Little Dreams: Chapter 5
Conrad and Wolfram have a little 'heart to heart'.
Title: Little Dreams
Author: bard_of_death
Rating: R (NC-17 later)
Warning: cursing, nudity, extreme angst, homosexual situations
Pairing: Yuuri x Wolfram, Yozak x Conrad (Wolfram POV)
Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, yaoi, AU-ish
Chapter: 5/23
Comments: R and R my minions!
Summary: It's been 5 years since Yuuri's return, a few years since he's decided to stay in Shin Makoku permanently. Wolfram contemplates his feelings and falls into a sense of forlorness and hopelessness. Set after the series.
When my eyes blink open, I realize the bed feels empty. For only a moment I ask myself where Yuuri is, then I remember what happened last night, and ask where Conrad went. I’m not incredibly surprised that he’s not there. He seems like the type to wake up at dawn before the birds are even awake.
The world seems too cold for me to leave my bed, so I wrap the blankets tighter around my form and lay in silence. Time passes and I fall in and out of sleep, making up to hear people outside my room, wondering where I am or what’s wrong. I’ve lost all perception of time; I don’t know what time of day it is or if the sun is high or low. Fleeting instants of hunger strike me, but I lack the drive to even peruse them.
What I presume is lunchtime...or maybe it’s dinner? Conrad knocks on my door and enters, a tray of food in his hands. I scowl at him, which I suppose is my version of a grateful smile, as he hands me the tray and sits on the bed near my feet. A steaming bowl of stew sits on the tray in a wooden bowl; a hunk of cheese and a roll sit on either side. It looks like lunch, but he might’ve thought that I was too depressed to eat much.
“What time of day is it?” I ask, picking up the spork and impaling a large piece of meat from the stew.
“I’d say it’s halfway between lunch and dinner. You were sleeping when I came by earlier, so I didn’t bother you.” He responds, that fake grin on his face.
I feel ashamed having let him see me that weak. I need to be strong and independent, not desiring anyone else’s strength to be happy. Especially not Conrad. I make myself angry because, even though I’ve said all those things about myself (that I don’t need anyone and am strong enough for myself), I know that I need help. But how do I ask for help? I’ve never done it before and never thought I would have to.
We sit in awkward silence while I eat the food he brought me. I don’t finish much of it before I feel queasy. The tray sits on my lap, untouched, for about ten minutes before Conrad picks it up and puts it on the floor.
“Thank you” I say it quick and soft, my face turned from him, “For last night.”
The bed shifts as I feel his arms around me again. Having the strength this time, I shed myself of his arms. “I don’t need your pity.” I growl.
“I don’t pity you, I love you.” His words make my heart cringe. I can feel his hand on my knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth idly. “What can I do to help you?”
Oh, now he wants to help. He only had to watch me have an emotional breakdown to want to help me out. I smile bitterly, “It’s what I have to do. There really isn’t anything you can do to help.”
I move to face him again, and he looks hurt, his fake smile gone, having been replaced with a dejected grimace. Of course I feel bad for hurting him, but what I said was true; only I can help myself. To convey my apology, I cover his hand with mine.
“I’m going to break the engagement. It’s about time I grew up and let him choose his own life.”
He frowns deeper, “Are you sure?”
“He dislikes me so much, I fear that my constant presence will force him to hate me. There’s nothing I can do for him anyway, he doesn’t need me like I, well, you know.” Even now, even with my older, understanding brother, I can’t admit my need for our king.
“He doesn’t dislike you.” He retorts and I laugh cynically at him. “No, I think he likes you more than you think.” Clearly, he knows more than he’s going to tell me, or he’s just trying to cheer me up. “Give him a chan-“
“Don’t even say it!” I bark, pointing accusingly at his nose. “I did give him a chance, a 5 year chance, and look where I am now. I’m sleeping in all day, sitting by myself watching the sunset alone and crying, in front of people!”
He tries to calm me by lowering my pointing hand, “Well you weren’t actually in front of people...”
“You’d think that since he’s so nice to everyone that he would notice something like depression. But I’ve realized how he really is; he’s an impersonal empath.”
Conrad gives up on trying to calm me down and just listens intently, “What do you mean?”
“Yuuri does care, about everyone! But to those around him he’s so impersonal. If we look happy, if we act happy and sound happy, then he thinks we’re happy. He doesn’t exert the energy to try to see through our disguises like your perpetual fake smile and my hollow angry words or The Great Sage’s imitation cheerfulness. For a long time, you weren’t happy, neither was I. And it was obvious that The Sage was constantly eaten up by his memories and emotions.
Yuuri cares so much for the people of this country, for every little girl without dinner for a night, for every single parent, for every person that has been oppressed, he cares. He spends all his energy trying to look into their hearts that he doesn’t waste the effort on the ones closest to him who are ‘happy’.” I finish and am almost out of breath. Again, those silly tears threaten to spill, but I bottle them up successfully.
He doesn’t say anything to me, but I know he knows I’m right, at least a little bit. “But,” he says, “I think you might be the same way towards him.”
“I used to try.”
“Yes, but you gave up.”
“He never gave me any reason, any indication, that he might want to me to try. All I wanted was one sign, one pretense of love from him to fuel me to try. There’s been nothing for 4 years...”
A single tear rolls down my cheek. “Fuck”, I murmur as I savagely wipe it away and rub my eyes. One of his hands starts to stroke my blonde tresses, occasionally brushing a few stray hairs out of my face. Without looking up, I say “Breaking the engagement is the only thing I can do to make Yuuri happy.”
We stay like that, him trying to physically soothe me while I am unable to look up at his face. After a few minutes, he gets up and leaves without another word.
Title: Little Dreams
Author: bard_of_death
Rating: R (NC-17 later)
Warning: cursing, nudity, extreme angst, homosexual situations
Pairing: Yuuri x Wolfram, Yozak x Conrad (Wolfram POV)
Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, yaoi, AU-ish
Chapter: 5/23
Comments: R and R my minions!
Summary: It's been 5 years since Yuuri's return, a few years since he's decided to stay in Shin Makoku permanently. Wolfram contemplates his feelings and falls into a sense of forlorness and hopelessness. Set after the series.
When my eyes blink open, I realize the bed feels empty. For only a moment I ask myself where Yuuri is, then I remember what happened last night, and ask where Conrad went. I’m not incredibly surprised that he’s not there. He seems like the type to wake up at dawn before the birds are even awake.
The world seems too cold for me to leave my bed, so I wrap the blankets tighter around my form and lay in silence. Time passes and I fall in and out of sleep, making up to hear people outside my room, wondering where I am or what’s wrong. I’ve lost all perception of time; I don’t know what time of day it is or if the sun is high or low. Fleeting instants of hunger strike me, but I lack the drive to even peruse them.
What I presume is lunchtime...or maybe it’s dinner? Conrad knocks on my door and enters, a tray of food in his hands. I scowl at him, which I suppose is my version of a grateful smile, as he hands me the tray and sits on the bed near my feet. A steaming bowl of stew sits on the tray in a wooden bowl; a hunk of cheese and a roll sit on either side. It looks like lunch, but he might’ve thought that I was too depressed to eat much.
“What time of day is it?” I ask, picking up the spork and impaling a large piece of meat from the stew.
“I’d say it’s halfway between lunch and dinner. You were sleeping when I came by earlier, so I didn’t bother you.” He responds, that fake grin on his face.
I feel ashamed having let him see me that weak. I need to be strong and independent, not desiring anyone else’s strength to be happy. Especially not Conrad. I make myself angry because, even though I’ve said all those things about myself (that I don’t need anyone and am strong enough for myself), I know that I need help. But how do I ask for help? I’ve never done it before and never thought I would have to.
We sit in awkward silence while I eat the food he brought me. I don’t finish much of it before I feel queasy. The tray sits on my lap, untouched, for about ten minutes before Conrad picks it up and puts it on the floor.
“Thank you” I say it quick and soft, my face turned from him, “For last night.”
The bed shifts as I feel his arms around me again. Having the strength this time, I shed myself of his arms. “I don’t need your pity.” I growl.
“I don’t pity you, I love you.” His words make my heart cringe. I can feel his hand on my knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth idly. “What can I do to help you?”
Oh, now he wants to help. He only had to watch me have an emotional breakdown to want to help me out. I smile bitterly, “It’s what I have to do. There really isn’t anything you can do to help.”
I move to face him again, and he looks hurt, his fake smile gone, having been replaced with a dejected grimace. Of course I feel bad for hurting him, but what I said was true; only I can help myself. To convey my apology, I cover his hand with mine.
“I’m going to break the engagement. It’s about time I grew up and let him choose his own life.”
He frowns deeper, “Are you sure?”
“He dislikes me so much, I fear that my constant presence will force him to hate me. There’s nothing I can do for him anyway, he doesn’t need me like I, well, you know.” Even now, even with my older, understanding brother, I can’t admit my need for our king.
“He doesn’t dislike you.” He retorts and I laugh cynically at him. “No, I think he likes you more than you think.” Clearly, he knows more than he’s going to tell me, or he’s just trying to cheer me up. “Give him a chan-“
“Don’t even say it!” I bark, pointing accusingly at his nose. “I did give him a chance, a 5 year chance, and look where I am now. I’m sleeping in all day, sitting by myself watching the sunset alone and crying, in front of people!”
He tries to calm me by lowering my pointing hand, “Well you weren’t actually in front of people...”
“You’d think that since he’s so nice to everyone that he would notice something like depression. But I’ve realized how he really is; he’s an impersonal empath.”
Conrad gives up on trying to calm me down and just listens intently, “What do you mean?”
“Yuuri does care, about everyone! But to those around him he’s so impersonal. If we look happy, if we act happy and sound happy, then he thinks we’re happy. He doesn’t exert the energy to try to see through our disguises like your perpetual fake smile and my hollow angry words or The Great Sage’s imitation cheerfulness. For a long time, you weren’t happy, neither was I. And it was obvious that The Sage was constantly eaten up by his memories and emotions.
Yuuri cares so much for the people of this country, for every little girl without dinner for a night, for every single parent, for every person that has been oppressed, he cares. He spends all his energy trying to look into their hearts that he doesn’t waste the effort on the ones closest to him who are ‘happy’.” I finish and am almost out of breath. Again, those silly tears threaten to spill, but I bottle them up successfully.
He doesn’t say anything to me, but I know he knows I’m right, at least a little bit. “But,” he says, “I think you might be the same way towards him.”
“I used to try.”
“Yes, but you gave up.”
“He never gave me any reason, any indication, that he might want to me to try. All I wanted was one sign, one pretense of love from him to fuel me to try. There’s been nothing for 4 years...”
A single tear rolls down my cheek. “Fuck”, I murmur as I savagely wipe it away and rub my eyes. One of his hands starts to stroke my blonde tresses, occasionally brushing a few stray hairs out of my face. Without looking up, I say “Breaking the engagement is the only thing I can do to make Yuuri happy.”
We stay like that, him trying to physically soothe me while I am unable to look up at his face. After a few minutes, he gets up and leaves without another word.