Voiceless

Title: Hurt

Pairing: Wolfram X Yuri

Rating: M

Story Contains: Yaoi, Rape, Violence, Language, and most importantly Unrequited Love

Chapter Warnings: Violence.

Summary: Lady Celi seems to just make things worse.

Chapter Number: #10

Author Note: Could I be that cruel? Am I that heartless? That mean? I don’t know. Maybe I am.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Hurt your voice again, did you, Wolfram?” Gwendal said at breakfast after Wolfram mouthed a few choice words at Yuri while Greta wasn’t paying attention. Wolfram made as close to a “humph” as a mute could and crossed his arms over his chest. Back to normal I see, he thought to himself, but wondered if that act was simply a mask. It seemed authentic enough, Wolfram’s cheeks had turned red with his passion and that wasn’t something he could fake easily.

“Wolfram let me and Yuri share his room last night!” Greta chirped happily, both Wolfram and the Demon King flinched and wore identical looks of flustered embarrassment. Gwendal’s eye twitched.

“Wolfram!” The mother of the boy in question stated alarmed. “It’s not like you to share your own things, especially you’re bed!” She cooed. “And you’re not even betrothed anymore! Such odd behavior!” Wolfram made a straggled sound and stared at her horrified. “Or is there something you two aren’t telling?”

“Nothing like that, Lady Celi!” Yuri attempted, panicked.

“Oh, come now, you can let me in on a secret. I won’t tell anyone.” She leaned her face closer to Yuri who pulled away.

“What secret? There aren’t any secrets between us!” Lady Celi batted her eyelashes and then leaned back in her seat.

“And here I thought that your engagement was back on. What a let down.”

“Excuse me?” Yuri said, frazzled. Something about Lady Celi and Wolfram alike zapped his energy away.

------

Yuri was sleeping in his own room that night, Greta at his side, tucked in by Wolfram’s loving hands. Wolfram who sat on her side of the bed until she fell asleep, not saying a word or even looking at Yuri. Yuri who had assumed that the kiss would give Wolfram a subtle hint about his true feelings, now regretted having done it. It appeared the Wolfram took it as mockery.

-----

Wolfram left for his room once Greta’s eyes began flickering beneath their lids. He nodded to Yuri out of formality and then exited for his quarters alone. He tossed his sword onto the bed and began to change into his night clothes. It was the first time since the accident that he had. He felt like sleeping, and what did it matter as long as he had his sword?

He laid on his bed slowly, watching the candle light flicker against his wall softly and then pulled the blankets over his head and the small form next to him. To him it felt as if he had just closed his eyes when he heard his bedroom door slam. Yuri. It had to be. Come to get in bed with him again as his foolish, idiotic, childish payback.

He groaned slightly and pulled the covers back from over his head before his ability to breathe escaped him. That face, he knew that face! And that wasn’t Yuri’s face. He opened his mouth to scream, only to have a hand pressed over his mouth and another grab the hand that reached for the sword he’d stowed beside him in the sheets. He felt his wrist beginning to tremble under the force of the man’s fist and shook his head. His eyes pleaded that no more pain would come. He hurt…everywhere…he hurt. He didn’t want anything else to…not if it wasn’t necessary.

He’d lost to this man once before, this man he knew…this man he recognized… He wasn’t able to overpower him then, and he was sure he wouldn’t be able to overpower him this time either. Why get more broken bones? Why suffer worse?

He let his body collapse against the mattress, allowing his wrist to lay still at the man abandoned it to grab his sword and toss it aside. What did it matter?

He felt the tears well in his eyes again, but fought them.

What did it matter if he struggled? Who cared? Greta? A child. The only one that cared was a child. A child!

His breath caught in his throat as a warm hand pressed against his lower abdomen and slid firmly lower. An instinct started to topple his surrender. It was the “fight” instinct. He pressed his legs together firmly and started to sit up, only to have a fist connect with his jawbone with enough force to break it. He let out a silent shriek and started grabbing for the man’s cocked fist with his own hands only to get another bone snapped. Why fight? Because he was strong. He knew he was strong. No one abandoned him this time. He wasn’t in anguish over being refused this time.

This time he was better.

He could fight!

He would fight!

He started beating his unbroken fist against the man’s chest and kicked with the legs that the man already kneeled between. A fist connected with his face once more and he felt blood pour from his nose onto his lips and spat the fluid away from his mouth. He reached up and grabbed for the man’s face, digging short fingernails deep into flesh. It distracted the man, but not as much as Wolfram had hoped. The man latched onto his wrist and twisted it until it snapped, extracting a cry of anguish and partial defeat from the victim.

But the pain hadn’t stopped. When he tried to move his leg to kick the man away, he received punches to his face and to his guts until he forced a cry for mercy from his throat. The feeling came back. Why fight? Why bother? Why suffer when it could be so much easier?

He felt his nightdress pulled up and away and shivered involuntarily as his legs were once more shoved farther apart. He felt the tears well in his eyes as the burning rod was pressed against him once again squirmed slightly, only to have his broken wrist grabbed and twisted until he writhed no more. The painful member was forced inside of him and all he could do was cry out and let the tears fall. He felt untreated wounds rip deeper and felt more pain that he had the first time.

It was unfair! Why was this happening again? What had he done to deserve this?

“Yuri!” He screamed, because he couldn’t handle being silent. He screamed the only name he could think of. The only name he wanted to say. “Yuri! Yuri!”

“Wolfram?” He hadn’t been expecting an answer, but he welcomed it.

“Yuri!” He sobbed and tried to get free, surprised when no fists connected with his body. “Yuri! Yuri! Yuri!” The pain wasn’t so bad when it seemed close to being over. Yuri was a wimp, but a wimp that became strong when he saw injustice. If Yuri came then he’d be saved from the humiliating torture. He didn’t care if he was seen. As long as he was saved!

“Wolfram!” Wolfram whimpered, craning his neck to look at the door only to be reprimanded by the familiar man with a hard strike across his cheek. It wasn’t a fist, it was a hand. “Wolfram!” It wasn’t even a strong hand. It barely turned his head, so why then did yellow light crack through his vision? Why did it block the pain out everywhere else? “WOLFRAM!”

He closed his eyes tightly and then reopened them. There was no man, there was no nightdress, and there was no pain. There was only Yuri. Yuri’s black-eyed face in his face.

“Yuri,” Wolfram breathed softly, eyes flooding with relief as well as tears.

Tears!

Tears?

Wolfram moved a hand to his cheek quickly; the one that ached and felt tear tracks. A nightmare? A memory? He’d been crying in his sleep.

“Are you alright, Wolfram?” Yuri asked, moving away to allow Wolfram to sit up. He noted that he was in Yuri’s room still, making the nightmare he distinctly remembered…just that. It was a nightmare. A real nightmare. Not a horrific action that bled to unconsciousness. Just a dream. He could’ve cried in relief if the tears weren’t still flowing beyond his ability to control them.

“Yuri,” he said softly, grabbing the Demon King by the collar of his shirt and pulling him close. He gave himself three seconds to think before wrapping his arms tightly around Yuri’s shoulders, and slowed his breathing until, at last, he felt more attached to the world. “Yuri,” he breathed contently, noting that the burn that rested upon his face, burned at his left cheek once again.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: I guess I couldn’t be so cruel, could I?

Until Next Time

R&AR

Alice Von Wonderland