Daisuke asked me why I steal.

I was baffled. After generations with the Niwas, he was the first to ask me that simple question. Well, Daisuke is very special.

I steal because I like to posses beauty. I love owning it, feeling all its fine details, holding it close, and knowing it – knowing that it is mine. Art always called out for me, needing someone that appreciated its true beauty. Not just the brush strokes, or the carefully carved lips or hair, but its inner beauty that contained the artist's true soul. I answered its calls when I could, to store it away and appreciate it whenever I pleased. I love art because I love beauty. I love beauty like I believe no one else on this earth can.

I guess that explains all the women as well.

I would see them, and want to posses them like I did all those works of art that I stole. I loved them, each and every one. I loved them like they were my paintings and sculptures. I caressed them, looked deep into their eyes so I could see every detail and know them. I stole their souls in the night, but abandoned them in the day. I couldn't bear to look at them any longer, because I could see where I flawed their unmatchable beauty when I held them too close, or touched them too roughly. But I always remembered our nights together, and locked them deep within my memories. The way I had owned them would never be forgotten, I vowed. And I would forever contain their beauty.

I don't go searching for women as much anymore. The Niwas have rules; running around and having sex with every pretty woman I see is one of them. But now, I don't really have to. Because there's Daisuke. Beautiful, beautiful, Daisuke.

I first fell in love with Daisuke's eyes. Such a unique shade and style, I wondered if they were even real, and not something from an artist's imagination. The hair suited his eyes perfectly and the rest fell into place from there. He was something from a mystic menagerie, a specimen not from this world. I longed to posses him, but at the same time it seemed wrong. He was too beautiful, to innocent to simply be owned. He was not a simple canvas to be hung on a wall, or a beautiful woman to be absorbed and then discarded. He was to be revered and admired, but never touched.

I hated that. I wanted so much to touch and to feel his splendor, not just see it. But I knew, from the very beginning, that Daisuke was something that had to be held gently or he would shatter, and I knew from experience that I tainted what I touched. I doubt he notices how much I watch him. That's one of his endearing, yet frustrating qualities, his naivety. Silently I watch him, as he stumbles and flusters himself in front of the Risa girl, or her sister, or even the Hiwatari boy, making himself even lovelier. Daisuke has strong feelings for the one who tries to capture us, but he doesn't acknowledge it, or doesn't know himself. Silly Daisuke. How I feel about him reminds me of the one who started it all.

Krad and I were made for each other, he being my other half. He began my art obsession with creations of his own. I adored his works. To this day, not one artist can match his talent or unique style. But more than I loved his works, I loved Krad himself, that blonde angel. He was so striking that I obsessed over him more than was healthy. I found myself staring into those golden orbs more than necessary, and of course, I was caught. He watched me almost as often as I watched him, so it was only natural that we were physically drawn to each other as well. The first night was heaven, as was every one after. Though he was the one to take my body, I owned his soul. I think he knew it too. Krad wasn't like the women or Daisuke, easily broken or easily tainted. He was a canvas upon which was painted a new picture every time. We were perfect together. But of course, I began to fall in love with works other than his own – with bodies other than his own.

My love for all things of beauty will probably be my downfall. It was certainly the end of my relationship with Krad. He grew to hate me because of his raging jealousy. I will always regret it. It was the loss of the greatest, most magnificent work I ever held in my hands, and nothing will ever be quite like the times I had with Krad.

My need to posses overwhelms my good – or at least decent – judgment, at times. I'm afraid what happened between Krad and I will also destroy my friendship with Daisuke. I am afraid to hold anything that is animate and too close to my heart now. The many mistakes and regrets I have in my past haunt me constantly, and as much as I hate the fear, I have to admit it has saved me as well. I hold back my deepest feelings now, so I do not taint or destroy anymore – no more women, no more Krads, and certainly no Daisukes. My fixation of the most elegant of things in the earth will remain only with those that have no vocal chords to speak, no fleshy ears to hear, no delicate eyes to see. My paintings, my sculptures, my art will always remain with me and grow in numbers to replace the living beauty I cannot have.

"Dark? Dark, did you hear me?"

"Because I can, Daisuke," I reply lazily, giving him a half-smile. "Because I can."