Unforgivable-- Chapter VII, part 2
Title: Unforgivable
Author: Melusine
Beta: toshimalfoy
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: WolfYuu/Yuuram, Greta
Warnings this part: Statutory rape, issues of rape, incest
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: 7/?
The water wasn't hot enough. But that was a familiar feeling, and Wolfram was damned if he was going to revert to the old habit of making his baths hotter and hotter in a vain attempt to scald away the indelible affects of what had been done to him. All that was over. It had been over for thirty years.
And yet Yuuri had dragged it all up. Wanted to draw it out of him, make him remember everything so that Yuuri could know...
But he didn't want Yuuri to know.
He sunk down in the water until he was up to his neck and pretended he didn't remember entertaining fantasies of drowning himself. Pretended that among all the things that stopped him, one of them wasn't Conrad.
He thought instead about the conversation he knew was taking place elsewhere.
Though it was terrifying to think what Weller was saying. Wolfram didn't want Yuuri to think of him the way he was back then, with his weakness and his childish acceptance of whatever his older brother wanted. And the worst part was that Yuuri might actually think no less of him for it. Yuuri might imagine the old Wolfram-- tame, compliant, eager to please, all but incapable of anger-- versus the Wolfram he knew-- full of violence and ambition and pride and revenge and so many other things the wimp had always hated-- and wish that his husband had never learned to be selfish... Wish that Wolfram would still just let things happen and never argue or deny Yuuri anything he wanted.
Now the bathwater was boiling. Wolfram was burning with anger. It felt good, such a contrast to the old chill and emptiness of shame and betrayal and loneliness.
He considered the possibility that Conrad would leave, too ashamed to be in the presence of the king he loved to the point of worship. Or that Yuuri wouldn't be able to forgive him. The thought made him smirk, but in reality he knew that it would make Yuuri miserable to irreparably lose his best friend. And if Wolfram could live with Weller hanging around, then Yuuri probably could, too.
Of course, seeing Conrad every day had been a lot easier before he'd started thinking about all this again.
And how much would Conrad tell? Would he talk about all the details? Wolfram shuddered. Or would Yuuri be allowed to escape with only what he'd inferred from Wolfram's own words?
If Conrad confessed to everything... If he told Yuuri how far it had gotten, how far Wolfram had let it go... If Yuuri learned about that last time...
Wrong.
Wolfram shouldn't have let his thoughts take him this far. These were memories he'd worked hard to bury. He pressed his palms against his eyes, hard, trying to block it out-- But, no, that was a mistake, too, because it had been so dark that night... So dark he'd felt blind. The fires of the "unrest" within their own borders had been burning for two days and the smoke obscured any light the stars might have provided. No moon. He couldn't see anything at all. Nothing to distract him from what was happening.
And nothing to warn him that it was going to. He'd been stupid. He should have realized that between Gwendal being gone to help tend to the trouble and any spare guards gone with him, there were only Gwendal's empty chambers on one side of Wolfram's bedroom, and Conrad on the other-- there to protect him, just in case, while everyone else was gone. But with the fuzziness of interrupted sleep and the fact that nothing had ever happened in the middle of the night like this before, Wolfram forgot what Conrad had always promised he would do when he had the chance, and he slipped for a moment and thought maybe his brother was here to comfort him, or pull him out of bed and take him where the action was, or just to check on him and make sure he was safe... Wolfram had actually smiled sleepily at the familiar silhouette at his doorway.
Stupid.
When the door closed, Wolfram had made room on the tiny bed. Stupid. When Conrad joined him and called him his "little Wolf", Wolfram had clung to him, happy at the chance to touch him in a way that didn't hurt. Stupid. He'd hoped... But that had been stupid.
Because then Conrad reached down between them, making Wolfram squirm and cling tighter and hide his face even in the black dark, and suddenly he was Conrad's little whore instead. Again. And soon he was bucking into the older boy's fist and stifling his small, shameful cry in the pillow.
But that part hadn't really been anything unusual. Nor had he then been surprised as the same hand came up to caress his jaw, a thumb sliding into his pliant mouth, giving him that same unwelcome taste of his own come and beckoning him to open wider in preparation for what was to follow-- what always followed. Conrad's idea of a fair trade.
But this time he wasn't on his knees in a deserted hallway, terrified that somehow there might not be a warning step as someone approached... This time he was lying back on his own bed, his head on his own pillow while his mouth and throat were slowly filled with the hard length that bore down to choke him.
And he was so stupid to have been relieved when it was dragged out of him almost right away. Stupid to think that it was going to be over that easily.
He realized soon enough, however, what Conrad's real intention was when he tugged down Wolfram's pajama bottoms and gently spread his legs. And even then, shaking with fear, it didn't occur to him to protest. He was sure that whatever his brother did to him, good or bad, he must deserve it.
So he bit his lip and cried in the dark while Conrad fucked him.
It hurt more than he'd expected. It was impossible, in fact, to hold back all of his sounds of pain. But each gasp, each grunt, each whimper, was only taken as encouragement, and made the other boy tighten his bruising grip on Wolfram's legs and move faster, thrusting deeper and with more force, his mouth running the whole time, murmurs turning to hisses turning to choked exclamations-- all about how good it felt and how much Wolfram wanted it because he was such a little slut.
Wolfram cried in the dark while Conrad fucked him and when Conrad came Wolfram imagined it seeping through the torn walls of his insides-- into his blood stream-- infecting him and contaminating him even further. Marking him further as Conrad's possession.
"Wolfram--" His brother's concerned voice. "Wolf, you're cold..."
A lit lamp. Blood on the sheets. Strong hands turning his face to the light.
Dawning horror in Conrad's expression-- Tears-- Apologies-- Accusations-- Promises-- Begging for forgiveness--
And Wofram's own sobs spasming through him, sending stabs of pain tearing into his damaged gut.
"Why didn't you stop me, Wolf? Why didn't you tell me?"
But it wasn't Wolfram's fault. He couldn't be blamed. He'd only done what everyone had wanted him to do-- obeyed his elder without complaint.
* * *
On their fourth pass around the courtyard, Yuuri was finally able to speak.
"I... messed up," he said, not looking back at his companion a few steps behind. "And Wolfram said it reminded him of what happened with you." He swallowed. "That's how I know. And that's... really all I know." He stopped and turned around. "I'm just trying to understand-- I want to fix it--"
Conrad's expression was enough on its own to make Yuuri want to cry. But he felt too tired even for tears.
"There isn't much to understand," said Conrad slowly. "I took advantage of him. And it's true that he never protested and that I was young, too, and didn't fully understand what I was doing to him... But I took advantage of him."
Yuuri's throat was closing up again. "So did I," he said. "I didn't mean to, but-- He's right. That's what I did."
"Yuuri..." Conrad moved as if to touch him, then held himself back. "I'm sure you didn't--"
He shook his head. Conrad had so much faith in him... "I didn't listen to him. And I would understand if that's what he was mad about, but..." He took a deep breath. Then turned around and started walking again. This would be easier if they didn't have to look each other in the eye. "There was-- He... did something... even though he didn't want to. And that's the part that I don't get, and that's why I think I need to know what happened. I mean, at least... how old was he?"
Conrad knew what he meant. "I'm still not sure exactly," he said evenly, "but I believe he was a little younger than Greta is now."
Oh. Hardly more than a child. Yuuri's stomach twisted. "What do you mean, you're not sure?"
"Because my father was human, I age differently. I was away for several years and when I came back, I'd grown more than he had. I didn't understand exactly how much more..."
Feeling dizzy, Yuuri nodded, because there was nothing else to do. "And you? How old were you?"
Conrad cleared his throat. "Old enough to have known better. Almost your age."
"Oh." This time, Yuuri heard himself say it out loud. There was one question that was pounding in his head, but he knew he wouldn't get an answer-- he didn't want to.
Why? Why would anyone do whatever it was Conrad had done to his own little brother?
"And it was more than once?" Yuuri asked. He'd been wrong-- there was no such thing as too tired to cry. He could feel the tears welling hotly in his eyes, and was grateful for the shadows, though he knew his friend would hear everything in his voice. "You... you trained him..." His face heated as he suddenly realized that it was Conrad's teachings that were responsible for the short-lived ecstasy he'd had in Wolfram's mouth the night before.
"Yes," said Conrad, voice audibly strained now. "It went on for years. I... was addicted to him-- to using him. So I kept using him and pushing him until I pushed too far..." He cleared his throat again. "I realized I was hurting him, so I left."
Yuuri felt sick. "What if that's what I'm doing now?" He stopped his feet again as the world blurred through tears. "I should let him go."
Now Conrad did reach out to grip his shoulder. "No. Yuuri, I won't pretend I know Wolfram better that you do. But I do know that it would have been better if I'd stayed, if I'd tried to at least make up for some small part of what I did to him. And I know that you aren't like I was-- You make him happy. You love him exactly as you should. And he loves you."
"But-- He loved you, too, that's why he let you--"
Conrad was shaking his head. "He loved his brother. I wasn't his brother when I was abusing him."
Yuuri covered his face with his hands. "Conrad... You don't know what I've done..."
The older man sighed. "You're right, I don't. And I don't know if it's something he'll forgive. But you said you wanted to fix it."
Yuuri took a deep breath and nodded, letting his hands fall. "I have to at least try," he reminded himself. Because maybe it was egotistical, but he still couldn't quite let himself believe that Wolfram would be better off without him. He looked up, and found Conrad watching him.
"I'm sorry," said Conrad. "For all of this. I'm sorry I can't be more help, I'm sorry for the way you found out and-- believe me, Yuuri-- I am sorry for ever hurting Wolfram."
"I know," said Yuuri.
* * *
Wolfram came back from the baths with Conrad's voice still ringing in his head. He stopped as he entered the bedroom, because Yuuri was already there.
He took too long in closing the door behind him, dreading turning around-- He didn't want Yuuri to look at him-- He didn't want to see Yuuri's expression-- He didn't want Yuuri to start talking--
But he did turn around, and resisted the impulse to hide his face or run away or scream. Still...
"Don't look at me like that," Wolfram said before he could stop himself. "I wouldn't have let you talk to him if I thought it would make you pity me."
Yuuri bit his lip, looking up at him from where he sat on the bed. "It isn't pity," he said. "I'm just sorry I hurt you. And... and I want to make it better."
"That's what you said before." Wolfram took another opportunity to avoid looking at his husband, and opened a drawer in the dresser. It was the wrong drawer, but he didn't care. "And I recall 'finding out what happened' being your solution. So isn't everything better now?"
"Wolfram--"
He slammed the drawer back in place. "Didn't hear what you wanted to hear?"
Yuuri sighed behind him. "Of course not; what I wanted to hear was that I'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. But I think I do understand a little more now."
Wolfram gazed at his hands tightening on the dresser handles. He'd decided earlier that he didn't want to know what Conrad would say about him. But now he realized he couldn't pretend the conversation hadn't happened. And he didn't want to have to wonder how much Yuuri knew-- or thought he knew-- every time he looked at him.
"What did he tell you?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.
"Just how old you both were and how long it lasted, really. And that he was addicted to you. And that you never protested."
"I never protested," Wolfram repeated. He swallowed. "I never said 'no'. But I never said 'yes', either." Which was a lie-- he'd said it once-- but he wasn't about to tell Yuuri how stupid he'd been in the beginning, when he hadn't understood what any of it meant or what was happening to his body, only that for some reason that kind of touch felt good and that Conrad could do it better than Wolfram could himself.
Do you want me to keep going?
Yes.
Wolfram had actually asked for it. Just that once, but once was all the permission Conrad needed.
"How old did he say I was," he asked, to distract himself, "in Human terms?"
"He said, a little younger than Greta."
In spite of himself, Wolfram turned to look at Yuuri in surprise.
"Was he wrong?" said Yuuri. "He said he didn't know for sure."
Wolfram stared for another moment. He tried to remember how many years it had been since Greta was as young as he'd been then... And before he knew it he was laughing. Because if Conrad had really thought he was that old-- a difference of some fifteen years for him-- Maybe it really was Conrad's mixed blood that could be blamed for everything that happened-- It was so absurd--
He didn't want to be laughing. It hurt and made it hard to breathe. But he couldn't stop. Just like when Conrad used to tickle him-- which was even funnier, because that was how it all started-- When Conrad came back and at first seemed to think that Wolfram hadn't changed at all-- that he was younger than he really was--
Now he was clutching the pain in his side, too breathless even to be making noise, remembering how he'd insisted he was too old to be tickled-- And it was true, because it was when Conrad was tickling him awake one morning that his wrist brushed against Wolfram's erection and Wolfram gasped and they both froze-- and then Conrad was touching him-- Absurd--
"What?" Yuuri's voice was full of the hope that there really was something to be laughing about. "How old were you really?"
Wolfram shook his head, turning back to the dresser. He managed to get hold of himself enough to say, "More like eleven." Only just learning to touch himself before his brother started to do it for him! But his laughter died down as he became aware of the prickle of electricity growing in the room...
He turned, ready to panic, but Yuuri was still Yuuri for the moment, his hands at his temples, eyes squeezed shut as he fought to control himself.
"Yuuri..."
"I know," said Yuuri, through measured breaths. "It's just... you were so young..." He opened his eyes to look sadly at Wolfram, then shut them again when the power around him only grew. "Just a kid."
Wolfram moved towards him carefully, and laid a hand gently on his husband's head. "But I'm alright now," he said soothingly.
Magic flared, and Wolfram was forced to back away. "You're not," said Yuuri, now gritting his teeth.
"I am, I'm fine. Yuuri, please, you have to calm down. I'm fine."
Yuuri looked up and his eyes flashed, pupils thinning into slits.
Before Wolfram could take another step back, Yuuri-who-wasn't-Yuuri reached up and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him roughly down onto the bed. Suddenly Wolfram was on his back and face-to-face with a growling Demon King.
"Has that lie protected you, Wolfram?" Yuuri's voice, but low, infused with power. "Has it kept the people you love from hurting you?"
Wolfram couldn't breathe. And he couldn't escape the grip that held him fast. This was another way in which Yuuri had power over him-- Yuuri could-- Yuuri could kill him-- Yuuri could do anything when he was like this-- Wolfram could have no hope of fighting him--
"What do you want me to say?" Wolfram hissed.
Another growl. "I want you to be honest for once in your life. You're always hiding. Do you think that makes you stronger?" A hand in Wolfram's hair, twisting... "Or does it just mean that people don't know when they're hurting you--" Pulling against his scalp. "--and so they keep--" Harder. "doing it?"
Wolfram's eyes were watering, but he refused to play this game. He stayed silent. It had to end at some point-- Yuuri would exhaust himself and pass out and none of this would matter anyways because he would forget. So he stared back at the dark eyes before him while tears leaked down his cheeks.
"What are you afraid of?" the Demon King asked him. "That if you speak up I won't listen? Is that why you let him rape you--"
"HE DIDN'T RAPE ME!" Wolfram tried to kick, to wrest himself free, but Yuuri's power held him in place, and his magic was doused before it could even start to build.
"Because you didn't say 'no'. Because this way you get to pretend you were in control, that you could have stopped it if you'd really wanted. And you get to blame yourself instead of your brother."
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. "I don't-- I don't blame myself-- I wasn't even sixty-- It wasn't my fault--"
"And now you're ninety and you're going to let it all happen again. Isn't that what you're doing, Wolf?"
Wolfram's eyes flew wide.
No.
"You don't think this is your fault?"
Wolfram was choking on terror and Yuuri's overwhelming magic. There was nothing he could do.
"Because you deserve what you get, right?"
There was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do. Oh, God, there was nothing he could do.
He couldn't stop this. It was going to happen. Yuuri was going to-- But it wouldn't even be rape no matter how Wolfram fought because they were married--
Submit. Do what he'd planned to seven years ago when he first put on a nightgown and snuck into the king's bed.
And hide it from Yuuri later.
"You won't even blame me for this," said the Demon King. "You'll never hate me."
Wolfram shut his eyes. There was nothing he could do. He tried to turn his face away, but the hand in his hair yanked him roughly back into place.
"No hiding. Not from me. Not tonight."
Hot, wet, on his face-- Wolfram's own tears. And he tried to hold it back but his whole body shook convulsively and he had to open his mouth and let it out-- sobs-- like vomit-- He squeezed his eyes shut so hard it hurt-- making it dark-- dark so he couldn't see-- dark so he could hide his face--
"Wolfram?"
Yuuri's voice-- his real voice!
NO.
He didn't want Yuuri to see him.
He still couldn't move, though now it was his own weakness that prevented it. Still at Yuuri's mercy, even if it was the real Yuuri. Still shaking with panic and tears. But hands were gentle now, and there were soft kisses on his face, and then Yuuri used his own sleeve to wipe Wolfram's nose.
God, it was humiliating. So much so that it didn't seem real. He couldn't be crying in front of the wimp.
And practically naked, too, in only his bathrobe. But he couldn't move. Not that clothes would help-- He already knew he was never going to feel safe again.
* * *
Wolfram was shaking, sounding like he was choking...
It hurt to see him like this. So much that Yuuri had recognized it through the haze of his own magic at full strength, and had somehow broken through the barrier in his mind that kept him from being himself at such times. And he remembered everything.
But this was some honesty from Wolfram at last.
He'd never wanted to make Wolfram cry, of course, and certainly not like this-- his chest heaving and the rest of his body still, as if all of his strength was being used up in sobbing-- but Wolfram had to let it out sometime and if his husband was going to cry, Yuuri wanted to be there. He wanted to be able to soothe him, to take care of him and make him feel better.
"Wolfram," he said again, kissing his eyelids and hoping to coax them open. "Breathe."
Wolfram only cried harder.
So Yuuri stroked Wolfram's hair, wondering what he should do. He couldn't say it was alright because it wasn't. Instead, he said, "Wolfram... Look at me. I told you, no hiding."
Green eyes flew open, but the look Wolfram gave him wasn't one Yuuri ever wanted to see-- he looked terrified.
"You..." Wolfram finally spoke through his tears. "You remember..."
Yuuri nodded.
Short, quick, gasping breaths. "Yuu... ri..."
He was panicking. Yuuri didn't know why, but Wolfram was shaking even more violently now. Desperate to stop it, Yuuri tried to hold him still, to stop the tremors. "Calm down," he said gently. "Please. You're making it worse."
"No..." Wolfram whimpered.
"Yes," Yuuri countered. "You have to--"
Suddenly Wolfram moved. Yuuri was on the floor before he could register that the other boy had pushed him. And Wolfram made a dash for the wardrobe-- slammed the door behind him.
* * *
No.
One thought in Wolfram's head.
No.
Not Yuuri. Not him. No.
Because hating Yuuri-- and he would hate Yuuri-- would probably kill him.
Yuuri was calling for him. Begging him to come out. His voice was close, against the door.
It was dark in here. Dark enough to hide. Not so dark that he couldn't see. That was good-- too dark and he would start remembering again.
"Can you..." said Yuuri. "Can you at least talk to me?"
The clothes surrounding him were all black-- all Yuuri's. That made sense. This was Yuuri's bedroom after all. Wolfram was just someone who'd snuck in and stayed. Like the mouse that Yuuri had been too wimpy to throw out into the cold.
Not much later, one of the cats had eaten that mouse. Yuuri didn't notice when the creature no longer made an appearance every night.
"Wolfram, I can't help you if you keep hiding."
He slid down to the floor of the wardrobe. "Stop saying that," he said finally, though he didn't know if it was loud enough for Yuuri to hear him. "You've just proven that I have every reason to hide from you."
No response, except a sigh and a knock that was probably Yuuri's forehead against the door.
Tears were still leaking down Wolfram's face, dripping from his chin, cooling in the air and making him shiver.
After some minutes, Yuuri said, "I'm sorry-- Maybe I pushed too hard. I just wanted you to open up."
That made Wolfram choke again. And his voice shook-- Weak-- But at least he was starting to get angry now-- "No. You want to force me. You want to tear me open. Don't pretend you want me to talk." Another sob. "You want me to fucking scream!"
"No. I never meant to make you cry." He sounded on the verge of tears himself. "God, Wolfram! Why can't you just trust me?"
The wardrobe burst into flames.
Wolfram heard Yuuri let out a howl of pain and stumble backwards.
"WOLFRAM!" The fire was blown out in an instant. But Yuuri's voice was still his own, raw and uncontrolled. "You can't DO this! I'm not the one who raped you!"
"SO I SHOULD FORGIVE YOU BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T GET THE CHANCE?"
"What?" A beat. "Oh my God. Is that what you think of me? I-- I didn't-- I would never-- Wolfram, it's me!"
Wolfram buried his face in his knees. His head was spinning.
Minutes passed.
Finally, Yuuri said, "Part of me says I should leave you alone. But I can't. I can't leave you while you're feeling like this." A pause. "Even if I can't fix it, I don't want you to be alone."
But now Wolfram would always be alone.
Hadn't he been alone all along?
He couldn't remember. He knew that just yesterday he'd felt reassured by Yuuri's presence, his touch, his voice. Yesterday he'd trusted his husband. But he couldn't remember what that felt like, or why he'd thought that Yuuri would never hurt him again.
And the night before that... He couldn't remember liking it. Couldn't imagine wanting Yuuri to touch him like that. Couldn't imagine how it could have felt good. All he remembered were painful-sounding noises and the stink of sweat and come.
Disgusting.
He'd always hated sex. He'd always felt sick at his own arousal. So how could he have ever wanted Yuuri? It seemed impossible now.
He was cold. The anger had died away again.
The truth was, he believed Yuuri. He believed that the real Yuuri, at least, had never intended to--
But that wasn't enough. Because it didn't mean that he was safe. Or that he would be able to forget how it had felt to be sure that Yuuri was going to hurt him in the worst possible way.
He was cold. Still in his bathrobe. At least he wasn't crying anymore.
He couldn't stay in here forever. He wanted to sleep. Maybe he would wake up and suddenly be happy again. Maybe all this would seem laughable in the morning.
There hadn't been any sound from outside in a little while. And Yuuri had spent so much magic-- enough that he'd been too weak to transform again-- that he must have fainted or fallen asleep by now.
Wolfram got to his feet and tried not to take a deep breath because, really, what would it make him if he was afraid to leave the confines of a little wooden box? He didn't need to brace himself to open the door, so he just opened it.
Yuuri wasn't passed out, however, or even sleeping. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. His hands were resting on his knees, palms up, and Wolfram could see why-- He must have been leaning against the wardrobe when Wolfram set it on fire, and now his palms were bright red and shining with burns.
He looked up as Wolfram stepped over to him. "I'm sorry for everything. I did this all wrong. But, Wolfram, I would never--"
"I know," said Wolfram, more to keep him from going on than anything else. "Why haven't you healed yourself?"
Yuuri looked down at his hands and started to cry. "I'm so tired..."
Wolfram sighed as he knelt down before his husband. "Of course you are. Here." He laid his own hands over Yuuri's. It was true he'd never been good at healing, but if he hadn't learned how to take care of burns he would have been in a lot more trouble when he was younger. He concentrated, and in the soft glow of the healing magic, he heard Yuuri's breathing evening out once more.
"Thank you," said Yuuri softly once Wolfram was done. Wolfram didn't look at him, but curled his hands over Yuuri's. Touching him didn't hurt. It felt good. But Wolfram was so scared...
Yuuri's head was starting to nod, so Wolfram risked touching him more to help him get to his feet long enough to then lie down properly on the bed. Yuuri was still fully dressed, so Wolfram started to remove his shoes.
"You're doing it again," Yuuri mumbled, though he was clearly fighting to keep his eyes open.
Wolfram didn't respond-- just pulled off the other shoe-- but he knew what Yuuri meant, because Wolfram would have to be very ill before he let Yuuri half-carry him to bed or take his shoes off for him. But Wolfram wanted to be doing this. He didn't know if Yuuri deserved it or not, but Wolfram still wanted to take care of him, to give him what he needed and what he wanted-- but on Wolfram's terms.
He turned away and went back over to the dresser drawer that was still open. He pulled out a pair of pajamas and looked closely to make sure they were his-- not Yuuri's. As soon as he tugged the pants on under his robe, he felt a little better. In another moment, he was free of the bathrobe and wearing a nice clean shirt as well.
Yuuri, incredibly, was still awake, and turned to face Wolfram as he crawled into bed.
"Is this... okay?" said Yuuri, slurring a little. "Sleeping here... with me..."
Wolfram nodded. For all that had happened, he wanted Yuuri with him.
* * *
Greta couldn't sleep.
Wolfram had been so... absent that morning. And the fight she'd heard last night... It was Yuuri's fault, that much was clear. But what could he have done that would make Wolfram react this badly?
And was it something that could be fixed? Maybe it was some sort of huge misunderstanding that had been cleared up by now-- maybe Wolfram was already himself again.
She wouldn't know, wouldn't be able to see him, for a few days at the very least. More likely a week. Possibly six months or ten years... All she could do now was wait and worry.
She tried to think about other things. Maybe Wolfram, despite his state of mind, had still remembered to give Anissina her letter. Of course, she was worried about that, too-- she'd written so much... Probably too much. Giving it to Wolfram had actually been an impulsive decision, but she didn't know when her next chance would be and she'd wanted Wolfram to feel like he was doing something, so she had handed it over, unedited. She didn't remember exactly what she'd written, but she had revealed an awful lot.
Everything, in fact. She'd written all about what happened to her and why she was really here. But not just the facts, either-- She'd talked about Yuuri and Wolfram and how they had abandoned her and often ignored her for each other and how it felt to be stuck alone in a foreign world with emotions she couldn't deal with or understand.
Anissina was the closest thing to a mother Greta had, though now they were more like sisters. She filled in the gaps in her education-- taught her things Wolfram skipped over either because he didn't think they were important, like women's histories, or because he knew nothing about them, like chemistry and mechanics and growing up into a woman. She was Greta's best friend, and in some ways Greta felt guilty for not telling her right away, but another part of her felt that the very fact that she cared so much what Anissina thought made it even more terrifying to think of her knowing.
And the more people knew, the more real it became. The more she would have to talk about it, or at least think about it, live the aftermath, accept it as part of her life.
But Anissina... Anissina would write back. Anissina wouldn't-- Well, Greta didn't actually know what she was afraid of, but whatever it was she was sure her friend wouldn't do it. And, even if the wait for her reply was going to drag on and on, at least now Greta had something to look forward to.
* * *
Back to part 1 of this chapter
Back to chapter I
Author: Melusine
Beta: toshimalfoy
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: WolfYuu/Yuuram, Greta
Warnings this part: Statutory rape, issues of rape, incest
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: 7/?
The water wasn't hot enough. But that was a familiar feeling, and Wolfram was damned if he was going to revert to the old habit of making his baths hotter and hotter in a vain attempt to scald away the indelible affects of what had been done to him. All that was over. It had been over for thirty years.
And yet Yuuri had dragged it all up. Wanted to draw it out of him, make him remember everything so that Yuuri could know...
But he didn't want Yuuri to know.
He sunk down in the water until he was up to his neck and pretended he didn't remember entertaining fantasies of drowning himself. Pretended that among all the things that stopped him, one of them wasn't Conrad.
He thought instead about the conversation he knew was taking place elsewhere.
Though it was terrifying to think what Weller was saying. Wolfram didn't want Yuuri to think of him the way he was back then, with his weakness and his childish acceptance of whatever his older brother wanted. And the worst part was that Yuuri might actually think no less of him for it. Yuuri might imagine the old Wolfram-- tame, compliant, eager to please, all but incapable of anger-- versus the Wolfram he knew-- full of violence and ambition and pride and revenge and so many other things the wimp had always hated-- and wish that his husband had never learned to be selfish... Wish that Wolfram would still just let things happen and never argue or deny Yuuri anything he wanted.
Now the bathwater was boiling. Wolfram was burning with anger. It felt good, such a contrast to the old chill and emptiness of shame and betrayal and loneliness.
He considered the possibility that Conrad would leave, too ashamed to be in the presence of the king he loved to the point of worship. Or that Yuuri wouldn't be able to forgive him. The thought made him smirk, but in reality he knew that it would make Yuuri miserable to irreparably lose his best friend. And if Wolfram could live with Weller hanging around, then Yuuri probably could, too.
Of course, seeing Conrad every day had been a lot easier before he'd started thinking about all this again.
And how much would Conrad tell? Would he talk about all the details? Wolfram shuddered. Or would Yuuri be allowed to escape with only what he'd inferred from Wolfram's own words?
If Conrad confessed to everything... If he told Yuuri how far it had gotten, how far Wolfram had let it go... If Yuuri learned about that last time...
Wrong.
Wolfram shouldn't have let his thoughts take him this far. These were memories he'd worked hard to bury. He pressed his palms against his eyes, hard, trying to block it out-- But, no, that was a mistake, too, because it had been so dark that night... So dark he'd felt blind. The fires of the "unrest" within their own borders had been burning for two days and the smoke obscured any light the stars might have provided. No moon. He couldn't see anything at all. Nothing to distract him from what was happening.
And nothing to warn him that it was going to. He'd been stupid. He should have realized that between Gwendal being gone to help tend to the trouble and any spare guards gone with him, there were only Gwendal's empty chambers on one side of Wolfram's bedroom, and Conrad on the other-- there to protect him, just in case, while everyone else was gone. But with the fuzziness of interrupted sleep and the fact that nothing had ever happened in the middle of the night like this before, Wolfram forgot what Conrad had always promised he would do when he had the chance, and he slipped for a moment and thought maybe his brother was here to comfort him, or pull him out of bed and take him where the action was, or just to check on him and make sure he was safe... Wolfram had actually smiled sleepily at the familiar silhouette at his doorway.
Stupid.
When the door closed, Wolfram had made room on the tiny bed. Stupid. When Conrad joined him and called him his "little Wolf", Wolfram had clung to him, happy at the chance to touch him in a way that didn't hurt. Stupid. He'd hoped... But that had been stupid.
Because then Conrad reached down between them, making Wolfram squirm and cling tighter and hide his face even in the black dark, and suddenly he was Conrad's little whore instead. Again. And soon he was bucking into the older boy's fist and stifling his small, shameful cry in the pillow.
But that part hadn't really been anything unusual. Nor had he then been surprised as the same hand came up to caress his jaw, a thumb sliding into his pliant mouth, giving him that same unwelcome taste of his own come and beckoning him to open wider in preparation for what was to follow-- what always followed. Conrad's idea of a fair trade.
But this time he wasn't on his knees in a deserted hallway, terrified that somehow there might not be a warning step as someone approached... This time he was lying back on his own bed, his head on his own pillow while his mouth and throat were slowly filled with the hard length that bore down to choke him.
And he was so stupid to have been relieved when it was dragged out of him almost right away. Stupid to think that it was going to be over that easily.
He realized soon enough, however, what Conrad's real intention was when he tugged down Wolfram's pajama bottoms and gently spread his legs. And even then, shaking with fear, it didn't occur to him to protest. He was sure that whatever his brother did to him, good or bad, he must deserve it.
So he bit his lip and cried in the dark while Conrad fucked him.
It hurt more than he'd expected. It was impossible, in fact, to hold back all of his sounds of pain. But each gasp, each grunt, each whimper, was only taken as encouragement, and made the other boy tighten his bruising grip on Wolfram's legs and move faster, thrusting deeper and with more force, his mouth running the whole time, murmurs turning to hisses turning to choked exclamations-- all about how good it felt and how much Wolfram wanted it because he was such a little slut.
Wolfram cried in the dark while Conrad fucked him and when Conrad came Wolfram imagined it seeping through the torn walls of his insides-- into his blood stream-- infecting him and contaminating him even further. Marking him further as Conrad's possession.
"Wolfram--" His brother's concerned voice. "Wolf, you're cold..."
A lit lamp. Blood on the sheets. Strong hands turning his face to the light.
Dawning horror in Conrad's expression-- Tears-- Apologies-- Accusations-- Promises-- Begging for forgiveness--
And Wofram's own sobs spasming through him, sending stabs of pain tearing into his damaged gut.
"Why didn't you stop me, Wolf? Why didn't you tell me?"
But it wasn't Wolfram's fault. He couldn't be blamed. He'd only done what everyone had wanted him to do-- obeyed his elder without complaint.
* * *
On their fourth pass around the courtyard, Yuuri was finally able to speak.
"I... messed up," he said, not looking back at his companion a few steps behind. "And Wolfram said it reminded him of what happened with you." He swallowed. "That's how I know. And that's... really all I know." He stopped and turned around. "I'm just trying to understand-- I want to fix it--"
Conrad's expression was enough on its own to make Yuuri want to cry. But he felt too tired even for tears.
"There isn't much to understand," said Conrad slowly. "I took advantage of him. And it's true that he never protested and that I was young, too, and didn't fully understand what I was doing to him... But I took advantage of him."
Yuuri's throat was closing up again. "So did I," he said. "I didn't mean to, but-- He's right. That's what I did."
"Yuuri..." Conrad moved as if to touch him, then held himself back. "I'm sure you didn't--"
He shook his head. Conrad had so much faith in him... "I didn't listen to him. And I would understand if that's what he was mad about, but..." He took a deep breath. Then turned around and started walking again. This would be easier if they didn't have to look each other in the eye. "There was-- He... did something... even though he didn't want to. And that's the part that I don't get, and that's why I think I need to know what happened. I mean, at least... how old was he?"
Conrad knew what he meant. "I'm still not sure exactly," he said evenly, "but I believe he was a little younger than Greta is now."
Oh. Hardly more than a child. Yuuri's stomach twisted. "What do you mean, you're not sure?"
"Because my father was human, I age differently. I was away for several years and when I came back, I'd grown more than he had. I didn't understand exactly how much more..."
Feeling dizzy, Yuuri nodded, because there was nothing else to do. "And you? How old were you?"
Conrad cleared his throat. "Old enough to have known better. Almost your age."
"Oh." This time, Yuuri heard himself say it out loud. There was one question that was pounding in his head, but he knew he wouldn't get an answer-- he didn't want to.
Why? Why would anyone do whatever it was Conrad had done to his own little brother?
"And it was more than once?" Yuuri asked. He'd been wrong-- there was no such thing as too tired to cry. He could feel the tears welling hotly in his eyes, and was grateful for the shadows, though he knew his friend would hear everything in his voice. "You... you trained him..." His face heated as he suddenly realized that it was Conrad's teachings that were responsible for the short-lived ecstasy he'd had in Wolfram's mouth the night before.
"Yes," said Conrad, voice audibly strained now. "It went on for years. I... was addicted to him-- to using him. So I kept using him and pushing him until I pushed too far..." He cleared his throat again. "I realized I was hurting him, so I left."
Yuuri felt sick. "What if that's what I'm doing now?" He stopped his feet again as the world blurred through tears. "I should let him go."
Now Conrad did reach out to grip his shoulder. "No. Yuuri, I won't pretend I know Wolfram better that you do. But I do know that it would have been better if I'd stayed, if I'd tried to at least make up for some small part of what I did to him. And I know that you aren't like I was-- You make him happy. You love him exactly as you should. And he loves you."
"But-- He loved you, too, that's why he let you--"
Conrad was shaking his head. "He loved his brother. I wasn't his brother when I was abusing him."
Yuuri covered his face with his hands. "Conrad... You don't know what I've done..."
The older man sighed. "You're right, I don't. And I don't know if it's something he'll forgive. But you said you wanted to fix it."
Yuuri took a deep breath and nodded, letting his hands fall. "I have to at least try," he reminded himself. Because maybe it was egotistical, but he still couldn't quite let himself believe that Wolfram would be better off without him. He looked up, and found Conrad watching him.
"I'm sorry," said Conrad. "For all of this. I'm sorry I can't be more help, I'm sorry for the way you found out and-- believe me, Yuuri-- I am sorry for ever hurting Wolfram."
"I know," said Yuuri.
* * *
Wolfram came back from the baths with Conrad's voice still ringing in his head. He stopped as he entered the bedroom, because Yuuri was already there.
He took too long in closing the door behind him, dreading turning around-- He didn't want Yuuri to look at him-- He didn't want to see Yuuri's expression-- He didn't want Yuuri to start talking--
But he did turn around, and resisted the impulse to hide his face or run away or scream. Still...
"Don't look at me like that," Wolfram said before he could stop himself. "I wouldn't have let you talk to him if I thought it would make you pity me."
Yuuri bit his lip, looking up at him from where he sat on the bed. "It isn't pity," he said. "I'm just sorry I hurt you. And... and I want to make it better."
"That's what you said before." Wolfram took another opportunity to avoid looking at his husband, and opened a drawer in the dresser. It was the wrong drawer, but he didn't care. "And I recall 'finding out what happened' being your solution. So isn't everything better now?"
"Wolfram--"
He slammed the drawer back in place. "Didn't hear what you wanted to hear?"
Yuuri sighed behind him. "Of course not; what I wanted to hear was that I'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. But I think I do understand a little more now."
Wolfram gazed at his hands tightening on the dresser handles. He'd decided earlier that he didn't want to know what Conrad would say about him. But now he realized he couldn't pretend the conversation hadn't happened. And he didn't want to have to wonder how much Yuuri knew-- or thought he knew-- every time he looked at him.
"What did he tell you?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.
"Just how old you both were and how long it lasted, really. And that he was addicted to you. And that you never protested."
"I never protested," Wolfram repeated. He swallowed. "I never said 'no'. But I never said 'yes', either." Which was a lie-- he'd said it once-- but he wasn't about to tell Yuuri how stupid he'd been in the beginning, when he hadn't understood what any of it meant or what was happening to his body, only that for some reason that kind of touch felt good and that Conrad could do it better than Wolfram could himself.
Do you want me to keep going?
Yes.
Wolfram had actually asked for it. Just that once, but once was all the permission Conrad needed.
"How old did he say I was," he asked, to distract himself, "in Human terms?"
"He said, a little younger than Greta."
In spite of himself, Wolfram turned to look at Yuuri in surprise.
"Was he wrong?" said Yuuri. "He said he didn't know for sure."
Wolfram stared for another moment. He tried to remember how many years it had been since Greta was as young as he'd been then... And before he knew it he was laughing. Because if Conrad had really thought he was that old-- a difference of some fifteen years for him-- Maybe it really was Conrad's mixed blood that could be blamed for everything that happened-- It was so absurd--
He didn't want to be laughing. It hurt and made it hard to breathe. But he couldn't stop. Just like when Conrad used to tickle him-- which was even funnier, because that was how it all started-- When Conrad came back and at first seemed to think that Wolfram hadn't changed at all-- that he was younger than he really was--
Now he was clutching the pain in his side, too breathless even to be making noise, remembering how he'd insisted he was too old to be tickled-- And it was true, because it was when Conrad was tickling him awake one morning that his wrist brushed against Wolfram's erection and Wolfram gasped and they both froze-- and then Conrad was touching him-- Absurd--
"What?" Yuuri's voice was full of the hope that there really was something to be laughing about. "How old were you really?"
Wolfram shook his head, turning back to the dresser. He managed to get hold of himself enough to say, "More like eleven." Only just learning to touch himself before his brother started to do it for him! But his laughter died down as he became aware of the prickle of electricity growing in the room...
He turned, ready to panic, but Yuuri was still Yuuri for the moment, his hands at his temples, eyes squeezed shut as he fought to control himself.
"Yuuri..."
"I know," said Yuuri, through measured breaths. "It's just... you were so young..." He opened his eyes to look sadly at Wolfram, then shut them again when the power around him only grew. "Just a kid."
Wolfram moved towards him carefully, and laid a hand gently on his husband's head. "But I'm alright now," he said soothingly.
Magic flared, and Wolfram was forced to back away. "You're not," said Yuuri, now gritting his teeth.
"I am, I'm fine. Yuuri, please, you have to calm down. I'm fine."
Yuuri looked up and his eyes flashed, pupils thinning into slits.
Before Wolfram could take another step back, Yuuri-who-wasn't-Yuuri reached up and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him roughly down onto the bed. Suddenly Wolfram was on his back and face-to-face with a growling Demon King.
"Has that lie protected you, Wolfram?" Yuuri's voice, but low, infused with power. "Has it kept the people you love from hurting you?"
Wolfram couldn't breathe. And he couldn't escape the grip that held him fast. This was another way in which Yuuri had power over him-- Yuuri could-- Yuuri could kill him-- Yuuri could do anything when he was like this-- Wolfram could have no hope of fighting him--
"What do you want me to say?" Wolfram hissed.
Another growl. "I want you to be honest for once in your life. You're always hiding. Do you think that makes you stronger?" A hand in Wolfram's hair, twisting... "Or does it just mean that people don't know when they're hurting you--" Pulling against his scalp. "--and so they keep--" Harder. "doing it?"
Wolfram's eyes were watering, but he refused to play this game. He stayed silent. It had to end at some point-- Yuuri would exhaust himself and pass out and none of this would matter anyways because he would forget. So he stared back at the dark eyes before him while tears leaked down his cheeks.
"What are you afraid of?" the Demon King asked him. "That if you speak up I won't listen? Is that why you let him rape you--"
"HE DIDN'T RAPE ME!" Wolfram tried to kick, to wrest himself free, but Yuuri's power held him in place, and his magic was doused before it could even start to build.
"Because you didn't say 'no'. Because this way you get to pretend you were in control, that you could have stopped it if you'd really wanted. And you get to blame yourself instead of your brother."
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. "I don't-- I don't blame myself-- I wasn't even sixty-- It wasn't my fault--"
"And now you're ninety and you're going to let it all happen again. Isn't that what you're doing, Wolf?"
Wolfram's eyes flew wide.
No.
"You don't think this is your fault?"
Wolfram was choking on terror and Yuuri's overwhelming magic. There was nothing he could do.
"Because you deserve what you get, right?"
There was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do. Oh, God, there was nothing he could do.
He couldn't stop this. It was going to happen. Yuuri was going to-- But it wouldn't even be rape no matter how Wolfram fought because they were married--
Submit. Do what he'd planned to seven years ago when he first put on a nightgown and snuck into the king's bed.
And hide it from Yuuri later.
"You won't even blame me for this," said the Demon King. "You'll never hate me."
Wolfram shut his eyes. There was nothing he could do. He tried to turn his face away, but the hand in his hair yanked him roughly back into place.
"No hiding. Not from me. Not tonight."
Hot, wet, on his face-- Wolfram's own tears. And he tried to hold it back but his whole body shook convulsively and he had to open his mouth and let it out-- sobs-- like vomit-- He squeezed his eyes shut so hard it hurt-- making it dark-- dark so he couldn't see-- dark so he could hide his face--
"Wolfram?"
Yuuri's voice-- his real voice!
NO.
He didn't want Yuuri to see him.
He still couldn't move, though now it was his own weakness that prevented it. Still at Yuuri's mercy, even if it was the real Yuuri. Still shaking with panic and tears. But hands were gentle now, and there were soft kisses on his face, and then Yuuri used his own sleeve to wipe Wolfram's nose.
God, it was humiliating. So much so that it didn't seem real. He couldn't be crying in front of the wimp.
And practically naked, too, in only his bathrobe. But he couldn't move. Not that clothes would help-- He already knew he was never going to feel safe again.
* * *
Wolfram was shaking, sounding like he was choking...
It hurt to see him like this. So much that Yuuri had recognized it through the haze of his own magic at full strength, and had somehow broken through the barrier in his mind that kept him from being himself at such times. And he remembered everything.
But this was some honesty from Wolfram at last.
He'd never wanted to make Wolfram cry, of course, and certainly not like this-- his chest heaving and the rest of his body still, as if all of his strength was being used up in sobbing-- but Wolfram had to let it out sometime and if his husband was going to cry, Yuuri wanted to be there. He wanted to be able to soothe him, to take care of him and make him feel better.
"Wolfram," he said again, kissing his eyelids and hoping to coax them open. "Breathe."
Wolfram only cried harder.
So Yuuri stroked Wolfram's hair, wondering what he should do. He couldn't say it was alright because it wasn't. Instead, he said, "Wolfram... Look at me. I told you, no hiding."
Green eyes flew open, but the look Wolfram gave him wasn't one Yuuri ever wanted to see-- he looked terrified.
"You..." Wolfram finally spoke through his tears. "You remember..."
Yuuri nodded.
Short, quick, gasping breaths. "Yuu... ri..."
He was panicking. Yuuri didn't know why, but Wolfram was shaking even more violently now. Desperate to stop it, Yuuri tried to hold him still, to stop the tremors. "Calm down," he said gently. "Please. You're making it worse."
"No..." Wolfram whimpered.
"Yes," Yuuri countered. "You have to--"
Suddenly Wolfram moved. Yuuri was on the floor before he could register that the other boy had pushed him. And Wolfram made a dash for the wardrobe-- slammed the door behind him.
* * *
No.
One thought in Wolfram's head.
No.
Not Yuuri. Not him. No.
Because hating Yuuri-- and he would hate Yuuri-- would probably kill him.
Yuuri was calling for him. Begging him to come out. His voice was close, against the door.
It was dark in here. Dark enough to hide. Not so dark that he couldn't see. That was good-- too dark and he would start remembering again.
"Can you..." said Yuuri. "Can you at least talk to me?"
The clothes surrounding him were all black-- all Yuuri's. That made sense. This was Yuuri's bedroom after all. Wolfram was just someone who'd snuck in and stayed. Like the mouse that Yuuri had been too wimpy to throw out into the cold.
Not much later, one of the cats had eaten that mouse. Yuuri didn't notice when the creature no longer made an appearance every night.
"Wolfram, I can't help you if you keep hiding."
He slid down to the floor of the wardrobe. "Stop saying that," he said finally, though he didn't know if it was loud enough for Yuuri to hear him. "You've just proven that I have every reason to hide from you."
No response, except a sigh and a knock that was probably Yuuri's forehead against the door.
Tears were still leaking down Wolfram's face, dripping from his chin, cooling in the air and making him shiver.
After some minutes, Yuuri said, "I'm sorry-- Maybe I pushed too hard. I just wanted you to open up."
That made Wolfram choke again. And his voice shook-- Weak-- But at least he was starting to get angry now-- "No. You want to force me. You want to tear me open. Don't pretend you want me to talk." Another sob. "You want me to fucking scream!"
"No. I never meant to make you cry." He sounded on the verge of tears himself. "God, Wolfram! Why can't you just trust me?"
The wardrobe burst into flames.
Wolfram heard Yuuri let out a howl of pain and stumble backwards.
"WOLFRAM!" The fire was blown out in an instant. But Yuuri's voice was still his own, raw and uncontrolled. "You can't DO this! I'm not the one who raped you!"
"SO I SHOULD FORGIVE YOU BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T GET THE CHANCE?"
"What?" A beat. "Oh my God. Is that what you think of me? I-- I didn't-- I would never-- Wolfram, it's me!"
Wolfram buried his face in his knees. His head was spinning.
Minutes passed.
Finally, Yuuri said, "Part of me says I should leave you alone. But I can't. I can't leave you while you're feeling like this." A pause. "Even if I can't fix it, I don't want you to be alone."
But now Wolfram would always be alone.
Hadn't he been alone all along?
He couldn't remember. He knew that just yesterday he'd felt reassured by Yuuri's presence, his touch, his voice. Yesterday he'd trusted his husband. But he couldn't remember what that felt like, or why he'd thought that Yuuri would never hurt him again.
And the night before that... He couldn't remember liking it. Couldn't imagine wanting Yuuri to touch him like that. Couldn't imagine how it could have felt good. All he remembered were painful-sounding noises and the stink of sweat and come.
Disgusting.
He'd always hated sex. He'd always felt sick at his own arousal. So how could he have ever wanted Yuuri? It seemed impossible now.
He was cold. The anger had died away again.
The truth was, he believed Yuuri. He believed that the real Yuuri, at least, had never intended to--
But that wasn't enough. Because it didn't mean that he was safe. Or that he would be able to forget how it had felt to be sure that Yuuri was going to hurt him in the worst possible way.
He was cold. Still in his bathrobe. At least he wasn't crying anymore.
He couldn't stay in here forever. He wanted to sleep. Maybe he would wake up and suddenly be happy again. Maybe all this would seem laughable in the morning.
There hadn't been any sound from outside in a little while. And Yuuri had spent so much magic-- enough that he'd been too weak to transform again-- that he must have fainted or fallen asleep by now.
Wolfram got to his feet and tried not to take a deep breath because, really, what would it make him if he was afraid to leave the confines of a little wooden box? He didn't need to brace himself to open the door, so he just opened it.
Yuuri wasn't passed out, however, or even sleeping. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. His hands were resting on his knees, palms up, and Wolfram could see why-- He must have been leaning against the wardrobe when Wolfram set it on fire, and now his palms were bright red and shining with burns.
He looked up as Wolfram stepped over to him. "I'm sorry for everything. I did this all wrong. But, Wolfram, I would never--"
"I know," said Wolfram, more to keep him from going on than anything else. "Why haven't you healed yourself?"
Yuuri looked down at his hands and started to cry. "I'm so tired..."
Wolfram sighed as he knelt down before his husband. "Of course you are. Here." He laid his own hands over Yuuri's. It was true he'd never been good at healing, but if he hadn't learned how to take care of burns he would have been in a lot more trouble when he was younger. He concentrated, and in the soft glow of the healing magic, he heard Yuuri's breathing evening out once more.
"Thank you," said Yuuri softly once Wolfram was done. Wolfram didn't look at him, but curled his hands over Yuuri's. Touching him didn't hurt. It felt good. But Wolfram was so scared...
Yuuri's head was starting to nod, so Wolfram risked touching him more to help him get to his feet long enough to then lie down properly on the bed. Yuuri was still fully dressed, so Wolfram started to remove his shoes.
"You're doing it again," Yuuri mumbled, though he was clearly fighting to keep his eyes open.
Wolfram didn't respond-- just pulled off the other shoe-- but he knew what Yuuri meant, because Wolfram would have to be very ill before he let Yuuri half-carry him to bed or take his shoes off for him. But Wolfram wanted to be doing this. He didn't know if Yuuri deserved it or not, but Wolfram still wanted to take care of him, to give him what he needed and what he wanted-- but on Wolfram's terms.
He turned away and went back over to the dresser drawer that was still open. He pulled out a pair of pajamas and looked closely to make sure they were his-- not Yuuri's. As soon as he tugged the pants on under his robe, he felt a little better. In another moment, he was free of the bathrobe and wearing a nice clean shirt as well.
Yuuri, incredibly, was still awake, and turned to face Wolfram as he crawled into bed.
"Is this... okay?" said Yuuri, slurring a little. "Sleeping here... with me..."
Wolfram nodded. For all that had happened, he wanted Yuuri with him.
* * *
Greta couldn't sleep.
Wolfram had been so... absent that morning. And the fight she'd heard last night... It was Yuuri's fault, that much was clear. But what could he have done that would make Wolfram react this badly?
And was it something that could be fixed? Maybe it was some sort of huge misunderstanding that had been cleared up by now-- maybe Wolfram was already himself again.
She wouldn't know, wouldn't be able to see him, for a few days at the very least. More likely a week. Possibly six months or ten years... All she could do now was wait and worry.
She tried to think about other things. Maybe Wolfram, despite his state of mind, had still remembered to give Anissina her letter. Of course, she was worried about that, too-- she'd written so much... Probably too much. Giving it to Wolfram had actually been an impulsive decision, but she didn't know when her next chance would be and she'd wanted Wolfram to feel like he was doing something, so she had handed it over, unedited. She didn't remember exactly what she'd written, but she had revealed an awful lot.
Everything, in fact. She'd written all about what happened to her and why she was really here. But not just the facts, either-- She'd talked about Yuuri and Wolfram and how they had abandoned her and often ignored her for each other and how it felt to be stuck alone in a foreign world with emotions she couldn't deal with or understand.
Anissina was the closest thing to a mother Greta had, though now they were more like sisters. She filled in the gaps in her education-- taught her things Wolfram skipped over either because he didn't think they were important, like women's histories, or because he knew nothing about them, like chemistry and mechanics and growing up into a woman. She was Greta's best friend, and in some ways Greta felt guilty for not telling her right away, but another part of her felt that the very fact that she cared so much what Anissina thought made it even more terrifying to think of her knowing.
And the more people knew, the more real it became. The more she would have to talk about it, or at least think about it, live the aftermath, accept it as part of her life.
But Anissina... Anissina would write back. Anissina wouldn't-- Well, Greta didn't actually know what she was afraid of, but whatever it was she was sure her friend wouldn't do it. And, even if the wait for her reply was going to drag on and on, at least now Greta had something to look forward to.
* * *
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