"Yuuri! Yuuri, you cheater!" Wolfram von Beilfelt came storming into the surprised King's chambers (also his own).
"Wolfram…what are you talking about? I haven't so much as looked at a girl all night, how could I cheat on you?!" Poor Yuuri was used to this accusation now; it came more and more frequently.
"Hah! A perfect alibi! But I saw you holding hands with that urchin, you can't deny it!" The irate Wolfram poked Yuri hard in the chest, getting up in his fiancé's face.
"Wait, you mean the flower-peddler? What does that have to do with anything?"
"Everything!" Wolfram screamed, tears held back only by years of military experience. "You smiled at him; you shook his hand for crying out loud!" He stamped his foot obstinately, like a small child deprived a frivolous toy, never admitting that it hid his insecurity completely founded in truth.
Yuuri treats everyone like his fiancé. Not how a fiancé should be treated, with tender loving care, but how his fiancé was treated. Smiles, a helping hand, maybe a handshake. In most people—kings, no less—this type of kindness is a virtue. But when you treat everyone like they're special, you never treat anyone better than the others. This made Wolfram feel monotonous. Sure, Yuuri was nice to him, but Yuuri was nice to everybody, making Wolfram part of the whole. Not on the special level only fiancés got. No stolen kisses, not secret words, just smiles and handshakes.
"Wolfram, I was just buying a flower from him. Yes, I shook his hand, to thank him fro doing business with me!" Now Yuuri was getting upset, too. Wolfram never trusted him. This engagement was an accident, they both knew that, but Wolfram was determined to follow through, so Yuuri tried to make it work.
Wolfram jumped to conclusions. Not even the "I opened a closet and you fell out with a half-naked maid on top of you" conclusions, he jumped to the "You were talking to not one, not two, but three girls. Three! How could you do this to me, do you have no honor?!" conclusions. Certainly, Yuuri didn't mind being engaged to Wolfram. If anything, he enjoyed it much more than Wolfram seemed to. (With all of that ranting and hopping about and screaming, he must not have a very nice day.) But when Yuuri tried to do something nice for him, he always assumed the worst. Once, Yuuri complimented his hair. Wolfram came to the conclusion that Yuuri was trying to make braking-up easier and ran away, before Yuuri could do, or say, something terrible. In actuality, Yuuri just thought that Wolfram's hair was indeed quite shiny and looked extremely beautiful (though the precise word used was "pretty") when a sunset was behind him.
"Oh, you were just buying a flower, huh? Well, then, my king, pray tell where this flower of yours is?" Wolfram, assuming there was no comeback to this obvious flaw in Yuuri's story, crossed his arms, content in his victory.
"Its right there, Wolfram." Yuuri pointed to a single scarlet rose lying harmlessly on Wolfram's pillow.
He rapidly deflated, seeing his mistake, and turned to Yuuri in an attempt to make amends.
"Hey, wimp. Look, I didn't mean—"
"Forget it." Yuuri left.
Such a simple action, leaving. Walk to door, open door, walk through door, close door, walk away. It is the timing of said action that makes it what it is. To a terminally ill patient, telling them you'll find a cure, then leaving to go find one gives so much more hope than just continuing to sit there. To Wolfram, when Yuuri left it meant that he had given up on him. Lost hope and abandoned his fiancé.
Wolfram wandered over to the innocent bud and blankly picked up the brief message attached.
This is the best accident that ever happened to me.
—With all my love,
Yuuri
Short, but in it Wolfram read what he had done to Yuuri. This one thing he tried to do, Wolfram ruined. Maybe he had ruined more than just the present.
"Yuuri! Yuuri, wait!" Wolfram shouted, his brain finally kicking into gear.
Wolfram left the room and sprinted down the hallway. His mind, taking advantage of the relativity of time, had made those few moments feel like eternity, and Yuuri was only a couple dozen yards away.
Yuuri turned around and saw his fiancé running behind him to catch up.
"Yuuri, is this real?" Wolfram gasped out, breathless from his dash.
"Yeah…" Yuuri looked down at Wolfram's shoes rather than his blushing face.
"So you love me?" The last part of that sentence was a mere squeak, a far cry from his usual brash tone.
"Yes, Wolfram." Yuuri murmured his name with care, melting any doubt from the other's mind. "I love you."
Yuuri flew into the wall, Wolfram's launched weight too much for him to hold up by himself. His arms wound around Wolfram's middle to hug him back, maybe not quite as ferociously as Wolfram, but the sentiment got across just fine.
And for the first time, of many to come, Wolfram got more than just a handshake.
—Owari—
Gack. It's one in the morning. Yes, 1 AM. It took me a little over an hour to finish this, and it ended up with a lot less fluff than I meant it to have. Damn. That always happens! cries in a corner But, in the end, I suppose I'm happy with it. Just not quite what I meant it to be. (Correction, 1:30 AM, with editing).