PERHAPS, FOR HIM, IT was difficult to heal from love because he had always been in command of it.

When Eros had seen heartbroken mortals walking about as if they were but hollow shells, he had felt sympathy for them, but never empathy. After all, when Eros had lost Alexia, he hadn't had the luxury of milling about in a cloud of grief. He'd been on the move with dozens of mortals to shoot. Silver arrow here. Golden arrow there. In fact, he'd been more than on the move. He had been...he had moved so fast, the whole world had blurred past him. His heart had grown so numb until...

Until now.

Only hours had passed since Saskia's memory of him had melted away, but he had never felt pain like this. He watched her at a distance: she was seated on the porch in a pool of the copper lamplight, dwarfed by the hazy white of February snow. The wind threaded its cold fingers through her dark hair. Something bloomed vibrant scarlet on her lap, a splash of bold color in her own wintry world.

As if the sight of her hadn't already snatched the breath from his lungs...there was this.

The eroses he had given her.

Eros watched as Saskia stared at the bold crimson of a fallen petal. Her eyes were wide and frowning; he thought he saw tears glittering in them. A dozen emotions crossed her face--confusion, sadness, wonder. It would have been so easy for him to appear before her, see her face brighten in recognition...

He shook his head and walked away. This was for the greater good. Soon, he would be shooting her golden arrow.

Still, the hole in his heart stretched wider.

✧ ❀ ✧

The TV was on at full blast when Eros returned home. In front of it stretched out Ares in his eleven-year-old form, crunching noisily on Doritos.

Eros's bow clattered onto the counter as he strode to the living room.

"I don't remember inviting you," he said smoothly.

Ares reached for another Dorito, eyes transfixed on the screen. "Grumpy, aren't we?"

"Are you wearing swimming trunks?"

"Am I?" he said. "I must've not changed out of them."

"Ares, it's February."

He nodded. "Yes, it is."

"It's winter."

Now Ares did look up and threw Eros a frosty look. "You forget I'm the god of war. I can go anywhere I want, including Australia, where it is summer."

Usually, Eros would have liked to snap back in some witty way. But all he could feel was the throb in his chest. Saskia. She would have waltzed into the living room, laughter ringing, sinking into the couch with that smile playing on her lips...

The TV turned off abruptly. Ares straightened.

"You ended things," he said flatly.

Eros stilled. Then he turned and returned to the kitchen where his bow lay.

"Word of advice," said Ares, following, "take it easy. Think of the good things. At least this time, she's alive."

His eyes grew cold. "How encouraging."

Ares gestured uselessly with his hand. "You know what I meant."

"No, I don't. It's different this time."

He raised his brows. "Uh huh."

"She's different," continued Eros, his eyes trailing down the length of his glittering bow. Her voice rang cheerily in his ears. Accio Arrow!

Eros's heart swelled with a terrible ache. "It feels worse this time."

"Worse," repeated Ares.

"I was selfish the first time." His fingers curled into a fist. "I had Alexia as long as she was there with me, right until her last moments. But there was no last moment this time. Only the moment I chose." Eros took his bow and gripped it tight. "For Saskia, time haunts me, because there could have been more. One more day. One more minute, one more second, even, to spend with her before I chose to go."

Ares munched on silently as Eros walked away, bow in hand.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Out."

Ares paused. Then, "Do you think she's not hurting?"

He froze.

"You may have wiped her memories," continued Ares, "but she has journals. She has your eroses. She fell for you, the gods know how, and now all she has is a hole where that memory used to be. Do you think she doesn't feel empty either?"

The words rung in Eros's ears. The memory of Saskia roared to life within him again. Her smile, like sunshine. Her laughter, like music.

But Ares was right. On the porch, Eros had felt her sadness.

✧ ❀ ✧

He had showed her love in action. But what about love in repair?

Over time, he found that Saskia liked to heal by taking walks. She would step out of the house, bundled up in a big coat and scarf. When the wind grew too great, she would draw up her shoulders and nestle her hands deep in her pockets, shivering.

She walked first to Fatty Bean for a cup of steaming coffee. Dash of milk, lots of sugar. Then she would cradle the drink in her hands as she wove her way through the wintry streets.

On the days she visited bookstores, Eros would feel a smile tug at his lips as she skipped through the aisle and delighted herself with new stories. On the days she headed to Fria's, he would feel at rest just hearing their laughter ringing from the bright windows. On days where she wandered aimlessly, he would follow closer than usual, his heart skipping a beat as she trailed curiously into darker alleys.

Eros would soon realize that pain never vanished--it rose and fell, like the sea. On days when she sat on the cold steel bench at Everly's with her journals, aching for a love she could not remember--a calming breeze would settle upon her with a deep sigh. It would hold her, just like this, until her trembling fingers grew still.

These were the moments that pieced Eros back together. But he wanted more.

With her, he had always wanted more.

✧ ❀ ✧

"No."

Aphrodite's sweet voice rang sour in Eros's ears.

They stood across from each other: Eros at the doorway of the kitchen, his mother standing by the window, glowing with sunlight with a cup of chrysanthemum tea cradled in her hands.

Eros glanced away with a laugh. "Have I even spoken yet?"

"There's no need. It's written all over your face." Her gaze rested upon his. "You wish for your lovely little mortal to see you once more."

"I've thought of a way."

"Good." Aphrodite remained unmoved. "Still, my answer remains."

"I'm not doing this for myself."

Now, she did hesitate. Eros took this as a cue to continue.

"I've left behind too much to expect her to go on as if nothing happened," he said. "She reads her journals, but because she can't truly recall them, they feel like fiction. They're just stories. She can't understand what they describe, the emotions that are there, even though she feels like she should. She reaches into the words, into herself, trying to feel what she felt when she wrote everything down, but there's nothing." He thought of how the air left his lungs when her eyes rose to meet his. Of how warmth spread through him at the soft curve of her lips. Of how her skin felt beneath his fingertips. "Nothing," he repeated.

Aphrodite placed her cup of tea on the table. Its sweet smell filled his senses.

"You've been watching her," she said.

Eros remained silent.

Aphrodite released a long sigh. "What do your propose?"

"We both know I can never meet her in her world, and she can never meet me in mine." His gaze rested steadily on his mother. "But what about in dreams?"

✧ ❀ ✧

The bus screeched to a stop.

Saskia lurched forward with the sudden movement, then, breathless from the rush, squeezed her way out through the throng of people. She frowned as she burst out into the February night. Why were so many people taking the bus so late at night?

Suddenly, her phone rang.

"Where are you?" Fria exclaimed when she picked up. "Heath Ledger and I have been waiting for you for God knows how long, and the ice cream is melting."

Her breaths fogged up before her. "Sorry, sorry, there was traf--did you say Heath Ledger?"

"Ten Things I Hate About You, remember? Why are you so late? You even missed the spa earlier, and the--"

"The spa?" Saskia stopped short in disbelief. "You went to the spa without me?"

"Hey, you reserved the time. Twelve o'clock, and you bailed on me--"

"Twelve? When did I--"

"Oh, Ki, you're killing me. Just get over here as fast as you can, alright?"

"Wait--" But Fria had hung up.

Saskia frowned at her phone for a moment, then turned in the direction of Fria's house--only to realize, suddenly, that she had no idea where she was.

She could have sworn she'd been in the bustling downtown that sloped down into Fria's neighborhood. Yet around her she saw only apartment complexes--rising up into the dark sky until the lights of their windows turned into the stars themselves. A narrow street ran between the complexes. Starlight sloped overhead.

Saskia caught her breath. "Where..."

Suddenly, it began to snow.

She gasped as the first flake fell on her head. Then another. And another.

Before she knew it, she was surrounded by a haze of soft white floating down and filling the streets. Saskia was beginning to wonder how snowflakes could be so big and so heavy, until she outstretched her hand and realized the snow was not snow at all, but white rose petals.

And then she realized that Fria had never called her. Fria was not waiting at home at all. Tonight, she was out with Marcus. Which meant...

Heart racing, Saskia looked around, mystified.

Her feet sank into the fresh petals strewn across the concrete. She turned towards the complexes, craning her neck to glimpse whatever lay within.

But they were filled with nothing but light. Quiet, frozen light. Suddenly, Saskia was aware of how still the world had gone--with the streets empty, the apartments dwarfing her in their giant size, the snow falling soundlessly--she could have sworn the world was holding its breath.

When she turned back to the street and saw him, her heart stopped.

Him was a boy with roguish hair and glimmering dark eyes. His face was carved out of strong, chiseled edges. He stood in the middle of the street in half-light, half-shadow.

She forgot how to breathe.

A golden bow glittered in his hand. Fallen petals rested on his shoulders, but where they had touched his skin, they were stained a blooming scarlet. His fingers twitched at his side, as if he ached to move. But he stayed perfectly still.

Her heart stopped.

Why was he so familiar?

Stunned, her gaze travelled slowly across his features...past his long lashes, down the slope of his nose, lingering on the curve of his lips...how they parted as if the sight of her stole the breath from his lungs.

"Do you know me?" he asked.

Her breath hitched. She had heard that voice before...it pulled her to him, the way it was doing now, the way it tugged her closer--until she was standing right before him.

The boy's brows tilted up ever so slightly, his gaze soft as he waited for an answer.

Saskia's heart swelled. She thought suddenly of her journals, of the ink smeared across the pages, of the aching love that had poured from her words--a love she had stared at for days, wishing she could fathom such a feeling.

Her hand rose of its own accord and slid up his cheek. His skin was cool against hers as he leaned into her touch, watching her with so much tenderness that tears sprung into her eyes.

A fleeting smile touched his sad lips. "Crying so early, mortal?"

A laugh bubbled up from her throat, and his smile tugged wider.

But it was gone just as quickly as it had come. "I know you," she whispered, her thumb brushing his cheek. "Eros."

A dozen emotions crossed his face. The smile faded from his lips as a deep sadness filled his eyes. Because she had remembered. The love they'd shared had blossomed to life within her again, and her heart was beating with it, filling her whole body with it. She had felt and understood. It was all Aphrodite had promised him.

And because of that, it was time to go.

Her hand slid off his cheek as he took both her hands in his--nudging her fingers apart so he could intertwine his with hers. He leaned forward. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of his body, shielding her from the cold.

His lips brushed her forehead, feather-light, then drifted past her eyelids, trailing down her nose, catching the corner of her lips with an aching gentleness...she felt his lips ghost past her jaw as he lowered his head to rest in the crook of her neck.

"I wish we had more time," he whispered.

His fingers tightened around hers as she brushed her thumb against his hand. Tears welled up in her throat. "Me too."

They remained that way, holding each other, until the white petals turned scarlet and the darkness whisked them away.

✧ ❀ ✧

Saskia woke up with wet cheeks and an aching throat.

Bundled up in the covers, she lay there, blinking in confusion. Only vague details resurfaced: starlight sloping into the sky, a boy--Eros--holding her close. Yet her heart felt as if it would burst out of her chest.

She jumped as someone knocked loudly on the door.

"Snot! You up yet?"

Marcus. Saskia groaned and rolled over so her back faced the door. "No," she called drowsily.

"You know," said Marcus, "I get that it's Sunday morning and sleeping in is nice, but it's eleven."

She closed her eyes. "Mhm."

"Also, aren't you seeing Fria for lunch?"

"Mm."

There was a pause of exasperation outside the door. Saskia buried her nose in her blanket and blinked her eyes open.

"Well, I made chocolate pancakes earlier. And there's whipped cream waiting on the table, so, whenever you're ready. I saved some for you." Footsteps padded off.

She let out a sigh. Chocolate pancakes...she was hungry...

Yawning, Saskia sat up and stretched her arms. When her hands fell back onto the sheets, something nudged against her finger.

On her comforter lay a stray scarlet rose petal. She peered at it, then at the vase of red eroses on her nightstand that were drinking in the sunlight pouring from the window.

Suddenly, parts of her dream came flashing back: streets strewn with streams of white petals, Eros standing in starlight, of how, just before she'd woken up, a swirl of scarlet petals had engulfed her in the dark.

Saskia's heart swelled so much it pressed painfully against her ribs. She rubbed her eyes and sighed.

Eros Parker.

She had read his name so many times in her journals, but now, it no longer rang hollow. Although the memories of her dream were fading quickly, her heart still pounded. She placed the petal on the stand. How sad it was, that reality snatched memories away faster than she could catch them.

If only she could have dreamt a little more.