04:
Wolfram had woken up that morning with a pounding headache. Unfortunately, it
was due to him falling off the bed since his sleeping habits could not be
considered…normal. Conrad had once made the mistake of sleeping with him
when he was much younger (Wolfram had been having some bad dreams back then)
and had woken up the next day with enough bruises to last him a lifetime. The
blond slept like a windmill and could just about rival any acrobat with the
positions he managed to twist his body into every night.
Wolfram had come shuffling into the kitchen, still dressed in his pink
nightgown with a hand rubbing his eye and the other holding on to a rather
large teddy bear.
“Good morning, Wolfram,” Conrad greeted cheerfully as he poured out two cups of
coffee. “How are you feeling…?”
“Aspirin,” came the mumbled response. “I’m all out.”
“Do you guzzle them down?” Conrad asked in concern. “I thought you just had a
bottle…?”
“Are you going to show it to me or not? Never mind, I’ll find it myself.”
Conrad winced as he listened to his bathroom being ransacked. Sighing softly to
himself, he began to make breakfast – a combination of scrambled eggs and
buttermilk pancakes which were Wolfram’s favorites. As he sat waiting for his
brother to get ready – Wolfram had eventually shuffled out of Conrad’s bedroom,
waving the red box over his head before disappearing into his own room with a
slam of his door – Conrad mused over the recent events of the last few days.
For one thing, Wolfram's sullen moods were becoming worse. He had always known
the blond wasn’t a morning person but Wolfram usually became more agreeable
after a hearty meal. However, the last three days had told a different story.
Wolfram barely finished his meals and he sometimes had a dazed or glazed look
in his eyes. It was as if the blond was no longer in the room with him but
somewhere far from where Conrad could ever hope to reach. There had been no
more drowning incidents in the bathroom and he doubted the blond had even sat
in the bathtub since then. On some nights, Conrad had been woken from sleep by
Wolfram’s sudden cries of distress or more ‘personal’ sounds that he was sure
the blond had not meant for anyone to hear. Ah, and there was the name Wolfram
kept muttering in his sleep…Yuuka? Yuu…Yuuri?
“Maybe he’s being bullied in school?” he asked to no one in particular,
although Conrad doubted that very much. Wolfram was no weakling and could hold
his own in a fight. In fact, the very idea of seeing his brother at anyone’s
mercy was ludicrous. The Wolfram he knew would rather swallow a bowl of hot
coals than admit defeat.
“What are you mumbling to yourself for?”
Conrad lifted his gaze to stare at his uniform-clad brother with a small smile
of approval. “You look like you’re ready to play some ball, Wolfram. Are you
excited?”
The blond shrugged and eyed the plate of food set for him. He made a face,
feeling his stomach give an uneasy lurch at the thought of eating anything. He
didn’t want to admit that he was feeling extremely nervous about the try-outs
and would have rather died than told that to Conrad.
“You’ve got to eat something,” Conrad advised softly, watching the conflicting
emotions dance across his brother’s face. “It’s no good if you end up fainting
on the baseball field…”
“I’ll be fine,” Wolfram muttered as he sat down and began to pick through the
eggs slowly. “What’s the worse that could happen? It will just be a bunch of
guys I’ll have to compete against. No big deal. Everything will be just fine.”
And now staring into those dark eyes across the field, Wolfram figured he had
spoken way too soon. Nothing was going to be fine, not with that boy
hanging around here with him! Just what in the world was a guy like Yuuri doing
here anyway?! And why wouldn’t his stomach stop feeling so queasy? Why
did he feel lightheaded and how could he explain the sudden quickening of his
heartbeat?
“Shit….!”
“Are you okay, Wolfram?” Conrad asked with concern as he noticed his brother’s
red-faced visage. “Is it getting too hot in here for you? Perhaps you should go
sit with Gwendal in the suite…”
“I’m okay,” Wolfram replied quickly. He tugged his baseball cap even lower,
effectively hiding his eyes from any curious gaze. “I’ll be right back. I have
to go…
Get some fresh air!
“…to the restroom.”
“Ah okay, but don’t forget that the registration is beginning in a few minutes.
You might want to get there on time.”
Giving a low grunt of understanding, Wolfram shoved his way through the throng
of people, desperately needing to escape the heat of Yuuri’s gaze which still
seemed to be trained on him.
Is he still looking at me?!
Yuuri shielded his eyes with his baseball cap, hoping it wasn’t true and yet
knowing that Wolfram’s intense gaze was fixed on him. He could feel his skin
prickle with awareness and a now familiar pleasurable warmth coursing down his
body as he stumbled through the throng of people in hopes of escaping that
penetrating stare.
You’re just one big coward, aren’t you Shibuya?
Yuuri froze at the sound of the voice, wondering if Murata had said that. But a
quick glance over his shoulder revealed that his friend was still waiting by
the lower bleachers and hadn’t even noticed his disappearance. He looked at the
other players waiting and neither looked like they had been addressing him
either.
I’m going crazy, he thought as he began to walk faster. Now, I’m
hearing voices!
Maybe if you stopped being such a coward, Shibuya.
“Shut up! Shut up! Stop talking to me!” He knew whose voice it was now. It was
the dark-haired man in his dreams, the one with the confident smirk and knowing
eyes, the one who had shown him what real lovers could do. He flushed and
slapped his hands over his ears as if hoping it would drown out the voice, but
even he knew it was going to be a wasted effort.
I am you and you are me.
“No, no, no, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” People were beginning to
stare at him as he ran towards the restroom area. Yuuri was sure he looked like
a crazed man, what with arguing with himself and all.
You are me, Shibuya! The Demon King! Just accept it and stop being such a
coward!
“I am NOT a Demon King!” he roared and this time, he really got everyone’s
attention including the entourage of important game officials who were making
their way down to the field. Yuuri removed his hands from his ears, lowered his
gaze and bowed in respect, his entire being thrumming with an embarrassment and
humiliation he could not even begin to explain.
“Hmm, the stress must be getting to more players than we thought,” one of the
officials mumbled as they walked past the flustered teen. “Let’s get this
started with before some other person decides to go insane.”
Yuuri prayed for the ground to open and swallow him whole. Even though he had
no real intentions of using the restroom, he could feel his bladder reaching
its bursting point.
“ALL PLAYERS MOVE TO THE REGISTRATION AREAS, PLEASE. ALL PLAYERS MOVE TO THE
REGISTRATION AREAS, PLEASE. THANK YOU!”
The loud announcement over the speakers got Yuuri’s feet moving again and he
all but ran into the (thankfully) not so crowded men’s room. As he dashed into
a stall, the one right next to him opened and Wolfram walked out with a light
frown of disgust on his features. He had heard the announcement and would have
to make his way to the registration booth to get himself signed up. He walked
up to the sink and began to wash his hands. He lifted his head to look at his
reflection, noticing two boys from his school whispering to themselves behind
him. Rolling his eyes in disbelief, Wolfram dried his hands and left the room
with a light snort of derision as he walked past the duo.
However, once he stepped outside, he found himself staring into a pair of
curious dark eyes which seemed huge behind the glasses.
“Von Bielefeld?”
“…yes…?”
“Murata Ken!” came the enthusiastic greeting as Murata held out his hand to
pump Wolfram’s unresisting one in a handshake. “I’m the manager of the Lion
Dandies. You played against us two weeks ago for the regional championships?”
Wolfram tried to place the grinning boy’s face but all he could see (and much
to his chagrin) was Yuuri’s countenance. In fact, Wolfram was sure he couldn’t
remember anyone else on the Lion Dandies’ team besides Yuuri!
Flushing in embarrassment at this thought, he settled for a non-committal ‘Ah’
as a response.
But Murata was not to be deterred. “Shibuya Yuuri’s here too!”
“I know…” He stopped himself from saying anymore but Wolfram knew the damage
had been done. Now, this hyperactive manager was going to think he had been
looking out for Yuuri all this time.
Murata hid a knowing smirk but nodded all the same. “Yes, indeed. He’s the
catcher for our team and a fine one too. Oh, here he is now. Shibuya! Over
here!”
“Ah, I think I had best be going,” Wolfram began quickly. “It’s almost time for
the registrations to start…”
“Don’t be silly,” Murata interrupted as he all but dragged Wolfram after him.
“Shibuya! Look over here!”
Yuuri groaned at the sight of his loud friend, wishing Murata would at least
have the decency to stop shouting. “Murata, what are you doing here? You’re
supposed to be waiting for me…”
The words died on his lips as his gaze fell on the boy attached to his friend’s
arm. He couldn’t see the boy’s eyes but it still didn’t stop Yuuri from taking
a step backwards as if he had been struck a blow.
If he looks at me…I swear if he looks at me…I’ll be forced to remember
everything again. I don’t know why but if we are together…he’ll know what I
know…we’ll feel it...this time…together…
I just…
Can’t…
Look!
“Shibuya,” Murata was saying, hardly aware of the combined thoughts of the two
boys. “Von Bielefeld is competing as well. So who knows? You two might end up
being on the same team…”
“Over my dead body,” Wolfram hissed and with a fierce yank, released himself from
Murata’s grip. The very thought of being on the same training camp team with
Yuuri was too much to bear. “Now if you’ll both excuse me, I have to get myself
ready.”
He spun on his heels and walked away, leaving both boys to stare after him in
bemusement (Murata) and slight irritation (Yuuri).
“Definitely not Mr. Personality, is he?” Murata mused. “But I could have sworn
he was shaking while standing next to me…as if he had a cold or something. Do
you think he might be coming down with the flu, Shibuya? Shibuya?”
“Hmm?” Murata blinked at the distracted response and noticed that Yuuri was
still staring after Wolfram even though the blond had made his way back to the
field and towards his waiting brown-haired companion. “What is it, Murata?”
“Nothing,” came the enigmatic response as the bespectacled boy frowned in
thought. “Nothing at all. Come on. Let’s go.”
Gwendal crossed his legs, his fingers forming a tent beneath his jaw as he
watched the proceedings on the field below from the comfort of his private
suite. About five large TV monitors had been mounted around the white-washed
walls, each displaying the various sections of the fields where each try-out
was being carried out. Since they were so many entries, they had been forced to
divide the players in this manner. Five sections had been created, with several
coaches and team managers assigned to each group to judge the players. On
Monitor Number 1 was the section which had Wolfram in it. Gwendal stared
intently at the screen, wondering (and for the umpteenth time) if it had been a
good idea to let Wolfram have his way.
But he’s got to learn that things aren’t going to be easy for him all the
time, he thought with a heavy sigh. I think I’ve been spoiling him too
much.
The door to the suite opened and Gwendal frowned at the disturbance. He had
specifically warned everyone to leave him in peace until the event was over.
However, the familiar scent of his younger brother assailed his senses and he
allowed himself to relax again.
“How’s he doing?” he asked without looking around as Conrad sat on a chair
beside him.
“He said he was fine…as usual,” Conrad replied as they both watched the screen.
Wolfram’s number had been called. “But he’s not looking too well, if you ask
me. He seems distracted and almost nervous.”
“It’s natural to feel nervous,” Gwendal said calmly, but his fingers were
beginning to tap his chin in a restless motion. “He’s got to compete with
almost a thousand men.”
“Yes, but this is a different kind of nervousness,” Conrad explained, his brows
drawn together in a frown. “I can’t explain it but it seems like he’s…in awe of
someone.”
Gwendal blinked in surprise. “Wolfram? In awe of someone? Are you sure about
this?”
“I don’t know…”
“There’s no one in the field half as good as he is,” Gwendal interrupted
curtly. “You trained him for crying out loud. He’s a genius. You said it
yourself.”
“Yes, but I never said I was the best coach in the world,” Conrad explained
with a small smile. “I can only do so much for Wolfram. The rest is up to him.”
“In awe of someone,” Gwendal muttered to himself. He glared at the other
monitors, looking at faces, trying to see the person who could be responsible
for creating such an emotion in his brother. But he could see no one that even
looked remotely intimidating…
“There!” Conrad cried out as he pointed towards Monitor Number 1. “Look…look at
the direction Wolfram’s been staring at every once in a while. Do you think you
can follow his gaze?”
Gwendal leaned closer, his eyes narrowed as he struggled to follow the blond’s
gaze. It was a bit hard negotiating such a thing through a television screen
but sure enough (and with the help of Conrad’s finger tracing the ‘path’ of the
stare) it came to rest upon an unassuming dark-haired boy in a Lion Dandies
baseball hat and uniform.
“Him?” Gwendal asked with disdain in his tone. “That’s the boy Wolfram is
afraid of? Who the hell is he?”
“I don’t think he’s afraid per se,” Conrad said, not exactly sure of how to
explain the gut feeling he had. He rubbed his chin and continued to stare at
the back of Yuuri’s head. “And his name is…I’m not really sure either.”
“I’ll call Dorcas,” Gwendal said curtly as he reached for a phone beside him.
He punched a few numbers and waited impatiently. As soon as a voice was heard,
he barked into it. “Dorcas! Find out who the boy is in the number 13 jersey for
the Lion Dandies. He’s in Section 1 with Wolfram.” A few more impatient taps on
the armrest and soon Gwendal was nodding, his frown becoming one of bemusement.
“That’s it? Yes. That is all. Thank you.”
He hung up the phone and leaned back on the chair. Conrad waited for him to say
something and when he saw that Gwendal had no plans to speak anytime soon, he
finally asked with slight impatience in his tone.
“Well? Who is he?”
“Shibuya Yuuri,” Gwendal replied slowly as he continued to watch the television
screen before him. “A third year student at Fujiwara High School and a catcher
for the Lion Dandies – his school baseball team….and that’s it. Nothing
extraordinary about him.”
“Yuuri…Yuuri…” Conrad sat back heavily on his chair. It was the same name he
had heard Wolfram muttering in his sleep at night. Who was this boy and what
did he mean to his brother?
“We should keep an eye on him all the same,” Conrad suggested with a frown on
his visage. “He might seem ordinary but I think that boy has got something
special - something that only Wolfram can see.”
Wolfram walked to the plate as his name was called and took a much needed
breath. He tried to shake off the ‘meeting’ with Yuuri (his King) and
forced himself to concentrate.
“Remember,” the coach was saying to him. “All you have to do is hit the ball as
hard as you can, okay?”
He nodded in understanding and tipped his hat in salutation to the pitcher –
the number one man for the Royals team – Maiku Kurtz. So far, the older man had
sent many entrants swinging like newborn infants. No one had been able to get a
direct hit off Kurtz and Wolfram thought it a bit unfair that they would choose
someone so tough as a pitcher. However, this was no time to feel sorry for
others. He had his own battles to fight.
“Ready?” Kurtz called out from the mound and at Wolfram’s nod, he swung his
arms over his head, lifted his left leg and threw the ball as hard as he could
towards the sissy-looking blond.
/Remember to keep your eye on the ball. Your head steady, shoulders straight
and your stance should be moving in and towards the plate. Then just as the
ball seems to be dipping towards the ground, you strike!/
And strike he did.
Wow! Just…wow!
Yuuri (as well as everyone else in the stadium it seemed) watched the ball’s
amazing trajectory through the air before it disappeared somewhere in the top
bleachers at the opposite end of the stadium. It wasn’t the first homerun hit
today but it was definitely the most powerful and highest one yet!
Yuuri was officially in love...
…with Wolfram’s swing! He added quickly, flushing as he was sure he
could hear someone chuckling faintly in his mind.
Spontaneous applause broke out afterwards and Yuuri was reluctant to join even
though Murata was all but forcing him to do so…from his position in the
bleachers (all spectators were no longer allowed on the field after all).
“SHIBUYA YUURI!” The announcer bellowed and Yuuri winced. How could he hope to
top that performance?
“Good luck, Shibuya!” Murata yelled and Yuuri fought the urge to flip his
friend the finger. He clutched his bat tightly and walked up to the plate,
swallowing tightly as he noticed who was approaching. He braced himself for
another insult but all he received was a look that seemed to go right through
him before the blond lowered his hat again.
“You’re going to need all the luck you can get,” Wolfram suddenly said as Yuuri
was just about to release a sigh of relief. “I doubt a wimp like you can even
hit a bunt into the infield.”
You will pay for your insolence! You seem to forget who your king is, my
dear Wolfram.
Both boys gasped and stood stock still as if rooted to the ground. Wolfram
could feel his cheeks growing hot at the reprimand while Yuuri was beginning to
shake his head slowly.
“I didn’t…it wasn’t me…” He heard it! He actually heard it!
Wolfram finally found his voice. “You are not my king,” he hissed coldly, even
though he looked clearly shaken.
“Shibuya Yuuri!” The announcer called out again.
“Wolfram…” Yuuri began slowly, not sure why he felt the utmost need to explain
the situation to the angry blond. “I swear it wasn’t…”
“Go to the plate,” Wolfram commanded quietly, his eyes now narrowed and filled
with daring. “And if you can hit a homerun, then maybe…just maybe I’ll give you
the time of day, Shibuya Yuuri.”
|
|