Disclaimer: I do not own Stephenie Meyer's creations
"Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart." - W.B. Yeats
Blood pumps freely and luxuriously through his veins. The vividness of the world that surrounds him is beyond anything he could ever understand. So he doesn't try. He lets himself be lost in its unpredictable tumble, rejoicing in its smiles and rewards, facing without fear its fearful wrath. He has purpose. It fills him to the point where he could think of nothing else.
Time is measured in moments. The more moments, the quicker time passes. Fifteen years was not a lifetime. It was thousands of colourful days, spent with a girl who made him smile just by picking up a stone and placing it in his hand. Or sulking because she had drawn a sun on the wall in her bedroom with her crayons, and she'd been chastised for it. Those moments are gone now. That girl is almost a woman now. In the recent moments, he spends them with a girl who returns his intense gazes. Who leads him by the hand through her house, tiptoeing because she doesn't want her parents to wake up and find them together; her wearing his shirt and him wearing nothing but cut-off jeans.
She is a mosaic. Complex in nature and made of tiny intricate pieces. From day one, he made it his mission to discover every piece that created her. After fifteen years, he is still discovering. The desire to discover sends him into a frenzy. It is at these times that he reminds himself of what he already knows about her. The beautiful things he has already unearthed.
She is afraid of being second best. But she deals with it because she is tolerant and accepting. She pushes herself, fails, cries and then picks herself back up again. Her conscience speaks to her more loudly than anyone he ever knows. She could spend a full hour sitting still, gazing out in front of her. She's vivid. Spiritual. Sensual.
Every year, every time he was with her, he'd piece her together, bit by bit. She is not whole yet. His heart beats stronger as he realises there is so much more to know.
This year, he has been discovering her in a way that he has never before. The feel of her lips moving with his; sometimes timidly, sometimes fervently. The little moan she makes when he kisses her on that certain spot on her neck. The way she runs her fingers over the lines on his hand, a fascinated look in her eyes. He knows that she is discovering him as well.
He has not wanted this stage of their relationship all along. It wasn't until he saw how she was growing and becoming admired that he understood this is what he had been waiting for. She could truly belong to him, they could be one being.
When he had this realisation, the waiting became close to torture. A sensual torture that engulfed him, leaving him breathless and alive. He was aware of her every move, the lines of her body. The feeling of desire that came over him was almost too powerful to control. But his love for her; his undying, glowing devotion to her came above all other feelings. He waited until she was ready.
She is ready. And he has taken her into his embrace and not let her go. They go slowly, because she is still young. But he has her, and the waiting is no sacrifice. His heart burns.