Title: Lifespan
Author: ChelseaTaaffe
Summary: Hiei Tries To Help Kurama Deal With His Humanity.
POV: Hiei's

"Hiei," he sighed, impatient but still as I wrapped cloth bandages around his arms, "It's not that bad. It will heal on it's own if-"

"If you'd let the damn things heal," I snapped, louder than I'd intended, tightening the knot and smearing salve on his shoulder, "But you don't. So shut up and let me wrap them." Kurama sighed, weary of arguing. We were both too stubborn and set in our views; fighting never got us anywhere but into heated shouting matches and the throwing of cutlery and plates.

"You don't understand! You don't know what this human body is. Hiei…I can feel it dying! Don't you see it?!"

"Well, you're certainly helping your impending death along, aren't you? God damn it, Kurama, let me stitch your fucking hand back together!"

"Stop trying to fix it! I'm rotting!" he smeared blood against the tile.

"…maybe you should talk to someone," I murmured, standing on a stepstool to return the first aid kit to the top of the medicine cabinet. "Who?" my mate snorted, "Who could I talk to that wouldn't think me insane? …Even you think so."

"Fox…I don't think you're insane. I know you're not, I've known you too many years not to see what's really going on. You're driving yourself crazy in this world. All these humans aging…seeing it in yourself. It's not easy for me either you know."

Kurama sighed, flexing his bandaged fingers and handing me the roll of gauze I had left on the floor.

This had started out as a simple case of vanity last year, on his birthday. He had turned 30. And for some reason, it caused a spider webs crack in his psyche that grew worse the more we tried to fix it. He looked in the mirror, showing me signs of age I couldn't make out. He insisted there were wrinkles near his eyes, he could feel his bones growing brittle. When I walked in he had turned away from me, "Don't look," he hissed, "I'm detestable." Kitsune were well-known victims of their own pride, their preoccupation with beauty in every aspect of life. This I could see through my mate's décor, his taste in clothing and music.

But now, it was becoming more than just feeling he was ugly, being paranoid I wouldn't find him attractive anymore. He was disgusted at the thought of his hair going grey, his skin sagging, of putting on weight. He took good care of himself but…we both knew that only would work for so long.

No, this had gone past being beautiful. He was now obsessed with the thought that he would die soon.

He rarely admitted it.

We saw our old friends very little these days. It made Kurama nervous, I think, to see the evidence of his own delusion. And, ironically, the fact that I was not aging was making him bitter… When I tried to comfort him he looked at me up and down, smirking and shaking his head, "How would you know? You look the same as the day I met you."

I knew that. I couldn't argue with him. I looked at our photographs and slowly began to notice those little things that were driving him crazy. He hardly ate anymore, insisting and rambling about how men begin to put on weight as they reach middle age and, damn it, he would not have a middle-aged waistline. But he was so thin now…

"I am sorry, Hiei," he murmured from his chair, flipping nervously through the book he'd been trying to read for the past few hours, "I know this can't be easy for you to deal with…"

"Hn. It's alright…stupid fox," I set the needle on the record player, filling the empty spaces with cello music. I needed something without words.

He sliced his skin to convince himself he wasn't dead yet, on these days where his paranoia was louder than logic.

'Maybe I should throw all the knives out…' Shit I was afraid he was going to perform a home-liposuction on the fat he insisted was growing on his waist and arms.

He had warned me, subtly, a long time ago. He'd told me he could not change forms at will anymore; returning to Yoko could only be achieved through the death of his human body. He didn't believe in suicide.

"…Hiei?"

"Hm?" I looked up to see him staring at the pages, flipping them nervously.

"I keep having these dreams…that my teeth are falling out. What will happen if they do?"

"I'll go with you to get dentures," I said, trying to smile and make all of this some big joke. He shuddered, ran his tongue over his teeth. He took care of them, made an after-brushing paste that kept the enamel strong and prevented stains from forming. He was very good with home remedies. But you couldn't fix time with medicine.

"What will happen when my hair turns grey, starts falling out?"

I smiled, walked over to curl up next to him in the large chair, "Then I'll dye my hair to match, shave my head if you go bald."

He gave a small laugh then, kissing the top of my head and lacing our fingers together. I stroked the veins in his hands, the uniform length of his nails that were becoming brittle. "You know, if you do that, we'll look ridiculous right?" I grinned, kissing him and looking into those emerald eyes that had not changed at all.

The cello reached a crescendo, and the record flipped itself.

I leaned my head on his chest, entranced by the sound of his heartbeat. I would never acknowledge how much I feared the day when it would stop.

END
I didn't care for those last two lines, to be honest.