Hiei furrowed his brow. Kurama had yet to open his eyes. Maybe he had misinterpreted? Maybe that one complete sentence had not been good enough after all? He could feel a swirling, chaotic panic rising in him, overtaking his senses one by one. "Kurama." It was a warning to respond, and quickly.
The redhead's eyes flew open with almost supernatural suddenness. He could read in Hiei's expression the fear and panic that was swelling within him – knew that if this revelation were to come to any fruition, he would need to soothe and reassure his little friend. "Hiei-" Kurama stopped. For once in his logical, word-based, articulate existence, the fox could think of nothing to say. The sudden hush seemed to affirm every doubt that was running through Hiei's mind. He burst from his seat at the window and began pacing, stalking through the room like a miniature dust devil. His cloak followed him, a dark shadow tailing his every turn and pace. Kurama, trying to forestall the mental crisis he could practically watch Hiei approaching with every hysterical circle about the room, offered his palms in a feeble command to stop, hold still. He opened his mouth – even now unsure as to what he should be saying. Finally, coming to the decision that to say the wrong thing would be preferable to saying nothing, he began simply to speak.
"Hiei, perhaps we could find your voice." Red eyes rocketed to him, picking up the thread of movement from his now halting feet. Kurama, seeing naked hope written in every feature of his friends face, and hearing it in his hushed, reverent stillness, began to warm to his topic. "Yes... if you would like to enunciate your thoughts or pronounce your feelings – I believe that with patience and effort you could." Hiei was frowning, almost impercptibly. Kurama forged onward. "It would not be easy, but you are capable. With fortitude, dedication, and practice –that is most important- hours of practice, I am sure you could find comfort in speaking." Hiei's look had steadily darkened to one of harsh anger. It was nearer to bitterness than Kurama was used to seeing his friend. Casting his mind about for a possible explanation of this unexpected reticence, the realization fell upon him like the first light snow of the season: slowly and gently. Upon determining the problem, he offered a tiny smile, more anguished than mirthful. "I had not meant to suggest that you should be alone in your struggle, Hiei. I would not give-up our friendship. Nor would I abandon you to labor in solitude. We will find your voice. Together, if you like."
Hiei looked at his friend. The silence stretched for a long moment. He could feel a tension deep within his chest. It tightened around his ribs and stretched him like a rubber band. His breath came shorter, his vision became focused until all he could see were Kurama's bright moss eyes. The weight settling deep in his throat - by his collarbone, was choking him. It was painful. Pulling, stretching. Ripping something deep within him, until pulling him taut until suddenly, rather shockingly, the pressure snapped. Wrapped within his soul, so far below the surface that he hadn't been aware of its existence, some unknown tether broke. Like shattering crystal Hiei spoke quickly "Thank you, Kurama." The words fit so well, so snugly outside of his mind that Hiei marveled that he hadn't found comfort in releasing his thoughts before. "I think we already have."
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A short chapter, I know. sorry!