A/N: Yuuram. Warning for boy love.
"I have to go."
"No, you don't! You can't!"
"We've discussed this over and over, Wolf." I groaned as he seized my wrist to prevent me from advancing to the fountain where everyone was congregated to bid me farewell.
"Why can't I come with you to college?" he pleaded, his grip on my wrist tensing as I was forced to drag him to the center of the garden.
"I told you that it would be too distracting for me if you reside with me in the university. Plus, it's the shortest course in the world! It's just a couple of years, I'm sure you could live with that." I alleged, a cheerless beam spreading on my face. I halted in front of the fountain and leaned on its brim. I looked over at my shoulder to cast a last glance at my friends; Gwendel was looking solemn as usual, Lady Cheri had a grimace on her lipstick caked lips, Conrad was holding my suitcase, and Günter and Greta were crying their eyes out. I turned to face my fiancé once more and gazed into teary emerald eyes. He was on the vicinity of shedding tears as I could feel my hand trembling from the vibration of his stifled grip. He was strangling himself. I felt blameworthy as I enclosed his brittle hand in mine.
"I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be." I said, halfheartedly believing in what I have just uttered. He nodded, torrents of tears staining his porcelain cheeks. Then, out of midair, an ingenious thought came to me.
"Tell you what- I'll write a letter saying whatever I want to tell you and give it to you when I come back. If you do the same, that is." I suggested, a sheepish and hopeful grin replacing the empathetic one. He nodded once more, now choking on his tears as he tried to compose a logical answer. I lifted my hand to tuck a stray strand of gold behind his ear. He didn't dare look up at me now.
I pushed myself off of the edge of the fountain and turned to everyone, looking grim now. I knelt and spread my arms as my eleven year old daughter ran to me, weeping. She threw her arms around my neck as I let her drench my shirt. She uttered inaudible, unknowledgeable words to my chest as I patted her back reassuringly. She reluctantly released me, still crying as Cheri took hold of her hand and guided her to the opposite side of the fountain. I regained my composure and glanced at Günter, who had just recovered from loss of tears. He was looking at me hopefully, and I sighed and granted him his request. The man pounced on me, awkwardly feeling every division of my body. It was disturbing. Fortunately, my godfather pulled him away before he was able to force access under my shirt. Conrad handed me my suitcase, which felt heavier than usual, probably because it contained the burden of college life, being separated from Shin Makoku, and the guilt of causing everyone much sorrow. I glanced at them for the last time, savoring their faces, before turning to my fiancé for the last time. In unison, we spread our arms and clung to each other for dear life. And yet, due to my clumsiness, I ruined the moment. His weight pushed me back to the fountain, sending me headfirst back to Earth.
"Oi! Shibuya!"
Ken Murata greeted me as I emerged from my dormitory. He waved enthusiastically at me, carrying a heavy backpack. He looked more like a turtle with the bad case of astigmatism than a college student.
"'Ey Murata." I said, not too excited. In fact, I was a bit queasy about my first day in college.
"What's wrong, Shibuya? Missing your fiancé already?" he teased. I would have nodded, if it wasn't for the passersby giving me a questioning look. Of course, I was sixteen and most earth people don't get fiancés until they're old and have nothing better to do.
"No, I'm just nervous. I haven't been to college before, y'know."
"Well, Shibuya m'man, if telling you it's tons of fun." He said, beaming. I rolled my eyes heavenward. Just because he came a day earlier, he thinks he's such an expert.
We made our way to our first class, him looking forward like a natural, and I pondering on my environment like the newbie I was. Everything was so unfamiliar and alien- it sent adrenaline and fear through my veins. We entered the room which was only half occupied (we were a few hours early) and took our places in the middle of the classroom. I opened my mouth to put up a conversation with him before he was surrounded by the most fascinating creatures known to freshmen- Senior Women.
They were clad in skimpy dresses and skirts with tube tops hanging by fate. They squealed in delight at the very sight of him and caressed every part of him. He seemed awfully smug. What just happened? Did they see a neon sign on his head saying "Molest me"? And why was he letting them? Suddenly, I came a step closer to uncovering the secret of why Murata was so fond of going into Shinou's temple with the pretty female guards. I shuddered at the thought. I wasn't amused. That was disgusting.
The bell rang and the professor barged in the room, sending the women to the back of the class. Thank God. I didn't want to see The Great Sage's four thousand years of celibacy broken. More students flooded in, and suddenly, the room was packed. I turned to him and asked in a disgusted voice "Who were they?"
"I dunno. But hey, I don't care. They dig me. Face it Shibuya, I'm a ladies man now. "He said with a grin.
"You don't know any of those women?" I asked, even more confused that before.
"Well, I remember the blonde one with the green eyes. I popped her like a Pringles can a night ago." He joked. I felt my breakfast rocket up to my esophagus. Especially since the description of the woman matched the description of my fiancé. Speaking of which, I suddenly remembered I had to write to him. I wanted to write something he will never forget something that would make him feel important and make up for my wimpiness.
I ripped out a page from my binder and started to think. And think. And think.
Time flew by and the next thing I know, I was already halfway through my college course. I've been doing pretty well, almost as much as Murata has. I keep scolding him to lay off the girls every once in a while, since I couldn't sleep because of the screeching and moaning majority of the nights. And he had this bad habit of putting his "used" pillows on my bunk.
I've made friends, interesting ones, like this French boy who has a special skill for fencing, a long haired teacher with a slight indecency of pedophilia and a case of bisexuality, and a brown haired sophomore with a compassionate side for poetry. Seem familiar? Well, I have to admit, I chose friends who would be there to substitute-no, remind- me of my friends in Shin Makoku. I haven't made any contact with them for the past year and a half, two years in Shin Makoku time, and I have to admit that I have missed them terribly.
And with this thought, I went off to remedial class. I strolled in the empty halls, sparing thoughtful glances at the night sky, wondering if Wolfram was still counting the stars like we did on clear nights like this…
"Oh I'm sorry." I exclaimed apologetically, crouching down to pick up my books. I regained my posture and looked at the proud and curvy figure of the person I bumped into.
"Oh, hello Yuuri." She said in a seductive and syrupy voice, flipping her sandy hair off her shoulder. I backed away; I couldn't deal with her, not today. Her stiletto heels clicked as she cornered me against the lockers and tauntingly dug her long and manicured nails into my arm as she snuggled herself in the crook of my neck, her breath heavy and the stench of her perfume smoky. I rolled my eyes and attempted to squirm myself out of her talons.
"Why struggle, snuckums? Aren't you fulfilled that after a year of admiration from afar were finally THIS close?" she cooed, pressing herself against me.
"Oh please. Your head's almost as big as your boobs." I hissed.
"Would you want me to prove you wrong?" she teased, her leg entwining with mine.
"That's enough, I have a fiance."
"She wouldn't know,"
"He's a man."
"You don't love him."
"Oh yes, I do." I summed it up, dashing towards the nearest bathroom and plunging in the toilet, headfirst.
The sky was blue as it always has been. Sometimes I wonder if it would be the same where Yuuri was staying. It has been 2 years and a lot has changed- Gwendal and Anissina had finally professed love and are now married, often bickering like an old married couple, at that, Greta was now entertaining suitors at a young age, influenced by mother of course, and everyone has stopped anticipating the return of the Maou. Except me.
I sighed to myself, fidgeting with my letter promised to him, wondering when the water would ripple and he would emerge, a soft smile on his ever childish fa-
"Ack!"
Water drenched my whole body as I fell on his lap. I blinked twice in disbelief, before wrapping my arms around his neck and pushing him down the fountain once more.
"YUURI!"
He laughed heartily before pushing me off and sitting me on the bottom of the concrete. I took a good look at him- nothing much has changed except for the fact that he had broader shoulders and was obviously taller than me.
He held out a small bottle with a tiny piece of parchment in it and stuffed it into my hand. I looked down at my letter- it made no sense. The ink was washed away by the water. He frowned at it. I smiled.
"I memorized it." I said as he placed his hands on my waist.
"Dearest Yuuri,
The first time I ever laid eyes on you and realized you would lead our country; I had underestimated you and thought of you as a wimp. You still are. But you're my wimp. The wimp who managed to change me like nobody could. You made me realize that there are other ways to become successful, that it doesn't always have to be violence, that there are finer things in life. Like counting stars with you. Something that I continued to do even in the time of your absence. Though they seemed to refuse to shine when you were gone, or I'd lose count at ten. I missed you. A lot. Never ever ever leave me. Ever ever again.
Love always, Wolfram." I whispered in his ear and felt his smile.
"I memorized it too, but I would want you to read it, kay, Wolf?" he asked, uncorking the tiny bottle and handing me the dry piece of parchment.
And there, in messy and hurried handwriting that was truly his, were the most unforgettable words;
"I love you."