Title: Black
Author: crimsonrosepetals
Rating: K
Pairings: Yuuram
Warning: AU; Shounen-ai
Summary: Wolfram doesn't look good in black.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. Unfortunately.
Author's Notes: I have no idea why and how this ficlet was born. But, since it's been ages since I posted anything (at all) for this pair, I put this up here for viewing. So, here goes; enjoy (hopefully) the really short fic, and please be kind if you plan to review.
Other Notes: Just a short background since I'm too lazy to make a backstory: In this universe, Yuuri is a little bit older, more mature and more accepting of his relationship with Wolfram. Wolfram, in turn, is a bit less of an easily-jealous, possessive, tsundere of a banshee.
------------------------------
"Ah…Yuuri?" You call out uncertainly to the boy sitting on the bed you and he share. He turns towards you and smiles, motioning for you to step forward into the room.
Hesitantly, you walk out of the bathroom, adjusting the sleeves of the top you are currently wearing. It is a simple black button-down dress shirt; a gift that Yuuri had brought for you from his world. He had asked for you to try it on just a few moments ago.
"It looks great, Wolf." He says easily enough, grinning at you in that carefree way that you've come to associate with him and him alone.
You walk up to the mirror on your dresser and scrutinize yourself. It is a lovely shirt, and the cut suits your frame quite well. Only…
"I don't know Yuuri; I think black just isn't my colour."
The double-black gets up from your bed and walks towards you – slowly, unhurriedly. "Ah…well, you're right Wolf. It isn't." He stops directly behind you, a pace to your right, and meets your surprised emerald-green eyes in the mirror, something strange and foreign, but inexplicably familiar gleaming in his ebony-black ones; the edges of his mouth curled up slightly in a sly, satisfied smile that seems, you think, more fitting on the countenance of your fiancé's other, darker, more mysterious half.
"Why did you get me a shirt in this colour then?" You ask, more than just slightly puzzled now.
His arms suddenly come up around your shoulders, holding you in a loose but firm embrace, and he nears his mouth to your ear; again, the same strange something flashing in his eyes as they hold your gaze in the mirror's reflection.
"Because it's mine."
------------------------------
End. Please be kind with any comments you may have.