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There she lay, moonlight havocking across flawless skin and rumpled sheets. He closed his eyes and it was like he was back in the flower shop. The sting of thorns on his palm, he had looked up and there she was, pale and beautiful as a winter rose. The lowering sun had given her a halo even her thick clothes could not disguise. His joking tongue fell silent in his mouth, thick and heavy as molasses as he gathered her flowers. Noble, love, marriage, the deepest of bonds. The cool brush of leather against his fingers was their only contact. He had not spoken a word.

Is this what fate is?

Although a thief of many years, he had never had this coincidence. But how was he to guess that the window he slipped through would be hers? Altair chose wealthy houses, ones that looked full of trinkets and things no one would miss. It was a beautiful game; yet he never imagined this. So he stood, dumbfounded, at the beautiful girl's bedside. Instead of stealing her jewels, he wanted her, to steal her away, sneak over rooftops and under bridges until she was his alone. Altair was startled by his need of her and almost flung himself back through that richly-appointed window. The sole of his boot scuffed her floor and he hesitated.

But oh, he couldn't help himself. Lost, mesmerized, fallen, in love: he was a thousand things and they were all her. He reached out and ran one gloved finger down that soft-looking cheek.

Her eyelids opened languidly and Altair jerked back, pinned by her searching gaze, There was a flurry of movement, and fine linen sheets hit him full in the face. His body jerked again, muscles bunching under leather. The scent of jasmine, her scent, surrounded him. It was heady, sweet, intoxicating. The sheets slipped slowly to pool at his feet.

His pale moonlight eyes blinked warily. Edelweiss' strangled whisper stirred an odd sense of confusion and sorrow in his chest. They were all dreams, bound here by fate; didn't she feel the same tug between them? Altair ran an impatient hand through rumpled hair. In the twilight, his hair gleamed with silver lights. "Why? I-I want to." The words stumbled out of his mouth; his voice low and husky in the near-darkness. Those pale eyes turned dreamy, lost, a thousand constellation swirling in their depths. There were galaxies there.

"I cannot help it," he said, voice distant. "I want to touch you. You could be everything." He stepped closer, an odd intensity infusing his features. One hand hovered over her, caught in the almost pain of being so close and far. "I know you. I feel like I should be sorry, like this shouldn't be happening, but I have always-" Footsteps sounded in the hall outside. And, in the space between heartbeats, Altair was gone, the window left wide open. A lonely magnolia bloom drifted to Edelweiss' floor, guided by the slow night wind.

Days passed. Nights bled into morning, into evenings. The flower shop still sat sandwiched between other shops, a tiny out-of-the-way place. And although Altair tried, half of the flowers seemed to wither in his careful hands. The knowledge that he had begun to love sat heavy in his chest, bleeding out into his limbs like a wasting disease. It could never amount to anything, he knew. She, the nameless, ever-present she, was far above him. All he could do was orbit around her, a planet with slowly failing gravity. And even more than her status, those words, dripped from her sweet lips: "don't touch me. I'll die"; they echoed hollowly in his heart. Altair felt dirty. He had fallen in an instant and shattered in the next. Is this what fate is, what love is?

His hands, normally so strong and steady, shook. A bloom dropped to the ground, shorn off by his unsteadiness and he cursed. The shop bell tinkled above the door.

Her guardians had always told her she couldn’t touch anybody; not skin-to-skin. Even the faintest of accidental brushes could force her into a deep slumber, and she would sleep and sleep until her heart slowed and eventually stopped. To put it concisely, death. They were vague about the origins and details of her condition, but it was out of parental love that the couple often kept the young girl protectively locked inside the house. They buried Edelweiss in thick garments that covered her head to toe. Most of all, she was never to take off her leather gloves, no matter the circumstances. Stuffy clothing she didn't mind, but to never experience the affectionate touch of another? And so, she matured, became beautiful with smooth, pale skin and long, silky locks tied up in a neat bun. But others could only ever look, never touch.

Perhaps that was why she took pictures; she could capture whatever she wanted in a still frame and could admire it whenever she wished. Edelweiss could snap a picture of a couple kissing under mistletoe, a shot of two friends hugging as they greeted each other, even a picture of a child laughing. But when she tired of capturing things she could never have, she liked to walk around the city until she found a flower shop. This particular shop had a bell that tinkled cheerily when she pushed the door open.

With the sting of thorns on his palm, Altair looked up and there she was, pale and beautiful as a winter rose. The lowering sun had given her a halo even her frumpy clothing could not diminish. His normally joking tongue fell silent in his mouth, thick and heavy as molasses. “I’d like one edelweiss and a bouquet of dahlias.” Her voice was quiet and delicate and Altair watched as she fingered her camera, almost nervously. Silently, he pulled on gloves and gathered her flowers. Edelweiss weren’t the most beautiful blooms, but they meant noble white. Dahlias were a symbol of deep bonds: love and marriage. She eyed a display of them, and wondered if she could ever find love if she could never touch, never kiss.

Is this what fate is?

Altair sucked his breath harshly, dumbfounded at the sudden pull he felt towards this nameless girl. Instead of selling her blossoms, he wanted to buy her love, or to steal it and her, to sneak her over rooftops and under bridges until she was his alone. Altair was startled by his need of her and almost dropped the heavy blossoms. The sole of his boot scuffed the petal-strewn floor and he hesitated before handing her the bouquet. Edelweiss smiled. Altair melted without her noticing a thing. Slowly, she pulled her glove off, finger by finger. Although her parents warned against it, sometimes she would slip off her gloves just so she could feel. Edelweiss liked to stroke a flower's petals, rubbing that softness between bare fingers. If she imagined hard enough, she could even pretend the velvety touch against her fingers was something more.

Altair stared, fidgeted, watched her caress the flowers. And ah, he couldn't help himself. Lost, mesmerized, in love, fallen: he was a thousand things and they were all her. He reached out and ran one gloved finger down that soft-looking cheek.

His touch was gentle, enough to make her smile softly, forgetting for a moment. But then she breathed in sharply, her thoughts jumping straight to her unprotected skin. Startled, Edelweiss' flowers crashed to the ground along with her gloves. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her gaze frantically flashing between her gloves and this stranger. Altair jerked back, muscles bunching under leather, pinned by her panicked gaze. The scent of crushed flowers surrounded him. It was heady, sweet, intoxicating. Petals drifted slowly to pool at their feet.

His pale moonlight eyes blinked warily. Edelweiss' strangled whisper stirred an odd sense of confusion and sorrow in his chest. Altair ran an impatient hand through rumpled hair. "Why not? I-I just wanted to." The words stumbled out of his mouth; voice low and husky in the fading afternoon sun. His eyes turned dreamy, lost, a thousand constellations swirling in their depths. There were galaxies there. "I cannot help it," he said, voice distant. "I want to touch you. You could be everything." He stepped closer, an odd intensity infusing his features. One hand hovered over her, close but not touching, caught in that almost pain of being so close and so far. "I know you. Don't you feel the pull? I feel like I should be sorry, like this shouldn't be happening, but I have always-"

Edelweiss nearly jumped when she heard his voice. It was nothing like her father’s light, warm voice. It was deeper, huskier. As he talked, she tried to slip on her gloves and gather her fallen blooms, but she looked up and froze. Her heart beat like tiny drums, the rhythm ringing in her ears, less out of fear and more out of admiration. His eyes were mirrors, glimmering moonlight, and as he ran a hand through his hair, Edelweiss' gaze was drawn to his long fingers and dark, somehow starlit hair. She gaped; oh, she felt that magnetic pull. At this rate, would her heart give out from the rapid beating? “B-But you can’t,” she insisted, knotting her hands over her chest. She pressed herself against the nearby wall, her body shrinking away. “If you do, I’ll…” Her neck grew hot, the heat trickling up her face as her eyes focused on his hovering hand. But maybe one touch was okay…? She closed her eyes, weak. What does love feel like?

“Wait!” She tried to shout, but only a soft protest flew past her lips. This wasn't right. “I’ll die! One touch and…!” The words on her lips scattered and she fled, her fallen bouquet a splash of color on the unforgiving ground.

________________________

Days passed. Nights bled into mornings, into evenings. The flower shop still sat sandwiched between other shops, a tiny out-of-the-way place. And although Altair tried, half of the flowers seemed to wither in his careful hands. The knowledge that he had begun to love sat heavy in his chest, bleeding out into his limbs like a crawling disease. It could never amount to anything, he knew. She, the nameless, ever-present she, was far beyond him. All he could do was orbit around her, a planet with slowly failing gravity. And even more than her anonymity, those words that had dripped from her sweet lips: "Don't touch me. I'll die"; they echoed hollowly in his heart. Altair felt dirty. He had fallen in an instant and shattered in the next. Is this what fate is, what love is?

Bottled up in her large house, Edelweiss looked out the temporarily-bolted window while her hands ran anxiously over the smooth frame of her camera. Her parents, angry that she had wandered too far and too late, had forbidden her to go out for a time, That time was passing so slowly, but once it was over what pictures would she want to take? Her attention drifted to the wispy clouds that dotted the pale blue sky, and she knew the only picture she needed to have. A small smile traveled the length of her lips, and her gaze fell to the rest of the city. Somewhere, her now-beloved flower shop was waiting. Was it waiting for her? Edelweiss sighed and counted the days. Just two more days.

______________________

The sunlight warmed her pale face, bringing a smile to her lips as she adjusted her brimmed hat. Finally free. The weight of her camera hanging around her neck was familiar, reassuring. But still, her smile faltered slightly as she walked toward that flower shop. What was the shop-boy doing now? Apprehensively, excitedly, she pushed open the door, that small smile quivering on her lips. The shop bell tinkled lightly as Altair's hands, normally so strong and steady, shook. A bloom dropped to the ground, shorn off by his unsteadiness and he cursed. He scowled down at the flowers. Nothing was the same since she had come. He was so busy watching the dreary remains of flowers that he never noticed her entrance. This was Edelweiss' chance.

Click.

Her smile widened, brimming with light. She had it now, Edelweiss had him, forever hers, inside her camera. Altair looked up, startled, just in time to see the camera fall back against her chest. His heart stuttered. She was here, she had come back! He started towards her. Did this mean....? The beginnings of a hope against hope surged within him. At his advance, Edelweiss smiled and gave a breathless laugh, happiness bubbling out. “I would like my bouquet, please.”