Kurogane woke in a terrible fright. He was sweating madly and his breathing came out in short, strained gasps for air. It had been a nightmare—a frightful nightmare.

Beside him lay a blond. And, as gently as he could, he reached over to brush away a lock of hair from his face.

It disturbed him that, even though the others in the room were eased into letting down their guard in their sleep, this person that lay, though still, beside him wasn't. His face was contorted into expressions of fear and pain. Occasionally, he would shift from one side to the other in erratic movements, Kurogane had noticed. There would be wild mumbling that sounded viciously like "Don't die" and "I'm sorry"—apologies and choked cries of pain and distress.

Kurogane watched him, frowning, his eyebrows knit together in bewilderment and longing to understand. The quietness and stern demeanor around him did nothing to disguise this expression that fell so forlornly on his face.

"Don't hide," he murmured into the darkness of the night, not willing a single ear to hear but the one to which he spoke. At the same time, he knew that ear would not hear. And, even if he could, he would not obey. He knew this well but hope dwelled painfully strong within him—hope that only brought on despair. But, the hope that shone so brilliantly never dwindled—not even flickering or hesitating.

More than once, he had been told that that same hope would cause great trouble and bring great pain to him.

More than once, they had been proven once.

Never, though, had he stopped hoping. It was something that he simply did. It was as simple and as instinctual to him as picking up his sword and defending those important to him.

So, even for the silent, restless blond who lay next to him, he hoped—he hoped with all the honesty that the world could provide and all the love that the world could show. The reason for this was because—he could see it in his eyes; he could see it in his smile; he could see it in his tears—he was a lost soul drowning in a sea of hurt, loss, and betrayal. So strong were the currents that trapped him that, no matter how hard Kurogane tried to reach him, he always seemed so close but not close enough.

So, Kurogane hoped. He hoped with all his heart that he could reach this drowning man. He hoped with all his heart that, one day—if only he could—he could bring the radiance and happiness from that false, lopsided into a reality so that that same joy that he gave others could reach his own eyes—so that, one day, that same joy would reach Fai's eyes.

And, Kurogane wished. He wished that the world would free this man—so the storm set upon the sea of his heart would find it within itself to rest.

Perhaps, Kurogane had thought, Fai hadn't wanted to attain that happiness. Perhaps, he had rejected it all. And, perhaps, he was right. At the same time, he had never particularly cared what Fai had wanted. He knew best. And, he was determined to make his wish come true.

Kurogane watched as tears formed beneath Fai's eyelashes, falling slowly down his cheek in an endless stream. The sorrow that echoed was like the peal of bells from a funeral to Kurogane's ears—both broken and sad. There was so much that he didn't know and so much that he wanted to know.

Fai writhed with broken, mute screams escaping from his open mouth as his lips formed words Kurogane couldn't hear. Fai's lonely fight frightened Kurogane. He didn't want this man to have to face this—whatever it was—alone, no matter what.

Somehow, though, inside of him, he knew that he couldn't accompany Fai into the world of his nightmares to fight alongside him—knowing that made him feel weaker and even more useless than he already felt he was. He wanted—and willed with all his heart and being—to be there, standing beside Fai, and fighting with him—fighting for him.

So, as he leaned closer, his heart cowering from the ethereal, wounded glow that encompassed Fai's very soul, he let a tear of his own escape his fearless, scarlet eyes, following Fai's own. Perhaps, he wasn't fearless after all. He feared—he feared loss. He didn't want to lose those who were important to him.

And, unbeknownst to this angel before him, he feared the loss of him more immensely and more intensely that he had ever before.

So, with a torn heart beating fiercely in his chest, he placed a soft, chaste kiss on the lips of this angel that was stranded in this world in hope that he would, somehow, despite his powerlessness, reach this lost wanderer even in his dreams.

Inside him, his heart thumped loudly in his ears, drowning out sound, movement and the world around them.

Then, before he could find it in himself to pull away, Fai's eyes fluttered opened—long, golden eyelashes shifting gracefully with the pull of his eyelid, revealing two shimmering, glossy blue eyes.

Fai didn't question.

Kurogane didn't question Fai's unwillingness to question.

Then, Kurogane did move away, his eyes fixed on Fai's very blue ones. The looks they exchanged were foreign to the previous ones they had shared. The truth wavered vividly in their eyes—bright-coloured and fearsome.

Then, entranced by the spell cast by the moonlight, Kurogane leaned closer again. This time, he feared loss again—but for a different reason. He feared losing Fai to his own desire, not death.

Fai remained unmoving on the bed, no longer struggling within the walls of his nightmare, fighting valiantly for his life. Instead, Fai allowed Kurogane to kiss him for the fear of losing himself to his own desire. The truth that their newfound, shared secret had spoken volumes for what words could not have. For, with words and actions, they couldn't explain this truth.

This truth was that they feared losing each other.

But, they both gave in; lost in a trance cast by gentle moonlight and fear—they gave in to passion rather than death, this time.

They collapsed into quiet kisses and the warmth of arms and legs and bodies and everything they had longed for.

Whether love was the word for this inexplicable truth, they knew not.

The only thing they knew was that they feared loss—loss of each other; loss of everyone; loss of everything.

So, they drowned themselves in this willingly but not easily accepted truth.

And, in the moonlight, they lost sight of the world around them. Passion and fear and pain and longing and need and want—and possibly love—brought them together to be as one, even with this long journey ahead of them and their despairing pasts behind them.

So, in each other, they drowned—passion, fear, pain, longing, need, want—and possibly love—bringing them together.

Author's Note: This is, probably, my first decent try at writing KuroFai. Honestly, I've adored them since as long as I can remember, but I've never found it in myself to be able to write properly for them. So, I tried to do it tonight. I hope that I did alright. Please tell me.