You smirk, revel in the superiority as your classmates all laugh, edging you on.

You crouch down and he flinches as you move your face closer to his.' Heh. Wimp.' you think, trying to catch sight of his face through the curtain of black hair . His bright smile ( ever present never for you) is probably gone, wiped off his face in place of humiliation - defeat.

You never manage to see what his face had looked like at that moment.

His face shifts lower, trying to hide, and something drips to the ground with the movement. Red. Vibrant against the grey gravel - almost pretty.

It catches you off guard. You hadn't meant to hit that hard. More of it is dripping down his face, which you still can't see, can't see where he's hurt or how badly. It lurches something in your chest.

Your classmates aren't just laughing anymore, they're cheering, jeering, egging you on for something else - something more. Bloodthirsty.

" Hey man! What you doing just spacing out for ? Mess up that snooty Jap's face man! "

" I've never seen that bitch this quiet. Usually he never shuts up heh, let's put him in his place today. "

A group of rowdy boys he had never much cared for or even so much as nodded at were suddenly treating him as if they were buddies. They had broken off from the initial crowd of student observers, and had taken it upon themselves to hold Yuuri down, even though he had shown no signs of struggle.

Yuuri didn't move, didn't talk ( unusual), didn't even look at them. Lying still with his hair over his face, you'd think he was passed out if not for the trembling of his tightly clenched muscles, quiet- helpless -rage.

Wolfram hadn't hit him that hard. He hadn't meant to hurt. His aim had been humiliation. But this wasn't a game he wanted to play anymore. The rules had changed without him noticing and he wanted out.

There was a ripping sound as the shirt Yuuri had on ( one of many baseball jerseys) tore where the boys holding him down had pulled on too hard. Wolfram winced as he heard the laughter flare out harder at this development.

" Hey - I guess you were thinking that simply beating him up wouldn't be good enough huh? Why don't we hang him up on the flag pole? Naked." The boy next to him laughed, childish cruelty coloring the tinkling sound.

" Oh my god! Nooo~ That's so gross! " Some girls tittered, voicing no protest.

Yuuri was finally showing some reaction. Futile struggling that just cause his shirt to tear wider, revealing thin collar bones and providing much amusement to the boys holding him still.

Wolfram hoped desperately that a teacher would pass by, even one of his brothers would be fine, he could bear with the punishment and the disappointment. He was starting to that he even deserved it. He just wanted someone to put a stop to this, a situation that has escalated out his control, any brave idiot would do - he just couldn't let that brave idiot be himself.

He looked around at the gathered spectators, some nonchalant, some gleeful, some pitying, and some with angry frowns and clenched fists. None tried to intervene.

" Okay~! So that's a go eh." The common looking boy with the superior looking smirk announced, suddenly taking charge of what Wolfram had carelessly instigated.

" Ouch! Keep him still man!" He snapped at the two trying to keep Yuuri still, who was fighting for all he was worth now, flailing thin limbs, high angry grunts escaping his clenched teeth.

The hands holding him down, the hand catching the tear and ripping it wider until the shirt was merely a scarp hanging around Yuuri's shoulders. Wolfram wanted to cut them off. Rage he was known for, was familiar with - this wasn't it.

This feeling he felt for the first time today came with a frustrating nostalgia that he'd experienced whenever he caught himself staring at a burning flame too avidly, during his first fencing match, and when he'd first caught eyes with the wimp who came flailing by to retrieve the ball that had struck Wolfram's right cheek, all awkward smile and big innocent eyes.

He wanted them to stop touching him.

Yuuri - who had been a constant mysterious irritation the moment he'd blipped on Wolfram's radar, the sight of whom always came with a sense of frustrating something that set Wolfram's hackles up in not quite aggression.

Yuuri - the sight of who's frantic desperate struggles now made Wolfram want to burn this world down to ash with his will.

" Dude! What's up with you man? Come help us hold him still! This skinny asshole's surprisingly strong. "

The world snapped back into focus. Noise and awareness returning to him as he pushed himself out of an odd corner of his mind.

The wimp and him weren't friends.

Wolfram didn't want to be the kind of person to not finish things he started.

He shook his shoulders, shaking off the odd guilt and hesitation (lies).

He fisted Yuuri's hair, using the grip to yank his head up, revealing eyes narrowed in a glare that looked scarcely human. demonic. There was blood sliding steadily from the corner of his mouth, coloring his lips raw red and smeared across his chin.

The crowd was silent now, silent in excitement at what he'd do next.

The rowdy group of scum had also stopped. Waiting on Wolfram's next move.

He and this wimp weren't friends. It still felt like betrayal when he punched him across the face, using the grip on his hair to hold his face still. Gentling the blow only at the last moment so that it appeared spiteful.

He was geared up to put on a show.

Because the ancient voice he could hear only in his mind was childish. This isn't how I first want his body revealed to me.

Yuuri's body had gone slack again, but his eyes were still trained on Wolfram, even as his body shook from the punches that should hurt a lot less than they looked.

Dark eyes shining unfamiliar as Yuuri licked blood off his lips in a slow sensual move he found difficult to associate with the naive child even as he felt heat travel down his spine.

Why did he call him a wimp? He had always been foolishly brave. He couldn't for the life of him remember when or why the nickname had originated.

It suddenly didn't suit him. It didn't fit. There was something else - another word. No. Title? Flashing in the corner of his mind. Ringing right in the echoes of his thoughts.

Your Majesty

'