As Fabian rolled me out of the house, my father vacantly following close behind, his hands trembled against the handles of the wheelchair. His nails rattled against the hard bone, tapping away uncomfortable patterns. It was the only time his collected visage had given way to unease. While I was in part thrilled that I should have been able to loosen his inhibitions enough to act on the reason for his shaking, I was still irritated beyond all measure that we had to be separated. We rolled and walked along the path that wound its way across the grounds, silent all. How tormented I was by that silence! If only I could have voiced my thoughts, my fears and desires, then I would not have been so uncomfortable, nor would Fabian been, I suspected.

While the kiss had not been his first (or so I assumed - sex always followed kissing in my books, and he'd admitted to having several partners in his past), it most certainly had been mine. What must he be thinking about, having been the one to bestow such a present on me? I myself was giddy with excitement, nearly squirming in my chair as I felt his hands clutching at me, his breath covering me like the warmth of a fireplace, that smouldering look in his eyes as he finally gave up trying to be respectable. So pristine were my memories that I burned at the thought of them, and found it impossible to sit still.

"My lord," Fabian admonished, when I crossed and uncrossed my arms a fifth time, "you are making it increasingly difficult to drive you." I blushed at the title and looked up at him, admiring the beads of sweat that glistened on his tanned skin.

"How much farther do we have?"

"We just started," he cried, but he was smiling at the end.

Having forgotten about my father, I nearly screamed when he leaned forward and asked where we were going. My features were modelled nearly perfectly after his, excepting his pale hair and eyes, and to see a ghost-like replica of myself was always jarring. Had Castor Hase unearthed himself from his attic-bound tomb more often, the effect of seeing him would not have been so startling, I was sure.

"The cemetery, my lord."

"We aren't lords," I reminded Fabian, but my father smiled and pressed his hands to his chest. I noticed thin, blackish lines running through his nearly translucent skin, and realised with a start that they were his veins.

"How very nice, Evan. How very nice that is." He said no more, but his eyes were wide with joy the rest of our walk.

"Father," I said, twisting in the seat to look fully at him, some ten minutes into our journey, "have you been introduced to Mr. Moore yet? Piers hired Mr. Moore a month ago. You haven't met him yet, have you?"

"Always been here, hasn't he?"

Fabian stopped pushing the chair, and I was left immobilised as my father continued tottering down the path, unaware that Fabian had stopped walking.

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Hase?"

I looked eagerly between the two of them, as curious as Fabian and as clueless as my father.

"Always been there, just like the rest of them." Not having paused to answer, Castor Hase was a good fifty feet ahead and veering rapidly into the treeline before Fabian shook himself and rushed after him. The cold look across his face, that chilly feeling as though a ghost had stopped for an evening on one's grave, it was a familiar expression. Had I not long ago resigned any hope of understanding my father on the rare occasions that I saw him, perhaps I would have worn that very face as well. As it stood, both of my parents were prone to speaking only madness, words that were based only on delusions.

Fabian would, if he decided to stay with our family, learn this for himself soon enough.

I rolled myself after them, in no hurry to hasten to the cemetery. The weather was pleasant (or as much as it could be, considering the permanent status of the dark gray clouds and the prickling bite of the wind). Sunlight shouldered its way past a handful of clouds, illuminating the path with the sparkling golds and yellows of the dying leaves; small creatures darted onto the littered, rough road, only to leap out of the way when we walked by; even the soft scent of rain gave the whole expanse awaiting us a fresh sort of smell, as though the gloom and rot of the house could only go so far into the world.

With my father once more beside us (and affixed by the occasional grip of a keen Fabian), we made our way to the neglected path leading up to the cemetery. Gates both wide and ancient only half-heartedly barred our entrance, moving aside with an exhausted groan when Fabian lifted his sculpted arms and pushed them open enough for my chair. As he raised his arms, the fabric of his shirt undid itself from the waistband of his trousers, exposing a strip of skin just as olive-coloured as the rest of him. My limited knowledge of the human body told me that people were paler beneath the protection of their clothes (even I, who had hardly afforded the luxury of crisping slowly in the sun, was all the more shocking under my clothes). His even complexion could only mean one thing - Fabian Moore spent far more time in the sun without his clothes than with them.

I was helpless as I pictured him, nude in the sunlight, as vibrant and majestic as he had been on the windowsill upstairs. Even when his shirt fell back and he held a hand out to my father, guiding him into the wreckage of the cemetery, I could still see that peek of flesh, burned like fire onto my eyes.

"What are you blushing for now?" I blinked and found him waiting over me, curiously amused.

"You don't wear clothes outside, do you?"

"I..." How beautiful he looked, in that glimmering afternoon sun, his cheeks red as apples! I wanted to make him smile until I died, I decided, if only to see that face kissed so pleasantly with red. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath, but as he pushed me through the gates, a hand fell to my neck, brushing the skin where those fine hairs were most sensitive. If the fire from a few weeks past had caused me to moan aloud, it was only a miracle that this touch didn't inspire a similar sound! Nevertheless, I struggled to open my mouth for some time after that, afraid the dreaded noise would escape me and reveal the extent of my attraction for Fabian.

Our restrained affections were put aside once we came into full view of the cemetery. Most readily noticeable was the church, a tiny and obviously abandoned building, no more than a room or two housed in its cold depths. Darkness was all that could be seen through its broken windows. Surrounding the building was a futile stone wall two feet high, caved in haphazardly until the wall eventually crumbled into a heap of rocks, nesting for whatever creatures inhabited the place now. Trees surrounded the whole affair, a few pushing past the invisible boundaries of the place, a cherry or oak pressed here and there. Only one had any leaves, of which there were maybe twenty altogether. What was left was a faded brown, the last dregs of the season. Under the drooping arms of the trees were the graves that made this a cemetery, a hundred small and randomly placed markers that betrayed the presence of the dead. With a fine yellow grass growing thickly over everything, the stones were obscured nearly to their tops. They resembled the toes of a giant, buried in the earth until someone stepped on them by accident.

As dismal as the cemetery was, to my heart - already so used to the darker, more sinister oppression of my house - it was the perfect place. Indeed, I was so overcome with pleasure at seeing the soft mane of grass and the reaching hands of the old trees that I begged at once to be let out of my seat so that I might feel the place for myself. Fabian obliged, tucking me into his arms as though I weighed no more than one of the fallen leaves. He rested me against one of the trees, careful to set me down without harm.

I should have liked to stare him more, to take advantage of seeing him outside of the house in his full beauty, but something told me I would get plenty of that soon. For now, my eyes begged to be closed, and I lay still against the tree, my palms pressed into the comforting grass. At once, the images I waited for sprang to life. The whisper of the wind took on a fluid, gray shape; the distant echo of birds chirped at my feet now; the caress of the sunlight pressed itself to my lips.

My imagination had never been so happy.

After what felt to be a hundred years of bliss, I finally opened my eyes and saw Fabian leaning against one of the graves, his face upturned to the sky. The yellow in his eyes seemed alive, glistening and reaching for the sun from within his open face. I couldn't bear to look at him - what justice was there in the world, to make someone so perfectly created take twenty years to find me?

I crawled to him, collapsing on his legs when I finally crossed the brief distance. He tilted his face down and smiled.

"How do you like it?"

"Could my happiness be more evident?" I reached for one of his hands and pulled it over my chest, spreading his fingers across the thin plate of bone protecting my heart. The fingers twitched, but he didn't move them, only pressed in a comforting sort of way.

"I am... glad." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back once more. "I come here at night, usually. Even I wasn't expecting it to be so lovely in the light."

"How did you find this place?" I began to run my index finger up and down the length of his wrist, marvelling at the simultaneously supple and rough skin. He had the hands of one who works outdoors in all temperaments. By the church, I could see my father wandering in aimless circles around the trees, speaking with either himself or the wooded sentinels.

"Walking."

"At night?"

"When else? I've got you to take care of in the day."

"When do you sleep, then?" I rolled my head back and found that he was giving me his frowning smile again. My stomach burned.

"Before breakfast."

"You're being evasive," I pouted, but I pressed his hand all the harder.

"I've answered all of your questions."

"Why must you leave for a week?"

I could feel the heat leave him for a moment, and then he shifted his legs. I raised my head so that he could move them, shift me aside and walk away from my annoyances, but he pushed me softly back so that I was now laying in his lap. "Foot's gone numb," he mumbled, the melancholic air of the cemetery suffused in his expression.

"Fabian?"

"Hush, little lord. I'm going to answer you."

"I'm not a lord."

He pulled his hand from where i clutched it to my chest and gently held it against my mouth with a small laugh. I pressed my lips against his palm, lightly kissing his rough skin before sitting still.

"I'm... not well, Evan. There are times where I must isolate myself, for my own good as much as everyone else's." A short giggle burst from his mouth as I exhaled against him. "That tickles!"

"So move your hand," I whispered. He slid his palm from my face to my collar, and his nails traced wild lines across the bones while he continued.

"My sickness... yes, it's not like yours, or your sisters or father's. It's violent, you see. I don't know how to explain it without frightening you, but I wouldn't wish for you, any of you, to witness me... like that." I thought back to when he'd last mentioned violence and my heart performed a panicked flip.

"Is this the same sickness that made you hurt your other... other lovers?" I regretted asking - he winced, a pained movement that resembled a dog being struck suddenly.

"You're too smart for your own good," he replied in a quiet voice. The affirmation left us silent, and we watched another leaf tumble from the old tree to the ground. It landed a small distance away from my father, who increased his muttering at the sight of its descent.

The scenery was too beautiful to remain so morose. I spent all of my time in the familiar arms of such a feeling, and here I was, being gifted the opportunity to experience something simply pleasant. Damned be the desire to return to a grim reflection! I neither wanted myself to remain so miserable, nor this perfect being of humility and beauty to descend into such a mood.

Overcome with a desire to bring some happiness into the world, I sat up and faced Fabian. I clutched his hand close, not wanting my shaking to convince me this was a bad idea.

"Kiss me again," I demanded, looking right into his golden eyes. He blinked without recognition. "Fabian Moore, kiss me." The blinking turned rapid, and his gaze darted to my father.

"Not... not here!"

"Yes, here," I said with more conviction than I knew was in me. "He won't care, probably couldn't if he wanted to. It's beautiful here, and warm in its own way, and romantic as you knew only I could appreciate, so grab me and - !"

My demands were cut short when he finally did grab me (albeit with a tender hand) and press his warm mouth to mine. The sky seemed to melt around us - I was certain I was on fire. The faint taste of cinnamon swirled around the edges of his lips, a hint of honey mixed somewhere in-between us. I gasped at the intensity of his heat, lips burning welcome holes in my skin.

He pulled back and gazed at me with a lost expression, breath coming in ragged hiccups. "You amaze me, Evan." I didn't know what to say to that, so I pulled myself further into him and threw my arms around his chest. If only I could see myself in that pose forever, the heroine at last! I must have looked a right fool, clinging to him like that, but I was so happy I could have died, and I cared not a damn about looking foolish.

He kissed me again, long and hard until our lips buzzed and our vision flickered from forgetting to breathe. His hands held me up when I grew faint, buried themselves in my hair and left behind trails of shooting stars where he touched. I hoped he could feel how happy I was, how much I wanted to stay there forever and ever, until I became one of the trees, staring longingly down at his impossibly perfect face. When I dared open my eyes, I foud that I was surrounded by his honey-red hair. It had come loose in my desperate clutching, and surrounded us like the forest of red and orange leaves in the sunlight, and I swore I was in heaven.

"You've stopped breathing," he whispered, eyes wide as he beheld me.

"That's entirely your fault," I whispered back. My heart thundered in my chest and I pulled one of his hands back to it. "See? You've proven I'm alive."

"You amaze me," was all he said in response, before licking the tip of my nose. I shrieked and laughed, before we pulled one another close and pressed our mouths together once more.

I kissed him enough to last for the next week, and I hoarded every second of it, greedily taking whatever he would give me. I would be alone when he left, I knew in a hollow sort of way, alone like I had never been before, and I was going to take as much of his breath away as I could before that happened.