SAPPHIRE WATER, RUBY FIRE
Author's Note:
Sorry for the delay! My family went out and spent the day in the mall, and I couldn't refuse, can I? BTW, the faster you get me the Maou's name, the faster the fifth chapter will come out
Thanks so much for Mizuki hikari, GaLe AyA, and Sayoko Bizen for helping me with the Maou's name!
Disclaimer: Don't own KKM.
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IMPORTANT NOTICE:
For Maou's name, I'll hand it to you, reviewers! Vote for the name you like the best! (BTW, two names, please. 'Cause I want the Maou to have the surname too. Actually, I like Recht Seif or perhaps Seif Recht, but the other names are simply too good to be ignored! Choose, reviewers! )
Kisho (one who knows his own mind)
Masato (the Japanese for justice)
Seigi (the Japanese for justice)
Hisoka (secretive, reserved)
Kazu (peace)
Raiden (name of the thunder god)
Nay (highness and grace)
Seif (Sword of Religion)
Recht (the German for justice)
Don't forget to review and vote soon! 'Cause I badly want to use the Maou's name!
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CHAPTER 4: WHISPERS OF NIGHT
His eyes widened upon seeing what the Maou brought him. "But, that is…," he whispered, finding himself at loss of words for a minute or so. It would have not been such a surprise if it had been Yuuri who had done this, yet to see the Maou….
The Maou crossed the room in matter of seconds. His strides were always long and determined, just as what Wolfram had noticed. The strength beneath the Maou's figure was barely hidden, even though the Maou was no bulkier than him or Yuuri. Slim figure, strong muscles, yet definitely not bulky at all. Unlike Yozak, perhaps.
He could feel it even though he could barely see it through the darkness of the room, the gaze the Maou sent him. Warm, strong, affectionate, somehow filled with such desire that it hurt. Such longing and barely containable despair. The air in the room was thick with those feelings, as if unspoken words had been inserting themselves in the forms of feelings into Wolfram. There was something hidden here, a secret, lined with regret. Then there was something that felt like…affection? Warmth? Love?
Toward him?
The doubt and uncertainty hung there like thick fog, easily lulling, disconcerting. He barely sensed the movements on the bed, created when the Mou sat down next to him on the bed. The tray the Maou had been holding, heavily laden with dinner, was put down between them. Wolfram stared at the tray through the darkness, mouth agape, then back at the Maou again. "This is…," he croaked in a futile attempt to speak out a full sentence. "…Why…?"
A dark chuckle from the Maou caused him to blush furiously. "What are you laughing at?" he blurted in annoyance, not looking at the Maou, finally able to find his voice again. The embarrassment he felt, feeling childish and mortified because he knew that the Maou knew he had eaten nothing at dinner, then again being cared like this, having someone that held true concern for him….
The Maou's calloused yet tender fingers grasped his chin, the act forever soft and slow, as if afraid to hurt him. The dark-haired boy tipped his chin up, slightly forcing him to look at him. "You did not eat anything at dinner, did you, little wolf?" the Maou asked huskily, lips oh so close from his face that he could feel the other boy's warm breath on his skin. He shivered involuntarily, earning another chuckle. He pouted, and this time, the Maou laughed.
Laughed.
His eyes widened in the instance when he heard the laugh. It was brief, yet melodious; warm, soft, a genuine expression of pure amusement and happiness. Yet it sounded distant and fragile, as if one disturbance and it would be gone for good. As warm as a crystal, yet somehow even more brittle than glass.
Hidden grief. Deep regret.
The Maou had seemed untouchable since long, a great being far beyond his reach, or anyone's reach. Yet now he understood. He saw. He heard.
Moreover, he felt it.
The loneliness in the Maou's features…what he had assumed as cold rage now appeared to him as a deep longing of something that he could not comprehend. What desire was it that even he could feel it, so much that it pained his heart? So deep, as if calling out desperately…
…for him?
'Yuuri….'
If only the person in front of him had been Yuuri….
The Maou picked up a bowl from the tray, then a spoon. He stared blankly at the bowl—filled with soup—in the Maou's hand, then warily at the spoon. "I can eat by myself," he stated simply, not fully trusting his voice.
A kiss upon his forehead. He blushed, and suddenly found himself unable to resist.
Suddenly, he understood.
The Maou was not Yuuri. Yet somehow, he did not mind about that.
Quite the opposite. And it bothered him.
'Just live the moment,' he told himself. 'Just live the moment.'
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The Maou pulled him closer so that he was sitting across the Maou's lap, head tucked on the crook of the other boy's neck, his ear placed just right on the Maou's heart. He could hear it, the soft and steady beating through the fabric of the thin white shirt the Maou wore. The scent of lavender and mint enveloped him in the instant he was in the Maou's embrace. Lulling him into another state of incomprehensible bliss.
"Little wolf."
The Maou was holding a spoonful of soup, eyes expectant and…warm? He opened his mouth, about to protest, yet the Maou took it as a chance, silencing his words by feeding him the soup.
The soup was warm liquid, the comfortable warmth spreading through his whole throat, then body. He relaxed immediately, closing his eyes in content as the soup filled his empty stomach. "It's good…," he whispered, smiling.
His only reply was another spoonful of warm soup.
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He rubbed his eyes wearily, noticing absent-mindedly that something was wrong, so wrong, yet somehow he could not find it out.
Oh yeah. Wolfram was not there.
'Okay, Wolfram is not here,' he repeated the sentence in his mind, curling into a ball, ready to fall asleep again, right when the meaning of the sentence sunk in.
'WOLFRAM is not here!'
He roamed his hands over Wolfram's side of the bed, noting that it was starting to turn cold. Wolfram had gone for some time, but where?
'Why should I care?' a part of him whispered, and he froze. 'It is good not to be kicked and punched while sleeping once in a while.'
'But Wolfram is not here,' he argued. 'He might have been kidnapped.'
"Shibuya."
He knew that voice.
He turned, eyes blazing with rage. "You!" he shouted, jabbing an accusing finger at the intruder a.k.a. the Maou. "Where is Wolfram?!"
His gaze fell down onto the burden in the Maou's hands. There, sleeping peacefully and curling in a ball like a dozing kitten, was his fiancée, still clad in his usual pink nightgown. He jumped out of his bed instantly, gritting his teeth. "What did you do to my fiancée?!" he demanded, positively mad this time.
The Maou was still standing on his position, on the balcony, basked by the moonlight. He seemed to be shining in his own light, which might be true in Yuuri's opinion. Somehow, the Maou looked more intimidating than ever, with serene eyes and the wind ruffling his hair slightly. There was power within him, power which even Yuuri could sense.
Then came the reply, as cold as the night breeze, stabbing straight into Yuuri's inner core. "I took care of him," the Maou said simply. "Something you should have done instead of me in your place."
There it was. He stared at the Maou, mouth agape, trying to find back his voice and rational mind. "But…," he spluttered in protest, trying to save what he believed since long. "Wolfram hates it when people start to take care of him! He can take care of himself!"
The Maou strode past him, into his room, ignoring his yells and shouts. Slowly, the Maou placed a kiss on Wolfram's forehead, in the same time lowering the blonde onto his side of bed. Yuuri stood frozen on his spot, watching the whole ordeal happen in front of him.
He heard the whimper Wolfram emitted when the Maou finally released the boy, however.
The Maou, still standing next to the bed, eyes fixed on the sleeping prince, asked in a low, thundering voice, "How do you describe Wolfram, Shibuya?"
He was quite taken aback with the question. "Eh, he is arrogant, bad-tempered, protective, string…." A scratch of the head. "Has strange taste of painting, sometimes dangerous, overly jealous, and—what the hell—beautiful?"
There was a fragile silence afterward, until finally Yuuri asked back, "How do you describe him, actually?"
The Maou turned at him, gaze suddenly mellow and…warm? "…Fragile," the Maou stated, voice low and husky. "He is stubborn, yet his heart is brittle. He hates his own vulnerability, thus he hides under the mask of a bad-tempered and spoilt prince. He acts strong, yet he cries out for affection. What do you say now, Shibuya?"
The question was slow, mild, without any hidden intention, yet Yuuri shivered from the emotions it contained. Emotions he failed to comprehend. "You're lying," he said, shaking his head forcefully, trying to shake out all doubts that were beginning to grow deep in the pit of his heart. "You don't know Wolfram."
Rage, the cold rage of the Maou, flitted in the Maou's eyes, and when the Maou spoke, he heard thunder roaring off somewhere. "Do you think you know him, Shibuya?!" the Maou thundered in his husky baritone. "Once I resided in your body, and I saw what you missed so easily. Can't you see what your own fiancée is hiding?!"
Both boys were taken aback by the sentence. The Maou averted his eyes, and somehow Yuuri had the impression that the Maou was no different from him in some parts. They were both just boys, no matter what their positions were and the power they had. And they wanted to protect Wolfram.
The Maou strode purposefully past him, toward the balcony. Yuuri caught his hand just in time. "Wait," the boy called, nearly in panic. "What should I do?"
The Maou looked at him, somehow with eyes fuelled by sad bitterness. "Take care of him," the Maou whispered. Then he was gone through the balcony.
Yuuri stared at the spot where the Maou had been standing, eyes wide in slight shock and confusion.
'Were those tears in his eyes?'
XXX
Wolfram woke up feeling very comfortable. Unsettlingly comfortable, actually.
He sniffed the air. 'Jasmine and orchid,' he mused idly. That was when he was aware of a pair of arms, embracing him from behind, warmly, tightly, almost as if afraid to let go. The person's head was settling comfortably on the crook of his neck, the warm breath on his skin causing him to feel light-headed and yet….
"Yuuri?" he asked tentatively, half afraid to wake the other boy up, yet the other half wanting for the boy to wake up and just look at him.
Onyx black eyes fluttered open, and Yuuri whispered into his ear from his position. "Wolf…."
All he could do was blush.
There was a choked sob, and his emerald green eyes widened impossibly large. "Wimp, what are you…."
"Sorry, Wolf," Yuuri whispered. "So sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry…." He was aware now of the tears sliding on to his shoulder, warm liquid falling from Yuuri's eyes. Unsure what to do, he gripped Yuuri's arms that were encircling him.
"You do nothing wrong," he forced himself to say, voice flat.
"Everything I did was wrong!" Yuuri suddenly whispered harshly, making him wince. "What are you hiding, Wolf? Why don't you let me know if something is wrong? If something bothers you? Why do you have to shut yourself away?"
Cold realization dawned upon him. "You have talked to the Maou." It was a statement, not a question.
A nod.
Wolfram sighed. "Showing your vulnerability to other people is a sign of weakness," Wolfram reasoned in cold resolution. He laughed dryly. "You are too kind, Yuuri. And the Maou is just exaggerating."
"Liar," Yuuri whispered, sobs escaping from his throat, causing Wolfram's eyes to sting and his heart to constrict painfully. "Liar! You said it yourself, Wolf. You have been crying behind me, haven't you?"
"You will not care," Wolfram pointed out, biting his lower lip, trying to restrain those damned tears from spilling.
There was a pause here, until Yuuri finally said, voice determined, warm, soothing, sending warm vibes into Wolfram's veins, "I will, Wolf. I will."
Wolfram turned so that he was facing Yuuri, his mask crumbling right in front of the King's onyx black eyes. For once, Yuuri could see the tears glistening in those emerald orbs. "Are you sure?" the blonde whispered. "Are you sure, Yuuri?"
A tear dropped. Yuuri kissed it away, and Wolfram could not help yet notice how similar the Maou and Yuuri were sometimes. Pressing his forehead to his, Yuuri whispered, smiling his smile that caused Wolfram's stomach to flutter, "I swear, Wolf."
Was it real? Even he could not determine the limit between dream and reality anymore. He was afraid, afraid that this scene would crumble right in front of his very eyes, revealing that it was nothing more than a sweet dream, so sweet that it hurt. The fear consumed his heart, slowly spreading. That doubt, that feeling….
Yuuri pulled him closer, so that he was sobbing into the boy's shirt, whispering soothing words. However, Yuuri's next sentence erased whatever doubt he had left.
"Promise me, Wolf."
"What?" he managed between his sobs and tears, trying to gain back his arrogance, yet simply could not reach it. Not now.
"Don't leave me."
He froze upon hearing that sentence, realizing what was the meaning behind it. Had Yuuri really meant it? Thoughts after thoughts piled in his mind, befuddling him, and he shook them away. He smiled. No need for thoughts. He had known the answer since a long time ago.
"I won't."
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There. A little short, isn't it? And OOC too (especially Yuuri and Maou's parts)! Well, yay or nay? Review everyone! And don't forget to vote! The next chapter will be up today or tomorrow.
Aqua Alta