Disclaimer: I have no rights over KKM. Comments, suggestions and constructive criticisms are welcomed.

Note: Thank you to all who reviewed; I hope to reach your standards at the end of the chapter, and of course, the story. The first chapter was definitely short for the reason that I usually write short stories and can be very challenged in writing lengthy ones. However, I see this story to go a little farther than I usually write.

Note 2: I have already written the whole story actually, but that is only the first draft. I am currently rewriting this story to pick up the drama, the suspense and come what may. I'm surprised of the ending myself. Hehehe.

Note 3: This would be the last. When I reread the first draft, I noticed that I didn't include Greta in it. So I will have to twist some things when Greta would have been able to make a scene better. Well, this is taking me forever. Thank you and I hope you like this next leg of the story.

Warning: Contains soft boy to boy love.

Acceptance and Denial

Chapter Two

Someone held his hand throughout the ordeal of recovery, or perhaps of dying. His lightheadedness made him uncertain. But he was sure of one thing, and that was the warm hand that held his. Every time he would feel a pang of pain, he would fist his hands and he would feel is squeezed in return.

"Don't leave me." A soft spoken plea echoed in his thoughts. "Don't be a wimp, Wolf!"

Despite the pain, he was taken aback.

Him?

A wimp?

He tightened his hold on that warm hand and tried to refute. But all came was an angry groan. "So you heard me. Hmph! Wake up and we'll see who the real wimp is."

He wanted to smile in approval, but he couldn't move. Trying made his body hurt, and a louder groan escaped his lips.

You just wait; the blonde thought before giving into the profound slumber.

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"Your majesty," Conrad called from behind Yuuri, who sat vigil next to the unconscious blonde. "You should rest. I can take over the watch." Their king looked up at him, his eyes swollen and heavy. Only his will kept him at bay, the half mazoku thought.

"You will have to watch with me, Conrad." The king declared.

The older man noticed that Yuuri didn't even refute to his not calling him by his first name, which tells a lot about his condition. He might just collapse any time now. "Please, Yuuri. At least take a nap. I'll wake you when anything happens."

Yuuri looked back at the limp form of his fiancé, then at their joint hands. He never noticed how tired he was until his godfather mentioned him resting. He wanted to stay here, next to the blonde. He wanted to be the first person the blonde will lay eyes on, because he knows it will make the blonde feel more relaxed—that he's far from the dungeons.

He has failed to protect the blonde when he was whisked away, probably to lure him into their traps. But when he arrived at their castle, he didn't find their leader. However, a spokesperson of some sort represented their leader and reiterated how the blonde and his troops were maltreated and tortured, and then left to die in the dungeons.

The king didn't get to remember the whole story though; he pretty much forgot anything that happened next. But before unconsciousness, he remembered feeling much anger and hate. He wanted to put the feeling aside because he didn't want to release his alter ego. He didn't want to reveal the pain; it would be too obvious to his entourage. No matter how much his relationship was open to the public, since he is the king of a great land, he didn't want anyone to be overly familiar with it. People often assume too many things and may expect a lot from him. He didn't want them to do anything of the sort, for he doesn't know any of it himself—not his true feelings, cannot even name the one he is feeling now.

Whatever it is, it is definitely strong…and for the blonde…

He felt his godfather's hand on his shoulder, "Yuuri?"

He squeezed his eyes for a second or two, to keep them from shutting completely, letting it tear for a while. When he opened them, the form of his fiancé did not move. Maybe he could break away for a while to get his own strength back. Unlike the other incidents when he has returned from being his alter ego, he didn't faint. He immediately searched for their dungeons, and hasn't slept since then.

"Promise me that, Conrad."

"Of course."

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Conrad almost took the limp form of his brother from his Majesty when he walked out of the filthy dungeons. But that was after he thought that the lifeless body was a ragged life size doll that needed to be washed if not disposed of. However, the face that peeked from Yuuri's cloak was definitely his baby brother. He almost asked if they were too late, but knowing his prideful brother, he doubted it. No matter how much he thought of the fiery blonde as his baby brother, Wolfram never considered himself as a baby. Pampered, yes, but never an incapable infant.

He reached out to put aside a lock of golden hair to see his face better. Noticing the fading scars, Conrad made a mental note to thank their healer, Gisela, for doing a job well done. He smiled softly; Wolfram was still a baby to him no matter what.

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He was suddenly deprived of the warmth that gave him the purpose to hold onto life, and to a childish promise of showing who the real wimp is. Disturbed by the possibility that the grips of death finally held tightly on him, he fisted his hand and only felt a swoosh of air.

No.

He tried ordering his body to move, but it disobeyed him. He groaned in frustration.

No.

Give me back your hand…please…I'm alone here. It's dark and cold. How dare you just leave me hanging? I will live. Come back! Yuuri, you cheat, come back!

"Yuuri!" he exclaimed, bolting upright. A wave of pain and nausea rolled over him like the sea against the shore. He got a quick glimpse of the room but wasn't able to distinguish whose. The world spun, and he fell back.

He wanted to stay awake but restlessness crawled on him. Then he felt the warmth back with his hand.

"I'm here, Wolfram. I'm here."

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Since then, Wolfram has been constantly in and out of consciousness, the pain becoming less as time went by. When he would open his eyes, he would see jet black orbs looking back at him. He would smile softly and drift back to sleep.

Seeing his purpose to live every now and then was enough motivation.