Unforgivable-- Chapter VI
Title: Unforgivable
Author: Melusine
Beta: toshimalfoy
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: WolfYuu/Yuuram, Greta
Warnings this part: Dubious consent, issues of rape
Overall warnings: Angst, violence, incest, dubious consent, statutory rape, issues of rape
Spoilers: Through season 2.
Disclaimer: Kyou Kara Maou! and related characters, situations, etc. belong to Tomo Takabayashi and various other people/companies, none of whom are me. This is a fan work; no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: It's been seven years since Yuuri became the Demon King, proposed to Wolfram, and adopted Greta. When the relationship between Yuuri and Wolfram begins to shift, and Greta is attacked, everything changes and old wounds are exposed.
Part: 6/?
Chapter VI
Greta was sitting at the kitchen table, practicing her Earth writing, when there was a sudden sort of splash from the bathroom, followed by voices. Her fathers' voices.
"Wimp! Get off of me!"
"I'm not a wimp! Ow!"
Laughter.
Her fathers' cheerful voices.
Jennifer dropped the wooden spoon she was holding and squealed in delight.
"My baby! Wolfie! I knew it was worth leaving some water in the tub!" And she dashed from the room to greet them.
Greta got up and went over to the stove, turning off the burner Jennifer had left on. She listened to the conversation taking place in the hallway, but they were being too noisy for her to actually hear anything, Jennifer overexcited and Yuuri continually trying to interrupt. By the time they got to the kitchen, Greta was back in her seat, bent over her work once more.
She didn't look up when they came in.
"Greta!" Yuuri's voice was full of expectations she had no intention of fulfilling. She wasn't going to jump up and hug him. She wasn't going to tell him she missed him, or that she was glad to see him. She wasn't going to give him anything he didn't deserve.
No matter how hurt he sounded when she made no response and he said her name a second time. Then quiet. Neither Wolfram nor Jennifer spoke. A hand on her head...
How dare he!
She shook him off and stood up so quickly that she knocked her chair over. Good; it made a nice crash. Which she shouted over.
"Don't touch me!"
Yuuri paled.
"Greta..." said Jennifer, and Wolfram looked angry.
"A few days, you said!" Greta screamed at Yuuri. "You promised! You forgot again, didn't you? You forgot you had a daughter because I'm not really your daughter, I'm just a poor Human girl you took pity on--"
"Greta!" Wolfram barked, cutting her off. "Enough! We came as soon as we could. Yuuri had to rest a little longer than expected."
"For FIVE WEEKS?"
Silence.
"Oh, my God." Yuuri looked even paler than before.
"What?" breathed Wolfram.
"Oh, my God," said Yuuri again. "I should have expected-- I-- I felt something slip, when we were coming here. I got... distracted-- just for a second-- and I felt it slip, but-- I thought time was just sort of snapping into place, but..."
"Are you telling me," his husband growled, "that instead of going three days backwards we've gone a month forwards?"
Yuuri was still staring at Greta. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. She could tell he was about to cry. Wimp. "I'm so sorry..."
She gritted her teeth. "You tried to go back three days? Why didn't you just leave three days earlier?"
"I couldn't... I'm sorry..."
Usually it was impossible to stay mad at Yuuri. He was so sincere, felt so guilty, had such good intentions... But she was so angry. Stuck here, in a foreign world, with no possibility of anything familiar-- forgotten, abandoned, all because her fathers couldn't deal with her, didn't want to see how painful every second of her life was now.
And it was their fault in the first place. Yuuri had taken her in carelessly, on a teenage whim. No thought of political ramifications. And Wolfram had turned her into a Demon princess, put her on display, elevated her and made everything worse because she was still a Human no matter how much he pretended. And what good had all his overbearing protectiveness done if he forgot about her when she needed him? What good had all that sword training brought her if she couldn't defend herself when it really mattered?
They were careless, both of them. They called her their daughter, but everyone knew it was a lie. And they kept proving it-- by letting this happen to her, by taking her here and leaving her...
And now she was crying in front of them and it was stupid because they didn't deserve to get to see her like this. They didn't deserve to know how much they'd hurt her, how much she'd needed them when they weren't there.
She couldn't see anything through her tears, but she refused to wipe her eyes because that would be like admitting she didn't want to be crying. "I was better off in my uncle's house," she said. "They didn't care about me, but they never pretended to, and at least I was safe."
"How can you say that?" Yuuri's voice was so full of pain... "Of course we care about you. You're right, we didn't protect you enough, but we do love you! That's why you're here-- It's safer--"
"No," said Wolfram suddenly. "We have to take her back. I knew this was a bad idea. Greta, we've failed you-- so many times-- but we'll make it right. I promise. I swear it's going to be alright."
"How?" Greta forced out, using all her will to keep the sobs at bay. "How can it possibly be alright? What do you think you can do to fix it?"
"We'll help you put it behind you," he said, meeting her eyes. She knew exactly what he meant but couldn't say in front of Yuuri.
But that wasn't enough. Whatever Wolfram was going to do for his revenge, it wouldn't take away what happened.
"It's too late," she said, believing it with all her heart. The hopelessness pressed down on her and she felt the warm tears still falling from her chin in a steady stream. She turned around and walked away, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Don't you dare follow me," she added, as she heard Yuuri start forward.
Wolfram said softly, "Let her go."
And yet, after a moment of hesitation or argument, he went after her, catching up to her in the hall.
She spun around to face him, afraid that if she didn't he might try to touch her...
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. I know that doesn't do any good, but... I love you. We love you. And I know that counts for something."
She kept her mouth firmly shut, afraid she would start sobbing in earnest, or that she would succumb to the sincerity in his words, the love and concern and pain in his face.
"And," he said, his gaze never wavering from hers, "even if you never forgive me, I can't take you back home yet. I'd rather have you hate me than risk your safety again."
She stared at him in shock a moment longer, then ran away, up to her room that was really his room, shut the door and propped the desk chair under the doorknob, wishing she could run even farther away.
* * *
Yuuri watched his daughter run away from him, and wanted to cry himself.
"That might be the most mature thing you've ever said."
Yuuri turned around to find Wolfram standing at the entrance to the kitchen. "So you agree?" he asked tentatively.
"No. But there's nothing I can do about it, is there?"
"... Are you going to hate me, too?"
"If I did, would it make you change your mind?" Wolfram started towards him and, when Yuuri shook his head no, reached out to cup his cheek. "So you're sure you're doing this for the right reasons?"
Yuuri hesitated, searching his feelings one more time. He had been selfish and irresponsible to put off this visit for so long, but his reason for taking her here in the first place remained simply for her safety. Because the thought of Greta being home right now, in that huge castle where they would never be able to watch her all the time, made him sick with fear. So he nodded.
Wolfram kissed him lightly. "Alright, then."
Yuuri took a moment to enjoy it, then said, "And what do you mean, 'the most mature thing I've ever said'? I'm mature; I'm twenty-two."
His husband laughed at him and brushed Yuuri's bangs from his forehead.
"I mean," Yuuri went on, "if you met me now for the first time, would you still call me a wimp?"
Wolfram smirked, making Yuuri blush. "Of course I would, Wimp."
Yuuri pouted in response, and was rewarded by a small bite to his lip. He whimpered, which caused Wolfram to make a low sound in his throat and kiss him again, harder.
And this time it was Yuuri who pulled away, because they were in the hallway of his parents' tiny house and because Greta was upstairs crying. And because it had been Wolfram that distracted him enough that time slid forward four weeks on the way here.
"Do you think," Yuuri started, before Wolfram could comment, "that... I made a mistake, taking her in?" He'd almost said "we", because it was hard to remember that Wolfram hadn't been her father at first, not until it was official and Wolfram jumped in to call them a family. It had been Yuuri's decision, and at the time it hadn't occurred to him that Wolfram would be her other parent. And yet, at the same time, he hadn't really thought he, Yuuri, would be responsible for her.
"I don't know," said Wolfram. "But I'm still glad you did."
"But it's because of me--"
"It's also thanks to us," Wolfram spoke over him, "that she didn't kill herself. Remember? That's because we raised her well and taught her she was worth something. You taught her she was worth something, when you adopted her and loved her even though she tried to kill you."
Yuuri, who was avoiding Wolfram's intense gaze, laughed softly. "I forgot about that. Hurt my ankle."
"And you saved her from the rest of us, who wanted to keep her locked up in prison."
"Still," said Yuuri. "If I had to make the decision again... I mean, I was so young. I didn't really think it through..."
"Yuuri, look at me." Wolfram caught Yuuri's chin in his hand. "If you had thought it through-- If you had to make the decision now and you thought out all the possibilities and all the things that could go wrong and all the political consequences... You would make the same decision. That's what kind of wimp you are. And that's why everyone follows you."
Yuuri was warm all over. Wolfram didn't often speak to him like this, but when he did, his blind faith made Yuuri's head swim and he actually did feel like the Great Demon King and so he pulled his husband to him--
And heard the sounds of his father coming home from work. They must have arrived in late afternoon, though they'd left the temple mid-morning. Then again, they'd also arrived a month later than when they'd left.
Wolfram chuckled against his lips. "Maybe we should continue this conversation another time?"
Yuuri was almost tempted to suggest they merely relocate to the nearest bathroom, but then he heard Shouri's voice as well, and somehow that was much worse-- the thought that there might be any chance that his brother would see him kissing a boy... Yes, they were married, and yes, there had been a brief kiss of sorts during the wedding ceremony, but as far as Shouri knew (so Yuuri desperately hoped), the marriage was no more sincere than their engagement had been for so many years.
He didn't care what his mother thought, partly because she would believe what she wanted, regardless of whether it was true. And he knew his father wasn't particularly concerned about his son's sexuality, except perhaps wanting to know that he was happy. But Shouri... Well, Yuuri didn't actually know what he thought, and knew intellectually that his brother would still accept him if he was gay... But Yuuri wasn't gay. And there would inevitably be a certain amount of disappointment because, well, no one wanted to be like that... Yuuri didn't. And he wasn't. What was happening, what had happened last night, was all just because Wolfram was Wolfram. And he wasn't sure anyone else would understand that.
Yuuri stepped away from his husband. A little too abruptly, judging from the look on Wolfram's face. But the slightly wounded expression was quickly hidden, and if Yuuri didn't know Wolfram so well he would have thought he'd imagined it.
Wolfram gave him an "oh, well" sort of smile, then moved to take Yuuri's hand but stopped himself, and instead led the way to greet Yuuri's family, while Yuuri tried to will away his blush of guilt.
* * *
When the conversation turned to news and the extended family and other things Wolfram didn't understand, he excused himself to go and check on Greta, taking with him the books he'd brought from home. Unsurprisingly, her door was closed. He knocked and called her name.
Silence.
He knocked again-- no response. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked.
"Greta... At least say something... Let me know you're alright."
There was silence for a good thirty seconds, and Wolfram was about to kick down the door when he finally heard movement and a scraping noise, and she let him in, then quickly crossed the room again and sat down on the bed. She didn't look at him.
"Of course I'm alright," she said.
She had washed her face and redone her hair, and to all appearances seemed perfectly composed. Wolfram had taught her that. If only Yuuri were as good a study as she. Still, at this moment, seeing her perched on the edge of her bed, her back straight and her hands in her lap, made his stomach twist. He hadn't meant to teach her she couldn't show weakness to him.
She relaxed almost imperceptibly at the sound of him securing the door's simple lock. He came over to her to hand her the books. She hesitated, as if deciding whether it was worth the effort to raise her arms and accept them, but in the end took the three volumes from his hands.
"How long am I going to be here?" she asked, running her fingers over an embossed title. "I mean," she went on, even as he opened his mouth to answer, "do you know anything yet?"
He sat down next to her, maintaining a careful distance. "We've sent scouts in every direction, and we're still investigating the guards and the staff. It's going to take some time, though; remember, we also have to keep it all quiet. And it's only been a week for us."
Her mouth twisted. "Yuuri--"
"He didn't do it on purpose," Wolfram interrupted. "He's doing the best he can." He watched her. Her head was slightly bowed, her expression unhappy but otherwise unreadable. "And when we get back," he added, "they'll have made a month's worth of progress. Maybe the next time we visit, it will be to take you home."
"I hate it here," she said quietly.
Wolfram fought a surge of anger against the wimp for doing this to their daughter. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
She bit her lip. After another moment, she stood and went over to the bookshelf. She put away the books he'd brought, and pulled out another. It fell open to reveal a thick envelope stuffed between the pages. "Could you--" She started, the letter in her hand, as she re-shelved the book and came over to him. She paused, thought for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision and held the envelope out to him. "This is for Anissina."
He nodded. "Of course." It was heavy-- at least seven pages. That stung, just a little, because Wolfram was sure Greta had never talked to him for seven pages. But, then again, he was her father, and apparently Anissina was her best friend. "I'll take it to her as soon as we get home."
"Thanks." Blushing slightly, she sat down beside him once more. Still leaving so much space between them.
She'd hugged him last time-- But for her, he reminded himself, that was five weeks ago, and she'd spent those five weeks feeling increasingly lonely and abandoned. No wonder she was back to not wanting to touch him. No wonder she'd written to Anissina, who hadn't betrayed her.
"I'm sorry," he said again, then mentally berated himself for it. He'd been spending too much time with Yuuri. What good were apologies in a situation like this? All he could do was try to keep the promises he hadn't yet broken. He swallowed. "I know you'll be alright, though. Yuuri's right about one thing-- You have so many people who love you. And that does matter. It might not feel like that now, but..." He faltered. Turned the letter over and over in his hands. "If there was any way I could-- Greta, I would do anything to keep you from feeling like I did. I never meant to abandon you. I never forgot about you or regretted having you as a daughter. Maybe it's selfish, but I wouldn't take it back for anything--" He finally got hold of himself and shut his mouth. Before he told her that no one had ever loved him like she did, that she'd given him something besides Yuuri to live for, which had been so important when his fiancé cared for Wolfram no more than he did everyone else.
He looked up, and found Greta was staring at him. He blushed.
"I love you, too," she said softly.
* * *
Greta still wouldn't speak to Yuuri, but that was hardly surprising. And at least she wasn't yelling anymore.
According to his mother, Greta had seemed alright this past month, if a little down. A lot of sleeping, a lot of time alone in her room, but nothing out of the ordinary for someone recovering from illness. Although they did worry, Miko said, that it was taking so long. Yuuri told his parents that it would most likely take a while longer, and it was all normal for her condition, which wasn't quite like anything he knew of on Earth.
He wasn't sure they believed him. But that wasn't exactly new. When he'd first started traveling between the worlds-- when his real life started-- he'd kept it all secret from them, and they in turn hadn't told him they already knew. And now he was hiding not only this, but also the physical nature of his relationship with Wolfram.
Yes, he was almost positive they didn't know.
And he very much wanted to keep it that way. But discretion and restraint seemed increasingly difficult when he was lying on the floor of what was now Greta's room, feeling Wolfram breathing on his neck, his body so close... They couldn't touch. Greta was sleeping only a few feet away.
So Yuuri gave in, deciding that, once again, he had only one option. He got up quietly, careful not to disturb his husband, though he was pretty sure Wolfram wasn't fully asleep judging by how still and silent he was.
He was right. He'd only just begun to stroke himself, leaning against the bathroom wall and closing his eyes, remembering Wolfram touching him, Wolfram inside him, when the door opened and he jumped in surprise and opened his eyes to see Wolfram himself. Yuuri felt his face go hot in embarrassment, even as his arousal increased.
Wolfram locked the door behind him-- why hadn't Yuuri remembered to do that? Perhaps part of him had been anticipating just this...
"I forgot to mention," said Wolfram, turning to him with the beginnings of a smirk. "There's a new rule."
Yuuri groaned as his husband came towards him. "I thought we were done with rules."
Wolfram reached out and cradled Yuuri's face with one hand, and reached down with the other. "Just this one," he said, over Yuuri's sharp inhale. "You're not allowed to touch yourself anymore."
"What?" Yuuri gasped, half in surprise, and half because of the other boy's tight fist around his erection.
His husband kissed his face, just by his ear, and said quietly, "You don't get to come without me anymore."
"But... What if you're not there?" Yuuri managed between heavy breaths as Wolfram moved his hand slowly.
Wolfram growled into Yuuri's neck and took his hand away, ignoring Yuuri's high little noise of protest. "Then you find me. I want to be there every time you come. I want to see it, I want to feel it--"
"--And then wash it off," said Yuuri quietly, before he could stop himself. He squeezed his eyes shut as Wolfram tensed, already regretting his words. If there was a time to talk about that-- and Yuuri wasn't sure there was-- it certainly wasn't now.
After a moment, Wolfram said, "What do you want from me?" His voice was low, expressionless.
"I just... I just want you to..." Yuuri didn't know how to say what he wanted, so he fell silent.
"What? You want me to love your come, Yuuri? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to taste it? You want me to take you in my mouth?"
The sudden image-- Wolfram's mouth on him, Wolfram's tongue, Wolfram accepting him-- brought Yuuri's erection, which had been beginning to soften, back at full force and his hips jerked forward of their own accord. He couldn't help the hissed "Yes" against his husband's ear.
There was another pause, which seemed to last forever, and then Wolfram whispered, "Keep your eyes closed," and dropped to his knees.
Yuuri obeyed, and his hands found Wolfram's soft hair. He tried not to moan, feeling warm breath teasing him as Wolfram took hold of Yuuri once more, and hesitated again--
Then there was hot and wet and pulling...
Yuuri tilted his head back. And even though he bit his lip, the needy, choked little sound that escaped him was enough to make him just the slightest bit jealous of what Wolfram was doing, and his mouth water at the thought of doing it back.
Not that he could ever hope to do it like this. Once he started, Wolfram's every movement was confident, each lick was deliberate, each application of suction and pressure controlled and precise. He even held Yuuri's hips steady against the wall, keeping him from-- as he so badly wanted to-- bucking forward into that wet heat. Then Wolfram swallowed him and, God, that was his throat that Yuuri was suddenly thrusting into because Wolfram had released him and Wolfram made some sort of low sound that vibrated all through Yuuri and he came, hard, his hands fisted in Wolfram's hair, pressing Wolfram's face against his stomach.
He didn't know how long it had taken for him to finish, but he knew that it was exactly as long as Wolfram had intended.
He felt Wolfram draw away, sliding Yuuri's softening erection slowly out of him. Yuuri, no longer able to summon the strength to keep standing, slid down the wall to sit, leaning his head back against it. He didn't dare open his eyes yet. Through his own panting he heard Wolfram breathing somewhat raggedly, a rustle of movement, and then the sound of the faucet on the sink.
When Yuuri could speak, he said, “You've done that before.” It had been so... efficient.
A pause. “Yes.”
“That was--”
“I know,” said Wolfram curtly, still over the sound of running water. “I'm good at it.”
The pleasant buzz of orgasm was fading quickly, leaving the cold of the tile and the wall seeping through the thin cotton of Yuuri's pajamas. “Can I open my eyes now?” he asked.
“Do whatever you want, Yuuri.”
Wolfram was still bent over the sink, his hair hiding his expression as he continued splashing water on his face. Yuuri's stomach twisted.
“Are you jealous?” Wolfram said, after another minute.
Yuuri didn't want to think about it. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to be jealous. So he didn't answer.
Wolfram turned the water off. “Come on, Yuuri. Doesn't it bother you at all?” He lifted his head and met Yuuri's eyes. His face was pink, whether from cold water or emotion Yuuri didn't know. “How much practice do you think it took for me to get that good? How many times must I have had someone else's cock in my mouth? How much come do you think I've swallowed? And you've kissed me, Yuuri!” He knelt beside Yuuri. “This mouth... You thought it was clean, didn't you?” He was breathing hard again, his face now blotchy with color. “Or maybe you knew. Maybe you wanted me because you knew I was a--”
“Stop it!” Yuuri finally found his voice. “I don't-- I don't care what you've done in the past...”
Then Wolfram kissed him. There was no other word for it. But it wasn't like any other kiss they'd shared. It was not just forceful but harsh, and something about the subtle sound Wolfram made was wrong, almost obscene, and his tongue in Yuuri's mouth was, as it had never been before, invasive. Yuuri knew he was being punished for something that he didn't understand, that he'd hurt Wolfram badly-- maybe more than he ever had before.
Scared, confused, Yuuri whimpered in distress. But this only made his husband growl and shove his tongue further into Yuuri's mouth, pressing harder against him.
It was like being smothered. Like Wolfram was trying to choke him.
Yuuri made another noise of protest, hopefully more emphatic than the last, and tried to push the other boy away. After a moment, Wolfram relented, then stood and backed away so quickly that he was in the opposite corner of the tiny room before Yuuri could breathe again.
"Wolfram," he said, trying not to cry. "What did I do wrong?"
His husband was looking at him with that too-familiar rage that had frightened Yuuri for seven years. "How can you--" He stopped himself.
"Alright!" said Yuuri, after another tense silence. "I am jealous, okay? The thought of someone else--"
"But what makes you better, Yuuri?" Wolfram spat, cutting him off. "How are you any different if you still treat me like your whore?"
"What?" Yuuri felt himself go pale.
"How could you ask me to do that?" Wolfram's voice was steadily rising in pitch and volume. "How could you want me to act like that? To kneel for you... and let you fuck my mouth--" As if reflexively, his hands came up to cover the lower part of his face.
Yuuri stared at him in horror. "But... Why did you do it if you didn't want to?"
Wolfram let his hands drop and sneered. "Because you told me to."
"I didn't-- You offered!"
"I was being sarcastic, Yuuri! I never expected you to ask me to do something like that..."
"You could have said no!" Yuuri cried desperately.
"No, I couldn't!" Wolfram snarled. "You own me! You're High King and I'm your spouse and that means you own me. I signed my body away to you!"
"But-- I-- Wolfram, how can you think that I would ever want you to do anything you didn't want to do?"
"Who would want to do that?" Wolfram shrieked, his voice finally breaking.
"Me," said Yuuri quietly. "What I was thinking," he continued in the stunned silence, "while you were-- I was thinking how I couldn't wait to do it for you."
Wolfram looked somehow more angry at this, but said nothing.
"And anyways," Yuuri added, "since when do you take orders from me? As if I would get angry or-- or punish you if you refused..." He met his husband's eye. "You don't believe that. You know you had a choice. You can't blame me for what you did."
Wolfram looked at him a moment more, then said, "You don't understand anything," and left.
* * *
He shouldn't have done it. The regret pounded in Wolfram's blood, in the pain in his head. He shouldn't have done it.
So why did he?
It wasn't even something he'd promised himself he'd never do, because he had never thought it might be something either of them would want. Maybe that was his mistake. He hadn't anticipated, hadn't drawn this line for himself or for Yuuri, and now--
Now it was all mixed up, a confusion of desire and disgust and anger and self-loathing.
Yuuri should have stopped him. He'd half-expected, hoped, the entire time, that the grip in his hair would move to push him away, that between the desperate noises above he would hear his husband telling him to stop because he could never want anything that made Wolfram look like that.
Then again, Wolfram reminded himself, he'd made Yuuri keep his eyes shut. He'd been watching, too, so much as he could, to make sure he wasn't peeking. He couldn't let him see. He couldn't even let himself think that Yuuri might want to see. And he couldn't let Yuuri see how much he hated it, either, that he was doing something for him that was tearing his own pride into shreds.
Of course, in the end, he'd revealed that anyway. But even that was still better than the other, darker truth, which was that a small part of him had wanted to do it and had enjoyed doing it, and that he'd gotten so hard with the sounds Yuuri was making and the knowledge that he was about to make him come...
Which just made everything even more wrong. Because he couldn't separate it, now. Because now there were all the old feelings of shame and weakness right alongside all the pleasurable feelings of Yuuri.
And he'd known that would happen, and yet he'd done it anyway. He'd let himself give in to the anger-- wanting to show Yuuri how far he would go, waiting for Yuuri to stop him-- and the irresistible lust in Yuuri's voice, and the combined reflex of always giving Yuuri what he wanted and always obeying that command.
He shouldn't have done it.
* * *
Greta wasn't happy with the sleeping situation. Not because she didn't want her parents in the same room as her, though that wasn't great, but because she didn't want them in the same room with each other.
It was selfish and awful, but she didn't particularly like that Yuuri had apparently finally returned Wolfram's feelings, or given up on finding someone else, or completed puberty, or whatever it was that had caused them to be so damned happy with each other and to do inappropriate things in various rooms of the castle without locking doors. Because it seemed clear to her that Wolfram had stopped arguing for her in favor of fucking his new husband.
Not to mention how disgusting it was.
And from the number of times (three), in the two weeks before the wedding, that she had walked past a slightly-open door or come into a room and been forced to witness her parents kissing-- but it wasn't just kissing, exactly, because it was so frantic and breathy and often included noises-- and of course that night, when she'd heard them from her place behind the folding screen, she felt she was somewhat justified in worrying that her fathers would have a hard time sleeping next to each other on her floor and keeping their hands off each other.
But Wolfram didn't want to leaver her alone. Wolfram was trying to make up for forgetting about her. Wolfram thought... thought that they were somehow similar. What was that supposed to mean, he didn't want her to feel like he had? She couldn't ask him-- he hadn't meant to say it, that much she could tell. But she hoped he was wrong, and that he'd never felt the way she did now, because she wouldn't wish it on anyone.
Even though she'd been right, and her parents couldn't be decent even for eight hours. Because she was woken in the middle of the night by Wolfram's raised voice, high and upset, a tone she'd never heard before that made her shiver.
"...ask me to do that? ...kneel ...let you fuck my mouth?"
The words were muted through the wall and the pillow she pulled over her head, but she heard enough.
Yuuri's voice, quieter, but just as distressed. The rest of the fight was a rumble of strained voices until, "...to do that?" Wolfram. Then after another minute, silence.
Greta definitely didn't want to think about what the story behind all of that was. She didn't want this image in her head or her body's reaction to it. There was enough wrong in her world.
And the next morning, Wolfram was sleeping in the living room downstairs, apparently deciding not to care about his earlier determination to stay by her. He'd left her alone to be with Yuuri, after all.
Served him right, she caught herself thinking. But she quickly took it back, because she had never seen him like this before.
He was silent through breakfast, which in itself wasn't too worrying, but he didn't eat or drink a thing, though he poked at his food, occasionally lifting a laden spoon to his mouth before deciding against it and setting it down again. He didn't look directly at anyone. His posture was even stiffer than usual, but that control did not extend to his expression, which was disturbing. He looked... gone. Worse than when Yuuri had chosen this place over them. Like the real Wolfram was somewhere else entirely and all they got was what had been left behind.
* * *
Wolfram became aware that Greta was watching him, and that she was worried. But there was nothing he could do about that. He couldn't force himself to open his mouth to eat. He couldn't will his features into anything resembling a proper expression. He couldn't take back what he'd done-- then or now-- or how loudly he had yelled in a house whose walls were not made of thick stone.
He was pathetic-- one bad decision and he was letting it all go to hell. Maybe he didn't deserve to have what he was too weak to keep. Maybe it had been stupid of him to think that he could do this with Yuuri. All those years spent wanting Yuuri, and he'd never thought about what he would do when he had him. Never thought about the possibility that Yuuri wouldn't be how Wolfram expected him to be. Or that Wolfram wouldn't be what he expected of himself.
He could think of no way to fix it.
And yet here was Yuuri, across the table, constantly glancing at him and then quickly away again and generally looking terrified. Fidgeting. Itching to alleviate his own guilt. Wolfram couldn't look at him.
Wolfram couldn't look at anyone. He was so exposed! Knowing everyone could tell there was something wrong. Not knowing how much they'd heard or figured out. Knowing how much their opinion mattered to Yuuri.
Yuuri didn't linger at his parents' house. As soon as he could politely do so, he started talking about how they'd missed a month now (because he wasn't about to try manipulating the time lines again) and they really should get back as soon as possible. So before Wolfram knew it, he was in the bathroom again with Yuuri. He didn't want to go back, though. He didn't want to be alone with his husband because Yuuri would want to talk... He stared at the water in the tub, already feeling sick, while behind him Yuuri said goodbye.
Greta said his name, and he turned around. She was so concerned for him and there was so much wrong with that-- "We'll be back soon," he said quietly. "I promise."
She nodded slowly and said, "Thank you for the books." Then she stepped back as Yuuri came up to take Wolfram's arm.
"Ready?" Yuuri asked. Wolfram wasn't, but he stepped into the bathtub anyways and braced himself.
Like always, it was cold and dark and wet between the worlds. And for a moment, while the powerful swirling currents threatened to tear him apart, Wolfram allowed Yuuri to wrap both arms around him.
Then they were sitting in the fountain in the castle courtyard, and the air was even colder than the water. He didn't shake Yuuri off, just waited and let the wimp realize he shouldn't be touching him.
"Your Majesty! Your Highness!" Gunter came rushing towards them, calling for blankets. He helped Yuuri out of the fountain, and Wolfram sat for a moment just shivering and feeling the cold and how much he hated it. He was forced to move, however, when his husband looked back at him worriedly, holding out a hand.
Wolfram stood up and stepped down from the fountain by himself.
And here were blankets, finally, being draped over his shoulders, and that at least kept the wind out, and as they made their way inside there were more people come to welcome them home and Gwendal was demanding an explanation and--
"Are you alright?" Conrad asked him.
"Obviously not, Weller; I'm freezing!" was what he wanted to say. But what came out was only, "I'm cold," and it sounded defensive instead of dismissive. He pulled the blankets more tightly around himself.
God, now Gwendal had turned his attention to Wolfram, too, and Wolfram couldn't stand that look. Fear and pity. Because Gwendal had seen Wolfram in this state before, had tried to warn him it would happen again if Wolfram kept giving himself away to Yuuri. And Conrad, who hadn't seen him like this, reached out and put a hand on Wolfram's shoulder, and Wolfram wanted to scream.
But Yuuri took his sleeve and gently tugged him along to their bedroom, as everyone else took the silent cue from their High King and let them go.
* * *
The ache in Yuuri's chest grew stronger as he watched Wolfram go over to the dresser without looking at him and begin to change out of his wet clothes. He himself found he couldn't move, except to turn away. He was sure his husband didn't want him looking just now.
Maybe not ever, judging from the silence and the way that, even after he was dressed and Yuuri half-turned his head, hoping to meet his eye, Wolfram refused even to acknowledge his presence. Instead, he sat down on the bed to pull his boots on-- quickly, as if he had somewhere to go, but not hurriedly.
Yuuri was still by the door, and so of course Wolfram had chosen to sit on the other side of the bed, facing the window and with his back to Yuuri. Reacting instinctively, through some sense of self-protection against the loneliness that was closing in on him, he followed. But Wolfram ducked his head as he approached, just enough to hide his expression.
So Yuuri turned away again, folding his arms across his chest, trying to hold himself together. "Conrad told me there were things you wouldn't forgive," he said. "Is this what he meant?"
Behind him, he heard Wolfram catch his breath. "Yes," he said after a moment. "I expect this is exactly what he meant."
Yuuri turned around, but Wolfram still wouldn't look at him. He couldn't keep his voice steady. "No. It isn't fair. How am I supposed to know-- You never explain anything. I mean, you're right, I don't understand anything, but how can I when you never explain? You can't just--" He had to pause to take a shaky breath. "You can't do this. You have to tell me what's going on."
Wolfram was silent for a while, his head still bowed so that Yuuri couldn't see his face. "I shouldn't have to explain," he said at last. "I shouldn't have to ask you to... to treat me well."
"But I didn't think I was treating you badly, Wolfram." Tears were inevitable, now; Yuuri could feel it building in the tightness at the back of his neck. "I love you. Everything I do... It's just because I love you."
More silence.
He suppressed a sob, letting it shake through him noiselessly. "Wolfram. Please say something. You have to say something." After another pause with no answer, he went on in a frightened sort of whisper. "...If you don't want me, just say so."
Wolfram brought a hand to his face to cover his eyes, shielding himself even further. "I don't want you."
Yuuri hadn't actually expected that. He had to try very hard to keep himself from seizing his husband, shaking him, begging him to take it back.
"I didn't know it would be like this," Wolfram went on. "I thought you would be different."
Yuuri wiped his eyes and nose on his still-damp sleeve, struggled to speak. "Different from what?" he asked shakily. "What happened before? Wolf, please, just tell me."
Wolfram looked up sharply. "Don't call me that," he snapped.
"What?" Yuuri was distracted. "You mean 'Wolf'? You've never said--"
"He's the only other person that calls me that. So don't... I'm already reminded enough."
"'He'? You mean... But... Other people call you 'Wolf'. I've heard Conrad say it. I think I got it from him."
The other boy's face was rapidly losing blood, the angry color turning to a sick pale. He stared up at Yuuri for a moment more, than abruptly stood and walked around the bed, heading swiftly for the door. "I can't..." he muttered, when Yuuri caught up with him and grabbed his arm, then cleared his throat and said more clearly, "I don't want to have this conversation with you." He didn't turn around, though Yuuri kept tugging.
"Wolfram, look at me. I'm not going to give up."
Wolfram jerked his arm from Yuuri's grasp. "Damn it, Yuuri! You're so-- You wimp! You think you're so... determined and-- and noble, but really you're just stupid. That's all. You're just plain stupid and you trust everyone and... love people you shouldn't..." He bowed his head as his voice grew thick. "...And you should have figured it out by now. I mean, God, you said it just a minute ago. I shouldn't have to tell you. I shouldn't have to say any of this... I don't want to say this."
Yuuri said nothing. He took a step back without meaning to. Because he was starting to get the terrible feeling that maybe he did know what Wolfram was talking about...
But, no, that couldn't be what he meant. Yuuri immediately hated himself for even thinking it. But he wasn't thinking it. He couldn't be.
"And," his husband added, "you don't want to hear it." Moving slowly, carefully keeping his vision focused in the exact opposite direction as Yuuri, Wolfram sat down once more, on the near side of the bed. He folded his hands in his lap, then tucked them between his knees.
Yuuri swallowed. "I think I have to, though," he said quietly. He inched forward just enough to grab hold of the bedpost, squeezing as if by keeping it in his grip he could keep Wolfram from slipping away, too.
"It shouldn't matter," Wolfram said. Yuuri wanted so badly to see his face, to touch him and make sure he was alright... Except, of course, Yuuri knew that he wasn't. "It was a long time ago, before you were even born. It shouldn't have anything to do with you."
"But obviously it does matter." Wolfram needed to tell him right now whatever it was he was holding back, and it needed to not be as horrible as the dark suspicions forming in the back of Yuuri's mind. "Will you please just tell me?"
For several minutes, there was no response. Wolfram leaned slowly further and further forward, as if falling, until his shoulders were almost touching his knees. Finally, he took a deep breath, and said, with forced calm, "It wasn't my fault. He was my brother and I always did what he told me. I didn't think I had a choice."
No. Maybe... Maybe it still wasn't what it sounded like. "What... happened?"
Wolfram looked up finally, and Yuuri almost wished he hadn't. "What do you think happened, Yuuri?" His cheeks were red again, against the pale of the rest of his face, and for the first time Yuuri understood that look, and the reason Wolfram's rage was so much worse than anyone else's-- it was because this was what happened when Wolfram was hurt, and Yuuri couldn't stand it. Everything inside him screamed with the urge to protect, to mend, to make it better...
All of his own fears, his dread, his selfish wish to remain blissfully ignorant, all were shunted aside as he took several unconscious, stumbling steps closer to his husband. He reached out, and stopped just short of touching Wolfram's face. "I want to help," he said. "Tell me, so that I can help."
"It's too late," Wolfram growled, through clenched teeth. Yuuri's hand clenched involuntarily by Wolfram's face, and Wolfram flinched, drawing back slightly. "I've already seen how you think of me. And you waited too long, because now I know how to live without you loving me. So divorce me. Let me go."
"No." Yuuri sank to his knees, grabbed desperately onto the other's leg. "No. I... I can be what you need. Just tell me how you need me to be." He could hardly see. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose Wolfram. He couldn't. "I told you, I won't give up. I won't let you just leave..."
Wolfram looked down at him. "Such a good king," he whispered. "His Majesty Yuuri. You'd never abuse your power... except when it comes to me." His mouth twisted into an even deeper scowl. "Selfish. Stupid."
"But you love me! I know you do! And I love you!" And then he couldn't speak anymore. He buried his face between the mattress and Wolfram's knee and sobbed. There was just nothing else he could do. Everything was falling apart. Everything he loved was being hurt and taken away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He clung more tightly to Wolfram's leg, trying not to think about what it would be like never to be able to touch him again, focusing instead on the feel of the fabric against his face, the damp heat of his tears and his breath bouncing back at him, the darkness and closeness that might protect him.
After some time, he felt a gentle hand in his hair.
"Yuuri." Wolfram's voice was quiet, calm. "I'm sorry." Yuuri managed to still himself enough to listen, sudden hope flooding his body. "But I can't." Yuuri immediately felt sick again. "You make me... want things. You're turning me into what he always said I was."
Yuuri was exhausted by now. His whole body hurt. Everything hurt. He moved to rest his forehead on Wolfram's knee, giving himself space to breathe. "All I want to do is love you. So just let me. Please. Just let me make you happy." He raised his head to see Wolfram looking down at him, his eyes so sad and distant that Yuuri wanted to burst into tears all over again. "I can," he added. "I know I can, if you'd just let me." He half-rose, and Wolfram's hand, like dead weight now, slid to his shoulder. "I love you." He reached for his husband's waist, like they were dancing, and for once, just this once, it seemed that Yuuri had finally done exactly the right thing, because Wolfram didn't shrink away. In fact, his free hand found Yuuri's and he pulled him just a little bit closer, so that they were touching almost exactly as they had for countless dances over seven years-- a position they both knew so well. "Please," Yuuri said again, leaning in as much as he dared. "I love you. I want to be close to you. That's the truth, and that's all there is."
He hovered near Wolfram's mouth, waiting for a response-- a word, or a kiss. Instead, he suddenly found himself unable to breathe, wrapped tightly in Wolfram's arms. He didn't mind in the slightest. It was exactly where he wanted to be.
* * *
A/N: Despite appearances, this fic does not actually take place in the same universe as "Regret". So don't think that or you'll get confused, okay?
Back to chapter V
Back to chapter I
On to chapter VII
Author: Melusine
Beta: toshimalfoy
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: WolfYuu/Yuuram, Greta
Warnings this part: Dubious consent, issues of rape
Overall warnings: Angst, violence, incest, dubious consent, statutory rape, issues of rape
Spoilers: Through season 2.
Disclaimer: Kyou Kara Maou! and related characters, situations, etc. belong to Tomo Takabayashi and various other people/companies, none of whom are me. This is a fan work; no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: It's been seven years since Yuuri became the Demon King, proposed to Wolfram, and adopted Greta. When the relationship between Yuuri and Wolfram begins to shift, and Greta is attacked, everything changes and old wounds are exposed.
Part: 6/?
Chapter VI
Greta was sitting at the kitchen table, practicing her Earth writing, when there was a sudden sort of splash from the bathroom, followed by voices. Her fathers' voices.
"Wimp! Get off of me!"
"I'm not a wimp! Ow!"
Laughter.
Her fathers' cheerful voices.
Jennifer dropped the wooden spoon she was holding and squealed in delight.
"My baby! Wolfie! I knew it was worth leaving some water in the tub!" And she dashed from the room to greet them.
Greta got up and went over to the stove, turning off the burner Jennifer had left on. She listened to the conversation taking place in the hallway, but they were being too noisy for her to actually hear anything, Jennifer overexcited and Yuuri continually trying to interrupt. By the time they got to the kitchen, Greta was back in her seat, bent over her work once more.
She didn't look up when they came in.
"Greta!" Yuuri's voice was full of expectations she had no intention of fulfilling. She wasn't going to jump up and hug him. She wasn't going to tell him she missed him, or that she was glad to see him. She wasn't going to give him anything he didn't deserve.
No matter how hurt he sounded when she made no response and he said her name a second time. Then quiet. Neither Wolfram nor Jennifer spoke. A hand on her head...
How dare he!
She shook him off and stood up so quickly that she knocked her chair over. Good; it made a nice crash. Which she shouted over.
"Don't touch me!"
Yuuri paled.
"Greta..." said Jennifer, and Wolfram looked angry.
"A few days, you said!" Greta screamed at Yuuri. "You promised! You forgot again, didn't you? You forgot you had a daughter because I'm not really your daughter, I'm just a poor Human girl you took pity on--"
"Greta!" Wolfram barked, cutting her off. "Enough! We came as soon as we could. Yuuri had to rest a little longer than expected."
"For FIVE WEEKS?"
Silence.
"Oh, my God." Yuuri looked even paler than before.
"What?" breathed Wolfram.
"Oh, my God," said Yuuri again. "I should have expected-- I-- I felt something slip, when we were coming here. I got... distracted-- just for a second-- and I felt it slip, but-- I thought time was just sort of snapping into place, but..."
"Are you telling me," his husband growled, "that instead of going three days backwards we've gone a month forwards?"
Yuuri was still staring at Greta. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. She could tell he was about to cry. Wimp. "I'm so sorry..."
She gritted her teeth. "You tried to go back three days? Why didn't you just leave three days earlier?"
"I couldn't... I'm sorry..."
Usually it was impossible to stay mad at Yuuri. He was so sincere, felt so guilty, had such good intentions... But she was so angry. Stuck here, in a foreign world, with no possibility of anything familiar-- forgotten, abandoned, all because her fathers couldn't deal with her, didn't want to see how painful every second of her life was now.
And it was their fault in the first place. Yuuri had taken her in carelessly, on a teenage whim. No thought of political ramifications. And Wolfram had turned her into a Demon princess, put her on display, elevated her and made everything worse because she was still a Human no matter how much he pretended. And what good had all his overbearing protectiveness done if he forgot about her when she needed him? What good had all that sword training brought her if she couldn't defend herself when it really mattered?
They were careless, both of them. They called her their daughter, but everyone knew it was a lie. And they kept proving it-- by letting this happen to her, by taking her here and leaving her...
And now she was crying in front of them and it was stupid because they didn't deserve to get to see her like this. They didn't deserve to know how much they'd hurt her, how much she'd needed them when they weren't there.
She couldn't see anything through her tears, but she refused to wipe her eyes because that would be like admitting she didn't want to be crying. "I was better off in my uncle's house," she said. "They didn't care about me, but they never pretended to, and at least I was safe."
"How can you say that?" Yuuri's voice was so full of pain... "Of course we care about you. You're right, we didn't protect you enough, but we do love you! That's why you're here-- It's safer--"
"No," said Wolfram suddenly. "We have to take her back. I knew this was a bad idea. Greta, we've failed you-- so many times-- but we'll make it right. I promise. I swear it's going to be alright."
"How?" Greta forced out, using all her will to keep the sobs at bay. "How can it possibly be alright? What do you think you can do to fix it?"
"We'll help you put it behind you," he said, meeting her eyes. She knew exactly what he meant but couldn't say in front of Yuuri.
But that wasn't enough. Whatever Wolfram was going to do for his revenge, it wouldn't take away what happened.
"It's too late," she said, believing it with all her heart. The hopelessness pressed down on her and she felt the warm tears still falling from her chin in a steady stream. She turned around and walked away, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Don't you dare follow me," she added, as she heard Yuuri start forward.
Wolfram said softly, "Let her go."
And yet, after a moment of hesitation or argument, he went after her, catching up to her in the hall.
She spun around to face him, afraid that if she didn't he might try to touch her...
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. I know that doesn't do any good, but... I love you. We love you. And I know that counts for something."
She kept her mouth firmly shut, afraid she would start sobbing in earnest, or that she would succumb to the sincerity in his words, the love and concern and pain in his face.
"And," he said, his gaze never wavering from hers, "even if you never forgive me, I can't take you back home yet. I'd rather have you hate me than risk your safety again."
She stared at him in shock a moment longer, then ran away, up to her room that was really his room, shut the door and propped the desk chair under the doorknob, wishing she could run even farther away.
* * *
Yuuri watched his daughter run away from him, and wanted to cry himself.
"That might be the most mature thing you've ever said."
Yuuri turned around to find Wolfram standing at the entrance to the kitchen. "So you agree?" he asked tentatively.
"No. But there's nothing I can do about it, is there?"
"... Are you going to hate me, too?"
"If I did, would it make you change your mind?" Wolfram started towards him and, when Yuuri shook his head no, reached out to cup his cheek. "So you're sure you're doing this for the right reasons?"
Yuuri hesitated, searching his feelings one more time. He had been selfish and irresponsible to put off this visit for so long, but his reason for taking her here in the first place remained simply for her safety. Because the thought of Greta being home right now, in that huge castle where they would never be able to watch her all the time, made him sick with fear. So he nodded.
Wolfram kissed him lightly. "Alright, then."
Yuuri took a moment to enjoy it, then said, "And what do you mean, 'the most mature thing I've ever said'? I'm mature; I'm twenty-two."
His husband laughed at him and brushed Yuuri's bangs from his forehead.
"I mean," Yuuri went on, "if you met me now for the first time, would you still call me a wimp?"
Wolfram smirked, making Yuuri blush. "Of course I would, Wimp."
Yuuri pouted in response, and was rewarded by a small bite to his lip. He whimpered, which caused Wolfram to make a low sound in his throat and kiss him again, harder.
And this time it was Yuuri who pulled away, because they were in the hallway of his parents' tiny house and because Greta was upstairs crying. And because it had been Wolfram that distracted him enough that time slid forward four weeks on the way here.
"Do you think," Yuuri started, before Wolfram could comment, "that... I made a mistake, taking her in?" He'd almost said "we", because it was hard to remember that Wolfram hadn't been her father at first, not until it was official and Wolfram jumped in to call them a family. It had been Yuuri's decision, and at the time it hadn't occurred to him that Wolfram would be her other parent. And yet, at the same time, he hadn't really thought he, Yuuri, would be responsible for her.
"I don't know," said Wolfram. "But I'm still glad you did."
"But it's because of me--"
"It's also thanks to us," Wolfram spoke over him, "that she didn't kill herself. Remember? That's because we raised her well and taught her she was worth something. You taught her she was worth something, when you adopted her and loved her even though she tried to kill you."
Yuuri, who was avoiding Wolfram's intense gaze, laughed softly. "I forgot about that. Hurt my ankle."
"And you saved her from the rest of us, who wanted to keep her locked up in prison."
"Still," said Yuuri. "If I had to make the decision again... I mean, I was so young. I didn't really think it through..."
"Yuuri, look at me." Wolfram caught Yuuri's chin in his hand. "If you had thought it through-- If you had to make the decision now and you thought out all the possibilities and all the things that could go wrong and all the political consequences... You would make the same decision. That's what kind of wimp you are. And that's why everyone follows you."
Yuuri was warm all over. Wolfram didn't often speak to him like this, but when he did, his blind faith made Yuuri's head swim and he actually did feel like the Great Demon King and so he pulled his husband to him--
And heard the sounds of his father coming home from work. They must have arrived in late afternoon, though they'd left the temple mid-morning. Then again, they'd also arrived a month later than when they'd left.
Wolfram chuckled against his lips. "Maybe we should continue this conversation another time?"
Yuuri was almost tempted to suggest they merely relocate to the nearest bathroom, but then he heard Shouri's voice as well, and somehow that was much worse-- the thought that there might be any chance that his brother would see him kissing a boy... Yes, they were married, and yes, there had been a brief kiss of sorts during the wedding ceremony, but as far as Shouri knew (so Yuuri desperately hoped), the marriage was no more sincere than their engagement had been for so many years.
He didn't care what his mother thought, partly because she would believe what she wanted, regardless of whether it was true. And he knew his father wasn't particularly concerned about his son's sexuality, except perhaps wanting to know that he was happy. But Shouri... Well, Yuuri didn't actually know what he thought, and knew intellectually that his brother would still accept him if he was gay... But Yuuri wasn't gay. And there would inevitably be a certain amount of disappointment because, well, no one wanted to be like that... Yuuri didn't. And he wasn't. What was happening, what had happened last night, was all just because Wolfram was Wolfram. And he wasn't sure anyone else would understand that.
Yuuri stepped away from his husband. A little too abruptly, judging from the look on Wolfram's face. But the slightly wounded expression was quickly hidden, and if Yuuri didn't know Wolfram so well he would have thought he'd imagined it.
Wolfram gave him an "oh, well" sort of smile, then moved to take Yuuri's hand but stopped himself, and instead led the way to greet Yuuri's family, while Yuuri tried to will away his blush of guilt.
* * *
When the conversation turned to news and the extended family and other things Wolfram didn't understand, he excused himself to go and check on Greta, taking with him the books he'd brought from home. Unsurprisingly, her door was closed. He knocked and called her name.
Silence.
He knocked again-- no response. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked.
"Greta... At least say something... Let me know you're alright."
There was silence for a good thirty seconds, and Wolfram was about to kick down the door when he finally heard movement and a scraping noise, and she let him in, then quickly crossed the room again and sat down on the bed. She didn't look at him.
"Of course I'm alright," she said.
She had washed her face and redone her hair, and to all appearances seemed perfectly composed. Wolfram had taught her that. If only Yuuri were as good a study as she. Still, at this moment, seeing her perched on the edge of her bed, her back straight and her hands in her lap, made his stomach twist. He hadn't meant to teach her she couldn't show weakness to him.
She relaxed almost imperceptibly at the sound of him securing the door's simple lock. He came over to her to hand her the books. She hesitated, as if deciding whether it was worth the effort to raise her arms and accept them, but in the end took the three volumes from his hands.
"How long am I going to be here?" she asked, running her fingers over an embossed title. "I mean," she went on, even as he opened his mouth to answer, "do you know anything yet?"
He sat down next to her, maintaining a careful distance. "We've sent scouts in every direction, and we're still investigating the guards and the staff. It's going to take some time, though; remember, we also have to keep it all quiet. And it's only been a week for us."
Her mouth twisted. "Yuuri--"
"He didn't do it on purpose," Wolfram interrupted. "He's doing the best he can." He watched her. Her head was slightly bowed, her expression unhappy but otherwise unreadable. "And when we get back," he added, "they'll have made a month's worth of progress. Maybe the next time we visit, it will be to take you home."
"I hate it here," she said quietly.
Wolfram fought a surge of anger against the wimp for doing this to their daughter. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
She bit her lip. After another moment, she stood and went over to the bookshelf. She put away the books he'd brought, and pulled out another. It fell open to reveal a thick envelope stuffed between the pages. "Could you--" She started, the letter in her hand, as she re-shelved the book and came over to him. She paused, thought for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision and held the envelope out to him. "This is for Anissina."
He nodded. "Of course." It was heavy-- at least seven pages. That stung, just a little, because Wolfram was sure Greta had never talked to him for seven pages. But, then again, he was her father, and apparently Anissina was her best friend. "I'll take it to her as soon as we get home."
"Thanks." Blushing slightly, she sat down beside him once more. Still leaving so much space between them.
She'd hugged him last time-- But for her, he reminded himself, that was five weeks ago, and she'd spent those five weeks feeling increasingly lonely and abandoned. No wonder she was back to not wanting to touch him. No wonder she'd written to Anissina, who hadn't betrayed her.
"I'm sorry," he said again, then mentally berated himself for it. He'd been spending too much time with Yuuri. What good were apologies in a situation like this? All he could do was try to keep the promises he hadn't yet broken. He swallowed. "I know you'll be alright, though. Yuuri's right about one thing-- You have so many people who love you. And that does matter. It might not feel like that now, but..." He faltered. Turned the letter over and over in his hands. "If there was any way I could-- Greta, I would do anything to keep you from feeling like I did. I never meant to abandon you. I never forgot about you or regretted having you as a daughter. Maybe it's selfish, but I wouldn't take it back for anything--" He finally got hold of himself and shut his mouth. Before he told her that no one had ever loved him like she did, that she'd given him something besides Yuuri to live for, which had been so important when his fiancé cared for Wolfram no more than he did everyone else.
He looked up, and found Greta was staring at him. He blushed.
"I love you, too," she said softly.
* * *
Greta still wouldn't speak to Yuuri, but that was hardly surprising. And at least she wasn't yelling anymore.
According to his mother, Greta had seemed alright this past month, if a little down. A lot of sleeping, a lot of time alone in her room, but nothing out of the ordinary for someone recovering from illness. Although they did worry, Miko said, that it was taking so long. Yuuri told his parents that it would most likely take a while longer, and it was all normal for her condition, which wasn't quite like anything he knew of on Earth.
He wasn't sure they believed him. But that wasn't exactly new. When he'd first started traveling between the worlds-- when his real life started-- he'd kept it all secret from them, and they in turn hadn't told him they already knew. And now he was hiding not only this, but also the physical nature of his relationship with Wolfram.
Yes, he was almost positive they didn't know.
And he very much wanted to keep it that way. But discretion and restraint seemed increasingly difficult when he was lying on the floor of what was now Greta's room, feeling Wolfram breathing on his neck, his body so close... They couldn't touch. Greta was sleeping only a few feet away.
So Yuuri gave in, deciding that, once again, he had only one option. He got up quietly, careful not to disturb his husband, though he was pretty sure Wolfram wasn't fully asleep judging by how still and silent he was.
He was right. He'd only just begun to stroke himself, leaning against the bathroom wall and closing his eyes, remembering Wolfram touching him, Wolfram inside him, when the door opened and he jumped in surprise and opened his eyes to see Wolfram himself. Yuuri felt his face go hot in embarrassment, even as his arousal increased.
Wolfram locked the door behind him-- why hadn't Yuuri remembered to do that? Perhaps part of him had been anticipating just this...
"I forgot to mention," said Wolfram, turning to him with the beginnings of a smirk. "There's a new rule."
Yuuri groaned as his husband came towards him. "I thought we were done with rules."
Wolfram reached out and cradled Yuuri's face with one hand, and reached down with the other. "Just this one," he said, over Yuuri's sharp inhale. "You're not allowed to touch yourself anymore."
"What?" Yuuri gasped, half in surprise, and half because of the other boy's tight fist around his erection.
His husband kissed his face, just by his ear, and said quietly, "You don't get to come without me anymore."
"But... What if you're not there?" Yuuri managed between heavy breaths as Wolfram moved his hand slowly.
Wolfram growled into Yuuri's neck and took his hand away, ignoring Yuuri's high little noise of protest. "Then you find me. I want to be there every time you come. I want to see it, I want to feel it--"
"--And then wash it off," said Yuuri quietly, before he could stop himself. He squeezed his eyes shut as Wolfram tensed, already regretting his words. If there was a time to talk about that-- and Yuuri wasn't sure there was-- it certainly wasn't now.
After a moment, Wolfram said, "What do you want from me?" His voice was low, expressionless.
"I just... I just want you to..." Yuuri didn't know how to say what he wanted, so he fell silent.
"What? You want me to love your come, Yuuri? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to taste it? You want me to take you in my mouth?"
The sudden image-- Wolfram's mouth on him, Wolfram's tongue, Wolfram accepting him-- brought Yuuri's erection, which had been beginning to soften, back at full force and his hips jerked forward of their own accord. He couldn't help the hissed "Yes" against his husband's ear.
There was another pause, which seemed to last forever, and then Wolfram whispered, "Keep your eyes closed," and dropped to his knees.
Yuuri obeyed, and his hands found Wolfram's soft hair. He tried not to moan, feeling warm breath teasing him as Wolfram took hold of Yuuri once more, and hesitated again--
Then there was hot and wet and pulling...
Yuuri tilted his head back. And even though he bit his lip, the needy, choked little sound that escaped him was enough to make him just the slightest bit jealous of what Wolfram was doing, and his mouth water at the thought of doing it back.
Not that he could ever hope to do it like this. Once he started, Wolfram's every movement was confident, each lick was deliberate, each application of suction and pressure controlled and precise. He even held Yuuri's hips steady against the wall, keeping him from-- as he so badly wanted to-- bucking forward into that wet heat. Then Wolfram swallowed him and, God, that was his throat that Yuuri was suddenly thrusting into because Wolfram had released him and Wolfram made some sort of low sound that vibrated all through Yuuri and he came, hard, his hands fisted in Wolfram's hair, pressing Wolfram's face against his stomach.
He didn't know how long it had taken for him to finish, but he knew that it was exactly as long as Wolfram had intended.
He felt Wolfram draw away, sliding Yuuri's softening erection slowly out of him. Yuuri, no longer able to summon the strength to keep standing, slid down the wall to sit, leaning his head back against it. He didn't dare open his eyes yet. Through his own panting he heard Wolfram breathing somewhat raggedly, a rustle of movement, and then the sound of the faucet on the sink.
When Yuuri could speak, he said, “You've done that before.” It had been so... efficient.
A pause. “Yes.”
“That was--”
“I know,” said Wolfram curtly, still over the sound of running water. “I'm good at it.”
The pleasant buzz of orgasm was fading quickly, leaving the cold of the tile and the wall seeping through the thin cotton of Yuuri's pajamas. “Can I open my eyes now?” he asked.
“Do whatever you want, Yuuri.”
Wolfram was still bent over the sink, his hair hiding his expression as he continued splashing water on his face. Yuuri's stomach twisted.
“Are you jealous?” Wolfram said, after another minute.
Yuuri didn't want to think about it. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to be jealous. So he didn't answer.
Wolfram turned the water off. “Come on, Yuuri. Doesn't it bother you at all?” He lifted his head and met Yuuri's eyes. His face was pink, whether from cold water or emotion Yuuri didn't know. “How much practice do you think it took for me to get that good? How many times must I have had someone else's cock in my mouth? How much come do you think I've swallowed? And you've kissed me, Yuuri!” He knelt beside Yuuri. “This mouth... You thought it was clean, didn't you?” He was breathing hard again, his face now blotchy with color. “Or maybe you knew. Maybe you wanted me because you knew I was a--”
“Stop it!” Yuuri finally found his voice. “I don't-- I don't care what you've done in the past...”
Then Wolfram kissed him. There was no other word for it. But it wasn't like any other kiss they'd shared. It was not just forceful but harsh, and something about the subtle sound Wolfram made was wrong, almost obscene, and his tongue in Yuuri's mouth was, as it had never been before, invasive. Yuuri knew he was being punished for something that he didn't understand, that he'd hurt Wolfram badly-- maybe more than he ever had before.
Scared, confused, Yuuri whimpered in distress. But this only made his husband growl and shove his tongue further into Yuuri's mouth, pressing harder against him.
It was like being smothered. Like Wolfram was trying to choke him.
Yuuri made another noise of protest, hopefully more emphatic than the last, and tried to push the other boy away. After a moment, Wolfram relented, then stood and backed away so quickly that he was in the opposite corner of the tiny room before Yuuri could breathe again.
"Wolfram," he said, trying not to cry. "What did I do wrong?"
His husband was looking at him with that too-familiar rage that had frightened Yuuri for seven years. "How can you--" He stopped himself.
"Alright!" said Yuuri, after another tense silence. "I am jealous, okay? The thought of someone else--"
"But what makes you better, Yuuri?" Wolfram spat, cutting him off. "How are you any different if you still treat me like your whore?"
"What?" Yuuri felt himself go pale.
"How could you ask me to do that?" Wolfram's voice was steadily rising in pitch and volume. "How could you want me to act like that? To kneel for you... and let you fuck my mouth--" As if reflexively, his hands came up to cover the lower part of his face.
Yuuri stared at him in horror. "But... Why did you do it if you didn't want to?"
Wolfram let his hands drop and sneered. "Because you told me to."
"I didn't-- You offered!"
"I was being sarcastic, Yuuri! I never expected you to ask me to do something like that..."
"You could have said no!" Yuuri cried desperately.
"No, I couldn't!" Wolfram snarled. "You own me! You're High King and I'm your spouse and that means you own me. I signed my body away to you!"
"But-- I-- Wolfram, how can you think that I would ever want you to do anything you didn't want to do?"
"Who would want to do that?" Wolfram shrieked, his voice finally breaking.
"Me," said Yuuri quietly. "What I was thinking," he continued in the stunned silence, "while you were-- I was thinking how I couldn't wait to do it for you."
Wolfram looked somehow more angry at this, but said nothing.
"And anyways," Yuuri added, "since when do you take orders from me? As if I would get angry or-- or punish you if you refused..." He met his husband's eye. "You don't believe that. You know you had a choice. You can't blame me for what you did."
Wolfram looked at him a moment more, then said, "You don't understand anything," and left.
* * *
He shouldn't have done it. The regret pounded in Wolfram's blood, in the pain in his head. He shouldn't have done it.
So why did he?
It wasn't even something he'd promised himself he'd never do, because he had never thought it might be something either of them would want. Maybe that was his mistake. He hadn't anticipated, hadn't drawn this line for himself or for Yuuri, and now--
Now it was all mixed up, a confusion of desire and disgust and anger and self-loathing.
Yuuri should have stopped him. He'd half-expected, hoped, the entire time, that the grip in his hair would move to push him away, that between the desperate noises above he would hear his husband telling him to stop because he could never want anything that made Wolfram look like that.
Then again, Wolfram reminded himself, he'd made Yuuri keep his eyes shut. He'd been watching, too, so much as he could, to make sure he wasn't peeking. He couldn't let him see. He couldn't even let himself think that Yuuri might want to see. And he couldn't let Yuuri see how much he hated it, either, that he was doing something for him that was tearing his own pride into shreds.
Of course, in the end, he'd revealed that anyway. But even that was still better than the other, darker truth, which was that a small part of him had wanted to do it and had enjoyed doing it, and that he'd gotten so hard with the sounds Yuuri was making and the knowledge that he was about to make him come...
Which just made everything even more wrong. Because he couldn't separate it, now. Because now there were all the old feelings of shame and weakness right alongside all the pleasurable feelings of Yuuri.
And he'd known that would happen, and yet he'd done it anyway. He'd let himself give in to the anger-- wanting to show Yuuri how far he would go, waiting for Yuuri to stop him-- and the irresistible lust in Yuuri's voice, and the combined reflex of always giving Yuuri what he wanted and always obeying that command.
He shouldn't have done it.
* * *
Greta wasn't happy with the sleeping situation. Not because she didn't want her parents in the same room as her, though that wasn't great, but because she didn't want them in the same room with each other.
It was selfish and awful, but she didn't particularly like that Yuuri had apparently finally returned Wolfram's feelings, or given up on finding someone else, or completed puberty, or whatever it was that had caused them to be so damned happy with each other and to do inappropriate things in various rooms of the castle without locking doors. Because it seemed clear to her that Wolfram had stopped arguing for her in favor of fucking his new husband.
Not to mention how disgusting it was.
And from the number of times (three), in the two weeks before the wedding, that she had walked past a slightly-open door or come into a room and been forced to witness her parents kissing-- but it wasn't just kissing, exactly, because it was so frantic and breathy and often included noises-- and of course that night, when she'd heard them from her place behind the folding screen, she felt she was somewhat justified in worrying that her fathers would have a hard time sleeping next to each other on her floor and keeping their hands off each other.
But Wolfram didn't want to leaver her alone. Wolfram was trying to make up for forgetting about her. Wolfram thought... thought that they were somehow similar. What was that supposed to mean, he didn't want her to feel like he had? She couldn't ask him-- he hadn't meant to say it, that much she could tell. But she hoped he was wrong, and that he'd never felt the way she did now, because she wouldn't wish it on anyone.
Even though she'd been right, and her parents couldn't be decent even for eight hours. Because she was woken in the middle of the night by Wolfram's raised voice, high and upset, a tone she'd never heard before that made her shiver.
"...ask me to do that? ...kneel ...let you fuck my mouth?"
The words were muted through the wall and the pillow she pulled over her head, but she heard enough.
Yuuri's voice, quieter, but just as distressed. The rest of the fight was a rumble of strained voices until, "...to do that?" Wolfram. Then after another minute, silence.
Greta definitely didn't want to think about what the story behind all of that was. She didn't want this image in her head or her body's reaction to it. There was enough wrong in her world.
And the next morning, Wolfram was sleeping in the living room downstairs, apparently deciding not to care about his earlier determination to stay by her. He'd left her alone to be with Yuuri, after all.
Served him right, she caught herself thinking. But she quickly took it back, because she had never seen him like this before.
He was silent through breakfast, which in itself wasn't too worrying, but he didn't eat or drink a thing, though he poked at his food, occasionally lifting a laden spoon to his mouth before deciding against it and setting it down again. He didn't look directly at anyone. His posture was even stiffer than usual, but that control did not extend to his expression, which was disturbing. He looked... gone. Worse than when Yuuri had chosen this place over them. Like the real Wolfram was somewhere else entirely and all they got was what had been left behind.
* * *
Wolfram became aware that Greta was watching him, and that she was worried. But there was nothing he could do about that. He couldn't force himself to open his mouth to eat. He couldn't will his features into anything resembling a proper expression. He couldn't take back what he'd done-- then or now-- or how loudly he had yelled in a house whose walls were not made of thick stone.
He was pathetic-- one bad decision and he was letting it all go to hell. Maybe he didn't deserve to have what he was too weak to keep. Maybe it had been stupid of him to think that he could do this with Yuuri. All those years spent wanting Yuuri, and he'd never thought about what he would do when he had him. Never thought about the possibility that Yuuri wouldn't be how Wolfram expected him to be. Or that Wolfram wouldn't be what he expected of himself.
He could think of no way to fix it.
And yet here was Yuuri, across the table, constantly glancing at him and then quickly away again and generally looking terrified. Fidgeting. Itching to alleviate his own guilt. Wolfram couldn't look at him.
Wolfram couldn't look at anyone. He was so exposed! Knowing everyone could tell there was something wrong. Not knowing how much they'd heard or figured out. Knowing how much their opinion mattered to Yuuri.
Yuuri didn't linger at his parents' house. As soon as he could politely do so, he started talking about how they'd missed a month now (because he wasn't about to try manipulating the time lines again) and they really should get back as soon as possible. So before Wolfram knew it, he was in the bathroom again with Yuuri. He didn't want to go back, though. He didn't want to be alone with his husband because Yuuri would want to talk... He stared at the water in the tub, already feeling sick, while behind him Yuuri said goodbye.
Greta said his name, and he turned around. She was so concerned for him and there was so much wrong with that-- "We'll be back soon," he said quietly. "I promise."
She nodded slowly and said, "Thank you for the books." Then she stepped back as Yuuri came up to take Wolfram's arm.
"Ready?" Yuuri asked. Wolfram wasn't, but he stepped into the bathtub anyways and braced himself.
Like always, it was cold and dark and wet between the worlds. And for a moment, while the powerful swirling currents threatened to tear him apart, Wolfram allowed Yuuri to wrap both arms around him.
Then they were sitting in the fountain in the castle courtyard, and the air was even colder than the water. He didn't shake Yuuri off, just waited and let the wimp realize he shouldn't be touching him.
"Your Majesty! Your Highness!" Gunter came rushing towards them, calling for blankets. He helped Yuuri out of the fountain, and Wolfram sat for a moment just shivering and feeling the cold and how much he hated it. He was forced to move, however, when his husband looked back at him worriedly, holding out a hand.
Wolfram stood up and stepped down from the fountain by himself.
And here were blankets, finally, being draped over his shoulders, and that at least kept the wind out, and as they made their way inside there were more people come to welcome them home and Gwendal was demanding an explanation and--
"Are you alright?" Conrad asked him.
"Obviously not, Weller; I'm freezing!" was what he wanted to say. But what came out was only, "I'm cold," and it sounded defensive instead of dismissive. He pulled the blankets more tightly around himself.
God, now Gwendal had turned his attention to Wolfram, too, and Wolfram couldn't stand that look. Fear and pity. Because Gwendal had seen Wolfram in this state before, had tried to warn him it would happen again if Wolfram kept giving himself away to Yuuri. And Conrad, who hadn't seen him like this, reached out and put a hand on Wolfram's shoulder, and Wolfram wanted to scream.
But Yuuri took his sleeve and gently tugged him along to their bedroom, as everyone else took the silent cue from their High King and let them go.
* * *
The ache in Yuuri's chest grew stronger as he watched Wolfram go over to the dresser without looking at him and begin to change out of his wet clothes. He himself found he couldn't move, except to turn away. He was sure his husband didn't want him looking just now.
Maybe not ever, judging from the silence and the way that, even after he was dressed and Yuuri half-turned his head, hoping to meet his eye, Wolfram refused even to acknowledge his presence. Instead, he sat down on the bed to pull his boots on-- quickly, as if he had somewhere to go, but not hurriedly.
Yuuri was still by the door, and so of course Wolfram had chosen to sit on the other side of the bed, facing the window and with his back to Yuuri. Reacting instinctively, through some sense of self-protection against the loneliness that was closing in on him, he followed. But Wolfram ducked his head as he approached, just enough to hide his expression.
So Yuuri turned away again, folding his arms across his chest, trying to hold himself together. "Conrad told me there were things you wouldn't forgive," he said. "Is this what he meant?"
Behind him, he heard Wolfram catch his breath. "Yes," he said after a moment. "I expect this is exactly what he meant."
Yuuri turned around, but Wolfram still wouldn't look at him. He couldn't keep his voice steady. "No. It isn't fair. How am I supposed to know-- You never explain anything. I mean, you're right, I don't understand anything, but how can I when you never explain? You can't just--" He had to pause to take a shaky breath. "You can't do this. You have to tell me what's going on."
Wolfram was silent for a while, his head still bowed so that Yuuri couldn't see his face. "I shouldn't have to explain," he said at last. "I shouldn't have to ask you to... to treat me well."
"But I didn't think I was treating you badly, Wolfram." Tears were inevitable, now; Yuuri could feel it building in the tightness at the back of his neck. "I love you. Everything I do... It's just because I love you."
More silence.
He suppressed a sob, letting it shake through him noiselessly. "Wolfram. Please say something. You have to say something." After another pause with no answer, he went on in a frightened sort of whisper. "...If you don't want me, just say so."
Wolfram brought a hand to his face to cover his eyes, shielding himself even further. "I don't want you."
Yuuri hadn't actually expected that. He had to try very hard to keep himself from seizing his husband, shaking him, begging him to take it back.
"I didn't know it would be like this," Wolfram went on. "I thought you would be different."
Yuuri wiped his eyes and nose on his still-damp sleeve, struggled to speak. "Different from what?" he asked shakily. "What happened before? Wolf, please, just tell me."
Wolfram looked up sharply. "Don't call me that," he snapped.
"What?" Yuuri was distracted. "You mean 'Wolf'? You've never said--"
"He's the only other person that calls me that. So don't... I'm already reminded enough."
"'He'? You mean... But... Other people call you 'Wolf'. I've heard Conrad say it. I think I got it from him."
The other boy's face was rapidly losing blood, the angry color turning to a sick pale. He stared up at Yuuri for a moment more, than abruptly stood and walked around the bed, heading swiftly for the door. "I can't..." he muttered, when Yuuri caught up with him and grabbed his arm, then cleared his throat and said more clearly, "I don't want to have this conversation with you." He didn't turn around, though Yuuri kept tugging.
"Wolfram, look at me. I'm not going to give up."
Wolfram jerked his arm from Yuuri's grasp. "Damn it, Yuuri! You're so-- You wimp! You think you're so... determined and-- and noble, but really you're just stupid. That's all. You're just plain stupid and you trust everyone and... love people you shouldn't..." He bowed his head as his voice grew thick. "...And you should have figured it out by now. I mean, God, you said it just a minute ago. I shouldn't have to tell you. I shouldn't have to say any of this... I don't want to say this."
Yuuri said nothing. He took a step back without meaning to. Because he was starting to get the terrible feeling that maybe he did know what Wolfram was talking about...
But, no, that couldn't be what he meant. Yuuri immediately hated himself for even thinking it. But he wasn't thinking it. He couldn't be.
"And," his husband added, "you don't want to hear it." Moving slowly, carefully keeping his vision focused in the exact opposite direction as Yuuri, Wolfram sat down once more, on the near side of the bed. He folded his hands in his lap, then tucked them between his knees.
Yuuri swallowed. "I think I have to, though," he said quietly. He inched forward just enough to grab hold of the bedpost, squeezing as if by keeping it in his grip he could keep Wolfram from slipping away, too.
"It shouldn't matter," Wolfram said. Yuuri wanted so badly to see his face, to touch him and make sure he was alright... Except, of course, Yuuri knew that he wasn't. "It was a long time ago, before you were even born. It shouldn't have anything to do with you."
"But obviously it does matter." Wolfram needed to tell him right now whatever it was he was holding back, and it needed to not be as horrible as the dark suspicions forming in the back of Yuuri's mind. "Will you please just tell me?"
For several minutes, there was no response. Wolfram leaned slowly further and further forward, as if falling, until his shoulders were almost touching his knees. Finally, he took a deep breath, and said, with forced calm, "It wasn't my fault. He was my brother and I always did what he told me. I didn't think I had a choice."
No. Maybe... Maybe it still wasn't what it sounded like. "What... happened?"
Wolfram looked up finally, and Yuuri almost wished he hadn't. "What do you think happened, Yuuri?" His cheeks were red again, against the pale of the rest of his face, and for the first time Yuuri understood that look, and the reason Wolfram's rage was so much worse than anyone else's-- it was because this was what happened when Wolfram was hurt, and Yuuri couldn't stand it. Everything inside him screamed with the urge to protect, to mend, to make it better...
All of his own fears, his dread, his selfish wish to remain blissfully ignorant, all were shunted aside as he took several unconscious, stumbling steps closer to his husband. He reached out, and stopped just short of touching Wolfram's face. "I want to help," he said. "Tell me, so that I can help."
"It's too late," Wolfram growled, through clenched teeth. Yuuri's hand clenched involuntarily by Wolfram's face, and Wolfram flinched, drawing back slightly. "I've already seen how you think of me. And you waited too long, because now I know how to live without you loving me. So divorce me. Let me go."
"No." Yuuri sank to his knees, grabbed desperately onto the other's leg. "No. I... I can be what you need. Just tell me how you need me to be." He could hardly see. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose Wolfram. He couldn't. "I told you, I won't give up. I won't let you just leave..."
Wolfram looked down at him. "Such a good king," he whispered. "His Majesty Yuuri. You'd never abuse your power... except when it comes to me." His mouth twisted into an even deeper scowl. "Selfish. Stupid."
"But you love me! I know you do! And I love you!" And then he couldn't speak anymore. He buried his face between the mattress and Wolfram's knee and sobbed. There was just nothing else he could do. Everything was falling apart. Everything he loved was being hurt and taken away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He clung more tightly to Wolfram's leg, trying not to think about what it would be like never to be able to touch him again, focusing instead on the feel of the fabric against his face, the damp heat of his tears and his breath bouncing back at him, the darkness and closeness that might protect him.
After some time, he felt a gentle hand in his hair.
"Yuuri." Wolfram's voice was quiet, calm. "I'm sorry." Yuuri managed to still himself enough to listen, sudden hope flooding his body. "But I can't." Yuuri immediately felt sick again. "You make me... want things. You're turning me into what he always said I was."
Yuuri was exhausted by now. His whole body hurt. Everything hurt. He moved to rest his forehead on Wolfram's knee, giving himself space to breathe. "All I want to do is love you. So just let me. Please. Just let me make you happy." He raised his head to see Wolfram looking down at him, his eyes so sad and distant that Yuuri wanted to burst into tears all over again. "I can," he added. "I know I can, if you'd just let me." He half-rose, and Wolfram's hand, like dead weight now, slid to his shoulder. "I love you." He reached for his husband's waist, like they were dancing, and for once, just this once, it seemed that Yuuri had finally done exactly the right thing, because Wolfram didn't shrink away. In fact, his free hand found Yuuri's and he pulled him just a little bit closer, so that they were touching almost exactly as they had for countless dances over seven years-- a position they both knew so well. "Please," Yuuri said again, leaning in as much as he dared. "I love you. I want to be close to you. That's the truth, and that's all there is."
He hovered near Wolfram's mouth, waiting for a response-- a word, or a kiss. Instead, he suddenly found himself unable to breathe, wrapped tightly in Wolfram's arms. He didn't mind in the slightest. It was exactly where he wanted to be.
* * *
A/N: Despite appearances, this fic does not actually take place in the same universe as "Regret". So don't think that or you'll get confused, okay?
Back to chapter V
Back to chapter I
On to chapter VII