I call, great Eros, the source of sweet delight, holy and pure, and charming to the sight. Orphic Hymn 58 to Eros.

Or, as you knew him, Art Donaldson. Not that you knew his true identity, 'cause he'd never tell you, but he wasn't like you, even though he had fallen in love with your mortality anyway.

The mortality he could never taste, between the cosmos and the earth, he was the God of love—the first and only, son of Aphrodite and Ares, who for the first time wanted to fail to fulfill a task given to him.

In years of changing appearance, name, place, the very personification of love had never fallen in love. But, you... Oh, how was that possible? How was it possible that you were the mortal who made him fall in love?

No, it couldn't be—it was his job to make you fall in love with someone else, with someone who wasn't like him, with someone who could take care of you like you needed, but the selfishness... It was slowly getting to him.

“May I ask who you are looking at?” Art stepped closer, hair blond and soft as cotton, almost as if he wasn't real, just divine—a smirk at you before he looked in the same direction as you. “Oh, I see.”

He disguised his jealousy, knowing what your fate was, knowing that you were looking at it right now. But, what if he turned the arrow around? What if he pointed the arrow at you and made you fall in love with him? Would it be so selfish if he ruined your destiny?

Damn it, Art, no, think straight, no impulses. He slowly shook the ideas out of his head, looking at you again. Maybe now he was beginning to understand why some mortals died for love, died for what he planted in them.

“I think you're pretty happy with your sight right now, but...” He gave a low chuckle, almost dry and a little awkward, but he hoped you wouldn't notice it. “Can I ask you a question?”

The way you nodded and slowly turned your head towards him made him swallow hard, wrinkling his nose for a microsecond. “Your fate... Do you think it's already set? All of it, y'know.”