Bathed in a halo of silver light. I can see him. Even as he rests far from me, I can still feel him under my skin. Just the thought of him speaking to me sends shivers down my spine. His back it to me, not even knowing I was sitting here, watching him, longing from the very heart of my being for him to even look at me. His face is from the finest ivory, carved in the facade of an angel, though truly no angel's face can compare to the one that has been formed on his mortal frame.

The pale light of the moon shines down over him, bleaching his features into fine alabaster. He sleeps now, peacefully, silently. Like a small slice of perfection come to reside on earth, and shame all those who would claim that they are as such. Even the most beauteous would pale in comparison. So child like is he, looking so young, so innocent, as if no taint could stain him. I know, as few do, the blood that stains his soul.

The clouds overhead shift slightly, the silver light dimming, leaving moonbeams to play across his flesh, looking like angelic wings. Who could ever guess that this... seraphim become mortal could ever use a weapon to harm. How few know, how much pain, how much agony is ripped from him each time he must wield that weapon... to kill. It is blasphemy to hurt him... only the befouled hands of war would do as such. The devils curse to war.

I reach out a hand, I can feel my clothing, shifting over my skin, rubbing against the hairs on my arms, I hesitate, my hand hovering over hair such a pale shade of gold that it seems white. I withdraw my hand, fearful that if I should touch him, he would wake, and disturb his one moment of serenity. I just bask in the moment, letting my hand rest on my knee, bask in the moment, and in his presence.

There are small stains of red across his cheeks, the blood flushing tenderly there, his face slightly damp. I feel my own heart ache; knowing that he had cried himself to sleep again. A cool and gentle breeze blows across the grassy hill, caressing my face and neck with angel feathers. I close my eyes, wanting to weep, that someone so utterly flawless, so kind, and caring, should be hurt in such a manner.

I swallow hard, and think of how much he sacrifices every day, just so that others may have a happy life. He is so brave, for one so young. Not like me, the coward that hides behind a cold lifeless mask. Of us all, he is he most open. He knows who he is, and he is not afraid to show it. I wish that I dared taking him into my arms, and holding him, drying his tears.

I close my eyes, losing myself in thought. But start as I feel a hand gently run down my face. I open my eyes, and he is there, his warm palm against my cheek. I look into his eyes, so deep, so blue not even the finest sapphire could compare. His eyes are so full of sadness, and yet, so full of joy at the same time. He looks into my eyes, and gives me a sad smile.

"You're crying..." his voice is so soft and so tender, an angel's voice, and showing undying love for all that he meets. How can someone be so generous? He sits up now, his hand gently drying my tears. He has the voice of an angel. My heart aches with the want to hold him when I hear him speak the sadness and joy in his voice ripping at my heart.

"Yeah..." is the only thing that I can find to say. It seems so inadequate. He runs his thumb over my cheek, and I can feel the cool dampness of my tears left in his thumb wake. The look of concern on his face makes me want to take him into my arms and tell him it's going to be all right. I want to tell him not to worry about me, not to worry about someone who feels no guilt for what he does.

I close my eyes, trying to push those thoughts away. My eyes open quickly though, as I feel him cuddle up to me, his warm body pressed to mine. He was so tiny, feeling so frail despite his inner strength. I look down at him, his face pressed against my chest. Slowly, I wrap my arms around him, almost afraid that he would whips away, like a dream.

But he was still there, his slender shoulders enfolded in my arms. I close my eyes, and hug him gently, elated that this once, I get to hold him close, and comfort him, even though I will never find solace in my own dark thoughts. I can feel his breathing warm on my chest, and I have to fight another wave of tears, I wish I could make him happy. Him, more than anyone else, deserves to be happy.

"I wish you wouldn't worry so much about me Trowa.." He says, and I close my eyes, resisting the urge to shiver as he speaks my name. "Yeah... I know Quatre." After a time, he falls asleep against my shoulder. I stroke his hair gently. "I love you Quatre..." I murmur quietly, although I could never tell him to his face. Maybe... saying it here... now... it will make up for some of my cowardice.

"I know..." comes the soft reply.

By: Okami Metallium