All who embrace such a philosophy live, like Dante's virtuous
Pagans, "in desire without hope." Or like Spinoza they so
love their God as to be unable even to wish that He should
love them in return.
-- CS Lewis, Surprised By Joy


There was a man, He told him once, that had a sword. It was beautiful and sharp and deadly, and the man loved it so very much that he left it at home, and fought with a inferior blade, lest the sword he loved be harmed, and he was killed.

Another time, when He told the story, the man saved the sword from a nick and got a mortal wound.

Tools, He said, caressing his hair absently, as he tried to stay very still and small so that He would continue, are made to be used. And the more you love a tool, the more you need to use it. But you must never forget that you cannot put your life before the tool.

And then there would be a pause, while His fingers ran through his white-silver hair, and perhaps he dared relax a trifle and lay his head very carefully against his master's knee, to close his eyes and live in that moment as hard as he could, because perhaps the next time He would not allow it. He always allowed it, but he was so afraid that one day he would not be good enough, do something, say something, and he would be left alone.

And then finally the voice above him would say, dreamily, A tool may give itself up for the one who owns it, and yet it is considered foolish for its owner to give themselves for it. That doesn't seem quite fair, does it, little one. To love something so much and yet be called foolish to protect it.

And His hand would continue to stroke through his hair, and Yue would fall softly into sleep.

Another story He told him once was of a man who took a beautiful young boy as a lover, even though the man was the ruler of his country, and his advisors disapproved of the lad. One day, He said, the man was called to court, but his lover was still asleep in his arms. Rather than disturb him, he cut off the sleeve that the boy slept on.

The story always ended there, so he was sure it had an unhappy end. He didn't care. Sometimes he lay awake, imagining over and over, what the boy must have felt, when he woke and found his lover gone, how suddenly his disappointment and fear changed to bittersweet delight at the sight of the sleeve, empty of the warm presence it had covered, still lying on his pillow in mute witness to his lover's care.

He liked to imagine how the boy had held it to his face, breathing in the scent of its owner, which still clung to it, and how carefully he'd folded the sleeve and hidden it away. Because if - anything - ever happened, he would still have something of his lover.

What he really wanted, though, was for Him to never, ever to go away. To always allow him to revolve around Him, pulled by His light and gravity. Perhaps, though he hardly dared think it, His light was reflected, too, but it was the only light Yue had ever known.

He wondered at Cerberus, how he dared to speak to Him, to act as he did. He couldn't understand, how Cerberus could be with Him, as he was, every day, and yet not be possessed with absolute and endless adoration. But he was glad, of it, in his secret heart, that he should be the only one to love Him so completely. Of course he was only His servant, but that was enough.

It must always be enough.

And even so, even telling himself this every day, yet strange thoughts crept into his mind, strange sensations through his body. He looked at his master and discovered that he wanted something, something he couldn't understand, something that he almost feared, and the touch of His hand brought strange hot icy stabs to pierce him and make him shudder inside, helplessly. And there was nothing he could do, because worse than how he felt, the alien hot-cold-shivering-wanting of his body, it would be so much more terrible to withdraw from Him, even if doing so would save him from the ravenous hunger that tore through him.

Sometimes he thought that it was a punishment for thinking that perhaps He loved him, that perhaps he was more than a tool to Him. And yet he couldn't believe that He would be so cruel as to set those demons of hunger loose in him. He looked at his master and was sick with desire that he couldn't name, couldn't speak, until he almost hated Him, and then he felt so terrible, as if he had committed some great blasphemy.

How did Cerberus live without such longing? Was it some fault of his own? He wanted so badly to ask Him, to beg to know why he felt this way, but he couldn't. He couldn't find the words, and whenever he tried to even think of it, sick fear filled him. What if he asked, and it was the one thing that made Him leave?

He would be good. He would be what He wanted, he would do whatever He wanted him to do, he would think like He wanted him to think, he would be so very good. He wouldn't beg Him to stay, to let him be with Him for forever, he would keep his silence. Only if he could be with Him.

But when the day came, as he knew it would, he couldn't help himself, couldn't help screaming at Him. Why why why why why please no he would be better, he would cut the feelings away from himself, for forever, no matter how much it hurt, he would do anything, why did He have to go, why did he have to be passed to another, like he was a tool. And he wanted to scream and yell and shake Him, make Him say it was a joke, just a joke, but he knew it wasn't, and his chest hurt so much. Someone was pulling sharp bands around it, and Yue wished they would pull them so tight he would stop breathing. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find this was all a nightmare. He wanted to die.

His master gave him the kiss of peace, at the end, but Yue couldn't feel it, only the tears he wouldn't let out. The bitter salt taste of them was the last thing he remembered, as one last time he fell softly into sleep by his master's side.



Written for the CCSakura fic contest -- and yes, I know it's not ExT, cute, or fluffy, but I've been planning a Yue POV for a long time. Possibly this one will have a minimally more, um, undarkangstytragic sequel, buuuut. XD I like screwing with Yue's head. It's FUN.

Yue: ....

The title of the fic is really two words: setsubou, "to desire enthusiastically and with zeal. An unanswered prayer or desire", and mono, "thing or person". '_' Closest translation we [Catsy and I] came up with was 'what I long for'.

m(-_-)m Feedback o onegaishimasu~!