It's written on his arm. ✔

XX: the daze of scrutinising cheers.

Wilbur wasn't sure if being unable to hear his own thoughts swirling around his brain was a good thing.

It was loud. Incredibly so. Yet, nothing was even partially audible to his consciousness. Shouts and cheers drowned out his mind, and Wilbur's hands twitched to cover his ears at the sheer volume. He wondered if, had his hands not be joined with Tommy and Techno, he would have been so weak to do that.

Together, they practically stumbled forward, and he took the opportunity to look around as they did so. Dazed, he noticed that they were on a balcony, raised above the ground by a few feet, which overlooked the crowd. The castle gates were open, and every inch of the space below them was covered with people. Even the outside of the gates was heaving, a mixture of journalists with notebooks and cameras, sketch artists and civilians cramped together in a small space. Now, standing in front of the solid half-wall, Wilbur felt a hint of relief that his clutching of his soulmate's hand was not visible.

Time seemed to slow as they were standing there; completely vulnerable to the eyes of thousands. Wilbur could feel eyes sweeping over him, hesitating on his fluffy hair and basic white shirt before flicking to his brother, provoking the instinct to cover him with his body. Maybe then Tommy wouldn't feel their scrutinising gazes, their expressions being enough to wordlessly convey their thoughts: what is a commoner doing next to their Kings? Sure, other people have assisted in announcements, but none were ever that close?

Only when Techno's hand dropped did Wilbur notice the microphone being handed to the Kings. He allowed himself to momentarily get distracted by Phil's smile as they locked gazes, his hand never falling from Tommy's. It would be fruitless anyway, as said teenager was grasping onto it tightly, as if Wilbur would leave him vulnerable to judgement. With a simple squeeze, he could sense that fear slightly evaporating into the tense air.

'Good afternoon, everyone.' Phil introduced, using an infrequent, orthodox tone with seemingly practiced ease. Gulping, Wilbur plastered another bashful manner on his face. Seem unthreatening, he reminded himself, try not to earn death threats immediately.

'We would like to thank everyone for being here, and we are forever grateful that you have chosen to take time out of your day to be here in person.' Phil paused, and the crowd intently listened. 'This is not a war announcement. Instead, we have positive news to share with you. In these dark times,' a softness came about his voice. 'It's important to remember the good things and have a little hope.

'Recently, myself and King Techno visited a small town named Ackerly. Whilst it's beauty and amiability was more than accommodating, there was another reason behind our prolonged stay...'

This was it; there was no going back. Nervousness bubbled uncontrollably inside him, practically frying his stomach of butterflies from the inside out. Wilbur straightened his posture as Phil lowered his microphone, gesturing for his soulmate to continue. As Techno's right arm rose, the gasp of those with a perfect view echoed in his brain.

'For 23 years, I have been missing a part of me.' Gossips had already begun spreading, and Wilbur subtly eyed a group of teenagers whispering into each other's ears. 'One that I have been searching for: my soulmate.' Gasps of awe sounded, and the pressure of eyes snapping to him begun weighing him down. It was no secret that the intricate connection of soulmates was admired, and such a beauty being gifted to the King was more than special.