…

I've never done a oneshot before. -gleeful smile-

Possible OOC (?), repetitive terms, emo spasms, intrapersonal turmoil and so and so… oh, I dunno. I'm not sure what it's supposed to be like.

Hope you enjoy. It might get a wee bit confusing down there because there are flashbacks within flashbacks… within flashbacks.

A Break from Darkness

Wolfram waited on the bed, sitting straight up and clasping his hands together, trying to breathe as evenly as he possibly could. Yuuri still wasn't there, and the long amount of time without his accidental fiancé was agonizing for the blond. The double black had told him not to move, and to wait for him, telling him that he would be right back. And there Wolfram waited. To pass the time, he created a small ball of fire within his palms, feeling the warmth. He extinguished the flame a few seconds later.

The bed sheets and covers were clean. The maids had just washed the soft, silky materials, and Wolfram took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of newly cleaned linens. They were gentle against his bare feet. He had removed his boots earlier on before lifting them on the covers.

What color were they now? Blue? White? Or had Yuuri decided for something new this time, maybe yellow?

Wolfram couldn't tell, and wondered if he ever could. Feel, smell, taste… that was all he could ever do these days.

"Yuuri…"

He couldn't see.

He couldn't hear.

Apparently, someone up there really hated him. Not only was he now deprived of his sense of sight, but now his sense of hearing as well.

How long had he been blind and deaf? Wolfram had lost track of time.

Seeing was the first to go. Suddenly, Wolfram just found his vision turning from black, to back, then to black again, then it was normal again. He ignored it, thinking it was just some random thing that would gradually go away. And wished he hadn't. Each day, there was this usual, flickering moment where he would suddenly lose the ability to see. It didn't matter when he blinked. It still felt like he had entered a dark room. After a few seconds, his vision would come back again.

This continued on, his vision sputtering like a candle flame being lit and relit again and again and all over again.

The days passed by, and the intervals between the blackouts and his normal vision lengthened. One time when he was training a soldier out in the field in dual combat, he suddenly found that he couldn't see anything, as if the sun had suddenly decided to stop shining. He had been used to those daily moments when his sight would suddenly leave him, but it had never occurred once during his training. For a second, he blinked in confusion when he suddenly couldn't see his inexperienced subordinate. His trainee's sword then chose to come calling in that deathly moment and…

Even when the sword had sliced through his waist, even when he crumpled to a heap on the ground, one hand over his bleeding side, his vision didn't return.

Less than half an hour later, Wolfram was found in the infirmary, Gisela tending to his wound. And the unlucky soldier named Lucas suddenly found himself up against the wall, pinned by an angry state advisor with a major brother-complex emanating from every fiber of his being. Lucas tried to explain, with much difficulty since he couldn't even feel the floor beneath his feet, that his Excellency Wolfram had suddenly stopped moving and blinked once with strange confusion, right before his inexpert blow to his Lordship's side had struck clean through, so that he wasn't able to stop his sword from swinging, and that he had four little brothers and sisters at home and a mother in the farms that he really needed to support so that if it was possible that he wouldn't be killed now?

When Wolfram had woken up from his untimely incident two days later, he found that it would have been better if he had been asleep, seeing as there was no difference whether he blinked or not. He felt a warm hand immediately land on his, clasping it tightly.

"Yuuri?" he had whispered, and almost instantly he was engulfed in a tight hug, his fiancé crying his eyes out in worry, asking him why he didn't say anything about his sight. Yuuri kissed him, caressed him, like he always did in the past few nights. It was their nightly routine, even though Wolfram sometimes complained that Yuuri was babying him. This time, however, he remained silent, drinking it all in.

His vision only returned five days later. Yuuri never left his side.

And then, once upon a time, during a happy family dinner with the boy king sitting next to his side and Greta on the other, his vision bade him goodbye, beautiful boy.

There was no time to mourn for his loss, since his hearing followed his sight soon after. Only then was the proper time to mourn. Yuuri never had the time to tell him in person those three words that often accompanied two people in a relationship, those three words that one would always rely on to pop up in cheesy love stories and romance novels.

The boy king was devastated. He had exclaimed and pleaded and panicked, stamping his foot in worry, blinking back tears, asking Gwendal, Conrad, Murata, Gisela, Anissina, if there was anything they could do. Wolfram hadn't been able to hear any of it, of course, and nor had he seen any of their frowning faces, their worried looks, their constant glances toward him. He had just sat there in one of the chairs in Yuuri's office, like a beautiful little blond doll, blank emerald eyes staring at particularly nothing, hands held together on his lap.

He had felt the floor vibrate suddenly under someone's boot. After a few moments, it had happened again. Someone seemed to be stamping his foot. He had felt pacing steps somewhere near him, even and equally spaced, knowing it was his little big brother, worrying nearby. The feeling of low thuds on the floor had been reassuring, like ripples on a glass lake.

As a small child who violated the natural rules of going to bed, Wolfram had memorized the feel of his family's steps so that he could carefully shove his toys under the bed and thereupon fling himself on his mattress with equal timing, pretending to be asleep. Either of two things could happen at that point; one would be that that person would open the bedroom door, take a peek at their precious blond angel, might even possibly sit by the bed, caress his curls, stay for a spell and then some, before getting up to walk out. Or, they would just pass by his room altogether. Either way, the trick had always worked.

When the footsteps passed, he would resume his play beside his bedroom door, where it was easier to feel the vibration, the contact of boots or step-ins or fancy glass slippers against the stone floor, should someone else come.

Gwendal's steps were, even then, almost ringing with authority, and Wolfram could practically feel the seriousness coming from every strong thud he could feel on the floor as his eldest brother's heels met stone. His were the heaviest. And almost most of the time, they always seemed to be in a hurry. Wolfram couldn't understand why that was so, because sometimes there wasn't a second pair of footsteps that followed his brother's, these ones feeling like stiff 'tok-toks' against the floor, more jumpy, more energetic, he had deduced, as he had splayed his palm flat out on the floor to better feel the footsteps. Then he would understand why his older brother was in a hurry.

While Gwendal's were a heavy thud, Conrart's had been a slightly lighter step, with a 'thwap' to substitute for 'thud''s place. They were smooth and calm. Poised, he could almost say. He was usually the one who would enter the blond's room while passing by. Sometimes, when this happened, Wolfram would stop feigning sleep and spend a little time with his Little Big Brother, who, fortunately enough, never really told on him.

Nights went on.

His mother's were the easiest to feel. They always had a fancy ring to them, a rhythm as his mother's high-heeled shoes hit the ground. Tok-slap! Tok-slap! Tok-slap! The floor would thud the slightest itty-bitty bit as the high-heeled end of his mother's shoes went down first, before the flatter end of her footwear that contained the rest of her feet would make a flat, thin clap against the floor.

Maids and nannies seemed to have developed a similar gait among them. For one thing, if the throbs against the floor weren't always hurrying, then there would be very little intervals between each step.

Each vibration against the floor was something he could determine, single out among others', recognize. And for the better part of Wolfram's young life, it had been the most he could get out of his family. Not picnics, or playtimes, or stories by a campfire, not outings, or horseback ridings, sword practices or spring festivals. It had been dull throbs against the stone floor of his bedroom, the signal of upcoming footsteps that hardly ever stopped and almost always walked by.

Shaking himself out of past thoughts, Wolfram had felt for more footsteps against the floor of the double black's office, fleeting, quick, probably from said double black himself. Due to the fact that he was sitting in a chair, of course, the only contact he had with the floor were his booted feet, but he had by then memorized all of their footsteps since childhood (except for Yuuri's) that he no longer needed to guess.

The meeting hadn't made much sense to Wolfram, of course, and it was a much harder task of trying to find a way to explain things to the blond. In the end, however, he had been much too overwhelmed by what had happened to him that he refused to know the reason for his… incapability, so to speak, at least until further notice.

Days went on.

The three other senses that someone had enough pity to leave be were the only things he could rely on.

It was there that he knew what true solitude was, what if felt like, and how hard it was to be in one. The situation was dire. He felt cut off from the rest of the world. He had been alone for most of his young, princeling life; would he be alone still? It hardly seemed fair at all. And even though Wolfram concealed petty complains behind a show of unquestionable reasoning, he found it hard not to throw something due to his current state.

In order to do that, however, he needed to find something to throw first.

It was all so stupid! And where the hell was Yuuri?

He felt a dull thud. By sitting on the bed, the elevation had masked a great deal the throbs the room sent whenever someone closed the door. There was a slight pause before Wolfram felt the bed dip. Yuuri.

If there was anything Wolfram had relied on more than touch, it was smell. It was the scent of people. By losing his other two senses, the ones left behind were given clearer acknowledgment. Wolfram had memorized almost every person's unique scent along with the feel of their footsteps.

Greta's smelled of flowers.

His mother's smelled of expensive and exotic perfume.

Gisela's smelled of herbs.

Anissina smelled of science.

The maids's smelled of newly washed clothes, of freshly baked bread.

Günter's smelled of lilac.

Gwendal's smelled of smooth, white paper.

Conrart's smelled of… of… home.

And Yuuri's… Yuuri perhaps had the most amazing smell of all. It was one scent that Wolfram had been looking for all his life, ever since his mother had once taken him with her in one of her trips, to visit a friend who worked as a teacher. The moment they stepped into that classroom that housed thirty demon toddlers that looked no older than four, the smell hit him. It was sweet, unadulterated, pure. It smelled like fruit, and sweet food, and sugar, and babies' breath, and laughter all at the same time. It smelled… innocent. Young.

The first time he had encountered Yuuri by just the footsteps and the scent, it had engulfed him. Wolfram thought himself stupid that he hadn't recognized it there before, and for the first time, he was actually thankful that his sight and hearing were gone, albeit only for a little while, if it meant he could smell, recognize, that fragrance again. He found himself breathing as much of it as he could, scared that it would disappear once more. At once he had felt Yuuri fussing over him, probably thinking that he was hyperventilating or something. In what he felt and concluded to be small whispers, he had calmed Yuuri down by saying quietly,

"… it's the smell. Your smell. I… love it. I want… to memorize it. I remember it from a long time ago, and since then I've always been trying to find it. And now that I know you… have the scent… I just want to… get as much of it as I can…"

Wolfram didn't get to say much after that. He had found himself breathing in Yuuri's sweet, sweet scent, as well as tasting the inside of his mouth. A double package.

Now however, Wolfram barely had the time to whiff the air. He was impatient, and vexed, and just a little bit… scared. He had been all alone in that sad, sad little corner of his mind where no sound or pictures permeated, and to add to that he had also been alone in the bedroom.

"Yuuri!" Wolfram shouted, frustration from waiting itching their way out of that one word. He knew he had shouted. He could feel the large vibrations from his throat. He felt a weight against him immediately followed by arms wrapped tightly around his waist. A pair of lips made their way toward his neck in a short but loving kiss.

I'm sorry.

He felt Yuuri's warm mouth moving repeatedly against his white skin. It opened up before closing again, the lips pressed together, capturing a small part of the skin of his neck. Yuuri's mouth formed a circle straight after, then widened to a flat, narrow gap.

I'm sorry, Wolfram knew Yuuri was saying against his neck. He could feel his lover's mouth forming each syllable, apologizing, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…

Wolfram felt Yuuri's lips form those words for a small while before the double black straightened up, hands still around his fiancé's waist, and gave him a long kiss. After a while, the blond broke the hug to pat his first two right fingers on his left wrist twice.

What took you? it meant.

One of their many sign languages.

Wolfram usually didn't use his voice as much as he could help it, only when it was necessary or when he was annoyed, trying to judge the loudness of his words by the strength of the vibrations coming from his throat; even when he was alone with Yuuri he referred to their made up signs and gesticulations more often than words. He felt extremely vulnerable in his current state, and somehow, a loud voice added much to that deliberation. And if he spoke with a volume much louder than intended, it would be downright embarrassing, something he didn't want to go through with, even with the knowledge that he wouldn't know if people recognized his mistakes or not.

He felt Yuuri's hand on his, guiding it toward what seemed to be the double black's face… up, on that place between the boy king's eyebrows. As soon as Wolfram's white finger had alighted on the spot, Yuuri did his best to form a big crease between his brows. Wolfram immediately understood, and offered a little smile.

Gwendal.

Wolfram didn't gesture this time. Instead, he mouthed the word "wimp" with a fond expression on his face.

Yuuri transferred Wolfram's hand unto his cheek, cupping it between his palm and his face. Then he wildly shook his head.

I'm not a wimp!

Those actions replaced the usual retort Yuuri had always made in response to the word "wimp." It took some getting used to at first, but Wolfram had been in that deaf-blind predicament for oh, so long now that he had welcomed it openly as a substitute for words. His world was dark without sounds or images. It was a complete hole without Yuuri.

He was the sun. And even though there was no light in Wolfram's black imprisonment, there was warmth. He had Yuuri to thank for that.

Wolfram leaned into double black's chest, intending to knock him slightly with his sudden movement, but his fiancé quickly caught him and hugged him tight. He made sure Wolfram felt the smirk he pressed against the blond's cheek before he gave the precocious fire wielder another kiss.

"Nice try, Wolfram," Yuuri said, but it was, of course, pointless. He had never stopped talking to the blond, though, even if he was never heard. "I've grown used to your ways…"

The blond playfully slapped Yuuri on the… somewhere. He felt his palm hit something, and by imagining the situation, he had guessed that it would be somewhere between the double black's knee and hip.

Yuuri was laughing; his shoulders were shaking.

Wolfram felt Yuuri move, as if to get something, and was once again encased in those strong, tanned arms a minute later. Wolfram snuggled inside that warmth, inhaling his fiancé's scent. There, he felt safe, as safe as he could get. He started to breathe deeply, and as quick as he could without looking abnormal. That smell… he absolutely loved it…

He felt paper pass his hand, the texture brushing against him. Yuuri wanted him to know that he was writing a message for him, so that the blond wouldn't wonder why Yuuri suddenly stopped hovering about him, as the double black usually did around his precious fiancé. Wolfram didn't mind. He felt Yuuri's chest rising up and down smoothly as the Asian teen wrote.

Inhale, exhale… inhale, exhale…

Writing a message for Wolfram was no small thing. In the first place, Yuuri had to write the words in an inverted form, as if he had held the message up in a mirror. He also had to write it down hard. Murata had proposed to use a makeshift Braille* system upon Wolfram, so that he could read the letters on the page with his hands, meaning it had to be embossed, and the sentence had to be flipped horizontally. If the note was particularly long, Yuuri only wrote key words.

"Just a little more, Wolfram, okay?" Yuuri spoke. Since the message needed no ink, Yuuri had always used a broken ballpoint pen—due to a constant wetting between inter-dimensional traveling—he had found in one of his pockets to carve words onto the thick carton-like paper. It did the job well.

"There!" Yuuri said with triumph. He flipped the card over. His message was embossed perfectly, and the double black felt rather proud of it. "Here, Wolf…" Yuuri lead Wolfram's hands over to the start of the page, and let him continue from there. The blond got disoriented whenever another set of fingers guided him when he read with his hands.

"Ga…a…rden…" Wolfram whispered in oscillating tones. Yuuri pressed his cheek against the blond's sunny hair and exaggerated his nod so that Wolfram would understand, motioning for him to continue. "L… lu—n—ch… w…wi…th… with… G…r…gre-ta."

Wolfram smiled slightly and nodded.

Yuuri gently took the cardboard paper from those pale hands and wrapped his arms once again gently around Wolfram, kissing him on the temple. He reached for Wolfram's hand, flipped it, and traced a heart on the blond's palm.

I love you.

Wolfram mouthed another "wimp." But he intertwined their fingers together before Yuuri could make a response.

I love you too.

The first time Yuuri had created that gesticulation, carving the meaning soon afterward on cardboard for Wolfram to grope on so as to understand the gist behind it, was also the first time Wolfram encountered the words "I love you" from his double black lover. It was sad to think that he would never hear it personally from Yuuri's lips, should there be no cure for his dilemma. Wolfram tried desperately to keep his hopes up; but each night he slept into darkness and each morning he would wake from it, quickly keeping him in doubt, dowsing his own fire.

He felt weak. Vulnerable. Exposed. Useless. He hated it.

And sometimes not even the fact that Yuuri was there reassured him. But it comforted him somewhat. He was thankful that Yuuri had learned to love him before he had lost two of his senses. He wasn't sure how he would have been able to make it.

Wolfram felt a prickling sensation in his eyes and quickly buried himself into Yuuri's warm chest.

Inhale, exhale… inhale, exhale…

Sight and hearing… if he had lost either one of them, he wasn't sure he would still be allowed in the military, although he would still be able to lead a less-than-normal life. But he had lost both. Those two senses were vital to a soldier, if not to a normal person. And now without them, he couldn't be one. If he wasn't a soldier, then what was he? Who was Wolfram? How should he move? How should he react? He couldn't even speak properly anymore. The most he could do was to smell and feel, and what good would that do to anyone?

Wallowing in self-pity wasn't really Wolfram's favorite past time… he disliked it with a passion, but he just couldn't help it. Everything was so unfair… it only felt like a couple of days after Yuuri had finally gathered the initiative to tell Wolfram how he truly felt, and now this had happened.

Never to see Yuuri's face… never to hear Yuuri's voice…

"Wolfram?" Yuuri whispered worriedly. The blond felt the movements of Yuuri's chin and just shook his head, even though he had no idea what words were said, and pressed himself harder against the double black. He needed it.

Inhale, exhale… inhale, exhale…

He wouldn't cry… he wouldn't cry… he wouldn't cry… he wouldn't cry… wouldn't cry… wouldn't cry…

And with much internal battling, he was able to straighten up with his face relatively dry, although there were some slight wet spots on Yuuri's dark shirt that would definitely not have come from either his nose or mouth.

Wolfram felt for Yuuri's face, hands groping in all directions in front of him. He rested his hands on either side of Yuuri's cheeks and leaned his forehead against the other's.

Inhale, exhale… inhale, exhale…

Yuuri momentarily raised his head higher than Wolfram's to kiss the slightly sparkling eyelashes above the blond's dull emeralds before resuming their position.

The boy king pressed his hand lightly over Wolfram's, then pressed two fingers against it, before drawing a straight line from the wrist up.

We'll get through this.

Wolfram desperately wanted to believe it.

"I'll be strong… for both of us, Wolfram."

Throughout the night, Yuuri held Wolfram close in his sleep. Not only did it make for a lesser amount of bruises in the morning, but it also gave the blond a sense of security. In actuality, ever since his loss, Wolfram hardly ever moved during slumber. It gave Yuuri a painful sensation in chest, to know that even when the blond wasn't awake he was insecure about his surroundings, desperate to keep himself as small as possible.

The morning after, Yuuri was up earlier than usual. The double black would do his usual routines after getting out of bed, but he never left the room when Wolfram was still asleep. The first and last time he had done that was when he had the urge to use the toilet first thing upon waking up. He had posted a guard outside, of course, in case the worst came to the worst, and ironically it did. In the end, half the room was charred by the time Yuuri reached the room, and it took him almost a whole hour to get close enough to Wolfram to calm him down and end his rain of fire.

Yuuri had hugged his trembling fiancé (whether it was out of fury or something else, he did not know, and didn't bother to ask), as the maids scurried in and tried to fix the damages. However, one could not have ignored the dull emeralds which were quivering slightly, like the disturbance caused by a small pebble in a green pond.

Wolfram had been scared.

And Yuuri had been a fool.

From then on Yuuri knew that Wolfram was never to be left alone again.

An enthusiastic knock on the door broke Yuuri out of his thoughts. The double black crossed the room and unlocked the door to let a peeking Günter in. A few weeks before, Yuuri had finally decided to lock his door before the morrow. It had its fair share of advantages.

"Your Majesty… I see you're ready for the day," Günter said, slightly surprised, but nevertheless enthusiastic.

"Yes. Just…," Yuuri looked back at the bed, where Wolfram still lay sleeping.

"I see…"

"I'll be in a few minutes, okay Günter?"

The lilac-haired man bowed. "Of course, your Majesty."

Yuuri smiled and Günter gently closed the door himself. The Asian teen made his way back to the bed and lay down gently next to Wolfram so as not to put creases in his usual black uniform, facing him.

"Wake up little wolf cub…" Yuuri whispered teasingly. He pulled out a feather from one of their pillows and lightly traced a line on Wolfram's cheek. Another one of their usual games ever since Wolfram's predicament. He knew the feather didn't tickle much, but it created a slight sensation that made one want to bat the contact away. The blond twitched slightly and an irritated gurgle made its way out of his throat. "Wakey wakey…" Yuuri continued in a sing-song voice that would have been sure to annoy Wolfram should the blond be able to hear it, continuing to stroke the feather against the pale skin.

Still in a state of half-sleep, a hand slowly lashed out and settle back down under the covers again. It didn't do much, really. It didn't even reach Yuuri, who continued his little feather-game until the blond finally stirred. Wolfram didn't open his eyes first; he made a tentative sniff in the air before slowly blinking the drowsiness out of his eyelids. And because there really was no difference between having his eyes opened or closed, Wolfram chose to shut them back down. His hand once again crawled to his front, where he felt Yuuri to be. Said hand felt an arm, and proceeded to give that arm little slaps in an attempt to halt the feathery assault. It still didn't do much good. Too sleepy to actually put up a good threat, Wolfram did little more than slow successive pats that would have made any self-respecting puppy-dog wag his tail with delight.

Yuuri leaned closer and blew on Wolfram's eyelashes, making them twitch a little, before touching them lightly with a finger, and making them twitch again. He traced nondescript patterns on the blond's cheek with the feather. Wolfram ignored him completely.

Yuuri sighed. "Fine, Wolfie, if you want it that way…" He pressed himself tight against the blond's slim body, trapping him in a tight hug. Yuuri felt Wolfram move slightly under the contact, but he continued on. The hand on the back of the fire mage's neck slid slowly down, until it reached the mid-back, lower back, botto—…

Wolfram's eyes shot open and he quickly rolled on top of Yuuri, supporting himself on his elbows, the double black pressed below on the mattress. Yuuri chuckled, knowing that Wolfram's sense of reserve would prevent any groping that would occur while the blond was still in a state of sleep.

Yuuri was given a frown, to which the boy king responded with another laugh. He reached up and traced a wide circle on Wolfram's cheek with a finger.

Good morning.

The blond just "hmphed" and got up, crossing his arms.

"Aw, come on Wolfram, it was just a joke," Yuuri said, despite knowing that the words never reached the blond's ears. He reached for Wolfram's cheek once more with the feather.

The fire wielder glared in the general direction that he knew the wimp ought to be.

Yuuri sighed. "What a morning person," he mumbled, reaching for his fiancé once again. But Wolfram just flicked his head proudly to one side, ignoring him.

"Fine, fine Wolfram…" Yuuri got up and tiptoed away from the bed a few paces away. He reached the door, opened it with a force, then slammed it shut once more. He waited.

Wolfram felt the bed dip, then flatten back to normal, Yuuri's weight leaving it, felt the vibes within the room upon the force of a door being open and strongly shut closed. He blinked once. He sniffed. Yuuri's scent was gone. Wolfram opened his mouth slightly and closed it. He blinked. Then he smelled the air again.

Breathing once from his mouth, Wolfram slowly raised his hand, groping in the air. Yuuri almost felt compelled to end his joke right there and run back to the blond, but he wanted to see what Wolfram would do.

The blond pressed his lips tight and blinked rapidly, since there really wasn't much more he could do, completely confused. Had Yuuri really left him?

He scrambled off the mattress and reached for one of the four posts that supported the canopy above the bed. He inhaled once through his mouth and reached for the air again. Nothing.

He took a quick step forward but got his foot caught in a corner of the blanket that had fallen innocently off the bed. He promptly fell on the floor. Not caring anymore how loud or desperate his voice would sound, Wolfram shouted, "Yuuri!"

It was the initial feelings of quick footsteps on the stone floor without the feel of a door being opened and closed prior to that did Wolfram realize that he had been had. Once he felt the huge thud of knees hitting the ground simultaneously before him, felt the arms wrapped around his figure, Wolfram pounded on Yuuri's side with his fist as hard as he could. After his third hit however, he quickly hugged Yuuri back.

"Oh Wolf I'm so sorry… I don't know why I did that, I was just… I was stupid, I was… I'm sorry; I'm sorry, so sorry…" He kissed Wolfram again and again on the neck.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

"W-imp!" Wolfram shouted, not caring anymore whether his voice sounded "off." "Wimp, wimp, you're such a wimp!"

Two more kisses on the neck.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry…

After a while, Wolfram calmed down somewhat. Yuuri couldn't exactly remember how they had proposed the idea that the signal for "I'm sorry" would be a kiss on the neck for each apology, but he was glad they did.

Yuuri was a wreck; he was panicking more fervently than an anxious father during his wife's childbirth. He passed a couple of guards as he ran down the hallways and stopped before them, panting, before he asked, "Have you seen Wolfram?"

"No, sire," one of the guards replied as the others started to fidget nervously. A deaf and blind ex-prince gone missing was definitely a cause for distress.

Yuuri groaned. "Darn it Wolf, I leave you for one second then you suddenly disappear!"

"His Excellency has gone missing? We'll help look for him and spread the word." They saluted and trudged down the hallway as Yuuri shouted his thanks and kept running.

Wolfram frowned. The brickwork felt old. It was also dusty.

However, he kept tracing his palm along the walls, idly keeping track of all the nooks and crannies and cobwebs his hand had had the misfortune of feeling.

Apparently, he had wandered off to one of the lesser used parts of Blood Pledge Castle. Yuuri had always insisted that Wolfram remain inside the office with him whenever he signed papers. It was either that or Wolfram would spend the day with Greta, or next to either of his two brothers. No matter what the situation, Wolfram was never to be left alone. The blond didn't complain; he felt safe whenever he felt a nearby presence. It was comforting.

However, the moment Yuuri had passed him a message that he would be gone to the bathroom for a moment, Wolfram took the opportunity to sneak out of the double black's office and see the castle from a whole new perspective: touch.

It was quite surprising that no one had stopped him, knowing his situation, but as he kept walking, keeping one hand on a wall, he felt no footsteps on the stone floors. He took a couple of turns right, a few turns left, one staircase up and two flights down, and a couple more turns.

Wolfram knew the castle better than any old friend, which was actually saying something, considering that he didn't have many friends as a child to begin with. Whenever he had nothing else to do and had nobody to throw a tantrum at, as a child Wolfram would roam the palace corridors with a nose for adventure.

The blond walked along the hallways, smiling slightly at the feel of old places, the texture of aged tapestries, the smell of rose and dust, rubbing his hands against the walls like shaking the hands of old friends.

The walls stopped, and from there Wolfram felt columns, widely spaced, and sunlight on his face. He had reached the arcading, which from there led to an open archway that led to an inner courtyard. Wolfram carefully made his way down the two stone steps and felt the height of uncut weeds against the fabric of his pants. But the sunlight was pleasantly warm against his face, so he just backed down a couple of paces, back to the stone floor, and sat down to soak it all in.

There was peace.

For a brief moment, anyway.

Wolfram felt the hurried footsteps of a person against the floor, and immediately recognized it as his fiancé's. Running footfalls were always harder to make out than walking ones, so the blond had to judge it by the lightness of each step. Greta's were always easy to distinguish, since hers had small intervals between each tread and were very light.

Yuuri's footsteps were heavier than their daughter's but lighter than the rest.

The blond stood up and turned around. Wolfram felt the person stop right in front of him, probably to catch his breath. The blond took a sniff just to make sure. It was definitely Yuuri.

He took a small step closer, sniffed again, blinked once, and mouthed the double black's name. It was his way of telling people that he had acknowledged their presence and knew it was them.

Right now, Yuuri was probably fretting and fussing and having a panic-attack all over him, but of course, Wolfram wouldn't know.

"Wolfram, where have you been?! I've been looking all over for you, jeez, do you know how worried I've been when I got back to the office and you weren't there?! You're giving me a heart attack! I said I'd be back in few minutes, I didn't take that long in the bathroom!" Yuuri ranted like a mother who had just witnessed her three-year-old child cross the street past a rushing Lamborghini and live to tell the tale.

The blond just blinked in the face of Yuuri's distress, but he had guessed that the double black was probably pulling his hair out at some point, so he took a couple more steps to completely seal their distance, bringing a palm up in front of him so that he wouldn't bump his nose against Yuuri's upper lip (it had happened before, and gosh it was embarrassing!). He felt for Yuuri's face, and upon finding it with one clean, dust-free hand, kissed him on the neck, long and sweet.

It stopped Yuuri in mid-rant.

"… Wolf?"

With his face still close to Yuuri's neck, Wolfram was able to get more of that wonderfully delicious scent. "I wanted to go exploring… with my hands."

It was an awfully stupid thing to say, even if Wolfram couldn't hear the words himself, but he didn't want to prolong his dialogue any more than it needed to be.

Yuuri couldn't speak anymore. To have an apology from Wolfram in that form… it was… it was…

He couldn't find any appropriate words to describe it. But it was a good thing. Definitely a good thing. He sighed, then gave an accentuating nod.

Wolfram understood, and straightened up. He felt movements from Yuuri, and soon felt the brush of hard paper against his skin. He nodded, and waited for the double black to finish writing his message.

"Do-n… don't k-kn… kno-w… way b-ack."

Wolfram gave a superior grin, mouthed "wimp" and groped for Yuuri's hand, pulling him before the boy king could make his usual reply. With one hand clutching Yuuri's and one hand on a wall, he led the way back to Yuuri's office with fluid movements. His explorations were for naught. It seemed, without the usual distractions of images, he had remembered the route back through the number of turns and steps.

Yuuri had talked about it for days.

And finally, finally, under a sunny afternoon, two fathers and a little girl with chocolate-brown curls could be seen having a picnic-lunch under the shady tree of a garden.

Wolfram could feel the wind against his skin, feel the warmth of the sun overhead leave and return as the breeze rustled the green canopy of leaves above them, blocking and unblocking the sunlight.

He couldn't see.

He couldn't hear.

And somehow, even after all those thoughts of unfair happenings and self-blame, Wolfram felt, during that happy moment, that he wouldn't complain as of now. There was that constant reassuring warmth by his right side, that sweet, sweet smell that he loved so much, a strong hand holding on to his. Yuuri.

The usual fluttering touches his daughter would give him as she would place a crown of flowers on his head, or bring a plate of sweets to his hand to taste for dessert.

He had a place in between them, despite the lack of senses, despite the temporary—he would like to believe it—lack of position as a soldier, protector, noble. Now, there was time for family, time for sunny picnics under a shady tree, time to feel, time to touch, time to be grateful, time to realize, time to know the true meaning behind waiting…

There would be troubles. There would be disasters. There would be hard times, bad days, depressing moments, regretful instances, unfortunate events, occasions were in he would just want to burn everything… but he wouldn't think of them now.

As he used to say back in the old days when his mother was still the demon queen, "Oh, we'll cross that bridge once mummy buys it."

It was the now he would think about… now… it just felt… right.

A bluebird sailed overhead.

Wolfram smiled and took a bite of sugar cake.

…

*Braille - it's a method that is used by a lot of blind people to be able to read. It makes use of patterned, raised dots where in each mean a letter of the alphabet or number.

Oh my gosh, that was so hard! I was positively dying back there… there were hardly any dialogues whatsoever…!

This might sound weird, but I do know which of my family members go up the stairs depending on the slowness, heaviness, intervals between steps and overall thud against the hard wood. It's unheard of, but it really works for me, especially when I have to shove my book under my pillow and switch off the lampshade whenever I know it's mom or dad.

And Yuuri's smell is not invented. I really do get a whiff of that scent in kindergarten/nursery classrooms. I LOVE it.