Sacrifices Made For Love
By,
Rune Wolfe
Disclaimer: I own none of Kyou Kara Maou
Chapter 7: Can You Forgive?
Wolfram's hand slid slowly down the hardwood door to Yuuri's room. Originally it had been his as a boy, but with the king's new encampment within, it could technically be considered Yuuri's. The blonde then weakly slumped back against the wall, being careful not to harm the life he was carrying. At the thought of the baby, tears brimmed in his eyes. This child had done no wrong, committed no crime, yet it would be born to a mother who had done something far beyond sin.
He could hear the others speaking down the hall. All of them trying to skirt around the topic of his unfaithfulness. They had all comforted him, and tried to convince him that he had done nothing wrong. He felt like yelling at them, forcing them to look at him as he really was.
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Yuuri heard the soft thud of Wolfram sitting against the door. From where he sat on the bed he could see the sun coming up. He laughed softly, was that supposed to mean something? Wasn't the dawn supposed to bring hope? A chance fore new life? Yet no feeling of enlightenment reached him.
His fingers stroked the soft fur of a stuffed rabbit, one of Wolfram's childhood toys. It was missing an eye, and was no longer white from being dragged along the floor, but it was silky and comforting to hold. He could imagine his little husband as a boy clutching the small animal tightly as he watched the world change around him.
Yuuri then lifted it to his face, breathing in deeply to take in all the scents that it held within it. He quickly drew it away. It smelt of berries and roses, of nature, of…..Wolfram.
But the sweet perfume had already taken affect, lulling him into warm spring of memories. It was then that he realized what the sun truly symbolized.
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Wolfram too was reminiscing. Remembering the beautiful moments of their marriage, whether it was when Yuuri yelled off the marble balcony that they were in love. Or whether it was when Yuuri first offered to wash his back. Such moments were precious, but one stood out a bit more vibrantly….
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Wolfram bit his lip mercilessly as his hand guided the paintbrush over the canvas. He was attempting to paint the rose garden, so therefore he had set up his equipment in the middle of the grass outside. He hoped that at least this picture would be to his fiancée's liking.
Just then two warm hands covered his eyes, erasing the world he was trying to duplicate. "Guess who," whispered the familiar cheerful voice. Wolfram pouted, trying to pull them away from his face.
"Yuuri, what are you…?" He was silenced by a passionate kiss and dragged to the ground, pursued quickly by his king. The grass tickled his skin and he writhed to get comfortable, unintentionally making it easier for Yuuri to nip at his pale neck.
Wolfram moaned, giving in to Yuuri's onslaught and pressed upward against him. At his fiancée's compliance, the king proceeded to remove his shirt as well as Wolfram's. His eyes scoured the man's skin hungrily. Their other clothing soon followed, bit by bit being spewed across the lawn. They were then pure, in a state of unity with nature, nothing concealing one another from the sky, earth, or each other.
The blonde gripped Yuuri's shoulders, the paint on his hands making his fingers slip as the boy thrust into him. They made love long into the afternoon. Wolfram had laughed then, at the beautiful masterpiece he had created on his lover's back. Finally he had painted something truthful, something real.
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That day had been so many things, but most of all it had been the moment where they had realized how they needed one another. Without Yuuri, Wolfram lived outside of reality in a state similar to that of a shadow; without Wolfram, Yuuri's heart fell into confusion and doubt.
Just then the doorknob clicked and the door swung open, causing Wolfram to fall back against Yuuri's legs. Scrambling to regain his balance, the queen sprawled out on the floor, facing away from his husband. He did not dare to look at his face. But if he had, he would see not hate, or sorrow, but understanding. Slowly the black-haired man kneeled and grasped his thin shoulder. Wolfram's emerald eyes shut tightly as an arm snaked around his waist, cradling him gently. "Yuuri…I don't…."
"Wolfram…..I am the Maou. It took me this long to figure it out. I may have looked different, my voice may have changed, but it was still me. The Maou and I are one in the same. Yes I can't remember when we made love, but I know you do…and that's all that matters. If that's what you needed to be happy." Yuuri nuzzled him, content with his new discovery.
The blonde's shoulders began to tremble; it was now his turn to sob. "Why? Why are you always so damn nice…?" Yuuri's devotion and loyalty stung more than comforted. Was he really that terrible of a person? Was his husband so much better? "Why won't you yell at me? Swear at me? Why don't you hit me?"
Yuuri was shocked by the idea of such a thing. "Why? You've done nothing wrong…, Wolf we're going to have a baby!" But there was no response. The queen's sobbing just continued. "I don't like it when you cry. The sun isn't supposed to cry."