Voiceless

Title: Weak

Pairing: Wolfram X Yuri

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings:

Summary: Is he hiding because he’s sulking, or is he shamed? Or do either of those things have anything to do with Wolfram’s absence?

Chapter Number: #27

Author Note: I have three papers to write now, but I will keep uploading on the weekends. I promise.
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Wolfram felt the tears on his cheeks, but refused to accept them. He was not crying again. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry over something so stupid. Nothing had happened! No one was hurt, he wasn’t hurt, everything was fine. So he knew he wasn’t crying. He scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and the rough fibers made his eyes water worse and he groaned in agony and frustration.

He laid his head against his pillow and closed his eyes tightly, willing away his consciousness. It was hard to sleep, he was terrified of sleeping. He was unsure. Had he made the maou angry? Would he be attacked again for being difficult? He didn’t want that, but he couldn’t help himself. Yuri had frustrated him so much, he had to hide. He had to be by himself for a while. No one could blame him for that, not even the maou, right?

Right?

He was tipping off the edge, a sea of black sleep just beneath him, but there was a slam and his room was darker than it had been. He had been asleep? What was that sound? He grabbed for his sword that lie unsheathed next to his body, but dropped it. Swords protected him from anyone except for Yuri. He couldn’t kill Yuri, or the one who Yuri became. Who Yuri was now.

“You,” Wolfram breathed, staring at the darkened figure. He shook his head slowly, his eyes widening as the figure drew closer. “No, no! Don’t!” He slid off of his bed and backed himself against his wall. It wasn’t like him, to be so terrified, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t attack the Demon King, and he couldn’t run from him either. He would have to stay and submit if he was ordered to.

The cold eyes looked to be ordering him to.

“Please don’t,” he breathed as the man drew closer. He didn’t want to be afraid, he didn’t want to be afraid of Yuri, but he couldn’t deny that he was terrified. He closed his eyes tightly and waited, trying not to listen to the footsteps.

He breathed heavily as he felt the figure kneel before him, he could sense the closeness and it made him edgy. What could he do? Could he run? Would he be chased? Out of instinct, his legs pressed together and he covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear anything the maou would say. He wouldn’t hear the orders, and he would not appear willing. Even if he couldn’t run or fight, he wouldn’t make himself look like open prey.

When he felt the firms hands grab his wrists, pulling his hands away from his ears, he felt the shaking gasp escape him, and he felt the tears slide down his cheeks and was ashamed. He was this weak in front of the maou. Weak. Worthless. Weak.

“Look at me,” the unfamiliar voice said. Wolfram forced his eyes to open. He had to obey, didn’t he? He looked into serpent’s eyes and shivered. The eyes were harsh and he was weak. The hand released his wrists, and Wolfram let them fall to his sides.

The maou moved closer and Wolfram pressed against the wall harder, too terrified to blink or to lift his hands. What pain was coming? What hurt? What anguish?

He pulled in a shaking breath and flinched hard, eyes finally going closed as the maou’s face grew closer. And then he felt the lips pressed against his own. He stopped breathing and was certain that his heart had stopped. The lips lingered there, and nothing else happened. Just pressing against his firmly, not forcing and not taking. Wolfram shivered and opened his eyes slowly when the hands never came.

Nothing grabbed him, pinned him, or pulled him into revealing positions. He was just being kissed. But his heart sped up regardless.

“Wolfram,” the maou said after pulling away when Wolfram calmed. Wolfram met the intense gaze with a small tremor. “My behavior towards you was out of line and misdirected.” An apology? Wolfram didn’t dare to believe it. “I committed an act that was unforgivable and for that I must plead for your forgiveness.”

Wolfram could only stare at him. Did he expect him to have a voice to answer with? He attempted to make sound, but when he opened his mouth there was nothing but silence. The silence was followed by small gasps, but the maou’s face did not soften until Wolfram gave up and pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Will you forgive me?” The maou asked, Wolfram shivered. What was forgiveness? If he said yes, he would still tremble if those hands reached for him, still panic every time he saw him. If he said yes, would it be a lie? If he said no, what would be the penalty? More pain and humiliation? He opened his mouth again, but only croaks came out. “No then,” the maou said. Wolfram made a sound like a scream and pressed harder against the wall.

A steady hand reached for his face and Wolfram trembled, even when delicate fingertips caressed his cheek and pulled away the teardrops. He couldn’t trust those hands, not with the mind that was controlling them. What would it take for those gentle touches to turn into a death grip on his wrists? A cruel thought? A dirty look?

“Alright then,” the maou said, retracting his hand slowly. Wolfram stared at him, making eye-contact out of fear and nothing else. What now? He hadn’t answered. Was it a punishment coming? He felt his body stiffen.

“Yuri,” he whispered softly. The maou’s gaze grew firmer and Wolfram shivered.

“I’m sorry for causing you to suffer,” he said. “I will leave you to yourself then.” He left slowly, but not as if he were considering prolonging his stay. Wolfram stayed where he was and stared at the blackness that was the door. It then became a shadow. Then a poorly detailed opening. Then a foggy door. And then it was solid door. It stayed solid, and then it grew foggy, and then it grew black again. It stayed black for a long time, and then it became a shadow, then poorly detailed, then foggy, then solid, black, shadowed, detailed, and then solid once again.

Foggy.

Black.

Shadowed.

Detailed.

Solid.

Foggy.

Black.

He dared not move.

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Wolfram hadn’t left his room for days, and if anyone knocked he didn’t answer and Yuri informed them that it was best to leave him be for a while. He knew why Wolfram had locked himself away, or at least he thought he did. He’d hurt him, and now he was either sulking or shamed. Greta complained that something might have happened to him, but Yuri felt certain that his love was alright and refused to allow her to investigate.

He’d had no luck in capturing the spies, and it frustrated him. He thought for sure that he would be able to, but with Wolfram staying in one place, he assumed the spies had no reason to check on him anymore. Buying a gift seemed to be the best offer.

“Hey, Lady Celi?” Yuri asked at dinner on another night that Wolfram neglected.

“Hm? What is it, your majesty?” She asked, smirking idly, her head rested in her hand.

“Where’s the best place in town to————

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: Yes, it’s still a secret what his gift is.

Until Next Time

Alice Von Wonderland