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Happy Birthday, Yuuri
.
.
It was his twenty-second birthday and he was celebrating it in Shin Makoku—sitting at an elaborately decorated table overflowing with food fit for a royal. All of the dishes, some of which he couldn't even guess as to what they were, looked and smelled wonderful—including the whipped cream topped apple crumbles, which made Yuuri want to drool. But, the cherry-topped lemon bars were the ones that caught Yuuri's eye right away: tart, sour, sweet, sunny. They were Wolfram's favorite. Yuuri smiled sadly at them.
"May I have the honor of making the toast?" Gunther asked, lilac hair cascading around his shoulders as he scanned the table of joyful faces.
"Sure," Yuuri said as he took his goblet in hand.
The advisor stood up and the table did, too.
"May this day of celebration and of reminiscence be filled with joy bringing forth another year of pleasant memories."
It was just like Günter—a sweet toast from some unknown Mazoku author years ago.
Yuuri drank a sip and then watched the table as he lowered the cup from his face. Greta seemed to be recovering from her ordeal, chatting happily with Lady Cheri and Jennifer about buying silk for a new dress. Günter was going on and on to Gwendal and Shoma about the black ribbons on the table and what an effort it was to get the decorations "presentable." Shori rolled his eyes and returned to prodding something that appeared to be a casserole made of tater tots piled up on his plate.
Someone asked Yuuri if he wanted another cup of wine. He thought he'd mumbled a "yes" to that. Maybe, he did.
A brief movement from across the table.
Yuuri, for an instant, locked eyes with Conrad. The two of them shared a brief moment before his godfather took another sip from his cup. The double black turned to the empty chair beside him. He'd told himself that he wasn't going to do that, but he did anyway. This was supposed to be a happy day for him and he'd not worry the others by coming across as anything other than jovial. But, he had looked. He wanted to look and needed to.
In preparing for tonight's feast, Yuuri had even formed a few private plans of his own—mostly sticking to polite conversations and redirecting any mention of what had happened. It wasn't that he couldn't handle it. But, Greta was here and she was, now, the priority.
On a large serving cart, Lasagna wheeled over a two tiered blue and white birthday cake with "YUURI" written on it phonetically in Mazoku and again in Japanese. White candles burned brightly.
"What a lovely cake!" Lady Cheri said, turning to Jennifer. Yuuri's mother grinned behind her hand. "You have some of the best cooks here, Cheri-sama. I just brought the recipe, pans, and ingredients."
Both ladies giggled and Greta grinned at them.
Yuuri's onyx eyes brightened as he addressed his friends and family. "I want to thank everyone for coming tonight to celebrate with me. I truly appreciate it." He bowed to the table. He owed them all so much for this day.
"Oh, no," Lady Cheri said with hands clasped over her enormous bosom. "You're the one we should thank." Her gaze moved to the empty chair and back again. She winked at him.
Yuuri nodded absently at that. Without further explanation, he knew exactly what she had meant, and it had nothing to do with being king of Shin Makoku.
The knob rattled briefly before Yuuri let himself in. He carried a silver tray with two lemon bars and slightly steaming, china cups filled almost to the brim with peppermint tea.
Gissela had given him permission to enter. So, it was okay. On the bed, Wolfram was lying peacefully—jaw set stubbornly, staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded defensively across his chest. He must have been bickering with the healers again, Yuuri thought tartly. I wish he'd quit doing that.
The tray rattled in Yuuri's hands as he pushed the door closed behind him with an elbow.
The blond head turned abruptly, ready for round two of an argument. Then, his emerald eyes widened. "Y-Yuuri," Wolfram said, propping himself up on an elbow and then falling back into the bed, arched in pain. He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe through the waves that were flowing through him. If he could just hold still long enough, it would fade away.
"Forgot you couldn't move like that?" Yuuri ventured to say as he placed the tray on the small, white table next to Wolfram's infirmary bed.
"Kind of," he breathed, feeling foolish for his actions. "How was the party?" he asked as the pain disappeared from his voice.
Yuuri took a seat next to Wolfram. "Nice but…"
Wolfram frowned a little. "But…what?"
Yuuri shrugged and looked away. "I kept expecting to see you next to me at dinner…like right beside me or something."
Wolfram huffed a little at that and with a bratty tone said, "Of course you would, I'm your…"
And, then, he stopped himself.
Okay, Yuuri…just for you…because it's your birthday and because I've been thinking about this a lot. He turned up with a sincere smile and said "…Because I'm your…friend."
The double black's face fell at that. "…Friend…" He repeated it in a whisper.
Wolfram forced a smile. He could see that Yuuri understood. It was a bit of a relief, really. Wolfram cocked his head to one side and continued to smile. "Happy birthday, Yuuri." He raked his fingers through his tangled blond hair a little. "I know it's not much of a present, but I thought I'd grant you your freedom…from me."
The double black could only gape for a moment. "I…um…"
"You'll be fine," Wolfram assured him.
But instead of the happiness that Wolfram thought he'd see, he found a frown coming to his new best friend. Yuuri reached for the plate with the first lemon bar and a fork. He handed the two to Wolfram and took a plate for himself.
"Scoot over," Yuuri said as he moved from the chair to the edge of Wolfram's bed. And, in the next second, he was lying next to a very confused blond with adorably big eyes.
Never once did Wolfram dream that they'd share a bed this small—never. Digging in, Yuuri said distractedly, "I think you hit your head harder than we thought after those bandits attacked you and Greta in the marketplace."
A blond brow raised. "I got knifed in the back, Yuuri."
"Whatever."
The double black toyed with the half-cherry that was filled with pink frosting on top of his lemon bar. He hated it but Wolfram adored any cherry flavor he came across. Yuuri scooped the delicate frosting up with his fork. "And, once Gissela releases you, I'll bring another dessert your first night back into our bedroom," the double black went on, offering the cherry on the fork.
Wolfram's face softened as Yuuri leaned against him, expression sincere.
The blond chuckled to himself as he regarded the offering. "Add some lemon to that bite of cherry and you've got a deal."
.
.
It was his twenty-second birthday and he was celebrating it in Shin Makoku—sitting at an elaborately decorated table overflowing with food fit for a royal. All of the dishes, some of which he couldn't even guess as to what they were, looked and smelled wonderful—including the whipped cream topped apple crumbles, which made Yuuri want to drool. But, the cherry-topped lemon bars were the ones that caught Yuuri's eye right away: tart, sour, sweet, sunny. They were Wolfram's favorite. Yuuri smiled sadly at them.
"May I have the honor of making the toast?" Gunther asked, lilac hair cascading around his shoulders as he scanned the table of joyful faces.
"Sure," Yuuri said as he took his goblet in hand.
The advisor stood up and the table did, too.
"May this day of celebration and of reminiscence be filled with joy bringing forth another year of pleasant memories."
It was just like Günter—a sweet toast from some unknown Mazoku author years ago.
Yuuri drank a sip and then watched the table as he lowered the cup from his face. Greta seemed to be recovering from her ordeal, chatting happily with Lady Cheri and Jennifer about buying silk for a new dress. Günter was going on and on to Gwendal and Shoma about the black ribbons on the table and what an effort it was to get the decorations "presentable." Shori rolled his eyes and returned to prodding something that appeared to be a casserole made of tater tots piled up on his plate.
Someone asked Yuuri if he wanted another cup of wine. He thought he'd mumbled a "yes" to that. Maybe, he did.
A brief movement from across the table.
Yuuri, for an instant, locked eyes with Conrad. The two of them shared a brief moment before his godfather took another sip from his cup. The double black turned to the empty chair beside him. He'd told himself that he wasn't going to do that, but he did anyway. This was supposed to be a happy day for him and he'd not worry the others by coming across as anything other than jovial. But, he had looked. He wanted to look and needed to.
In preparing for tonight's feast, Yuuri had even formed a few private plans of his own—mostly sticking to polite conversations and redirecting any mention of what had happened. It wasn't that he couldn't handle it. But, Greta was here and she was, now, the priority.
On a large serving cart, Lasagna wheeled over a two tiered blue and white birthday cake with "YUURI" written on it phonetically in Mazoku and again in Japanese. White candles burned brightly.
"What a lovely cake!" Lady Cheri said, turning to Jennifer. Yuuri's mother grinned behind her hand. "You have some of the best cooks here, Cheri-sama. I just brought the recipe, pans, and ingredients."
Both ladies giggled and Greta grinned at them.
Yuuri's onyx eyes brightened as he addressed his friends and family. "I want to thank everyone for coming tonight to celebrate with me. I truly appreciate it." He bowed to the table. He owed them all so much for this day.
"Oh, no," Lady Cheri said with hands clasped over her enormous bosom. "You're the one we should thank." Her gaze moved to the empty chair and back again. She winked at him.
Yuuri nodded absently at that. Without further explanation, he knew exactly what she had meant, and it had nothing to do with being king of Shin Makoku.
The knob rattled briefly before Yuuri let himself in. He carried a silver tray with two lemon bars and slightly steaming, china cups filled almost to the brim with peppermint tea.
Gissela had given him permission to enter. So, it was okay. On the bed, Wolfram was lying peacefully—jaw set stubbornly, staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded defensively across his chest. He must have been bickering with the healers again, Yuuri thought tartly. I wish he'd quit doing that.
The tray rattled in Yuuri's hands as he pushed the door closed behind him with an elbow.
The blond head turned abruptly, ready for round two of an argument. Then, his emerald eyes widened. "Y-Yuuri," Wolfram said, propping himself up on an elbow and then falling back into the bed, arched in pain. He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe through the waves that were flowing through him. If he could just hold still long enough, it would fade away.
"Forgot you couldn't move like that?" Yuuri ventured to say as he placed the tray on the small, white table next to Wolfram's infirmary bed.
"Kind of," he breathed, feeling foolish for his actions. "How was the party?" he asked as the pain disappeared from his voice.
Yuuri took a seat next to Wolfram. "Nice but…"
Wolfram frowned a little. "But…what?"
Yuuri shrugged and looked away. "I kept expecting to see you next to me at dinner…like right beside me or something."
Wolfram huffed a little at that and with a bratty tone said, "Of course you would, I'm your…"
And, then, he stopped himself.
Okay, Yuuri…just for you…because it's your birthday and because I've been thinking about this a lot. He turned up with a sincere smile and said "…Because I'm your…friend."
The double black's face fell at that. "…Friend…" He repeated it in a whisper.
Wolfram forced a smile. He could see that Yuuri understood. It was a bit of a relief, really. Wolfram cocked his head to one side and continued to smile. "Happy birthday, Yuuri." He raked his fingers through his tangled blond hair a little. "I know it's not much of a present, but I thought I'd grant you your freedom…from me."
The double black could only gape for a moment. "I…um…"
"You'll be fine," Wolfram assured him.
But instead of the happiness that Wolfram thought he'd see, he found a frown coming to his new best friend. Yuuri reached for the plate with the first lemon bar and a fork. He handed the two to Wolfram and took a plate for himself.
"Scoot over," Yuuri said as he moved from the chair to the edge of Wolfram's bed. And, in the next second, he was lying next to a very confused blond with adorably big eyes.
Never once did Wolfram dream that they'd share a bed this small—never. Digging in, Yuuri said distractedly, "I think you hit your head harder than we thought after those bandits attacked you and Greta in the marketplace."
A blond brow raised. "I got knifed in the back, Yuuri."
"Whatever."
The double black toyed with the half-cherry that was filled with pink frosting on top of his lemon bar. He hated it but Wolfram adored any cherry flavor he came across. Yuuri scooped the delicate frosting up with his fork. "And, once Gissela releases you, I'll bring another dessert your first night back into our bedroom," the double black went on, offering the cherry on the fork.
Wolfram's face softened as Yuuri leaned against him, expression sincere.
The blond chuckled to himself as he regarded the offering. "Add some lemon to that bite of cherry and you've got a deal."
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