He loved with a passion that couldn't be measured, by words or numbers.He loved with a ferocity that painted his every step ten shades of bliss. Love erupted with such intensity; it was both impossible and foolish to long for a good night's sleep. His insides were consumed with desires, primal and innocent. Sweet and ravenous, like the rain painting his windowsill, joined with thunder.His insides were consumed by Mo, the one responsible for giving him a new home. The one that opened up not only his doors but his life, to a street urchin no one knew. The Brea drew him out of overwhelming loneliness, which had been so powerful, his bones ached-and he was only eighteen years old.A year had gone by. Three hundred and sixty five days of Mo had flown by, filled with Mo's family recipes, dance-offs in the rain, and late night movie marathons. A whole year of Mo had gone by, filled with his tears, shifts at a Starbucks, and dreams of blossoming into something more. Something greater. Immortal.Cy already believed in Mo's immortality.The first and only love of his life was human, but underneath a human's flesh sang divinity. Every move Mo made, whether he was on or off the dance floor, exuded an exquisite, fluid grace that belonged to a being of the highest order. The groove in Cy's heart was an Aster encased in human form, only showing humanity his wings whenever he was on the dance floor, making love to music.