A/N: One Song Glory... I love that song. I made up the story for Kagura myself cause I didn't want to mess with April's. I also changed the pairing now. Its Rin/Haru. It fits the story better even if I don't particuarly like it. I really like this chapter for some reason. Its one of the better things I've written in a while. Its short and abrupt because that was how their love ended. If you're super bored, go listen to "The Man Who Sold the World" by Nirvana and think about this chapter. The song was my little helper in writing this chapter.
Leave me pretty Reveiws. Enjoy.

"Time Flies; Time Dies"

Kyo tugged his bike towards the door again before stopping and peering back at the depressed lump on the couch. "Hey, I was gonna try to find Shigure. Wanna come? Maybe we can get some food or something…"

"Zoom in on my empty wallet," the lump called back.

Kyo shook his head. "Take your AZT…" he called as he left.

Hatsuharu pulled himself into a sitting position on the couch and grabbed his old guitar. He strummed a little singing to himself softly as the tune took shape. It was going along well until a wrong note pulled the whole attempt down. Haru ruffled his hair, exasperated, and went up to the roof.

His breath smoked out in front of him as he watched the lights of the loved and hated city. His gaze peered out at all of the places he remembered while she was alive.

His thoughts floated back to when he was the young hotshot front-man of a local punk band. He remembered the thrill of the stage; pulsing bass behind him, the beat of the drums, the melody of the guitar- all of it came back to him as if he'd never lost it.

Haru recalled the exact night he met her, how she looked up at him with a look of complete admiration radiating from her soft grey eyes. He remembered their first conversation after the concert; him drinking a beer and smiling softly, her smoking and laughing her good-natured laugh. Her hair was longer back then… back when they first met…

She had been a good girl for a long time until she'd been deserted by the one man she'd allowed herself to trust. Then she turned onto things she'd never even considered before. Cigarettes, binge drinking, self mutilation, and finally heroin were her poisons of choice. Despite all this, she was quirky and lovable, and she adored Haru more than anything else.

Haru remembered everything about her, from the way her brown hair curled at the ends to the curve of her hip to his name she had carved into her upper inner thigh. He remembered how she used to huff a sigh when she was bored with him practicing with the band, how she used to walk around in his apartment in her underwear like she owned the place, not caring if Kyo or anyone else saw her.

He loved her.

He loved everything about her. Leaving the band for her, shooting up with her, fucking her until neither of them could see, doing nothing but eating microwave ravioli and watching stupid TV for days at a time… none of it mattered. He was just happy to be with her. It didn't matter what he had to give up, who he had to get out of their way… he loved her so passionately he felt like he was dying if he wasn't with her.

After a while, though, her soft brown waves stopped growing out as much; started to thin out. Her complexion turned unhealthily pale, her veins more pronounced, and she had a cold she just couldn't shake. She kept telling him it was nothing, that she'd go see a doctor sooner or later. He kept pushing for sooner rather than later; he couldn't stand seeing her cough get worse, watching her tiny frame get racked by each passing hack.

One morning he awoke cold; she was missing. He threw himself out of bed and searched all over his apartment until he found a napkin saying she'd gone to see a clinic and that she'd be home later. She also asked if he would go see their dealer; that they were out. She signed it with a little doodle of a pig with hearts all around it.

With a smile, Haru went out and did as she asked. It took a lot longer than it should have because their dealer was getting harder and harder to find; something about trouble with the cops. He came home humming a little song he'd come up with on the way home about how much he loved her- especially when she was naked.

He opened the front door.

He threw down the keys on the kitchen table.

He put their smack where they normally kept their stash.

He called out to her, singing little lyrics to his new song.

He looked into the bathroom and saw a tiny brunette sitting in the tub.

He walked in.

He saw the blood.

He saw the razor.

He saw the paper.

'We have AIDS.'