Anthology

by gkeeper91

A would-be collection of stories. Various pairings. First story: Mirror, Mirror. A broken mirror sends Wolfram to a time where his deepest desire had come true. Second Story (ongoing): Someone Like You. Yuuri's getting married. And Wolfram's invited.

5. Someone Like You (3 of 4)

Anthology – Alternate Universe

Genre: Romance, AU

Pairings: YuurixWolfram, YuurixOC, WolframxOC

Warnings: Slash. Sexual innuendos and some improbable scenarios of the type that might possibly happen in a novel or a manga, but not very likely in real life.

Summary: Yuuri's getting married. And Wolfram's invited.

~o0o~

SOMEONE LIKE YOU

(Part 3 of 4)

~o0o~

A Note: Of Writers and Happily-Ever-Afters

~o0o~

The Author

Sometimes, I wonder about happily-ever-afters and whether they truly exist. I'm a self-confessed sucker for happy endings, even if stories – real or imagined – do not always end with a kiss in the rain, or a love song, or a couple running toward the sunset. As writers, we often take liberties with facts, with events, with the flaws and nuances of the characters who live and breathe through our words. With a swish of the pen – or rather, a series of purposeful strokes at the keyboard – we can make characters fall in love, commit mistakes, cry over a heartbreak, fight for what they feel is right, hurt, lie, live, die, and so much more.

As writers, we are Fate Herself, spinning and weaving threads of (imagined) lives into an intricate pattern that is of our own, unique design. We are navigators, steering our stories into a million possible roads. We are architects of worlds, of universes, built from nothing more than a drop of ink – or a blank MS Word document. We are creators and destroyers. We are schemers. We are manipulators. We never take the straight path to the end, because hey, where's the fun in that?

There is a sense of freedom and control in writing a story. There are a million beginnings and a million endings and a million pathways in between. But where does it start? Where does it end? How the hell do you even get there?

Your choice. And there is no right answer.

There is an element of surprise in writing a story. Sure, we all start from somewhere, although it is entirely possible to never get anywhere. Or we may hit a wall, get stuck in a crossroad, or maybe get lost in a maze of possibilities that we are ultimately left with no choice but to retrace our steps and find a new way. Or we may just stop altogether, obliterate the world we'd created and start anew.

Writing is a journey with a predetermined destination, or a map-less expedition, or a thoughtless plunge into the unknown. For my part, I'm always amazed whenever I manage to find the end, but what astonishes me above all is the fact that the end isn't always what I thought it would be.

I'm a sucker for happily-ever-afters. I aspire to maneuver a path toward that heartwarming conclusion that I've always loved to read. But as expected, there isn't only one road toward a happy ending.

Or sometimes, no matter how hard you scheme and tweak and manipulate situations toward your desired conclusion, that kiss in the rain just isn't meant to be.

~o0o~

Chapter 5: Of Mistakes and Regrets

~o0o~

Wolfram von Bielefeld

As soon as it started, it was impossible to stop. It was like getting your first bite of food after starving for so long. Like a drop of water when you had been so parched from thirst. A taste of heaven after being through so much hell.

I twisted my hands tightly around Yuuri's neck, not wanting to let go, not caring that by this time tomorrow, he would be doing this exact thing with somebody else. That he would be in bed with that doe-eyed girl who was to be his wife in a few hours time—

My eyes snapped open when I thought of her. A surge of shame and guilt threatened to overwhelm me, but I had no difficulty pushing them away. I wanted to forget – just for one night, for one hour, for one minute – that what I was doing was wrong. It was unthinkable. Unforgivable. It was pathetic—

But I could not stop. The sensations brought about by touching and kissing Yuuri were too satiating, too sinfully incredible to be ignored. I could not get enough. I told myself that I would stop once it got out of control, that I would just satisfy this impossible hunger to touch him again, and then back away, but somehow—

I could not stop.

I scrambled to get the rest of his clothes off, and after a hesitant pause, Yuuri let me have my way. After that, my resolve crumbled with every kiss, with every gasp of pleasure that escaped his lips. With every heartbeat.

It was no good. I could not stop.

Minutes later, as we lay beneath the sheets, exhausted and much too embarrassed to look each other in the eye, logic seemed to inch its way slowly back into my head. Along with it came a sense of horror at what I had just done, at what I had just forced Yuuri to do. I did it again. I compelled Yuuri into something that he was unwilling to take part in. Why did I do it?

"You'll regret this when you're sober."

"Probably…but I think I'll regret it even more if I don't do this now."

I shut my eyes tightly, recalling what I had said a while back. Contrary to my earlier claims, regret was weighing me down so terribly right now that I could not even breathe properly. How did I convince myself that I needed to do it? Why didn't I stop? Why didn't Yuuri stop me?

Expecting the worst, I glanced at him.

Yuuri lay silently on his side of the bed, eyes fixed unblinkingly at the ceiling. He seemed stunned – the gravity of what we had just done must be sinking on him by then. I looked away, not knowing what to feel. Would he be furious at me? Would he blame me for instigating this? I counted the seconds inside my head, but when several minutes passed by in awkward silence, I got up, unable to take it anymore.

I had barely gotten to the edge of the bed when Yuuri grabbed my forearm, stopping me. I flinched at the contact, but before I could shake his hand away, I felt him moving behind me. His arms wound around my waist, his chin digging into my shoulder as he nuzzled my neck.

I froze. Somehow, this scenario felt strangely familiar. It took me less than a second to remember that something like this had happened before. Not with Yuuri. It was back at my apartment…with…with Damien…

The thought of Damien heightened my sense of revulsion. I felt sick by merely imagining what he would say if he ever found out about this. But no, I thought in shame and panic. He must not know. No one must know. I could not bear it. The pain, disappointment, and rage that this mistake would inspire from those around us. From Conrad to Shori to Miko-san. From Yuuri's fiancée to Damien.

No one must know.

"I…I should go," I said, thankful that my voice had not failed me. I sounded tired but otherwise composed. "I guess this decides it. I wouldn't be at the ceremony."

Yuuri's arms loosened up just enough to allow me room to turn around, but not to leave his embrace. I avoided his eyes.

"Let's just…try to forget that this ever happened, okay?" I murmured. "I…I apologize…I wasn't thinking straight…I drank too much I guess…"

Yuuri did not answer.

"I'm leaving tonight. I…just…please tell Miko-san goodbye for me, alright? And…and tell everyone that I'm truly sorry for…for everything. I don't think I'll ever come back…"

I moved to step away, but with unexpected force, Yuuri pulled me back toward him. His voice was a mere whisper when he spoke, but it was harsh and unusually firm.

"No, don't leave."

"Yuuri…?"

"What are you playing at?" he bit out. "You disappeared from my life without a word, then you return, have sex, then vanish again? And what's your defense going to be this time? That you were drunk again?"

I felt choked up with indignation. I wanted to snap at him and put him in his place. I wanted to remind him that I left because he dumped me, that the sorrow of his refusal to marry me had driven me nearly insane that I had seriously contemplated dying with him in that car. That for three long years I had always been thinking of him.

And what had he been doing all this time? Hadn't he found somebody else a year after I left? Hadn't he made no effort to contact me? Hadn't he completely forgotten about me that he was now ready to start a life with that girl?

It was unfair. Yuuri had moved on. Yuuri was happy. But I was stuck in the past. I was miserable. I wanted to tell him a lot of things, but in the end, all I could get out was a simple command.

"Let me go."

Yuuri did the opposite and held on. "You're not leaving me like this."

"Like what exactly?" I demanded, getting frustrated and angry.

Yuuri ignored my question and said instead, "Why did you have to come?"

Now I was truly angry. I pushed him back, offended. "You invited me."

"I know. I wanted to see you. I wanted us to be friends again, but you…you…" He gestured helplessly to the bed, at me, at himself, before burying his face in his hands, as though he could not take it anymore. Then his voice, muffled and distressed, came. "…ruined everything."

I knew that he must be feeling as guilty and ashamed as I was, but it was hard for me to feel sympathetic at his plight. I regarded him pitilessly, and said, "Snap out of it, wimp. Don't go moaning about that I seduced you. You could have stopped me!"

Yuuri lashed out, arms gesturing wildly, "That's just it! I couldn't! Why did you have to do it anyway? Why did you have to look at me that way? I…I…" He grunted in frustration, losing steam. "I thought I'm over you. I thought I'm done with you. I have Reiko now. And you…you're with that guy, aren't you?"

The memory of my last encounter with Damien made me flush. "That's none of your business."

Yuuri gave a short, hollow laugh. "I saw you together and I knew—I couldn't help it—I didn't want to see you with him—I—" He took a deep breath, and went on, although he sounded like he was talking more to himself than to me. "I followed you—I was jealous—I didn't want to see you with him—I—I—"

I stood, motionless, not knowing what to say. Yuuri's monologue was confusing me. I could not understand what he was trying to tell me.

"I loved you," Yuuri continued in the same thoughtful, bewildered sort of tone, "but I couldn't imagine life with you—it was too difficult—too complicated—having to explain to people that we were together—having to endure their stares and questions—" He gulped down something that seemed to be obstructing his throat. "And kids—I wanted kids of my own—"

It was like someone had taken hold of my insides and twisted tightly. Now that Yuuri was in this state, I was finally – finally – getting the truth out of him. And the truth was beyond painful. It was all I had expected – had known deep inside – and more.

"And you will have them," I said unkindly. "I'm sure your pretty wife will provide you with loads of children."

"That's not the point!" Yuuri snapped, glaring at me, as though I was missing the gist of his ramblings. "There were things that I wanted, and things that you wanted! And no matter how hard we try, these are things that we won't be able to give each other! I loved you. I think I would never stop loving you. But we can't be together."

"Oh, I get it," I said scathingly. "You weren't being a coward. You were actually being gracious, is that it?"

"I don't know!" he exploded. "I don't know anymore! I was miserable for a year after you left. Reiko helped me get over you. She loves me. She makes me happy. And I love her. I want to make her happy. But this—you—I—"

Again, he lost steam and deflated. I did not bother to respond. Silently, I picked up my clothes and put them on, aware that Yuuri was still watching me. I was struggling to fit my shoes on when he spoke again.

"I thought, after three years, that everything was going to be fine when we see each other again. But why do I feel this way?"

I did not look up. "Feel what?"

"That I don't want to see you leave again," he said plaintively. "That I don't want to lose you again."

I could hear the entreaty in his voice but I did not know how to react to that. The night had gone so awry and it was my fault to start with. I had confused Yuuri, and the realization gave me pause, wondering if this uncertainty was enough for him to cancel the wedding. For him to leave his bride. For him to come with me instead.

The idea was certainly tempting, and I found myself becoming more and more attracted to it. But Yuuri's prior statements came back to me, and I knew that it would be too much to hope for. Even after three long years, the wimp had not changed. He was still the indecisive kid I had known him to be. I could not – should not – look forward to it. But even as I thought that, the feeling of hope weaseled its way into my heart, taking root, flourishing, and no matter how much I stomped that feeling down, it would not go away.

"Wolf…" Yuuri sounded desperate now. "Please…"

"Please what?"

I was addressing my shoes, because I could not be sure that I could keep my composure if I happened to look him in the eye.

"Don't leave."

I straightened up. "I can't stay," I said, trying to inject some sense into the conversation. "If anyone even finds out that I spent the night with you…well, you should know what will happen."

"What if I don't care?" Yuuri challenged. "What if I—?"

"Oh, think about it, wimp!" I cut in impatiently. "How could you possibly not care that people will find out what we did here the night before your wedding? Unless you want to call the entire thing off? Unless you want to leave that girl and come with me?"

Yuuri stopped, indecision etched on his features. Even in the dimly-lit room, I could see his momentary courage fizzling before my very eyes. I felt something inside me coiling and churning with so much pressure and pain. It was like being stabbed. Being hit. Being rejected by the person I still loved all over again.

"I didn't think so," I snorted in disdain. "You can't have everything, Yuuri."

I made my way to the door, grateful that I had not broken down just yet. Yuuri followed me with large, panic-stricken eyes.

"Wolfram, I—"

"Goodbye," I said. And I knew when I said it that it was for good this time. I stepped out.

As the door shut close behind me, I thought I heard a rush of movement. I waited for Yuuri to come running out and stop me. I was certain that if he just opened that door, that if he just crossed the threshold, that if he just called my name, I would have gone right back to his arms.

But the seconds passed, all fell still in the room beyond, and I knew that Yuuri was not coming.

I walked away.

~o0o~

Yuuri Shibuya

All in all, it was the worst night of my life.

Wolfram had just left. I heard his footsteps come to a halt just outside the door, and in a high state of fear and anticipation, I waited for him to turn back, to barge into my room – like he did years before – and demand for an explanation.

And somewhere inside me, I was bewildered to find that I wanted him to. If he turned back, if he just opened that door again and stepped back into my room, into my life…I…I would have let him. All those reasons I'd just told him why we couldn't be together suddenly sounded so stupid, so…so meaningless. What did it matter when we loved each other? Even if it hurt? Even if it was too complicated?

I didn't have answers, and I didn't have a clue where to even start looking. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked for every passing second, but everything was silent from beyond the door, and I just knew that Wolfram was gone. I fell back onto the bed, stunned.

It was over.

It was truly over.

Closure, I thought bitterly. This wasn't how I envisioned our reunion to go at all. This wasn't what I had meant to do when I asked to talk to him. This wasn't what I had hoped to bring about when I decided to invite him here. And this was definitely NOT what I had intended to do the night before my wedding! Man, how could things be so screwed up just hours after Wolfram and I saw each other again?

I inhaled, filling my lungs with air, hoping that it would somehow clear my mind. I didn't think I could handle it. It was with Wolfram's departure that it all crashed down upon me – what we had just done, what I had said, what I had accused him of, what I had nearly promised to do for him – it all bore down upon me, an enormous weight on my shoulders, a shackle that dragged me down to the blackest pit of despair.

What have I done? What have I done? What the hell have I done?!

What will I do now?

I didn't know how long I lay there, mind roiling with a storm of dark thoughts, and so it was with a jerk of surprise that I heard an insistent rap on my door. I glanced up and had to shield my eyes from the sunlight that filtered in from the window. It was morning already.

"Shibuya!" A loud voice accompanied the obtrusive sound. "Open up or I'll break down the door!"

Murata? What could he possibly want? I pulled myself up, covered myself with a robe, opened the door a mere crack, and peered out. Murata forced himself in, and I stumbled back.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, eyeing me incredulously. "You're supposed to be dressed already!"

I blinked, noticing for the first time that Murata was already wearing his wedding clothes. My eyes darted to the clock, noting that it was already ten o'clock. The ceremony would be starting in half an hour…

I tried to move, to summon a sense of urgency at the fact that I was going to be late for my own wedding. But I felt strangely empty. I didn't have the strength to go through with it. Unmindful of my state, Murata hauled me up and half-dragged me toward the bathroom.

"Why haven't you showered yet? Come on. We're going to be late! Your brother would kill me if I don't get you there in one piece."

"Murata, I…"

"What?"

"I don't think I could do this," I managed to say.

"Nonsense," said Murata dismissively, now wrestling me toward the shower. "Everybody gets cold feet. You just need to get over it."

"It's not like that. I—"

"You look awful," Murata observed, giving me a once-over. "What have you been doing all night?"

I flushed in remembrance. The images had been burned into my mind, replaying at the merest reference to the night before. I screwed my eyes shut, but I could still see everything so clearly. I cursed myself. I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Wolfram.

"Take a shower and clear your head," Murata said when I didn't answer. "Make it quick." And without another word, he walked out. I heard him scrounging for something in the closet a little while later, and with a sinking feeling, I realized that he must be preparing what I was supposed to wear for the ceremony.

Supposed to. Why did it sound like I wasn't going to wear it? That I wasn't going to be there? I splashed cold water on my face, wanting desperately to think of something else other than my foolish moment of weakness with Wolfram.

What was that all about in the first place? Wolfram was right. I could've stopped him, but I didn't. Was I just feeling sorry for him? No, that wasn't it. I relished every moment of it, wanted every bit of him that I could still get, every part of him that he'd still give me. I should have remembered that Wolfram never did anything halfheartedly. It was always all or nothing with him. Wolfram gave me everything he had, all that he was capable of giving, and I took it anyway, knowing that I couldn't return any of it. Now who exactly ruined everything?

Someone was making a horrible, choking sound, and it took me a long moment to realize that it was me. I was crying. There was a hard knot at the pit of my stomach that had nothing to do with nerves or excitement at the fact that I would be marrying the girl of my dreams a few minutes from now. 'I'm a terrible person,' I thought wretchedly. How could I do this to Reiko? How could I betray her? And Wolfram…how could I blame him for my own cowardice?

My head connected with the cold tiles, and I realized I was holding onto the water spout to keep myself from fully collapsing. I felt like throwing up. I couldn't do this. I couldn't do this.

I COULDN'T DO THIS!

I punched the wall in frustration. What was I supposed to do now?! I hate myself! I hate myself! I hate myself! I hate myself—!

"Shibuya!"

Murata had returned. He rushed to my side, prying my fists off the wall and lifting my chin up. I couldn't see his face – my eyes were streaming with tears that just wouldn't stop coming – but I could tell that he was shocked. Did he guess what had happened? Did he already know what a filthy, disgusting person I was?

But Murata said nothing. He stayed with me until I stopped screaming my guts out. And then, when it seemed that I had just about drained myself dry of every tear, of every conceivable feeling, Murata helped me to my feet.

"Problem?" he asked quietly.

I avoided his gaze. I focused on my hands instead, noting how bruised they were and how difficult it would be to explain the injury to Reiko. My lungs stopped working. My god…Reiko…what should I tell her?

"Something happened last night?" Murata asked again.

I still couldn't look him in the eye.

Murata sighed. "Shibuya…I saw you go after Wolfram. Did you talk?"

I nodded.

"Did you fight?"

I nodded once more.

"It was inevitable, I guess," said Murata.

I finally lifted my head up and met Murata's inquiring gaze. "Wolfram…isn't c-coming back."

Murata was silent for a while. Then he said bracingly, "Well, at least you've had time to clear the air. Or at least tried to. I've always thought it was a long shot, trying to be friends again." He smiled ruefully. "Come on, Shibuya. You must have known that too."

"Murata…" I said desperately, "Wolfram was with me last night…"

Murata's expression didn't change, and it was then that I realized that he knew. I was right. He had guessed, but he wasn't going to talk about it. He was giving me an out, an escape route, an option to forget that anything of significance ever happened last night. A chance to proceed with my wedding like nothing happened. An opportunity to ignore a huge, life-changing mistake…

Mistake…was that what it had been to me after all? And I'd almost asked Wolfram to take me with him. I'd almost thought about cancelling the wedding…

Wimp.

I balked at the word. Wolfram was right. I was a coward – had always been one. But I couldn't be one forever. I couldn't keep taking the easy way out. I steeled myself and wiped my face dry with my sleeve.

Murata adjusted his glasses. "So Shibuya…do we have a wedding to go to or what?"

"I-I don't know…"

Murata nodded, as if my indecision was perfectly expected. "Then what do you want to do?"

My throat felt raw and dry when I responded, "I need to t-talk to Reiko."

~o0o~

Wolfram von Bielefeld

Damien was waiting for me in the dark of my hotel room. He glanced up at me when I entered, looking sad and weary, and my heart sank just a little lower, if that were even possible.

"You found me," I said, not bothering to turn on the lights.

Damien shrugged, as though successfully locating and securing a key to my hotel room was of no consequence. He was a terrifyingly competent stalker, this guy, and the idea made me smile in wistful remembrance. I guess it was flattering that the only person he was stalking right now was me – and the thought left me cold and depressed.

Here was somebody who was as obsessed as I was. Here was a person who was not the least bit afraid of showing his feelings, even if it meant getting rejected over and over again. Here was someone who loved like I did – madly, blindly, unconditionally – and I couldn't help but ask myself, 'Why couldn't I choose him instead?'

"I came to say goodbye," Damien said.

"I see." My knees shook and my throat felt tight with emotion. I leaned back against the door because I could not be sure if I could keep supporting my weight much longer. "I'm sorry."

There was a beat. Damien regarded me from the shadows, his eyes narrowed.

"'I'm sorry?'" he echoed, voice hard with growing anger. "Why don't you try 'Please don't go' or 'I'll come with you'? Those aren't too hard to say, are they?"

I opened my mouth, wanting – for his sake – to repeat after him. But I couldn't. I couldn't do this to him.

"For god's sake, Wolfram!" Damien burst out, upending his chair as he abruptly stood up to face me. "Talk! Tell me what I need to know!"

"Damien…"

"What do I have to do for you to forget him?! To leave him?!"

"Damien—"

"Why can't you be with me?!"

"Damien!"

It was the first time that Damien had really shouted at me. "TELL ME!"

I could not breathe. I did not want to lie, and so I told him the worst possible answer I had – the truth:

"I slept with Yuuri."

For a moment, for a hundred years, for an eternity, my words hovered in the air, ugly and sickening, like a poisonous cloud. Then the truth settled upon the both of us, like a spell of icy rain, freezing Damien and I in place – he, with a spasm of disbelief and dismay, and I, with a hideous sense of self-loathing.

I watched as Damien came to grips with this revelation. I watched him, and it was like I was seeing myself. The confusion. The resentment. The struggle to understand. The explosion of rage and grief and a hundred other emotions that one heart could not possibly contain. I watched all that on Damien's face, and I…I felt like dying. I had no right to hurt him. Hurt him just as Yuuri had done to me.

Damien was shaking. He retreated a step, then turned and slammed his fist into the dresser. There was a subsequent crash; Damien had kicked a chair out of the way, smashing another into the opposite wall. The leg shattered, and a shower of splinters fell to the floor.

There was silence, like the calm before the storm. I stared at this person who was always so collected, so in control, so lighthearted, but who wasn't any of those any longer because of my treachery. I watched him swipe a hand across a row of glass decanters on a nearby table. I watched him as he hurled one against the window. I saw the glass break. A frosty breeze surged in, the curtains swirled frantically, and through it all, I stood at my corner and watched this kind, but heartbroken, man demolish the room in a moment of unadulterated misery.

When it was over, I surveyed the damage to the room – the fractured furniture, and the shards of glass on the carpeted floor – with a sort of detachment. I was cold. I felt numb. I only wanted to curl into a ball somewhere, escape somehow into unconsciousness, and just be done with the events of the night. But I could not move. Besides, my needs were not a priority right now, especially when there was another person in the room who was more broken than I was.

I stared at him, and he returned my gaze with a look that resonated with anguish.

"I can't do this anymore," Damien told me, voice hoarse in the aftermath of his rampage. "I'm leaving."

I nodded to show that I heard – and that I understood.

Damien straightened up and met my gaze. He started to say something, but then seemed to decide that it did not matter any longer. He walked past me, without so much as another glance my way, and after a moment, I heard the door close. I sank to the floor, pulled my legs up and rested my forehead against my knees.

"Goodbye, Damien," I whispered to no one.

The numbness vanished. I felt a huge pang that had nothing to do with Yuuri, and everything to do with the man who just left, and I mourned for my loss. I felt tears stinging my eyes at my own foolishness, my pettiness, and my inability to move on. What the hell have I done to myself? To Yuuri? To Damien?

I cried myself to sleep, because now, I knew I had lost Damien too.

~o0o~

Yuuri Shibuya

I would forever owe Murata.

I didn't know how he did what he did, but much to my relief, I found Reiko alone in her room. Her bridesmaids were nowhere to be seen, lured out by some elaborate lie Murata had concocted on the fly. For once, I wished I could be as good a pretender as Murata – and then I reflected that I must be one already. Hadn't I just fooled Reiko into believing that I was the perfect boyfriend – the loyal fiancé and the eager groom? Not the fool who invited his ex-boyfriend to his own wedding and lied to his fiancée about it? I felt a little shocked, realizing what an accomplished liar I actually was.

"Yuu-chan?"

I blinked. Reiko had caught my eye from my reflection in the mirror. She turned slowly, gracefully, and the white dress she wore flowed exquisitely, like it was made of water. She was perfection, and she was smiling shyly at me, as though waiting for my opinion.

"You look amazing," I said.

She smiled. "You look terrible."

"I didn't…sleep…"

"Me neither," said Reiko. "I was worried about you."

"Reiko, I…" I hesitated. How should I phrase it? "Last night, I was…"

"Yes?" she prodded when I clammed up.

I looked at her, a blushing bride on her wedding day, who was about to become another casualty in this mess I'd started and had no courage to end. There was no easy way to say it.

"I cheated on you," I blurted out.

Reiko regarded me curiously. "Hm? With whom?"

Her matter-of-fact attitude derailed me for a second. It was as though I'd just told her that I just went out to buy shoes, and she was merely asking who I'd gone with. She had always been like this, not someone who'd get swayed by any sort of news, even if it was as horrific as the one I'd just imparted.

"I should have told you," I went on, "but I was just so scared. You see…Wolfram and I…we were more than just friends. We were together for a while."

"Wolfram?" Reiko repeated, betraying only the slightest trace of surprise. "Oh my. So last night, when you said you wanted to talk to him…?"

"I wanted to…er…" What was the phrase Murata had used? "…clear the air between us…"

"And did you?"

"It didn't end the way I'd hoped," I admitted. "It was…a mess…"

"So you…cheated on me," Reiko summed up. "With Wolfram."

"Yeah…I…believe me, I didn't mean for it to end that way..." I could hear the excuse in my voice, and I flinched. "I'm not trying to blame—I had as much responsibility as—I wasn't thinking—Wolfram was drunk and I guess I took advantage—I just—" I sighed, shook my head, and decided to do away with the half-truths and the blame games. "I didn't stop him, Reiko. He was hurt. I thought I could fix everything and make him alright again. I didn't even stop to consider that I was hurting him more. I…I don't know what to do anymore."

"And where is he now?" Reiko asked. I couldn't tell what she was thinking. I had never been able to guess. She was as impulsive as she was compassionate. As random as she was good-humored. I'd always liked that about her.

"He isn't coming," I answered. "He left."

Reiko pondered over this for a second. Then she tilted her head questioningly. "And you're not going after him?"

My voice failed me, and I stuttered, "W-what? Why would I—?"

"Yuu-chan," said Reiko gently, with a little too much understanding in her eyes that I certainly didn't deserve, "if you were with him last night, perhaps it was because you wanted to."

"I—"

"Maybe you still have feelings for him?" she suggested.

"Reiko…"

"Well?"

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't tell whether Reiko was angry or disappointed at me. It would have been good if she were. This rational discussion of whether I have lingering feelings for Wolfram was making me more confused and ashamed of my own immaturity.

"You're supposed to be furious at me," I told her. "You're supposed to…to throw stuff at me or something."

"I could," said Reiko. "But knowing you, you'd just feel guilty on top of everything you're feeling. Then when you'd decide to marry me, I won't know if it's because you want to, or just because I made you feel so bad about cheating on me. It's going to be so confusing, don't you think so?"

I gaped at her logic. "But Reiko…just because you're reacting like this doesn't mean that I won't feel guilty."

"Is that so? Well then, how about this?"

There was a loud ripping sound. Before I knew what was happening, Reiko had taken hold of the hem of her gown and continued tearing the fabric until the dress no longer covered her feet. She kicked the strips off in glee.

"There," she said triumphantly, grinning. "How about that?"

Was this her idea of throwing a tantrum? I was frankly bewildered.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm running away," Reiko declared, in a tone that could have implied that she was going out to see a movie with her friends. "So that's that, Yuu-chan."

I couldn't understand what was going on. "What?"

She stretched her arms and turned her back on me. "I'm going to that place where we first saw each other," she said. "If you come to me before sunset, then I'd know that I still have a fiancé."

"Reiko—"

"And if you don't," Reiko continued, cutting me short, "then I'd know that you're flying off to wherever Wolfram has gone."

"Reiko, that is—"

"Yuuri Shibuya," said Reiko, and it was such a shock to hear her use my full name that I immediately swallowed my words. "Do one thing or the other. Don't stay in between, because I won't stand to share your heart with anyone." She paused. "And I think…Wolfram feels the same way."

I stood rooted to the spot, filled with nothing but disgust for myself. I didn't deserve her. I didn't deserve Wolfram. I didn't deserve to be happy.

I watched Reiko walk out the door, much as I did with Wolfram the night before. And then I was alone once more, surrounded with the torn shreds of my fiancée's wedding gown – a perfect analogy of the state of my life right now – reflecting upon the choice she had left me.

Where should I go now…?

~o0o~

Chapter 6: Of Causes and Effects

~o0o~

Wolfram von Bielefeld

Uncle Waltorana was furious at me for three things – for losing the American account, for running off into Japan without his knowledge, and lastly (and perhaps the only thing that made me cringe with guilt), for Damien's sudden resignation.

On my day back at the company, I passed by Damien's office for the very first time. The walls were bare, the table wiped clear of all traces of the man who once worked there. I stayed for longer than necessary, and left only when I realized that I was attracting quite a lot of attention, just staring into an empty room – which was admittedly stupid and strange. I sighed and reluctantly walked away.

Miraculously, I survived my first day back at work with no major blunders. I finished my required paperwork, attended meetings, read reports, and managed to convince my team that I cared about all the projects they had finished whilst I was gone. I think I even cracked a smile. I was not sure. My thoughts were elsewhere. I felt as though a part of me had never boarded a plane back to Germany, and yet at the same time, I felt like some part of me was lost somewhere in a foreign place, running after Damien.

My mind – just as my heart had been, I now realized – was torn into two different directions. One moment, my head would be filled with visions of Yuuri's face, miserable and lost. At others, I would be thinking of Damien, wondering where he was right now, if he was alright, and whether he was ready to talk to me yet. I wondered if he would ever forgive me. I felt a little optimistic that he would. I wanted to believe that he was as gentle and understanding as I had known him to be, because somewhere in the most selfish part of my being, I wanted to believe that I had not lost him forever.

I did not know how long this tug-of-war between thoughts of Damien and Yuuri occupied my thoughts. It could have gone on forever for all I cared. I could not help it, and so I let things run their natural course. But then there was a day, nearly a month since I got back, that I realized that one was prevailing over the other. I did not know how it happened and why it could not have taken place sooner, but I found myself wondering repeatedly, with so much more concentration, where Damien was. I wanted to start looking for him.

And that was when it hit me. In that moment, when I was so preoccupied with Damien's whereabouts, I had not even thought about Yuuri. I had a moment of clarity, where I just knew for certain that I wanted Damien back in my life. And so I held onto this hope that he would return to me. That he would take me back. I thought about him and hoped…but that night, something put an end to all my delusions.

There was a small package waiting for me when I got home. It jangled and clanged when I shook it. Feeling a strange sense of foreboding, I pried it open, and out fell – a bunch of keys. For a moment, I did not understand. And then I did. These were Damien's keys. He had returned them to me. He had no use for them any longer. The last thread that connected me to Damien was lost.

I looked for a note, any sort of written explanation, but there was none. He did not owe me anything. The keys fell from my limp hands, and it was then that it really settled upon me how irreversible life was, how irreparable choices could turn out to be. It was so silly of me to imagine that I could undo my mistakes and be happy again. Now I understood that things did not work that way.

Still, I called Damien. His phone rang, but he did not pick up. I tried again. And again. And again. Finally, on my eleventh try, he answered.

"Hi," I said breathlessly. It suddenly occurred to me how much I wanted to hear his voice. How much I had missed it. How much I had missed him.

"You have got to be kidding me," said Damien.

"What?"

"One month," Damien said. "It took you a month to call me."

"I was…"

I tried to think of a suitable excuse. What had I been doing in a month? Had I just been moping around, sulking, for that entire period because my ex-boyfriend – who had broken up with me three long years ago – had just tied the knot? That sounded so...sad.

"Damien, I—"

"I don't want your apology."

"I just wanted to talk—"

"Or your pity."

"Damien—"

He sounded exasperated. "Save it, Wolfram. I'm tired of this."

"Actually, I just wanted to ask you whether you wanted to…" I hesitated, for I had no right to say the next words – but I swallowed my pride and did anyway, "…whether you wanted to get back together."

There was a short, heavy silence. Then—

"You're so unfair," he said. He did not sound angry – just upset – which was worse. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Damien…"

"Wolfram," he said firmly, "I was really hurt by what you did."

"Can't you forgive me?"

"I could," Damien said, but then added, "In time. That's not the problem though."

My hands shook, because I knew what the problem was.

"The problem is," continued Damien, "I don't think I could ever look at you in the same way."

"I know," I said unhappily. "I just thought…"

"I've loved you for a long time, Wolfram. Even when you didn't know me yet, I've already started loving you." Damien sighed, and I could just imagine him shaking his head. "I wonder sometimes whether I've been too pushy…or whether I've misjudged you. It made me think whether you were the person I thought you were, or if I wasn't just in love with an idea of you."

That hurt, but I knew that was not his intention. He was being himself – sincere and frank to a fault. I appreciated that.

"I'm not going to see you again, am I?" I asked, and for his sake as much as my own, I tried to keep the bitterness to a bare minimum.

"Not in the immediate future," he replied, "because I plan to actively avoid you for as long as it still hurts to see you."

"It might take a while then," I surmised.

"A long while," he agreed.

"I see. I…" I wanted to say that I was going to miss him terribly, but that seemed even more unfair than me asking him to get back together. I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

"Wolfram?"

I breathed out. "Yes, I'm still here. Take care, Damien."

"You too."

"Please be happy."

I did not mean to say that. It just slipped out, and I was scared for a moment that I had offended him.

But when he answered, there was a smile in Damien's voice. "You too."

There was a final, audible click, and that was the last I have heard of Damien in a long time.

~o0o~

Yuuri Shibuya

My mother was furious at me for three reasons – for allowing Wolfram to leave without saying goodbye, for letting Reiko run off on our wedding day, and for finally getting married in a school gymnasium of all places.

The first two were sort of out of my control, although I was the cause of both Wolfram's and Reiko's actions. The last one was totally my choice, and as I told my mom over and over again, I'd take full responsibility for it.

The moment leading to a big decision was always the hardest, the foggiest, the craziest, and the saddest. It was that way for me when I had to buckle down and finally choose how to spend the rest of my life.

I could follow Wolfram, beg him to take me back, apologize profusely for every wrong I did to him, and hope for the best. I had no more doubts that I loved him still. I was right – I would forever hold him dear, no matter what happened. But could I really do it? Being with Wolfram meant leaving Saitama, my home, and my family. It meant parting with every single thing I had here, uprooting my entire life and transplanting myself on foreign grounds. Wolfram would probably do the same if I asked him, but I knew that if we were to be together, it couldn't be in Japan. It had to be me. I had to go with him, where public opinion was less cruel and we could be together without a cloud of disapproval following us everywhere.

And that was when I knew that I couldn't. I didn't have the courage to keep loving Wolfram. I'd only hurt him again, and god knows how much damage I'd already inflicted upon him. I'd ruined him, and it made me wonder if I'd end up doing the same with Reiko.

No. I wouldn't – couldn't – hurt her. I wanted her to be happy.

And then, I made my decision.

Which would now explain the marriage ceremony at my old school gymnasium.

Our friends knew that Reiko and I got together at our high school reunion. Before that, however, there was another story. That place where Reiko and I first saw each other – it was at the gym, during freshman year. My class had ended; hers was just starting. I'd had a terrible time with the rope climbing activity. Everyone was having fun at my expense, and Reiko stood out among the rest because she was the only one who wasn't laughing. I caught her eye then and nodded. She smiled and mimed chopping the rope off with an axe. And even though we never spoke to each other in the three years that we were in school, I still remembered her as the girl who made me smile when I was feeling so down.

It was a minor thing, but even the barest of fires – if tended and stoked – could consume an entire forest. I felt that way with Reiko. I could see myself with her, growing old with her, having a family with her.

I love her.

Which would further explain the marriage ceremony at my old school gymnasium.

I didn't wait for sunset. In under an hour, I was dressed and rushing off to follow my runaway bride. With Murata's help, we herded the wedding entourage and guests to the gym – I couldn't leave them behind, could I? It was all worth the effort, because Reiko's smile when she saw me – us – was more than enough to settle the score.

It wasn't the Western-inspired wedding Reiko had envisioned. There was no aisle to glide down on, just a bare hardwood floor. There were no chairs, just boxes of basketballs and other sports supplies. Reiko wasn't wearing her dream gown, but rather, what remained of it. There were no decorations, no flowers, no fancy music. It was just us – her and me, our friends and families. But it was enough.

"We could redo the entire thing," I whispered in her ear when everything was over, and we were accorded a few seconds on our own to fully absorb that we were now husband and wife. "Do this right, you know."

Reiko laughed. "This is right, Yuu-chan."

I laughed too. "Yeah. But you know, if you want something more…er…normal?"

"Hmm, maybe. But I get full control of the guest list this time."

It was a joke, but it reminded me of something that I had postponed doing until after my wedding. This seemed like a good time as any to apologize to Wolfram and ensure that he had gotten home safely. Reiko guessed what I was thinking.

"You have his number?" she asked.

I shook my head. Yeah, that was a flaw in my plan, although I knew how to solve that. I just didn't want to do it yet. I'd already lost an important person today and I sure as hell didn't want to lose another. But I'd resolved to stop being such a wimp. I needed to continue my streak.

"I could call Conrad," I said. "You know, Wolf's brother."

"Are you scared?" Reiko asked curiously.

"Yeah. A lot. He's not going to like this."

"You want a little time alone?"

I nodded, grateful. "Please."

Reiko kissed me and withdrew. I dialed Conrad's number and waited, and then one of the most awkward five minutes of my life commenced.

"Congratulations, Yuuri," Conrad said when he answered. "I'm sorry that I couldn't be there."

"Conrad," I started, "something bad happened…"

And I proceeded to recount all that had taken place, leaving nothing out, from Wolfram's arrival to the unfortunate events of the previous night. When I was done, Conrad's reply was brief.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri," he told me tersely. "I need to be with my brother."

And that was the last I had heard from Conrad for a long while.

I stared at my phone, depressed. Murata appeared beside me, looking worried.

"Anything wrong?" he asked.

"Conrad," I answered, gesturing to my phone.

Murata understood. "That's natural. He's Wolfram's brother."

"I know."

"Are you planning to call Gwendal, too?"

I winced. My newfound resolve had some limitations. "I don't want to die, Murata."

"Fair point," my friend said. "You being newlywed and all. And there's still the honeymoon to look forward to."

"Murata," I warned, not at all in the mood for his jokes.

"Fine," Murata conceded. "But this has been fun, hasn't it?"

"Tell me about it," I said. "Thank you for everything, Murata."

"So now that everything's settled, can I just point out one teensy, little thing?"

I frowned at the smirk he was wearing. "What?"

Murata chuckled. "Why hasn't anyone realized that we're trespassing?"

And that would explain how the reception came to be at a crowded police station downtown.

But no matter. It was all in good fun.

~o0o~

A Final Scene: Three Years Later

~o0o~

Wolfram von Bielefeld

I did not think I would see him again after all these years. But I did, and I stopped in the middle of the street just to gape at him. He did not seem to have gotten older. He looked amazing, and it made me a wee bit conscious of my own appearance. I had been getting comments that I looked so haggard these days. Even Uncle Waltorana had told me to take a few days off, and he never voluntarily orders anyone to take a vacation. Unless they were getting fired, which I highly doubted that I was. No. I must look so terrible.

And so, ecstatic as I was to see him again, I felt a little upset that I had to face him like this. I turned to avoid him, to disappear into the crowd of faceless people making their way home on a drizzling November night, but then I was loath to let such a rare opportunity pass. What if I never saw him again?

I stood my ground. He noticed me soon after, and he too, stopped in the middle of the street to stare at me. When it seemed unlikely that he would ever approach me, I made the first move and strode toward him.

"Wolfram," he said by way of a greeting.

I smiled. "Damien."

It took him a while to return it. "Long time no see."

"I know."

"What are you doing here?" Damien asked.

"Business," I replied, shrugging. "You?"

He did not answer. Instead, he nodded toward a nearby restaurant. "Want to sit down for a drink?"

"Yes. I'd love that."

It was surreal. It was like we had not seen each other for three years. We laughed like old times, although we were still careful to talk only about our jobs. From an outside perspective, we seemed like we had shared nothing more than a similar professional background, like we were old work buddies and nothing more. Maybe Damien preferred it that way.

The night wore on, and that inevitable moment came when we had exhausted the topics of our professional lives dry. It was time to talk about the personal stuff – or forget that those ever happened and go home with our dignities intact. I was willing to risk it, but Damien beat me to it.

"So," he said, putting his glass down, "how are you and Yuuri Shibuya?"

The fact that he was asking me this made me a little disappointed that he had obviously not followed my life as fanatically as he had done in the past.

"You haven't heard?" I responded, feigning nonchalance. "He's happily married with a son, and a daughter on the way." I had heard the news from Conrad, who, after three years of silence and much reassurance from my side that it would not bother me at all, had finally made his peace with Yuuri. It was touching how Conrad had stuck to my side all this time, but I knew he missed Yuuri, and whether or not they remained friends was hardly my business anymore.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Damien said sincerely.

"Don't be. I'd only just heard the details from my brother. Apparently, they asked him to be godfather, but he refused for my sake." I made a face, remembering my conversation with Conrad. "I told him there was no need to refuse because of me, but he just wouldn't listen."

"Well, it is a little awkward."

"He is making it awkward. I told him I was fine with it."

Damien was scrutinizing my face. "Are you really?"

I laughed. "You mean if I'm truly okay that my brother's going to be the godfather of my ex-boyfriend's daughter?" I sobered down and looked him in the eye. "Yes. Yes, I am."

Damien gave me a little smile. "It's getting late. Where are you staying?" I told him, and he nodded. "I'd like to walk you back."

On the way, we talked about him. We talked about me. We talked about three years ago. It all felt like somebody else's life, as if everything that transpired then had happened to somebody else and not to him or me or us. It was like we were talking about people we knew, people we had known. But of course, the Wolfram and Damien of three years ago were different people from the Wolfram and Damien of today. I certainly felt different.

Damien walked me to the lobby of my hotel. I looked at him uncertainly, wanting to invite him to my room, back into my life, but something about him felt different too.

"It was really nice seeing you," I said. "Would you like to—?"

"I'm getting married," Damien volunteered all of a sudden, and my words came to a premature halt.

I blinked, trying to digest this. "You're…getting married…?"

"Yes."

"Wow…" I managed. "You could have started with that."

"I'm sorry," Damien said. "I just…I was sort of contemplating whether this was destiny. Me seeing you again the night before my wedding. Sounds a little like a karmic occurrence, doesn't it?"

"Tomorrow," I repeated, and the irony of the situation was not lost on me. "Wow…I…uh…well…I don't know what to say…"

"Say 'Congratulations'," Damien advised.

I felt my throat constricting with the impulse to lash out and claim him for my own, but I put a mental harness upon my thoughts and complied with grace. "Congratulations…"

"I'm not going to invite you," Damien went on.

"I know you wouldn't," I said. "You've always been…a good guy." Good enough to not risk hurting me or the person he was about to marry.

"A good guy?" he echoed, smiling wryly. "I seem to remember razing your hotel room back in Japan."

"Don't forget nearly burning down my apartment."

Damien laughed at the memory. "That one was an accident."

I shook my head at him. Those were good times…pleasant memories of a bygone past. But I had learned my lesson three years ago. It was no use holding onto them when the other person was no longer yours. I extended my hand to shake his.

"I won't let you near any place I'm staying this time," I said.

He took my hand and squeezed it. "Yes, I think that would be best."

He regarded me thoughtfully, and then seeming to make up his mind, he pulled me close; his arms enfolded me, much as they did so many times before, nearly three years ago.

"Goodbye Wolfram," he whispered.

I leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Goodbye Damien."

He smiled and let me go. Then with an unspoken understanding that this was likely the last we would be seeing each other, we took a final look at one another. And as I studied his face for the very last time, I couldn't help but wonder whether I would ever meet someone like him.

We bid each other farewell with identical smiles of regret. And then there was nothing else to do.

We went our separate ways.

~o0o~

The End

~o0o~

A/N: This was one of the alternate endings for this story, written nearly a year ago. The intention was to post this once the other ending was finished, but since that could take a long while, I think this would make an interesting read regardless.