When he opened the door to their shared apartment, Shibuya Yuuri found Wolfram huddled over the dining room table—scribbling away in a small notebook (he noticed, off-handedly, that the blonde was using the fountain pen Conrad had given him for Christmas).

"Ehhh… I didn't know you kept a diary, Wolfram," the black-haired boy half-teased, shrugging off his school blazer and dropping it on the back of a chair.

Green eyes turned up, startled by the other's presence. "Yuuri!" he accused, hurrying to slam shut his book. "I thought you weren't going to be home for another few hours." Wolfram had a slightly guilty and embarrassed expression covering his face.

"My class was canceled so I took the next train back." Yuuri was staring curiously at the top of the notebook. "Can I read it?" he asked, reaching out a hand a cross the table.

The blonde angrily smacked the hand away. "No! It's private."

"Oh, c'mon," the black-eyed figure stressed, reaching for the book again. "You're always nosing through my notes and all that!"

Wolfram pouted childishly. "Because I have to make sure you're not cheating on me, you wimp!" He sniffed and turned away with a haughty, "Besides, they're written in Japanese, so I can't read them."

Which is why you should stop trying, Yuuri wanted to say, but instead his hand darted back out and snatched the notebook from beneath the protective fingers of its owner.

The Mazoku's green eyes snapped open and he gave a defensive yelp. "Give that back!"

"I'm not a wimp," Yuuri returned, jumping out of the way and flipping open the book. He frowned down at all the unfamiliar characters. "Geh, it's written in the Mazoku language," the black-haired male muttered. His dark eyes continued to glide over the pages, but they paused over a string of characters that looked a lot like—"Hey, is that my name?"
While he was trying to translate the passage that held the annoyingly familiar shapes (it was actually spelled wrong, but it was easy enough to recognize as his name), Wolfram had stepped up and snatched back the journal. His green eyes flashed with anger, and Yuuri was glad for a moment that the young man couldn't use majutsu on Earth.

"What were you saying about me?" he asked, suddenly very curious. The young man reached out for the journal once more, but the blonde was holding it as far away from him as possible.

After a small scuffle in the entrance to the sitting room, the two tripped over each other's feet and tumbled to the ground. There was an explosion of pain in his mouth, and Yuuri tasted blood as the journal bounced across the floor.

The black haired figure groaned, then pushed himself up on his hands and knees—looking down at the trembling blonde beneath him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Wolfram managed. "Your lip is bleeding. You really are a wimpy Maou, aren't you?" Ignoring Yuuri's protests, he found the kerchief he always kept in his pocket and dabbed carefully at the split lip. "I think you bit your lip when you hit my head," he scolded.

Lingering there for a little longer than he would have liked to admit, Yuuri made to pull away. "Sorry, I'll go wash it o—" He froze as Wolfram's hands tangled back through his black hair and pulled his head down onto his chest. "Wolfram…" he muttered, feeling the blonde's rapid pulse contrasting with the steady rise and fall of his breast.

"I'll tell you what it says, Yuuri," he said in a low voice. His hands slowly slipped down to touch the other's cheeks, then fell down to his sides as he spoke. "You're the only one who can my heart beat like this, Yuuri. And I'm ashamed to find myself wondering if you feel the same way."

Lifting his head, the young man noticed that the blonde was looking away. "I'm going to ask you a silly question," he said, lowering his head once more and touching his forehead onto the other's chest. "Will you… um, how do I say this." Yuuri took a breath, and let it out slowly. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

Wolfram couldn't help but frown as he glanced back that the top of the Maou's head—his Maou's head. "Am I being demoted?" he snapped.

"No! It's not like that!" Yuuri shouted, looking up sharply—immediately regretting the harsh tone as he noticed the blonde flinching. "No, it's nothing like that." He slipped one hand into Wolfram's, twisting their fingers together. "I know we're engaged and everything, but I want to go out a date with you. Just… the two of us. And I'll hold your hand like this—" he squeezed their fingers gently. "And we'll talk, about ourselves, about our day, about whatever." Yuuri was beginning to feel embarrassed, saying all of this with Wolfram's bright green eyes trained on his; he turned his head away, concentrating his dark stare on the folds of the shirt that the figure beneath him was wearing.

No sound came from the blonde for awhile, until suddenly it was Wolfram's turn to take a hesitant breath. "Can I ask you a silly question?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you kiss me?"

Yuuri hesitated, once again lifting his head to stare down at Wolfram. The black-haired male realized that he had never even thought about kissing his 'fiancée'—he also realized that this was the first time he had said anything to the other young man that remotely resembled 'I like you'. "Now?" he finally managed around the lump in his throat.

"Preferably, yes," Wolfram returned, his emerald gaze shifting to the side for a moment in embarrassment before returning to Yuuri's shocked face.

As he took the blonde's other hand in his own, Yuuri noticed just how nervous he was feeling. His palms were sweating, and he wanted to pull them away to wipe them off on his pants or something, but Wolfram's fingers were grasping his own tightly. With deliberate slowness, the black-eyed male leaned down until their lips were just barely touching.

Wolfram's lips parted slightly just as Yuuri pulled away—a distressed and hurt look crossing over his face for a moment. But the young man only hesitated for a second before leaning down again to lock their mouths in a kiss.