Footsteps echoed on stone walls, muffled only by the elaborate paintings and dark, velvet curtains. Pausing, a tall man turned crystal eyes to the window only to gaze at a beautiful evening sky. In an hour or so, the bright sun would reach the horizon before sinking further in order to patiently wait for its early resurrection. But there was something frustrating and agitating about nightfall in recent days. The man resumed his pace, continuing down the hall of the castle.
It had only been two weeks since Konrad had returned, but it had felt like ages since Yozak had seen him. First, there were months upon months of a threatening air of silence broken only by the bitterly uttered words of a stubborn man refusing his tears. Then there was the sickeningly gentle smile he had suddenly begun to wear. Even his eyes held a distant, bittersweet glow, as if the moment had passed for any sort of mourning. As if he couldn't allow himself the ability.
Snorting indignantly and running a hand through ginger hair, Yozak turned a frown and his blue eyes towards the stone floor of the castle. He knew better: the bitterness remained. Even if it was disguised and dressed carefully in the most passive of smiles, it was still there. In fact, that only made the bitterness even more evident and threatening. Distant thunder rolling across the horizon without a cloud in sight.
Yozak stopped in front of the familiar chestnut door. Without knocking, his hand turned the brass knob and broke the sacred darkness of the room with the light of the hall. He couldn't care less whether he was intruding or not. An argument would be welcomed and blessed compared to this stubborn façade.
At the mahogany desk sat a slender, young man, open book and candlelight close at hand. Facing the wall opposite the door, he had not moved.
"Hey," came the lazily slurred greeting.
There was a silent pause while Konrad thumbed the upper corner of the page. A pause which carried worlds of meaning. Nevertheless, "Hey," came the answer, the tone no indication of anger, sadness, or anything at all unhappy.
"Hey," Yozak tried once again, more insistent. Look at me, he thought with fervor and intensity while leaning against the door frame.
"Hey, yourself," still refusing to turn his head. The page was turned quietly. There was a slight stiffness in the way Konrad's shoulders moved.
In an instant, all of Yozak's suspicions had been confirmed without question. Konrad had been crying. But, from what little could be extracted from his tone, Yozak's presence was not entirely unwelcome. Just untimely.
"It's been a while," Yozak paused, his meaning obscure, before continuing. "Since we've been to the tavern. I thought maybe you'd like to go." Intense crystal eyes focused on the dimly lit chestnut hair, waiting for any inclination of an answer.
Staring at the words on the page he had been reading, Konrad exhaled slowly. The breath had caught in his throat. All of the innuendos had been intended. Since I've seen you, the easiest one. Since you've cried, or since we've…. Yozak had always used as few words as possible, building communication through mutual comprehension.
Picking up the piece of fabric which served as a makeshift bookmark, Konrad's golden hazel eyes glanced once more over the words in the book, a pretense of having been reading. Closing the book with bookmark carefully in place, he stood and made his way to the shelves lining the wall opposite the door. Taking a deep breath, Konrad replied, "Alright," smiling before turning to face his comrade.
Yozak leaned against the frame of the door, muscular arms crossed, one orange eyebrow raised, and a knowing smirk in place. Of course he knew. In fact, Konrad could never measure exactly how much Yozak knew of everything. Strangely, though, there was a misplaced comfort in that knowledge.
As he and his comrade walked down the halls of the castle, Konrad's thoughts wandered in the comfort of silence. Months after months of rebuilding, and it had all been dashed beautifully by a single moment. Size or age wasn't necessarily a noteworthy factor for Konrad. There have been a plethora of times when Wolfram had uttered words much truer. Gwendal stopped abruptly in his stubbornly ploughed path. An entire battle won or lost because of a single moment of misplaced pride or unconquerable fear. Konrad had only been hoping that he had already built a way to survive a simple, single instant.
The moment of clear skies and gentle sunbeams through an unparticular window. Wolfram riding his horse, almost too distant to discern. The trees swaying in the wind, creating a living, breathing portrait using only shades of green. That moment had caught him off guard. The final chapter of this particular tragedy had finally been written, and one could now stare at the forest instead of glancing at trees. As if an entire lifetime of sorrow had existed and been set aside by the busy day and comforting sunshine. Konrad had always found the moment of relief much more affecting than the event itself, but there was no time reserved for tears then. Then again, there was rarely any time reserved for such selfish things.
Hazy, dusty lighting. Choruses of murmured conversations. Strong, bitter smell of various alcohol. Yozak found the atmosphere of the tavern to be as congenial and pleasant as usual. Save for one person.
Konrad had never quite been the person to throw down his carefully constructed defenses in public. Still, Yozak could hardly find a conversation hearty enough to survive the few meters between them which seem to have stretched out for leagues. Instead, dim, disinterested hazel eyes always found their way back to the handy, tableside window.
Refusing himself a sigh, Yozak took a long drink from his mug before resting it on the wooden table again. Frowning, light blue eyes absently stared at the miniscule ripples which flowed quickly through richly coloured liquid. Yozak almost laughed to himself, remembering the significance, or even insignificance, thereof.
When he had found him, Konrad was perched solitarily by the shimmering lake, occasionally throwing a pebble in order to observe the sorts of ripples they created when they skipped. Settling down next to his friend, Yozak asked bemusedly, "What the hell was that about?" He was referring to the explosion of a one-sided argument that was Wolfram.
Without taking his eyes off the surface of the water, Konrad turned the pebble over in his hand. Aiming, "He hates me." The stone flew several feet, skipping a few times before sinking. The ripples which resulted were intertwined and convoluted.
Smirking with little amusement, Yozak answered almost automatically. "You know better than that. There's no way he hates you."
Hazel eyes narrowed thoughtfully, continuing to focus on the ripples. Small hands found another pebble abandoned on the ground. "He's afraid," Konrad replied, now staring at the tiny stone in his hands. "Because of his fear that someone might tell him something of his lineage he already doesn't know, he hates me." He threw the pebble, and watched it sink somewhere near the previous spot.
Somewhat paler hands picked up a small pebble of their own. "You got all that from what the kid said?" Yozak inquired. Finally, hazel eyes turned to meet crystal. Yozak smirked casually. He handed the small stone to Konrad and turned his gaze back to the lake. "Besides. If it's true, it's bullshit. And you know it."
Looking at the pebble in his hand, he bounced it gently a couple times. "It's probably only half true," Konrad admitted, more to himself. "I can never really tell what he's thinking, sometimes." Inhaling sharply, the smaller boy stared back at the lake's surface. The ripples had disappeared from the water, but not from his mind. "And if it is true, he's probably right in thinking so." Without aiming, Konrad threw the pebble as far as it would fly.
"So, really, you're angry at yourself." The statement was more of a question.
A brusque laugh and a bitter smile was the response. A pale hand met the back of a chestnut-haired head in a firm collision, causing Konrad to tip dangerously forward. "Jerk," came the biting comment. There had been something about the look in Konrad's eyes which was mature, and something in his response which was ancient. Yozak hated it.
Konrad felt the familiar, purposeful gaze fall upon him. A certain sort of electricity hovered before Yozak's voice followed suit. "You were crying, earlier."
Instantly, Konrad found himself gazing into eyes the shade of an afternoon sky. Staring intently, Yozak's eyes forbid Konrad's hazel ones to return to window panes and starry nights. Yozak rarely stated something so bluntly. It was a question; or rather, the next statement would be. Konrad patiently waited for clarification.
The corners of Yozak's mouth frowned slightly before he continued, "You never let yourself cry. Why?" His fingers tightened around the handle of his mug as narrowed eyes pierced through the small space between the two men.
Konrad allowed himself a deep breath before exhaling slowly. By using the word "let," Yozak had conveniently covered both past and present. Nothing about the current discussion would be easy. Hell, it held all the potential for heading straight into the mouth of a ravenous argument.
"Because the tears wouldn't come," grasping for some sort of explanation which might make any bit of sense.
"You wouldn't let them," Yozak aggressively shot back.
"Because time doesn't stop. There are duties to perform, loose ends to tie up." The speed and sharpness of Konrad's speech had suddenly increased five fold.
"If you can take a break to sleep everyday, I'm sure you could find time to-"
"No, I can't-"
"Bullshit."
Konrad attempted to swallow, his mouth dry, to keep any emotions from boiling over dangerously. "I have things to keep from falling apart; and believe it or not, it's harder than it looks."
"Well, I don't believe it. You're no damned martyr," Yozak's tone derisive.
"I never said I was-"
"Then what's this shit?"
It was that moment that Konrad's anger and frustration escaped its guarded container. His voice indignant, "So what if I took a day or two off? That would only leave me just as alone as before, only this time I would have far too many mistakes staring me in the face. Because no one ever tells you that you're doing anything wrong unless they're screaming at you or someone's…" Something in his throat choked before he could speak the final word of the sentence. "…dead."
Without taking a second more, Konrad slammed the money down with a trembling hand and left the table. The argument had gone farther than he was ever willing to have allowed. Hollow, wooden footsteps were muffled by surrounding conversations. Too many thoughts crowded Konrad's mind, amplified by the noise and deafening the tiny bell which rang as the tavern door opened.
The dirt road covered by starry, velvet sky provided little comfort save for a quieter atmosphere. There, the silver sparkle of the bell could be heard clearly, and Konrad knew the ginger haired man followed not too far behind. Stuffing his hands inside his pockets, he didn't bother gathering up any defense, since most of the damage had already been done. On both parts.
A strong hand grabbed his arm forced Konrad to face the taller man. Still, hazel eyes refused to look higher than the ground.
"You think that what happened was your fault?" The voice was quiet but by no means soft. There was something behind Yozak's tones which trembled ever so slightly.
When Konrad answered, his voice was soft, as if resignation and determination could be held within a single hand. "I'm not that selfish. But I didn't do anything to stop it."
"That wasn't in your power."
Clear hazel eyes met crystal. "I won't let it escape me again." Konrad stared at Yozak through his chestnut hair, ignoring the way it hung in his line of vision. Protective, almost to a predatory extent.
Any other person would not have perceived a change in Yozak's expression. Konrad noticed pain barely hidden in those depths of crystal blue. "But you're not alone."
"Yes, I am." A strained silence preceded his clarification. "Everyone is. To a certain extent." Hazel eyes drifted absently towards the ground again.
Another hand grabbed Konrad's other arm, shaking him faintly. "Like hell you are."
Konrad simply stared into Yozak's face, almost expressionless. As if he couldn't allow himself this selfish leisure either.
Keeping the anger in his voice at bay, "I may not always have been present, but I haven't left you alone for a second." After an emphatic pause. "And I never intend to." Beyond the anger and frustration, something much deeper and more motivating hid. Something unnamed for several years.
Something in Yozak's last words held a key to the floodgates. Konrad hadn't even noticed when his friend pulled him into a hug, since simple breathing had become somewhat difficult. Konrad punched Yozak's shoulder weakly before grasping at the back of his shirt. "Jerk." A voice full of tension, respite, and relief.
Somewhere between the evening wind and the gentle sound of fingers running through his hair, Konrad heard Yozak whisper a soft mantra: "Don't be lonely…." Meaning a few things: "It's alright;" "Don't shut me out;" and "I'm sorry."