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Standard disclaimers. The characters of YYH belong to whoever has/have a legal claim on them. I do not! The song 'I Grieve' belongs to its singer, copywriter, company, again, anyone who can lay a claim on it. Definitely not mine!!

Though I have not seen 'The City of the Angels', its soundtrack impresses me a lot. This is one of my favorite song, also my first earnest attempt at a song fic. Hope you find it pleasing.

Moondance

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The room was completely dark. Nothing shone. No moon, no stars, even a flicker of street lamp dared not to peek out its head amid the gloom. All cowered before the dark melancholy of the red haired young man sitting on his bed, head in his hands.

In his mind, Kurama played out the scene of his parting with Hiei again and again, every look, every gesture, and every suppressed passionate word. Neither of them dared to look at each other in the eyes, fearing some uncontrollable protest would escape. Yet it had to be that way. It had to be.

Because any word would seem to declare the cruelty of obligations to them, they both kept the eloquent silence, refusing to acknowledge the possibility that they would not see each other again in this lifetime.

Still, Kurama wished that he said something, any thing that could remind Hiei of his love whenever he doubted. He said nothing in the end. Pretended till the end that they would see each other again tomorrow night. Pretended that life was not shattered, as if by denying, reality would not creep upon them.

Tried as they might to mask their outward appearance in normality, their love-making was particularly intense that night.

Somehow, Hiei's body looked almost holy to Kurama that night. Though it was no different from what he kissed and caressed hundred times over, he worshiped Hiei with a religious-like fanatic, offering upon the living altar his immortal soul and love.

Tonight of all the nights, Kurama felt for every second the soul binding he shared with Hiei, a rare experience. Yet he almost hated it this moment, for it reminded him even more of his loss.

Empty. Crowded by lifeless objects, yet the room was empty. And he was just one more object, without the flame in his life to spark him up.

An escaped tear.

A ghost of warmth.

An open window.

Nothing.

Day light arrived, Kurama forced himself to stretch from his frozen position. All his limbs felt like deadweight, dragging him down to a hell of yawning pits of despair.

He hurls himself down there gladly, even willingly, covered himself completely in the muck of anguish. If oblivion would be at the end of extreme pain, he would continue on.

Each giggle and squeal of his schoolmates stroked like knife-edge on his raw nerves. Kurama smiled. The more brilliant his smile was, the bloodier his wound was.

And he went on smiling. Forced himself to stare madness in the face.

Without mercy.

Even seeing the assassin he sent to kill Yomi touched him not at all.

Yet he shuddered and gasped in private at the evaluation sheet with Hiei's name written it.

That poor thing, no longer a man, did not even gasp when Kurama extinguish his life.

Kurama sat alone in the cage afterwards, reflecting on past. Finally, he decided: if the purpose of every incident in his past was to build up for him to meet Hiei, it was well worth it.

Night after night, he would crumble in the middle of his bed.

Too pained even to cry.

Kurama could only whisper Hiei's name over and over again, like a prayer.

No, he would not remember their parting. Yet he could not stop from remembering that hopeless look on Hiei's face when he flashed out of the window.

And I am once more alone.

He answered Yomi's invitation to Makai in an attempt to be closer to the object of his devotion.

Only to realize that the familiar surrounding only, if at all possible, carved out another piece of his battered heart.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The joy of his trainees relieved not one bit of his sorrow.

People in Yomi's citadel watched him with fear and envy. Kurama ignored those stares.

A world devoid of laughter.

A world of festering wounds.

A world of decay.

A world frozen in agony.

Dead silence.

Silence.

Death.

A blanket wrapped itself around Kurama's perceptions, rendering him incapable of any emotion than pain, any expression except a gentle, mocking smile.

Day after day.

Without respite.

An empty passenger seat.

An empty room.

An empty face.

The only thing that reminded him that he was breathing was that tenuous line with Hiei's soul that throbbed within him with every breath he took.

Else, he would have given up long ago.

Now, the hold was flimsier than a spider's silk strand.

When it snapped, so would Kurama's sanity.

Sometimes he wondered if he imagined Hiei's tender looks in his mind. The thought so frightened him that he shut that part of his mind down.

Sometimes he wondered if Hiei really meant every determined word he said to him. The notion of Hiei's betrayal nauseated him so he lied on the bed in a bundle of frayed nerves.

Still, Kurama believed, too much in love to wish for salvation.