Fandom: KKM

Pairing: Conrad/Gwendal; Yuuri/Conrad

Rating: PG

Title: Understanding

Word Count: Word says 1,492.

Author's notes: First official fic of a new fandom. Beta'ed by my lovely scheherezhad. Need I remind everyone that I hate my own writing? I didn't think so.

Spoilers: Maybe for episodes… 38-43, referenced obliquely.

Summary: Yuuri is this close to understanding. Something. He thinks.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Please don't hurt me.

Feedback: I am a junkie, feed my addiction. I especially like constructive criticism. If you can find something wrong with one of my stories, tell me so I can fix it. Just let me know anything you think.

E-mail: moriavis@hotmail.com




~*~

I guess you can say I knew him before I was even alive. Funny, isn’t it? He’s protected me for so long I can hardly imagine what it would be like if he weren’t at my side. I had to do that once, when I thought he was dead, but I didn’t like it. I just—I didn’t like it at all. And then I found out he wasn’t dead, and that was better, but then it was worse because he wasn’t with me.

But that stuff is in the past, and everyone’s forgiven him. So there’s no reason why I should be so jumpy around him. It’s like… Conrad comes into the room and I can’t bear to look at him, and I get all weird and embarrassed, like those girls always do in Murata’s shojo manga. I don’t know—part of me thinks, maybe, like—he’s mine. My… retainer, is that the right word? My soldier, my godfather, my protector.

I don’t think he understands why I can hardly look at him anymore, but I do have a reason. Really. It’s just that I can’t tell him. It’s a secret. Well, it’s his secret, but it’s my secret too, and I know Dad told me that it’s rude to pry, except I didn’t. I found out by accident. I think that’s how most people get their secrets, don’t you?

Anyway, it was right after Conrad came back from Big Cimaron. I’d been looking for him so we could play catch, because I’d really missed our morning exercises together and I thought it would be fun, since it was a really great day. I thought I heard his voice in Gwendal’s office, so I peeked inside. I don’t know why I didn’t just barge in the way I normally do. I think it was because… it was like… Gwendal just… didn’t look like himself. He looked like he was lost, and didn’t know what to do, and Gwendal, he’s the type that always knows what’s going on and what to do about it.

I forget what they were talking about, but they both looked upset. I can still see it—I don’t know why, really, but it’s all there: the way Conrad pressed his hand over Gwendal’s heart, and the way Gwendal grabbed him like he wanted to shake him really hard, like I want to shake Wolfram sometimes when he’s being really stupid.

But he didn’t shake him. Instead, he pulled him, and Conrad made this little oomph sound, and Gwendal, he touched Conrad’s face, and… Okay, see, I think that there are certain things people do when they’re alone, because it would be awful if someone were watching. You know? Personal stuff. So I didn’t watch. I might be dense sometimes, but I’m not that slow.

I felt like maybe I’d eaten a little too much at lunch, or like I’d gotten one of those twenty-four hour stomach viruses where you throw up a lot but get better the next day. So I went to see Gisela to get checked out, but she said there wasn’t anything wrong with me at all. Then she mentioned that it was a really nice day and suggested I go play catch with Conrad. My stomach clenched, and before I knew it I threw up. It was really embarrassing and I turned so red that it hurt. I apologized and offered to help her clean it up, but she just looked at me and ordered me to bed. I did feel better after that, though, so at least something good came out of it.

I’m blabbing—I always do this when I’m nervous. That day, it’s not really something I want to think about. I don’t want to think about Conrad or Gwendal or what I saw or how sick I got.

Because, you know, I’d been kind of avoiding Conrad since then. I really tried hard not to worry him, but it’s kind of impossible for me to get away with anything without Conrad knowing something about it.

I was in the baseball field last night—I can think better with a baseball in my hand—and he found me. He said—he asked me, “What’s wrong, Yuuri? You seem troubled.” in that voice, the one that always makes me want to tell him everything all in rush, because he always gets what I’m trying to say even when I’m not exactly sure what I’m saying in the first place.

I know he’s really busy and has a lot of stuff to do, but he stood there like there was nowhere he’d rather be than with me. He looked at me like I was the most important thing in the world. Do you even know what that feels like? It’s like the cheesy old youth dramas my dad likes to watch, but Conrad just does it naturally. It didn’t feel weird or embarrassing. It made me feel safe, and important, and wanted. It’s funny because whenever someone else looks at me like that, it just makes me feel uncomfortable.

I almost told him, then. I almost said, “Conrad, I know about you and Gwendal.” But I didn’t. It was really hard, and my chest hurt holding back the words. He took a step toward me and hugged me and then I was crying. It felt like I’d been doing so many embarrassing things over the past couple of weeks, but this was the worst. I cried because Conrad hugged me. How many guys start crying just because another guy hugs them? It’s stupid. It wasn’t even the first time he’d ever hugged me, but it felt like it. He was just so warm, and his heartbeat was right against my ear, reassuring and… and solid. I wanted to stay there, right there forever, because I knew that nothing bad would ever get me as long as Conrad was holding me like that.

We were silent for a long time, just hugging each other, and I couldn’t help nuzzling his shoulder. He smelled a little like leather and sweat, and I was so comfortable; it was easy enough to snuggle deeper into him. He said, “We should go in. Wolfram is probably worried about you.” and I said “I don’t care.” He nodded in understanding, and I sighed, rubbing my face against his jaw. He had the beginning of stubble that stung my mouth.

Conrad ran a hand through my hair and tilted my head up. His fingers were hot where they touched me, and suddenly my heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest, like I’d just played hours of Dance Dance Revolution on the hardest level without stopping. I missed what he said the first time, because my heart was beating so loud, and I stared at him like an idiot. I felt stupid and breathless and weak, and I tightened my hold on the front of his jacket for support.

And then he said, very softly, very clearly, “Yuuri, you’re engaged to my brother.”

I froze, blinking up at him and feeling like I’d just been splashed with a bucket of ice cold water. He let me go so easily, and I—I just—I mean. It was just so easy. I thought he’d been happy to hold me. I mean, I was happy. Why did it matter what Wolfram thought? It’s not like we’d been doing anything wrong!

I opened my mouth, and words just came flooding out. I can’t really remember everything I’d said to him—something about Wolfram, and the horrible way of proposal among the nobles and why would no one admit my engagement to him was an accident and what would happen if I realized I was in love, but not in love with Wolfram, anyway? I was so angry and I felt so helpless and I had started crying again. I didn’t understand what I was yelling and I just wanted Conrad to explain, to make everything make sense—

I flung my arm out, half blind and so—so mad, and he caught my wrist and just… looked at me. He stared at me for so long, and I couldn’t bear to look at him. I felt humiliated. I couldn’t believe I’d acted like a little kid instead of a king.

Then he raised my hand and kissed the center of my palm. My palm tingled where he touched me, and I closed my eyes—my breath did this weird hitching thing in my chest. I could feel his breath as he raised his head; my fingers curled around the fading warmth his mouth had left behind. “Yuuri,” he said, so gently it hurt.

“Don’t,” I croaked, my throat tight and starting to ache. “Please. Don’t.”

He let me go. I didn’t look back.

I guess, when it all comes down to it, I don’t understand anything at all.

~*~

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