[Wolfram's Birthday] There Would Be Stars [Fic]
Title: There Would Be Stars
Rating: T
Warnings: Angst, character death
Summary: Sometimes, Yuuri wonders what the future would have been like.
AN: Sorry for the sad stuff ;A;
The space on the grass next to Yuuri should have been occupied by another body.
This realization dripped through Yuuri’s mind slowly and steadily until his head was drenched in thoughts of blond soldiers with warm green eyes.
Yuuri was thinking about him. Again. But then again, Yuuri thought about him more than anything else nowadays. He remembers the past which is almost synonymous with pink nighties and coming to terms with loving the soldier. He thinks of the present, of holes in his heart large enough for birds to nest in and of nights spent in a cold bed. And sometimes, when no one else was paying attention…like at the present moment on that hill…looking up at the sky…
…Sometimes, Yuuri wonders about what the future could have been like.
They would be lying on this hill, grass moist with the remains of a summer storm. The blond would hate the wetness seeping into the pristine blue uniform, but Yuuri would be perfectly comfortable greeting the water. They would lie on their backs, hands clasped tightly as if that hold were the only thing keeping them anchored to the ground. The sun would set and the moment would hold a certain kind of magic that nothing else could summon but the sky. They would wait.
Then, there would be stars. The kind that demand attention. The kind that command stares and force the couple’s breath out of their bodies. They would bask in silence for a small moment before the blond just couldn’t take it anymore and would part his lips and share a small part of his soul with the ground, the sky, and Yuuri.
Yuuri missed the whispers in the dark and the secrets shared. He missed the promises that he never got a chance to keep, but would never forget. The days blew by in a silent burst of wind and murmured in his ear that there was more to life than that hill, that sky, and that blond, but Yuuri didn’t believe them. How could anything else take the place of that magical moment that would never be? How could Yuuri replace the very being who made him quiver with emotion even when he wasn’t present?
Yuuri’s heart was raw. The outer layer had been shaved away by a certain someone and large sections of it given away. It was nothing more than a torn remainder of what it had been when he was still there.
Wolfram.
Yuuri wanted to scream with the happiness and pain that that name brought him.
It was Wolfram who had taught him to accept. Wolfram who had taught him to feel the sun on his skin and the wind on his cheeks. Wolfram who had kept him awake at night because going to bed when he was so happy was too difficult. Wolfram who had shared his heart with Yuuri. Wolfram who had traversed the world with him. Wolfram who had grown alongside him. Wolfram who had looked upon him with nothing but affection. And it was Wolfram who had taught him what love was. For that, Yuuri would never forget him.
Yuuri still accepted, but it was only a reminder of what was lost. Yuuri still felt the sun and wind but they both whispered of Wolfram’s touch. Yuuri still stayed awake at night, but the shadows clinging to his eyes were due to sadness. Yuuri still shared his heart but there was no other half to go along side his. Wolfram would no longer traverse the world. Wolfram would no longer grow with him. Wolfram would never gaze at Yuuri with utter adoration. Wolfram would never again give Yuuri a lesson in love.
The hopeless feeling that clawed at Yuuri’s gut brought nothing but misery.
Of course, to a random bystander, this day was just another to rip off the calendar, but this was not the case for Yuuri. This day was special and only came once a year. It was the reason why Yuuri had dragged himself out of the warm recesses of his bedroom and onto the hill. Their hill.
Yuuri had many specific memories of this date.
In the past, it would have slipped by with little attention paid to it. That was before Yuuri had learned to accept. Learned to love. The day would have been just like any other and he would have only vaguely noticed the expectant look in the eyes of most of the castle’s inhabitants. Yuuri would become confused and sought out Conrad’s guidance as to why everyone was acting so weirdly. It was just a normal day and Yuuri hadn’t done anything to deserve that treatment.
Except he had.
Conrad would inform him that it was, in fact, not just any other day and Yuuri would commit the date to memory before regretfully seeking out Wolfram. The blond would look so happy and surprised when Yuuri offered his congratulations that the king would want to kick himself for not ever bothering to learn something so important about his accidental fiancé.
Then, when Yuuri had sorted out his conflicting feelings, Yuuri would once again arrive to this date. There would be whispered words and flowers. Yuuri would let Wolfram know that the flowers couldn’t even compare to the soldier’s beauty. Wolfram would flush and twist his hands uselessly before scolding Yuuri about ‘inappropriate remarks’ insisting ‘you’re far more beautiful than I am!’. When they were both ready for bed, Yuuri would curl his body around Wolfram’s and murmur in his ear that he was glad that the blond was alive. That they would be together forever.
But then, it had happened.
A patrol on the borders on that date that was so important to Yuuri and Wolfram. A stormy night. A mud slide. Wolfram lost control of his horse and slipped. His neck snapped and he couldn’t breathe. His hands lifted into the air, grasping and wishing to be with Yuuri in his last moments before he choked, and his grip went slack. His lashes delicately rested against his cheek and his face paled. He would never open his eyes again.
Wolfram’s ghostly face had made Yuuri feel like a complete and utter failure. He had been buried on that hill. Their hill. A simple tombstone among the mossy grass. It didn’t fit at all, but Yuuri didn’t care. His soldier had been buried in black like the royalty that Yuuri had wanted to make him. His soldier grasped a single stem of Beautiful Wolfram and his lips were slack and pale. They would never again be ripe with kisses and tongue. Wolfram’s hair no longer glistened, as if his life had taken that as well. It would no longer appear peeking out from under Yuuri’s blanket. Never again.
Yuuri didn’t say a word as he slowly carded his fingers through his soldier’s hair. His lips silently formed the three words that Yuuri had never properly gotten a chance to tell Wolfram.
The casket had been closed and Wolfram had been buried without another word.
It rained for six days after the funeral.
Now, four years later, Yuuri made his almost ritual pilgrimage to Wolfram’s grave on their hill.
The stars appeared quickly, filling the sky with their brilliance as Yuuri traced his fingers over the engraving on the tombstone that clearly read ‘Wolfram von Bielefeld’.
It was the anniversary of his birth and his death.
Even if Yuuri knew that this day served as a reminder that Wolfram was no longer his, he couldn’t help but remember it as the day that brought Wolfram into the world. Wolfram had only been in Yuuri’s life for a fleeting instant before being taken to wherever he had needed to be. However, even though the time they had had together had been painfully short, Yuuri was still grateful for what Wolfram had taught him.
Yuuri would never forget Wolfram.
Yuuri would never forget this date.
Before climbing to his feet and readying himself to leave his heart once more, Yuuri parted his lips and allowed a simple statement to escape before sorrow silenced him.
“Happy birthday, Wolfram.”
Rating: T
Warnings: Angst, character death
Summary: Sometimes, Yuuri wonders what the future would have been like.
AN: Sorry for the sad stuff ;A;
The space on the grass next to Yuuri should have been occupied by another body.
This realization dripped through Yuuri’s mind slowly and steadily until his head was drenched in thoughts of blond soldiers with warm green eyes.
Yuuri was thinking about him. Again. But then again, Yuuri thought about him more than anything else nowadays. He remembers the past which is almost synonymous with pink nighties and coming to terms with loving the soldier. He thinks of the present, of holes in his heart large enough for birds to nest in and of nights spent in a cold bed. And sometimes, when no one else was paying attention…like at the present moment on that hill…looking up at the sky…
…Sometimes, Yuuri wonders about what the future could have been like.
They would be lying on this hill, grass moist with the remains of a summer storm. The blond would hate the wetness seeping into the pristine blue uniform, but Yuuri would be perfectly comfortable greeting the water. They would lie on their backs, hands clasped tightly as if that hold were the only thing keeping them anchored to the ground. The sun would set and the moment would hold a certain kind of magic that nothing else could summon but the sky. They would wait.
Then, there would be stars. The kind that demand attention. The kind that command stares and force the couple’s breath out of their bodies. They would bask in silence for a small moment before the blond just couldn’t take it anymore and would part his lips and share a small part of his soul with the ground, the sky, and Yuuri.
Yuuri missed the whispers in the dark and the secrets shared. He missed the promises that he never got a chance to keep, but would never forget. The days blew by in a silent burst of wind and murmured in his ear that there was more to life than that hill, that sky, and that blond, but Yuuri didn’t believe them. How could anything else take the place of that magical moment that would never be? How could Yuuri replace the very being who made him quiver with emotion even when he wasn’t present?
Yuuri’s heart was raw. The outer layer had been shaved away by a certain someone and large sections of it given away. It was nothing more than a torn remainder of what it had been when he was still there.
Wolfram.
Yuuri wanted to scream with the happiness and pain that that name brought him.
It was Wolfram who had taught him to accept. Wolfram who had taught him to feel the sun on his skin and the wind on his cheeks. Wolfram who had kept him awake at night because going to bed when he was so happy was too difficult. Wolfram who had shared his heart with Yuuri. Wolfram who had traversed the world with him. Wolfram who had grown alongside him. Wolfram who had looked upon him with nothing but affection. And it was Wolfram who had taught him what love was. For that, Yuuri would never forget him.
Yuuri still accepted, but it was only a reminder of what was lost. Yuuri still felt the sun and wind but they both whispered of Wolfram’s touch. Yuuri still stayed awake at night, but the shadows clinging to his eyes were due to sadness. Yuuri still shared his heart but there was no other half to go along side his. Wolfram would no longer traverse the world. Wolfram would no longer grow with him. Wolfram would never gaze at Yuuri with utter adoration. Wolfram would never again give Yuuri a lesson in love.
The hopeless feeling that clawed at Yuuri’s gut brought nothing but misery.
Of course, to a random bystander, this day was just another to rip off the calendar, but this was not the case for Yuuri. This day was special and only came once a year. It was the reason why Yuuri had dragged himself out of the warm recesses of his bedroom and onto the hill. Their hill.
Yuuri had many specific memories of this date.
In the past, it would have slipped by with little attention paid to it. That was before Yuuri had learned to accept. Learned to love. The day would have been just like any other and he would have only vaguely noticed the expectant look in the eyes of most of the castle’s inhabitants. Yuuri would become confused and sought out Conrad’s guidance as to why everyone was acting so weirdly. It was just a normal day and Yuuri hadn’t done anything to deserve that treatment.
Except he had.
Conrad would inform him that it was, in fact, not just any other day and Yuuri would commit the date to memory before regretfully seeking out Wolfram. The blond would look so happy and surprised when Yuuri offered his congratulations that the king would want to kick himself for not ever bothering to learn something so important about his accidental fiancé.
Then, when Yuuri had sorted out his conflicting feelings, Yuuri would once again arrive to this date. There would be whispered words and flowers. Yuuri would let Wolfram know that the flowers couldn’t even compare to the soldier’s beauty. Wolfram would flush and twist his hands uselessly before scolding Yuuri about ‘inappropriate remarks’ insisting ‘you’re far more beautiful than I am!’. When they were both ready for bed, Yuuri would curl his body around Wolfram’s and murmur in his ear that he was glad that the blond was alive. That they would be together forever.
But then, it had happened.
A patrol on the borders on that date that was so important to Yuuri and Wolfram. A stormy night. A mud slide. Wolfram lost control of his horse and slipped. His neck snapped and he couldn’t breathe. His hands lifted into the air, grasping and wishing to be with Yuuri in his last moments before he choked, and his grip went slack. His lashes delicately rested against his cheek and his face paled. He would never open his eyes again.
Wolfram’s ghostly face had made Yuuri feel like a complete and utter failure. He had been buried on that hill. Their hill. A simple tombstone among the mossy grass. It didn’t fit at all, but Yuuri didn’t care. His soldier had been buried in black like the royalty that Yuuri had wanted to make him. His soldier grasped a single stem of Beautiful Wolfram and his lips were slack and pale. They would never again be ripe with kisses and tongue. Wolfram’s hair no longer glistened, as if his life had taken that as well. It would no longer appear peeking out from under Yuuri’s blanket. Never again.
Yuuri didn’t say a word as he slowly carded his fingers through his soldier’s hair. His lips silently formed the three words that Yuuri had never properly gotten a chance to tell Wolfram.
The casket had been closed and Wolfram had been buried without another word.
It rained for six days after the funeral.
Now, four years later, Yuuri made his almost ritual pilgrimage to Wolfram’s grave on their hill.
The stars appeared quickly, filling the sky with their brilliance as Yuuri traced his fingers over the engraving on the tombstone that clearly read ‘Wolfram von Bielefeld’.
It was the anniversary of his birth and his death.
Even if Yuuri knew that this day served as a reminder that Wolfram was no longer his, he couldn’t help but remember it as the day that brought Wolfram into the world. Wolfram had only been in Yuuri’s life for a fleeting instant before being taken to wherever he had needed to be. However, even though the time they had had together had been painfully short, Yuuri was still grateful for what Wolfram had taught him.
Yuuri would never forget Wolfram.
Yuuri would never forget this date.
Before climbing to his feet and readying himself to leave his heart once more, Yuuri parted his lips and allowed a simple statement to escape before sorrow silenced him.
“Happy birthday, Wolfram.”