A moment not meant for the eyes of anyone else in Shin Makoku. Unrequited to eventual Yuuram. It's not fair to keep those two apart for too long. Heh. I just got finished watching new episodes and I got inspired. Not beta-ed. Shouldn't be too bad though. Chapter story. And minor revisions have happened already in June. If you feel the need, giving reviews is NEVER a bad idea. Who knows, I may write more.
Disclaimer: KKM belongs to Jinji Nishimura and Studio Deen. If I owned this show, there would have been tons of kissage already. And children.
The afternoon groundskeeper, freshly sun-burnt in his hands and pressing the sweat collecting on the nape of his neck with a linen handkerchief, kept his head tipped forward at the noise of boots crunching against the pebble walkway.
"Your Excellency von Bielefeld?"
A strand of crinkled yellow-blond slipped beneath the straw sunhat shielding the boy's features. Hastily, he tucked it back out of view though knowing he had already been caught.
The intruder to his peace, one of his personal guards, made no external expression as if he had not addressed his superior, and said simply with a slight bow, "The Maoh is searching for you. I did not inform him of your whereabouts. Should I perhaps let him know that you are unavailable?"
"No need." Wolfram surveyed out of the corner of his eyes a wandering Yuuri who suddenly waved in their direction from across the castle's grounds, shouting something unintelligible given the distance. "He has found me," Wolfram announced, quietly.
He turned to his guard calmly. "You may take your leave."
"Would you like me to secure the area for privacy?"
The Mazoku paused, fiddling with the wide brim of his hat, mulling over his decision before nodding, "Yes. I think that would be appropriate." As the other magic-caster disappeared into the hedges, Wolfram went back to clipping the rosebushes, hands slick and tightened with anticipation.
"Wolfram! There you are!"
Yuuri smiled cheerfully, panting as he stood over the crouching boy with his knees planted in the dirt. "…Hey, why are you out of your uniform?" he asked.
"Isn't it obvious?" Emerald green eyes looked sharply up at Yuuri. "I wanted a disguise so no one could interrupt me."
A light flushing swept over Yuuri's cheeks, the delightful pink color painfully distracting the other boy from his weeding tasks. It was absolutely infuriating... what made this creature so appealing? "I-I didn't mean to bother you. Conrad came to me asking for you and I remembered you saying once you liked the flowers in the courtyard, so—"
A dull twinge of -something- beat callously into his chest, materialized to slither nauseating and rotten into his stomach. At first unnoticed to his companion still on a apologetic tangent, Wolfram instinctively curled an arm to himself at the hot, ugly sensation. Could it…be…? Realization.
He didn't come for me.
He doesn't want to stay here.
He doesn't love me.
Large black eyes widened at the sight of his friend's light shuddering. Yuuri dropped a knee and moved closer. "What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" He eyed the seven-inch steel cutting shears in Wolfram's right hand momentarily before brushing the backs of his index and middle finger along the angle of Wolfram's face.
He selfishly allowed those seconds of the other boy's heat, the satin feel of Yuuri to creep slowly into his psyche, and then slapped his hand away pointedly.
"Don't touch me."
Wolfram fought to overlook the hurt evident in Yuuri's tone, pretending it didn't hurt him as the half-Mazoku spoke up gently, "I was seeing if you felt warm…"
"I've been outside, fool; of course I'm a little warm! It's not going to hurt me to be out here for a couple hours!"
Yuuri replied calmly, informatively, "You've been missing all day."
As if you'd notice. Someone probably told you that.
The fire-caster squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as his equilibrium dipped slightly to the left. He let the shears fall into the dirt as his right hand instead rose to cover his thinning mouth. "See? There is something wrong with you. Let's go inside before you get sick."
You don't care.
Rather than speak this loathing, Wolfram felt his throat begin to burn and he gripped onto his companion as a invisible wave of heat slammed into his system.
Yuuri lifted him up by the armpits, snaking an arm around his heaving waist and adjusted one of Wolfram's arms over his shoulder so he could take most of the weight, "Come on…can you move…Wolfram…?" He hesitated, silently observing as the color of the blond's face tinted itself with different shades of green. "Oh."
As Wolfram doubled over to dry heave into the nearby hedges, Yuuri held back his moistened bangs, stroking the length of his back until the fit passed.
With the soaked, white material of his shirt plastered to his neck and torso, he mumbled irritably as Yuuri continued to hold him up, "What…did I say…about touching…me, wimp?" His complaints lessened as exhaustion set in place of queasiness and Wolfram burrowed his nose into the heavy, textured front of Yuuri's school uniform.
Unsure of what to do but not very embarrassed with the current situation, the other boy wrapped Wolfram into a loose embrace against his chest where the blond seemed most intent on staying, lacing his fingers together around his back.
"Yuuri…it's very difficult…to sleep on you…when…your heart feels…like it's going…to explode from your chest…"
Smiling a little at his comment, Yuuri insisted, "I don't think I make a very nice pillow, Wolfram. You are better off lying in bed. C'mon, you need rest."
When he stepped ahead, the blond flexed his fingers deeper into the black fabric, causing him to stop right away. "I would like it better…if you were a bit…more calm…"
"Should I be nervous about something?"
"You tell me….it's your heart…"
"Maybe being with you makes me a little nervous."
Not being able to tell if there was any teasing mixed in the his words, Wolfram commanded softly, willing the faint glistening in his eyes and the newly formed burning to recede, "Take me inside."
Yuuri hesitated. "Should I just...?"
Obeying, his fiancé— how long would that last— scooped up Wolfram's legs from beneath him, hearing not a single complaint, making for the castle as the friendless straw hat tumbled soundless into the manicured clutches of the rosebushes.