It had been three weeks and four days since Wolfram's heart had been gouged from his chest and trampled in the dust. He knew. He'd been keeping track. It was hard not to when each day was an agony to get through.

He had moved out of Yuuri's rooms and back to his own, of course, but that did little good when his position demanded he see the king almost every day. The young noble had done his best to stay impassive, to pretend that everything was fine, and thanks to his strict training, he thought he had succeeded fairly well. Of course, the news that he and Yuuri had broken off their engagement was all over the kingdom within a week, but Wolfram had steadfastly ignored the whispers and rumors. He also ignored the pleading glances and attempts at conversation from Yuuri, and any words he did share with the black-haired boy were curt and related to nothing more than whatever business was at hand.

A few times Günter had tried to speak with him about what was wrong, but each time had been put off by a few sharp words and an angry glare. Finally he had given up. And once… Wolfram ground his teeth at the memory. Once Weller had tried to talk to him. It had taken every ounce of the blonde's self-control to keep from drawing his sword on the man right then and there.

Now he sat on his windowsill, staring out at the city, jaw clenched so fiercely his head hurt. He had fled here after seeing Weller and Yuuri walk out into the yard together to work on the Maou's sword skills. Again he felt his teeth grate against each other. Didn't they see each other enough at night, in Yuuri's bedroom?

And still needing to practice with a sword after all this time? Honestly, he's such a wimp. But thinking of Yuuri by what had become almost an affectionate pet name made his heart twist, and he reflexively clutched his chest, closing his eyes. Would this pain ever go away? He was hoping by now it would have at least faded a little bit, but it was still hot, sharp, and fresh. It didn't help matters that he kept obsessively picking at it, like a wound, never letting it start to heal. He kept going over the scene in his head and trying to figure out just where he had gone wrong. Was it those jealous rages he kept having over the boy king? But who could blame him for them? Yuuri was sweet and beautiful; it was no wonder he was wanted by everyone, and he was so friendly and naïve he just went along with it like an idiot. It was Wolfram's job to protect him!

Were you protecting him? an insidious little voice in his mind whispered. Or yourself?

Shut up! The side of Wolfram's fist connected violently with the window frame, and he winced, clutching his hand. That hadn't been terribly intelligent, but at least this hurt distracted him for a moment from the one in his heart. It didn't last long, though. As a soldier, the blonde noble had been trained to shrug off little pains like the one in his hand, and it was second nature to him now. All too soon he was back to examining and irritating and picking at an injury that would take far longer to heal.

Maybe I never had a chance in the first place. Maybe he was already falling in love with Weller when he got engaged to me. It's not like I don't know the entire betrothal was an accident. Stupid ignorant fool! I should be happy this has happened. I never asked to be engaged to him, after all. Now I'm free. I can do whatever I want… The lies were pathetic, and Wolfram knew it. He bowed his head, burying one hand in his hair as once again tears pricked his eyes. Yuuri… Yuuri… I miss you…

A quiet knock made him jump, and he swiftly wiped his eyes and smoothed his clothes before answering, "Come in." The door opened a little ways, and a dark-haired head poked itself in, glancing around the room. Wolfram stiffened as a pair of dark eyes met his, his own green gaze widening. "Y-Yuuri…"

The young Maou gave a lopsided smile as he slipped further into the room and carefully shut the door behind him. "Hi," he returned, voice barely audible. "Can I… talk to you?"

Wolfram did his best to gather up his scattered nerves. Folding his arms across his chest, he turned away, nose in the air. "There's nothing to talk about, Your Majesty." He missed Yuuri's wince at the honorific title.

"Wolfram, you know that's not true…"

The other boy tensed all over again, jaw tight. "It is true," he ground out through gritted teeth. Go away, Yuuri. I still love you! I can't stand this! I won't cry in front of you… I won't I won't I won't! "You've always loved Weller. You've never loved me. Our engagement was a mistake, and now you're free to be with him as much as you like. That's all there is to it."

"Wolf…"

"Don't call me that!"

Yuuri moved back a half-step at the force of the outcry, staring at the young man who now stood in front of him, fists clenched and shoulders shivering with concealed emotion. Then Wolfram looked down and to the side, but Yuuri could still see the moisture on his cheeks.

"Please leave, Yuuri," he whispered. "I don't want to see you anymore. I…"

"Wolfram…" Yuuri reached out to him, desperate to comfort him, to soothe the hurt that he himself had caused, but Wolfram batted his hand away.

"Just go!"

The dark-haired teenager stared at him for another moment or two before obeying, bowing his head and slowly walking out. Wolfram collapsed to his knees, clutching his midsection, and was promptly sick.