaving only him and Wolfram in their weekly picnic outside the Blood Pledge Castle. But then again, does not Conrad seem to always leave when Wolfram is with him? Really, Yuuri thinks, not amused at all, there’s no need for everyone to fill Murata’s shoes as a matchmaker.
Not that he needs that, of course.
“Well, at last this proves that you’re nothing like a teruterubouzou,” Yuuri mumbles under his breath, softly.
“Who?” Wolfram’s head snaps to look at him, threat of accusation in his eyes.
This time, Yuuri really rolls his eyes. “No one. It’s a doll. You know, back then in my home, we’ll hang a small, white doll in hope for a sunny day.”
“A charm?” Wolfram’s hold on the only umbrella they have tightens a little, not wanting to let it slide down his grip. “You want one?” he continues quietly, already knowing where this will lead.
“It’s way back home on Earth.” Yuuri does not want to answer that he really misses Earth, actually. Ever since he comes home-was it two weeks ago? Or three?-last time, he has spent of his time with Wolfram, the ever stubborn pressure of reassurance and support. Well, for that Yuuri is genuinely glad. He does not want any more people treat him like he is a divine king or so-even though he is considered one. When it comes to Wolfram, his so-called fiancé never treats him indifferently. To Wolfram, he is always Yuuri first and The King next.
Just like the rain, who never distinguishes whom it will fall onto, who cast a spell so powerful that no one has any chance to protest its fall. Its drops of water pierce the wet earth, and it makes people long for the warm sun. Yuuri notices that Wolfram’s left shoulder is already wet, the umbrella definitely not big enough to shelter them both properly.
Suddenly, Yuuri feels the need to breath.
“What’s wrong?” Wolfram asks as Yuuri reaches out to clutch at the sleeve of his uniform.
“Do you think the rain is happy?”
Wolfram’s eyebrows rise in half amusement and half wonder. “Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s... stupid, you must think so. But I wonder if it is. You know, the rain falls everywhere, anywhere it wants. But what’s with the raindrops that don’t return?” As he speaks, he shifts closer to Wolfram, his arm pressed against Wolfram’s chest now. “The ones that fall on people’s shoulders, never having the chance to seep into the earth and go back to the sea?” They will vanish, Yuuri knows, but sometimes, in some more deep concerns, Wolfram surprisingly knows better, and that is why he asks.
The rain still falls, creating a thin mist around them, trapping them as lone figures amidst the solitude of serenity. The cool, bordering-on-being-cold wind blows through them, as if wanting to widen the small gap between them.
Yuuri does not want that.
“Too bad I know you better, Yuuri,” Wolframs chides gently, his tone light and unlikely patient. “Why are you having a fuss over such a small matter? “The rain isn’t that powerful, and you’re the Maou. If you want, you can stop the rain.”
I know I can. And I will if it’s for you. But Yuuri does not say that, wanting to hear more of Wolfram’s answer instead.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“And who am I to answer? How am I supposed to know how the rain feels?” A diminutive scowl begins to dawn on Wolfram’s lips. Yuuri has been so used to Wolfram’s presence that he knows which scowl means real irritation and which one means no harm. This one, however, doesn’t even reach Wolfram’s eyes, and it means well. “Like I said, you worry too much.”
“But-”
“Worry not,” Wolframs cuts, firmly but still framed in confident gentleness that is Wolfram. “It won’t leave, Yuuri, and that’s all I can answer. Even though some parts of the rain don’t return to the sea to be reborn, the rain itself won’t leave. The rain will never leave even though some parts of it die. Well, can you imagine a land without the rain at all? It’s somewhat impossible, isn’t it? So worry not.”
There is a message, so powerfully beautiful it can leaves you breathless, hidden behind the curtain of the rain, a message that only can be found if you walk under the rain with your most precious, Yuuri realizes just now.
Yuuri does not say anything as Wolfram slips an arm behind him and puts his hand on the small of his back, and Wolfram doesn’t protest much when Yuuri covers his hand holding the umbrella up.
The way home to the Blood Pledge Castle is mostly silent, with only the constant sound of raindrops hitting the ground and leaves and Wolfram’s breath beside him, but Yuuri does not mind at all.
He guesses someday he would ask Wolfram to walk with him in the rain again.
Title: The Rain Falls Along the Road
Author: _pratz_
Prompt: Metaphor (No. 1)
the rain falls along the road
the rain drizzles as the season rustles slowly
returning to the name of silence
we see: the trees outside are wet again
no one refuses it. Then we understand, suddenly
of the secret message
when the wind is wet and free of dust
when no one feels the need of haste
(the rain falls along the road; Sapardi Djoko Damono, translation by me)
As a boy from an age when almost every road is made of hard asphalt, Yuuri should have known better that it is not easy to keep walking steadily under the rain on a Shin Makoku road. The land under his feet is wet and slippery, Wolfram’s hold on his right arm the only one that keep him in balance.
“Don’t lose your balance,” Wolframs warns softly, his breath warm on Yuuri’s ear. “There’s no need for a king to fall in public.”
Yuuri is almost tempted to roll his eyes. Is it really his fault if he does fall? No. But then saying it aloud would only call for a heated replay from Wolfram. So he does not.
The world narrows down to Shin Makoku to this road to the two of them. It looks that simple, but for Yuuri, it does not, really. Under the light rain, there is only solitude. Not a lonely, chilling solitude, but ones that ask him to drown in the quietude of it. He has just come to realize it now.
Or, maybe, it is because of Wolfram, with the smell of sunshine and green grass and Beautiful Wolfram forever enveloping him, that Yuuri now gives a thought about the rain. Conrad has ask for a leaving earlier, leaving only him and Wolfram in their weekly picnic outside the Blood Pledge Castle. But then again, does not Conrad seem to always leave when Wolfram is with him? Really, Yuuri thinks, not amused at all, there’s no need for everyone to fill Murata’s shoes as a matchmaker.
Not that he needs that, of course.
“Well, at last this proves that you’re nothing like a teruterubouzou,” Yuuri mumbles under his breath, softly.
“Who?” Wolfram’s head snaps to look at him, threat of accusation in his eyes.
This time, Yuuri really rolls his eyes. “No one. It’s a doll. You know, back then in my home, we’ll hang a small, white doll in hope for a sunny day.”
“A charm?” Wolfram’s hold on the only umbrella they have tightens a little, not wanting to let it slide down his grip. “You want one?” he continues quietly, already knowing where this will lead.
“It’s way back home on Earth.” Yuuri does not want to answer that he really misses Earth, actually. Ever since he comes home-was it two weeks ago? Or three?-last time, he has spent of his time with Wolfram, the ever stubborn pressure of reassurance and support. Well, for that Yuuri is genuinely glad. He does not want any more people treat him like he is a divine king or so-even though he is considered one. When it comes to Wolfram, his so-called fiancé never treats him indifferently. To Wolfram, he is always Yuuri first and The King next.
Just like the rain, who never distinguishes whom it will fall onto, who cast a spell so powerful that no one has any chance to protest its fall. Its drops of water pierce the wet earth, and it makes people long for the warm sun. Yuuri notices that Wolfram’s left shoulder is already wet, the umbrella definitely not big enough to shelter them both properly.
Suddenly, Yuuri feels the need to breath.
“What’s wrong?” Wolfram asks as Yuuri reaches out to clutch at the sleeve of his uniform.
“Do you think the rain is happy?”
Wolfram’s eyebrows rise in half amusement and half wonder. “Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s... stupid, you must think so. But I wonder if it is. You know, the rain falls everywhere, anywhere it wants. But what’s with the raindrops that don’t return?” As he speaks, he shifts closer to Wolfram, his arm pressed against Wolfram’s chest now. “The ones that fall on people’s shoulders, never having the chance to seep into the earth and go back to the sea?” They will vanish, Yuuri knows, but sometimes, in some more deep concerns, Wolfram surprisingly knows better, and that is why he asks.
The rain still falls, creating a thin mist around them, trapping them as lone figures amidst the solitude of serenity. The cool, bordering-on-being-cold wind blows through them, as if wanting to widen the small gap between them.
Yuuri does not want that.
“Too bad I know you better, Yuuri,” Wolframs chides gently, his tone light and unlikely patient. “Why are you having a fuss over such a small matter? “The rain isn’t that powerful, and you’re the Maou. If you want, you can stop the rain.”
I know I can. And I will if it’s for you. But Yuuri does not say that, wanting to hear more of Wolfram’s answer instead.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“And who am I to answer? How am I supposed to know how the rain feels?” A diminutive scowl begins to dawn on Wolfram’s lips. Yuuri has been so used to Wolfram’s presence that he knows which scowl means real irritation and which one means no harm. This one, however, doesn’t even reach Wolfram’s eyes, and it means well. “Like I said, you worry too much.”
“But-”
“Worry not,” Wolframs cuts, firmly but still framed in confident gentleness that is Wolfram. “It won’t leave, Yuuri, and that’s all I can answer. Even though some parts of the rain don’t return to the sea to be reborn, the rain itself won’t leave. The rain will never leave even though some parts of it die. Well, can you imagine a land without the rain at all? It’s somewhat impossible, isn’t it? So worry not.”
There is a message, so powerfully beautiful it can leaves you breathless, hidden behind the curtain of the rain, a message that only can be found if you walk under the rain with your most precious, Yuuri realizes just now.
Yuuri does not say anything as Wolfram slips an arm behind him and puts his hand on the small of his back, and Wolfram doesn’t protest much when Yuuri covers his hand holding the umbrella up.
The way home to the Blood Pledge Castle is mostly silent, with only the constant sound of raindrops hitting the ground and leaves and Wolfram’s breath beside him, but Yuuri does not mind at all.
He guesses someday he would ask Wolfram to walk with him in the rain again.