The Voice of My Troubled Heart - Memories Locked Away
- Tears of Broken Dreams -
- I grow accustomed to despair and sorrow that are my constant companions, just like the lonely nights I've spent. Darkness is surrounding me as I fall even more into the hands of my broken heart. There is no way out, no shortcuts. Life is sink or swim, love is blinding. Something just have to give way, decisions must be made. Desperate, I craved, waiting for so long. But there is no love, I embraced nothing. Something just about to break, and I fear it is me. -In the gentle night, a solitary figure stood in the balcony of its room. An occasional breeze came and ruffled his gloriously golden locks. The balcony overlooked the magnificent garden below and he had always find peace within its flowery bushes. But tonight, he didn't feel like entering the garden. Sitting on the ledge with his back against the wall, he instead lifted his head. Luxurious golden locks fell forward, hiding most of his features, and without warning, twin silvery trails marked their way down his cheeks. His whole frame shook silently as he wrapped his arms around his knees. This was unlike him, who was always full of passion and spark.
As though remembering himself, he wiped away the tears with such vigour, it was as though he was disgusted of his tears. Wrapping his arms around his knees again, he watched the sky. His cheeks still glinted and glittered with wetness. And throughout the whole night, he stayed on the ledge.
No one had noticed how withdrawn he had gradually become. They had been too busy preparing. Sitting on the balcony's ledge, he watched them below. The maids busied themselves plucking the roses while the soldiers with the daily duties and a few extra chores. Everyone was as cheerful as ever. Everyone but him.
Much as he liked, he could not bring himself to feel as happy like the others. That was why he had locked himself up in his own room. In order not to spoil the joy that had been spreading. With a leg hanging over the balcony's ledge, he continued watching the maids merrily chatted as they worked. He watched how careful they cut the roses and mindful not to be pricked by the thorns. A shout came from nearby and he glanced towards its direction.
Not far from where the maids were, a group of soldiers were gathered around. Most held those so-called baseball mitts while others watched from the sidelines. And in the midst of them, a dark-haired boy swung the bat around before readied his stance. A frown came upon, marring his beautiful features.
Almost violently he swung his leg back to the ground and strode into the room. The curtains, having being pulled back, were thrown together in a rather violent manner.
To pass the time, he busied himself with his paints. Amazingly he was able to paint with only a sliver of light from a gap between the curtains. His brush swept across the canvas with an alarming speed while his brow was marred with a frown of concentration.
Once in a while he'd stop, only to continue on with his hazardous painting. Paints were everywhere and all around. And even on him. Finished canvases littered around while many more empty ones piled in one corner of the room.
His brushed swept across the canvas one final time before it stopped. With a sigh, the brush was pulled back from the canvas and placed down besides the paints on a nearby table. He was almost afraid to pull back the curtains as he stood. Afraid to see the finished canvas, for he knew what it would reveal. Like many of the others he had done. But nevertheless, with a small amount of courage, he threw back the curtains with a flourish.
Sunlight streamed in and glinted off the freshly painted canvas. He wasn't disappointed at all, for he had already knew what this last canvas would reveal.
People used to say reminiscing about the past was a good way to change oneself, and he couldn't help but reminiscence about his own past. Or more particularly, a past memory that got him isolated from the others. The outside world was now his only companions. The gentle breeze that ruffled his locks calmed his heart while the scenery soothed his soul. With his back against the wall, he was the perfect image of total peace.
It was such a cruel way for him to know the truth. Someone had told him the whereabouts of the king and like an idiot, he went searching for him, even in the rain. He didn't have to search that long either. With the rain running down his body, he stood there, unable to move. Numbness must have caused his disability to move but it sure had not impaired his vision. But thankfully, the heavens had the decency to blur his vision.
Thankfully, remembering it had not brought out a new fresh batch of tears, though it had brought sharp stabs to his heart as coldness seeped into his body.
A few days later, he himself called off the engagement though not in the presence of the king. He had in fact only told his intentions. His brothers were surprised, especially Conrad. His mother, though, seemed to have figured out and had only accepted his decision with a small nod.
Closing his eyes, he felt the gentle breeze upon his moon-kissed skin, allowing it to calm his nerves and his heart. For the inevitable tomorrow.
Usually he would strode into the breakfast room with such pride. But this time, he stopped short of the closed doors ahead. His eyes darkened as he looked away for a moment. A frown once again marred his features as he unconsciously bit the bottom of his lips. Closing his eyes, he let out his breath. Re-opening them, he looked at the doors, as though he was able to see through the wood. Somehow he was able to imagine the king seated with his brothers and Gunter around the breakfast table.
I can do this.
With a resolved determination, he pushed open the doors. His entrance was like an immediate snuff to a lit candle. Whatever conversation that was around the table died. He could see the downcast glances his brothers were casting at the table while Gunter found his breakfast a tad more interesting. Only the king glanced up at him with a huge smile on his face.
"You're finally awake. What took you so long?" The king's ever cheerful voice unnerved him but he only remained silent. Taking his seat beside the king, he glanced up at the others. He let out a frown that caused Conrad to look away with a disturbed frown.
Don't.
"For the past few days I haven't seen you around. Where have you been?" He didn't glance at the king, only took hold of his cup and drank.
"I've been busy." His answer was curt and simple, but the king seemed not to notice.
"Also, you haven't been sleeping in my room anymore. What gives?" Placing down his cup, he stood up. Every one stared up at him as he turned to leave. His hand reached out for the knob and swung the door open.
"Yuuri, is it all right with you if I were to leave your side once more for a couple of days?" He threw his words over his shoulder, without looking back, as he stood in the doorway. "There is something that I have to do."
"Al-all right, I guess. It's not like I'll need your protection. I mean, I do have Conrad here." A bitter smile appeared as he inwardly agreed. Truly indeed.
What use do you have for me anyway?
With the king's answer, he closed the door behind him with a firm click.
He locked himself in his room again. Feverishly working on another canvas, his brush furiously streaked across the canvas. So great was his concentration that he hadn't heard the knocks on the door.
"Lord Bielefeld. Lord Bielefeld." With a start he blinked, his brush paused in mid-air. Lifting his head, he glared at the door.
"What is it?" he barked, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. A pause came at the door.
"Everything is prepared, Lord Bielefeld." With a surprised sound, he could only stare at the door. Everything was happening too fast.
Am I really going to go through with this?
"Lord Bielefeld?" The sound of the door knob turning caught his attention and, with quick movements, left his canvas. Before the door could be fully open, he allowed only a gap.
"All right." Dismissing his soldier, he closed the door and leaned against it. Hanging his head, his golden locks slipped forward. Everything was really going too fast.
And soon I'll only be just a fragment of your memory, Yuuri.
Like a shadow, he slipped past his door and made his way as quietly as he could towards the stable. Once there, he could make out several shadows and knew they were his men. One brought forward his white stallion to which he gratefully took hold of the reins. Another helped hoist him up the saddle before moving back to join the others. Like him, they were dressed in ordinary clothes as they mounted their own horses. Those in uniforms turned to unlock the gates as discreetly as they could.
"You didn't have to do this." He tried as best as he could to dissuade his men from following him. But they shook their heads, the very first time they were disobeying his order.
"Lord Weller requested us to join you, sir." By that simple answer, he knew that his brothers had known of his plan. Gritting his teeth, he glared up at the castle. Though in darkness, he could somewhat make out a silhouette near one of the windows and knew it was Weller. "Sir, the time would be right if we were to leave now." Hearing his subordinate, he ignored the silhouette and turned his horse towards the others who were already out of the gates. With a whip of the reins, his stallion went into a gallop.
Goodbye, Yuuri.