The first time it happened it could be passed off as a mistake. While alcohol couldn't be blamed you could blame instead the intoxicating smell and the moment, where everything falls away and you wonder 'what's happening to me, and why does it feel so good?' The first time your lips descended onto hers it was hungry and raw, gripping and gasping and raking nails along smooth skin that looked like it could shatter if you held on too hard. You wanted to know what she felt like, what she tasted of (a secret little fantasy you couldn't ignore anymore) and she just wanted to forget, wanted to feel passionate and lustful and so very alive.

So you lifted her with ease onto the counter, never breaking contact with her lips as questing fingers spiderwebbed across the flesh on her chest (a little to the left, because it's been so long since you felt anything throb in your body), hummingbird heart beat thrumming tenfold when your cool fingertips touched her in places that previously only he had been allowed to hold. She tasted of winter and strawberries and innocence, the last so sweet that you couldn't help but let out a soft, throaty moan that you swore reverberated like a tuning fork down her spine.

Your hands moved from her torso to her hips as you ground your bodies together, squirming and writhing like polar opposites (hot and cold, sun and moon) desperate to melt into each other. One of her palms shot out for balance and knocked the tap, creating white noise that washed away all of the ambiance and left only her. Tongues touching but mouths unlocked you take an unnecessary breath that comes out in short pants because you're actually feeling the heat, the strain. How is it she makes you feel so alive?

For a moment your eyes connect and her orbs are darkened to almost black, mirroring yours that teeter precariously from swirling ocher to pitch onyx, showcasing the animal inside and yearning for the gaping want that flashes so desperately against her strong but fragile features. Sinking your fingers into the bones of her hips she is suddenly pressed flush against you and your tongue is making patterns on her collarbone, intricate songlyrics that become more and more incoherent as you slowly make your way down down down down...

(-)

And now you sit in an uncomfortable chair, idly watching to your left as she twiddles her thumbs in a nervous and embarrassed gesture, sneaking guilty looks at the teacher who appears to be stern but is equally as nervous and embarrassed as she is. For a moment there is an awkward silence and you sigh internally as a blush stains her cheeks, berating yourself on not seeing this coming. You so desperately want to scan the future, but the glazed look your eyes would take on suggests drugs and that's the last thing he needs to think. You would think that people would be kind and mine their own damn business (not that they did decades ago) but it seems mankind has gotten nosier with each generation that has passed.

Submerged in your lust induced fervor you didn't notice the stench of another being who didn't belong (your chest twisted painfully at that, nobody else should be allowed to see her in such a primal state) until the third calling of your name (in full, none the less) brought your head from between her thighs, licking your shining lips in an afterthought that made both humans blush. She had to grip your shoulders in warning as your lips began to curl up into a threatening snarl, the beast inside of you wanting nothing more than to rip this pesky nuisance apart but only her grounding presence prevented that disaster.

Coming back to the present you see his lips moving and you deduce that because it's the first time something like this has ever happened he won't report it in (a reward for giving him something to think about in bed, the pig), but not to do it again on school grounds. Nodding, you give him a large smile that she knows is bloodthirsty and aggravated, but whisk out of the office, a dazed Bella in your wake.

Thankfully the sun hasn't come out of its protective shield as you reach your beautiful baby, running your fingers down its side like you did not so long ago. But you don't get in just yet because you know she wants, no, needs to say something, (you want to beg her not to break your heart) that hesitating stillness where it's too thick to cut without scars, but not deep enough to drown in.

You don't even have to turn to face her when you hear that shaky intake of breath, like a stuttering confession she doesn't want to say and you surely don't want to hear. Internally you curse the teacher for interrupting, your brother for hoarding something so precious. Yourself for craving and wanting and giving in to curiosity and lack of control (because you'd die all over again if you never even tried) and finally her for being so damn tempting; like a siren's song that beckons you with sweet music in the form of breathy moans but leaves you alone and flailing. The scary thing is that even when her blood rushes millimeters beneath fragile skin it's her you want, not the liquid. This kind of crippling need for another person's touch has never graced you before, and it scares the hell out of you.

But you certainly can't round on her and start saying that you'd die without her (even though it's somewhat the truth) because you're dead anyway.

So instead you turn with a large, airy smile, coaxing her to speak.

"Alice," she starts, an unusual determination gleaming deep in her eyes. The way your name rolls off her tongue makes you shudder, a slight motion she doesn't catch but you feel down to your bones. A hand runs through her hair (a nervous habit that you used to have too, but you stopped because you're never nervous anymore) and she licks her lips in a way that makes you throb again. "This..." she waves her hands about in a frustrated gesture. You're tempted to tease because that's what you do, you're Alice and you tease, but the temptation is ignored.

Then she meets your gaze and you feel your heart crumbling, because despite all the emotions swirling in those chocolate eyes, one feature is prominent: regret.

"This didn't happen, okay?" Your smile fades but you nod all the same and wearily climb into your beloved Porsche, feeling your hundred plus years suddenly weighing on you.

Silently you lean your head on the steering wheel and remain in that position long after she's pulled away from the lot.

(-)

The second time it happens you're not sure if it was an accident or a subconscious need. Things had gone back to normal. There was a brief awkward period where you weren't quite sure how exactly you kept your sanity in between her avoiding you and Edward's pesky attempts at prying. You barely managed to keep him out, making your thoughts so wild and chaotic that he couldn't keep up, let alone decipher them. Frustrated, he would back out but Jasper would catch a glimpse of too much heartache in your eyes and try to comfort you, not knowing how guilty it made you feel.

But slowly you and Bella began talking again. Little things you could take comfort in like a smile or a hug, distracting you and making you believe that perhaps things were going to be okay. Nobody noticed how you lingered for a second on her, or why you seemed to be dazed whenever her scent remained on your skin. And nobody definitely noticed that once when they went out hunting, you crept into Edward's room and twined yourself into Bella-ridden sheets, relishing the feel of your smells becoming one. But no matter how hard you tried and she succeeded you couldn't forget the hot lips on your marble skin or the sticky aftershocks that flooded your mouth. And you certainly didn't want to forget the way she played your body like a familiar instrument, dragging teeth and scraping nails across all the right places.

Perhaps if you looked hard enough you could find the words etched into the place where the drum of your heart was supposed to be.

Taken by Bella. (Sorry Jasper.)

No matter how much you attempted to catch her eye for a private second during lunch or make her blush with an offhanded comment that pertained to that time, it's like it never happened.

So even you couldn't predict the second.

When you stepped out into the deserted hallway to deliver the note, Bella was at the other end. Paths crossed, shoulders brushed, but as you moved away a warm hand clamped down firmly on your slender wrist.

Something you couldn't quite catch happened that moment; suddenly you were liplocked, paper fluttering forgotten to the floor. The next moment she was against the lockers, your slim fingers already ruffling and tugging against her chestnut tresses. A leg presses in between yours and you let out a low hiss, secretly pleased by the fact that the sound was accompanied by a rush of moisture from the taller girl and the floating smell of her arousal. Stumbling at a drunkenly human pace that was (for once) fast enough for you, your lithe fingers fly up, silently thanking whoever was listening (hopefully not Edward) that she was wearing a buttoned shirt.

Yanking her into the janitor's station and the door closing with an exciting click, your mouths smash together again and her shirt falls away, exposing alabaster skin and a fluctuating heartbeat that seems to be pounding out of her chest. You glance up to take in the almost coherent lust (would it be so bad if it was?) in her eyes before a hand comes up to the pullcord, shrouding your little haven in darkness with a resounding snap.

You didn't get caught that time.

(-)

For the first time your memory lets you remember, you slept. It was not a dreamless sleep as the humans call it but one plagued with shadows and doubt that trail your every move. When you ran around the corner, more were waiting for your arrival. The walls were slimy and warm, from ahead of the darkened hallways there was an innate sense of wrongness that pulsed within its depths, drawing you like a moth to a flame, unaware that it was slowly beginning to catch fire.

And suddenly, there was screaming. Yet it wasn't yours, seeming to bounce off the hallowed walls and reflect directly into your sensitive ears. Briefly the disgusting gray pallor of the sickly walls changed into whitewashed and sticky bright, the sudden change disorienting you. Weaving slightly your feet take you on a path you swear you've never ventured but know regardless, running towards the source of the noise. However, that's the last coherent thought you process as suddenly you're staring at the tortured maker; small form clad in a hospital gown, pale skin with sunken cheeks from what looks like malnutrition but is much more sinister. She begs you to do something as you stare horrified, watching the needles become saturated with bright beads of red. But you stare on, and don't even flinch when her bright blue eyes connect with your ocher, and feel the world tumbling away as she arches, spiky black locks plastered to her face in blind agony.

Once again you are back in these wretched halls, watching the slick slime expand and retract like the very maze is alive. Drawn again like a lamb to the slaughter you run without purpose, spiraling forever deeper into the inky blackness. Nothing except a tiny pinprick keeps you going, and as you sprint it grows until your skin sparkles like a diamond statue; frozen in a beautiful but unchanging era.

In the center of the light is Bella, and your soul melts as her whole face glows upon seeing you, the subtle curve of her eyes above the wide beaming smile. She reaches out a hand that you gladly take, but cry out in heart-wrenching loss as her form evaporates at your touch. Again she appears, but this time he is there too, standing several feet away with an almost pleading expression.

Torn, you start to him from deeply ingrained family bonds, but your body howls so badly for her touch that you almost buckle right there. Reaching out, you graze her face long enough to see her smile, before the world was shrouded in darkness. And that was enough.

Now reality comes rushing back and you're lying on your back while your family stares down, with concern etched into their beautiful features. Edward is trying to read your thoughts (the way his brow furrows in concentration both annoys and amuses you) but they're in shambles (you'd be surprised if you even managed to make sense of them) and once again you elude his probing grasp. The frustrates him.

"Alice," he says, voice drenched in brotherly concern and genuine exasperation. "What's going on?"

For a second the words hang deadly on your tongue, threatening to destroy bonds and open doorways, that you want her and need her and ohgod you'll do everything you possibly can to take her from him; the truth in those words startles you and renders you mute for a second. They begin to edge out despite your wishes, but you swallow them with obscene difficulty and instead reply, "I need to hunt."

With that you're out of the window, but not before the wind reminds you in a voice eerily close to hers;

It's the choices that make us who we are.

(-)

Your thoughts are in chaos, a screaming, swirling mix of confusion and doubt and overwhelming certainty that deeper things than a one night stand are at play. The night does nothing to ease your burden as the stars dance absently, playing with fickle light that seems to shine in all the wrong places.

(the only right place is near her)

A hand passes through your hair, swiping bangs out of your face in irritation and sending your locks into further disarray. They stick out at odd angles, making it look like you've just gone rounds with the most promiscuous and talented of prostitutes. Maybe you should, see if it's only her that makes your fingers flood with imaginary heat and sparks go off behind your eyes. But you know deep down that it's foolish and it's only her that makes fireworks explode in your chest, a phantom heartbeat in your throat whenever that look comes into her eyes, the wanton lust you've been seeing more and more recently. You just wish it was something different.

Whoa, back up there.

You blink slowly as the implications wash over you. Okay, fine, you like being around her. You like hearing her laugh, seeing her smile. You think the way that she blushes is adorable, and that everytime she seems sad you want nothing more to wipe the hurt off her delicate features. But that doesn't mean you want her that way, right? It doesn't mean you want to kiss her and touch her and hold her and... love her.

Burying your face in your hands, a low keening noise rises from the back of your throat, a distress signal that is unique to your voice. For a long time you just cradle your features, feeling thoughts spinning like a tornado through your mind, leaving a disaster of skewered opinions and flailing emotions. Maybe... maybe you do want her. But it can't be that strong. It can't be love. Not now, not ever. A crush you can deal with. Physical want you can struggle through. But this strange, pining your feel deep within the roots of your soul isn't right. She deserves someone she can be content with, be safe with. Where people won't stare and whisper, where family and friends won't turn away. Like... Edward.

His very name makes you cringe inside, but you are suddenly seized with the urge to go to her. Perhaps seeing her in the flesh will dispel the smoke and mirrors and show you what you really feel. Strengthened by this irrational hope you run, not even bothering to wonder how you know the direction to her house by heart. The trees whip past at incredible speed as you're spurred on by an incomprehensible need to know. But as you appear by her window, his scent hits you a second too late and you witness them kissing passionately, seeing the flutter of her heartbeat wild against her neck. A feeling unlike anything you've ever felt before rises ugly in your throat, and you have to turn away like a coward, but the venom that laces your eyes betrays you. You reach up to wipe at tears that will never fall but a sound from her freezes you mid track, stygian darkness holding nothing to the healthy glow of her face. She seems happy.

You can't stay here. You have to move, to get away, do something apart from watching her body shake with suppressed lust in his arms. And with that you're gone, her noise in the back of your head and an indescribable feeling rearing bitter in the pit of your chest.

Jealousy.

(-)

The third time couldn't be anything but single-minded purpose. Sure, you could attempt to pass it off as a temporary lapse in judgment or the way your dream wouldn't let go of her shining face the moment before it disappeared into nothingness, but you know you'd just be lying to yourself. Strange things are happening, deep within your chest comes a throb that feels very much alive, an abstract beat that sets tempo for the rest of your emotions. At first you thought that you were wrong and she was wrong and this was wrong, that you couldn't anymore for fear of falling harder than you already have (she crawls towards you and your mind sings a mantra please don't please don't please don't not again don't don't don't) but it physically hurt to resist her temptation, and all will quickly crumbled into dust.

When you fall back onto the bed, exhausted, there is no denial that the other times have created, no astonishment or ignorance on her face. She simply burrows deeper into the covers, and consequentially, into your soul.

And so with her pressed against you, your torso breathes in, and out.

In, out, in, out. Like so many times before.

But there is a difference between now and then. While earlier happenings that could perhaps just be a cry for physical release, this isn't pure carnal lust. As the sheets twine through your legs and palms spread, you meet her fingertips with your own. It is... tender. While you shouldn't be acting like lovers, you can't help but hope this affair like your own dirty little secret will carry on for a long time. You ache to feel her skin against you, wanting to wrap your arms around her and never let go. The sweetness of her flesh is like heaven on your tongue, perhaps the closest to that place up in the sky you'll ever get. That's fine with you, because Bella is all the heaven you need.

While she is taller her frame curls into you, smiling slightly from the purr that rumbles deep within your core. Your fingers absently play with her hazelnut locks, relishing in the simple feel of bodies touching, your skin being warmed from her heat that's echoes in time to her heart.

(ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom, the sound of sweet nothingness in the form of a human goddess)

Suddenly a light frown marks her features and you know she's thinking deeply, a lip caught in between her teeth. Not liking the slightly pained expression that plays across that pretty face you dip down, planting a feather-light kiss that quickly grows in intensity until she draws back, flush and breathing harder than before. She shoots a shy smile and your heart melts all over again, scaring you slightly with the intensity upon which the heat presents itself.

"Alice," she murmurs, uncertainty laced with guilt in her tone. But the good thing is that no matter how hard you search there is no regret that was present the first time things started to spin violently out of control. There are no words that need to be said, and you pass cool fingers along her warm cheeks, elicting a shiver. Pulling her closer, you know she smiles because of the sudden feeling of warm sunshine on your chest. The sentence dies on her lips and she is simply content with being near, like your presence could erase all doubts she will ever have.

It is unknown how long you rest there, intertwined. Her breathing evens out slowly, with a shuddering sigh she finally collapses fully against you, the picturesque model of exhausted satisfaction. Short nails run along her scalp, gently raking hair back and making a soft, pleased moan escape from deep within her throat. The noise makes you ignite in all the right places but the urges are ignored. She needs her sleep. Your fingers continue their work as you try so hard to place what this is, what it will be. Futures unknown race past your clouded ocher eyes, wheeling at such a speed it is difficult for even you to grasp. All throughout they are clouded, fuzzy. Uncertain, undecided. Some give you a feeling of dread, others of comfort. But one, one stands out. Just dipping into the shallow waters of this vision sends tingles crawling into your muscles, almost paralyzing you with their intoxicating warmth and sense of fullness. It eludes your grasp, dancing just out of reach. Mocking you.

Hours pass as you hold the sleeping girl in your arms, eyes permanently glazed in a trance, chasing after hopes and faint promises. Never have you struggled so hard to read what lies ahead, because your chest burns with the feeling of hope. Maybe...

Maybe what? You don't even know what you desire anymore.

There is a nagging voice in your head that says you do. That what you desire is curved up against you now, breath coming in short puffs and bringing the tantalizing scent of vulnerability and courage, sleeping soundly to escape from the waking world that just got a lot more difficult. Perhaps dreams will hold the answers? But the only ever recollection of your dreaming gave nothing but unanswered questions and the muted horror of seeing yourself writhing blindly against a hospital bed, begging for anybody to free you of this torment. Was that honestly you? Your mind is unsure, but your heart says yes. And you are Alice, you are always supposed to trust your heart.

She lets out a soft sigh, dreaming of woven fairytales and childish imagination, where nothing is complicated and things always work out in the end. Fondly you brush a stray piece of hair from her face, watching the moonlight catch the strands so they seem to turn white as snow, eliciting a fragile appearance from her innocent features. Suddenly you are seized by weariness, and as her heat warms your frozen features, you close your eyes and let yourself wander the barrier between awake and asleep, never fully gone but under the illusion that your mind has been given rest. While you know that tomorrow things will go back to normal and it will be like nothing ever happened, you will for now relish this moment that is so decidedly private, it will keep you warm on the coldest nights when she is safe in his arms.

But there is still one thought, that despite your peaceful state, chews on the fraying edges of your consciousness.

Why do I feel like this?

(-)

Affection is a fickle thing. It morphs and twists on itself, and only in the truest form are you sure of what it really is. Slowly does it leak into your brain, making you unknowingly succumb to its charms, and you figure out only much later after you've either gotten your heart broken or warmed that the warning signs were blatant to everybody but you. Which is exactly why you sit nervous, nails drumming against the hard wood table top. Everything is in sharp focus, the ticking clock painfully loud to your sensitive ears. What do you need to talk about? Is it about the way you keep floating in and out of conversations nowadays? Maybe from Edward being shielded to your thoughts? Because, you swear, if it would have caused that much trouble you'd just-

"Jesus, Alice. Calm down." That sultry voice almost makes you explode out of your chair, and instead a strangled yelp comes forth from your chest. You come face to face with a pair of concerned golden orbs, determination swirling deep in their depths. That look is painfully familiar to the whole household, meaning 'bitch, I'm not leaving until I get what I want'.

Fuck.

Unnecessarily licking your lips, you shoot a beaming smile that is quickly erased at the arch of an unimpressed golden eyebrow. Frowning, your nails increase pace until they start to create gouges in the expensive wood. Esme will have your head about that. Quickly you curl your fingers into a fist, but it's too late; she's noticed. "What do you want, Rosalie?" You sigh, resigning to your fate. She takes a chair, studying you carefully like one would something under a microscope. No matter how hard you try to put on an impassive face, her intense scrutiny soon has you squirming in your seat. If there is one thing about Rosalie, it's that she's exceedingly blunt at the most inopportune times.

"Why do you always smell like sex now?" If you could you'd be crimson, but instead you bury your face in your hands and let out an embarrassed little half-groan. Even with your eyes closed you still feel she's smirking from that irritating feel of smugness radiating from her general area. "Rose!" You squeak, rubbing furiously at your cheeks. You know it's just your imagination but you can practically feel the heat coming off of you in waves. While you're exceedingly grateful she chose to do this when the rest of the family is out, it's still uncomfortable and not very welcomed, considering that you're so confused you can't even give yourself a straight answer.

So when you spread your fingers slightly and peek out between the holes, you aren't surprised to see her with legs and arms crossed, a perfect expression of impatient curiosity plastered on that supermodel face. For a moment you stare at each other, before your slight shoulders slump in defeat, never removing your hands from where they cover your features. "It's that obvious?" You mumble, trying desperately so that she wont here it. But who are you kidding, she's a vampire, she hears everything.

Rosalie snorts, looking at you through thick blond lashes. When her form stretches you're vaguely jealous of her supermodel curves and luscious hair that falls down in waves, bitterly cursing your anorexic stature and wide eyes; but then you remember what it caused her to go through and the thought is sobered with a fresh wave of shame. "Yes, Alice. But I think only me and Carlisle have noticed it. So, going to tell me who it is? Because it certainly isn't Jasper." The thought of the gentle wavy haired boy makes your heart twinge in remorse. You know you have to tell him, but what kind of words would be fitting, if any at all? I'm sorry, but I'm in love with Edward's girlfriend? She's a better screw that you? You firmly shut your eyes, willing the world around you to disappear.

The name slips forth from your lips without consent, twining around your tongue with the taste of fresh snow and innocent hope that you associate with the object of your affections. Nothing at all like Jasper's husky, deep salt and spice that you've come to put hand in hand with heavy feelings and silent nights. "Bella."

For a moment, there is dead quiet. The chair creaks, and the blond bombshell leans closer. Your eyes remain screwed shut regardless of how hard you want to open them, wishing feverishly that there will be something on her face. Acceptance, anger, disbelief. Anything but disappointment. The future evades you again, leaving the next few moments coated in shadow. When her voice comes, it is tinged in something akin to curiosity. "Bella. As in, Edward's girlfriend Bella." That sets you off, and your eyes darken pointedly, mouth opening in an enraged grimace.

"Fuck, Rose, who else?" You snap, springing up from your seat and pacing back and forth rapidly. Is she trying to make you feel worse by throwing his name out there? There's nothing but conflicting feelings (fuck, everything is so screwed up) bounding inside your head, but it's enough to send you spinning into a fit of uncontrollable rage that is so rarely pulled from your bright pixie soul. "It's not like I wanted this, but it happened so suddenly! One second she was there and the next she was against me on the counter, and my hands were under her shirt and it felt so right that I couldn't stop, and now I'm dreaming about her and thinking constantly I just want her so much." A dry sob interrupts your ranting, but you almost flinch away at the sudden pressure of a cool, marble hand against your shoulder. Rosalie's face has softened, a rare moment of compassion slipping through the cracks in her facade.

When she pulls you in you don't resist, clutching to her as your shake against her solid frame. While your face barely reaches her neck the cold comfort that comes from her presence is unbelievably strong; proof that not everybody will leave you if this does come out. It's known that because of her life, she doesn't show much emotion, but you can't help but wonder how she does this so well. As she whispers that you can't choose who you fall in love with, you mutely nod against her shirt and remain there for moments longer before pulling away with a watery smile. She motions to the chair and you slump, visibly exhausted from your minor breakdown. Fingers rake through your scattered locks, betraying nervousness.

"What are you going to do about Jasper?" There is silence for a moment, and you bite your lip in consideration. You two have been together through everything, it wouldn't be fair to string him along if your feelings were tainted by the overpowering affection for another. And neither would it be for whatever happens with Bella, regardless if it remains a sordid affair or something more. Your mouth is about to open when your eyes glaze over, and shapes flit through the trees of your home, converging on the house. "They're coming back." Is all the warning she needs, and a veil goes down around her eyes; shielding her thoughts from the mind-reader that is quickly nearing the spot. But before you do the same, determination sets into your voice.

"I'm going to tell him." She glances at you for a second, expression unreadable, before a curt nod and a wave of vanilla is all that is left in her empty space that she once occupied.

(-)

It is Saturday as you lounge around the house, in a much better mood now that you and Rosalie have talked (who knew the ice queen could be so helpful?). The whole family has noticed, but they certainly aren't complaining. Edward still tries to get into your thoughts, but you've become adept at blocking him out. He tries for Rosalie, but she is even better than you are. Though you seriously could do without the knowing smirk that finds its way onto the blond's features every time you're in the room together.

Deciding that you could use with a tan (even though you're well aware you can get no such thing) you wander off outside, hopping effortlessly onto a large boulder and draping yourself across the sun-warmed surface. As you settle down, a low purr begins to rumble in your chest, your body arching to fit the rough surface. Normal people would find it uncomfortable, but the diamond skin is hardly touched and you soon find yourself lulled into a lazy contentment. Sunlight makes your flesh shine like the brightest star, and slowly you drift off into Bella-ridden halfdreams.

"Ah, Alice!" she cries, clutching desperately onto your back as your hips hit hers roughly, grinding together in a frenzied dance that you've both choreographed. Sweat from her slicks onto your pale skin, making it seem like the both of you are writhing and shining in the lowlight. Warmth runs sticky down your inner thighs, creating wet slamming noises whenever your bodies connect. Instinct takes over and your breath comes in sharp gasps, trying desperately to fuel the fire raging inside. Nails rake unashamedly against your delicate shoulderblades, no scratches being left but the psychological thrill remains. You take her mouth roughly, a lusting moan from her throat swallowed by your agile cavern.

Clothes are scattered about the floor, neon lights that flash outside the seedy motel coating her frame in sticky-bright colors; reflecting off her euphoria twisted features. Without hesitation her hips roll to meet yours each time, waves of pleasure assaulting your abdomen like you've never felt. Pressing yourself flat against her, your teeth find purchase in her neck as the seductive serenade fills the night air. Her fingers lace in your hair, pushing you deeper into the nubile flesh. But it isn't the blood you want throbbing so decidedly close to your mouth, but Bella. You want her scent, her taste, her touch. Her laugh, smile and tears. Nothing close to this level of yearning has ever graced your soul (something so foreign, fierce and goddamn exciting) and it just increases ten-fold as strangled sounds come from her throat.

"Come on, Bella." Your voice is husky and rough, almost unrecognizable with the blinding lust that covers your mind like a shroud. Tongue out you trail it until where it finds the hollow in her ear, eliciting a cry of ecstasy from the human's throat. So close, you can smell it, the shifting deep within her core...

The pace is degrading fast, from the intricate but coherent rolling to wild, feral gyrating as each of you crawl ever closer towards impending release. From her heat your body is warm to the touch, seeming to generate its own feverish liveliness that screams to be heard. Words now nothing but an animalistic snarl in her ear, you violently crash your hips together, gasping when her hand comes down and tweaks a sensitive nub on your chest. "Come for me, amore."

Though the feelings threaten to overwhelm her, her voice is clear in your mind as a breathy whisper. "Only if you do the same, pixie." Your nickname turns into a moan and that's all you need, arching your back and pushing your hips against hers, quivering slightly. A final roll and your muscles turn rigid, feeling hot juice slide down your thighs and onto the already soiled mattress. Underneath your small frame Bella jerks, curling herself into you and her body twitching violently. Sparks flash in your eyes and a groan breaks free from your mouth, feeling the human's arousal coat your skin. The indescribable pit of roiling flame in your abdomen breaks free and travels through your body, giving all the consent your shape needs to go from stone solid to a shivering mass of twitching appendages and gasping breaths.

Your lips meet when the euphoria lifts and you both collapse, panting, on the queen sized bed. She silently curls into you, a contented sight floating from her lips. "I love you, Alice."

Golden eyes snap open in wonder, relishing in the realistic feel of the dream. But as a sneaking suspicion takes over, you glance overhead and realize that it is still sunny, like no time had passed at all. It wasn't even a dream.

It was a vision.

Does... does this mean she likes you back? Oh, god, you'd give everything just to hear an affirmative.

The shrill sound of a ringing phone breaks the inquisitive silence, and you jump three feet in the air, fishing out the offending item from your pocket. Hands shaking slightly from the intensity of what you just witnessed, your voice is still as airy and light as possible. "Hello?"

"Alice, we need to talk."

(-)

She stands, nervously rocking on the balls of her feet as the wind whips past without a care in the world. Things sway and move along with her, as if she's bending them to her will. Eyes dart from one clearing to another, never resting too long on a certain spot. Crouching half hidden in the foliage, part of you wonders if she is human; the gentle flush of her cheeks and hair that flows as if alive seems much too beautiful to be mortal. Whistling through the leaves, the wind beckons you towards her. When she sets eyes on you, a timid smile alights her face and the world seems to melt around your feet.

And suddenly you're pressing inches from each other, her frame shivering (from the cold or your proximity, you can't tell) gently. Her brow furrows slightly, and you don't dare shift as her hand comes up, cool to the outside world but warming to you, cradling your cheek. Sighing softly, you close your eyes and lean into the slim palm.

"Alice," she begins, and you can't summon anything besides a lazy hum in response. Eyes still closed, you know it will be different than the time in the parking lot where your heart crumbled in your hands as the regret firmly closed around her eyes, like a shield protecting her from the truth. But still, there is that small little voice in the back of your head that whispers evil thoughts you don't want to know, like what if this is all a mistake? or, what if she doesn't feel the same way? Suddenly wary, your eyes flutter open to meet her heavily conflicted chocolate, swirling with emotions that you can't place. Her thumb absently starts to stroke the cool flesh of your cheek, making your chest rumble in a cautious purr. Perhaps the world was supposed to have made you jaded, but you can't help the hope you feel from shining through you.

She bites her lip, a light blush working its way onto her features from the way you react so shamelessly to her touch. "Is... is it wrong to want you?" You smile slightly, but shake your head. Words would shatter this fragile moment, and the hope perched in your heart; waiting to bloom. "Is it wrong to think about you all the time?" Deny. Swallow. Sigh. "If I have a boyfriend," you both unconsciously cringe "then why do I feel like this? Why do I want, no, need to hold you, to touch you, to make you smile?" She goes quiet for a moment, and that phantom heartbeat comes back, slamming in the gentle hollow of your ribcage where the one you possess has remained silent for much too long.

"Why do I think about you when I'm with h-him?" The break at the end of her sentence signifies how torn she really is, and you silently gather her in your arms like Rosalie did days ago, rocking back and forth, stroking her skin gently. She shudders into you, bent down but still comfortably nestled in your shape. The soft breeze of her smell floats towards you, lifeblood mixed with frozen lakes and mountain fruit that makes you sway with the wind. It caresses you, not liking the heartache its children are experiencing. Slowly the shaking subsides, but there is still something that hangs in the air. A sentence neither of you can quite grasp.

You can see it curl around her tongue, making a visible effort to get out the words. "What do we do, Alice? Everything is wrong." The words are muffled into your light shirt, but hold truth. You nod against her, drawing back to look into red-rimmed eyes, strained from holding back tears.

"I don't know, Bella." Wind carries your voice like chimes upon the air, gentle and soothing. "Something, anything, would be better than the game we're playing." She sighs, cupping your face with both hands. "I don't want an affair. I want something real, like what I feel whenever I touch you."

Your body positively melts at her hesitant hope, and you smile softly. "Then what do you want?" A low murmur has taken up residence in the center of your chest, like a brook of emotions that have been put away for far too long. "You." When lips meet the spark is instantaneous, driving all rational thought away and leaving only soft skin. Though it isn't your first kiss it certainly feels like it, all lights and sirens with the angels coming down and a soft undercurrent of sexual tension that never happens with Jasper, because he isn't Bella. Part of you wishes that your first kiss could've been more like this (at this point it was the only part of you actually thinking) but you told it to shut up and it did willingly. Her tongue hesitantly pokes at your lips and you gladly deliver entrance, groaning as her warmth seeps into you. Hot and cold battle for dominance, your internal thermostat being driven insane by the imaginary heat between your thighs and the icy coldness of the wind against your skin. Fingers lace themselves in her hair, but being human she has to pull away, all wide eyes and bruised lips. You're the first that finds her voice.

"I'm crazy for you, and I don't care if I'm a dirty little secret until this gets resolved." A palm comes up to silence her, seeing the reply forming into a sentence. "But you do know that you'll have to tell him. Them." Bella's face crumples, and you instantly regret bringing him up. Still, she nods shakily, running a hand through wind and Alice-swept hair.

"I know, Alice, I know. He's just... he was my first love. No matter what happens now, I did love him." Guilt pools in her eyes, and her voice drops to a whisper. "I found a ring. He's going to ask me to marry him. And now I'm going to tell him that I'm cheating with his sister?" She turns to you, pleading. "I swear Alice, I'll tell him. Just give me time."

You smile faintly, a melancholy tone stealing into your voice.

"I'm a vampire, Bella. All I have is time." For some reason this sets her off, and she clings to you desperately. There are sobs and tears, months of longing packed into this single moment. The thought makes you start to cry though liquid never falls and you both sink to the ground. Quivering and clinging like you are the last two people on the face of the Earth, arms wrap around your middle and yours snap around her neck, burying your head shamelessly in the crook of her neck. There are whispers from both sides, but the thoughts from your head can't form coherent sentences and basically it is just a running commentary of oh god now that I have you I'll never leave you please Bella don't leave I couldn't live without you- A kiss silences you, and you are content in sharing your joyful insecurities with the human laying across from you. And that is how the moon finds you, hours later.

A pair of crying children.

(-)

It has been two weeks since emotions were exchanged, and stolen kisses received. Since your second breakdown you ever remember having, and the single most amazing feeling because you can now refer to Bella as your girlfriend.

As soon as you re-entered the house with a glowing smile, you immediately hoisted Rosalie on your shoulder and whisked her far away from the other residents of the family, proceeding to giddily explain to her what happened. Even the Ice Queen could appreciate girl-talk, and soon she was right along with you on the romantic and slightly angsty rollercoaster. As you finished, you both grinned at each other before her's faded. Knowing that look, you sigh softly and raise both inky black eyebrows.

"Spit it out." She grimaced.

"You know you're going to have to tell him, right?"

Him being Jasper, the supposed love of your life and boyfriend that kept slipping away until the jolt you used to feel materialized into nothingness. The man who was so lost until you mended him, and it return he fixed you. But upon close inspection, it is revealed that you were never truly broken; only born a vampire with a large part missing. He put gauze and tight wrapping around the wound and it was temporarily forgotten, not even beginning to throb until the Swan's only child moved into this dreary Washington town, making the hole become visible once more as the bandages fell away. Now that it is filled with Bella's presence you can see the little things where you went wrong, where it should have clued you in that Jasper wasn't right. But comfort and stability is what you wanted, and until recently, what you had.

"I know." A palm is propped into your chin, giving you the air of that universally known statue, the thinking man with a heavy expression. You wonder if he ever felt like that, made of stone but so decidedly fragile to the world's events. "When?"

Rosalie's eyes were sympathetic but firm, demanding an answer to a question you really didn't want to think about. The relationship you have is currently tentative but blooming, confident that if given proper attention, it will grow into something more. Your eyes glaze over at the remembrance of your half-vision, so vivid and raw and- "Alice!" Her voice snaps you out of your reverie, earning a sheepish smile and a shake of the head. Heaving another sigh, your brows furrow in thought, staring intently at the grassy ground like it would give you answers to all you seek. You need time, just like Bella. But you've already given yourself enough time, months, to tell Jasper of your diminishing feelings towards him.

The words come forth without rational thought. "Two weeks. I'll tell him in two weeks."

(-)

And now your time was up. There was an imaginary clock hanging above your head, flashing ominous zeros that seems to scream time to face the music, little one. The ticking you could hear constantly for fourteen days vanishes, replaced with the grating beep that would sound at home in the rooms of one of Carlisle's terminal patients. Despite all attempts to steel yourself, you turn to mush at the thought of destroying the blond boy. Maybe you could lead two relationships? One to keep Jasper happy, and one to keep you happy? The idea is quickly dismissed, that wouldn't be fair to either of them. Catching your sister's eye for a brief second, you begin the slow assent up the staircase.

Each step creaks its warning, telling you to turn back, but you keep going.

(danger, danger, emotional overload! draw back, retreat!)

At a decidedly human pace you wheel through all the times you've had with him, nearly reducing you to venomous tears at all the smiling and laughter you remember. They play out like an old slideshow, audible clicks as one frame moves to be replaced with the next memory. When you met at that old diner;

The door chimes as you sway in, eyes instantly drawn to the forlorn looking man sitting at the table. Despite the air smelling of greasy but well-prepared food there was nothing in front of him but a coffee he was blankly staring at, not even noticing as the steam cooled and it grew lukewarm. His eyes were those that have done too much, known too little. The eyes of a pawn.

Loose wavy curls framed his face, and you unconsciously suck in a breath when you realize he's just as beautiful as you saw in your visions. His scent wafts towards you; a manly yet fragile mix of salt and spice from distant lands. When the waitress walks over to you with a friendly expression and asks what you'd like, you simply shake your head politely and stand for a moment, mute, in the doorway. Then: "Who's that?" She looks over, before a sad smile graces her face. "Oh, that's Major. He comes in every day and asks for just a coffee, but he never drinks it. Something bad happened to him , poor man. You can see it on him, like a cloak. I think his name is Jasper." Jasper.

Wordlessly you walk towards him, before plopping down in the seat across. He doesn't even register your presence so you take the time to study him; the subtle curve of his eyebrows, the gentle dip of his firm jaw. A well-placed nose and pale lips that are slightly turned down, caught in memory. Pale skin and bloodred eyes encircled with dark bags to mar flawless flesh showcase what he truly is. Finally he looks up and surprise takes over his face as you smile brightly. His vision narrows dangerously, but since you are a girl who feels wrong, he instead replies carefully.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" His Southern drawl makes your smile turn into a large grin, and you bend forward to grasp his hand in both of yours.

"I'm Alice, and I do believe we're going to be great friends!"

When he first asked you to love him with more than just words;

Stars dance carelessly in the sky as the both of you look upwards, relishing in the simple feel of bodies touching and the pleasant feeling only a lover can bring. Gentle winds ruffle your ebony locks and moonlight adorns his face, coating his marble skin in a slight shimmer like fragments of diamonds that have caught dim fire. Again your eyes trace his familiar features, knowing without a doubt that all the suffering you possibly endured in your human life was worth it since it led you to such a beautifully heartbreaking creature. He feels your gaze and turns slightly, a smile in place before he leans down to kiss you.

"Alice," he whispers against your lips, drawing you closer. "Ever since you've walked into my life, my world has been complete." Rough but gentle fingers firmly grasp your hips, but the contact is pulled away as he retreats, a strangely nervous expression on his face. Your eyebrows raise in confusion, wanting nothing more than the contact and the spark he brings.

But as he sinks down on one knee your jaw drops open with an audible click, staring, transfixed at the small velvet box he has procured. How did you not see this? Somehow, it makes it all the more exciting. "So I want to show my love the only way I know how. For eternity." There is a crack in his voice with the last sentence and he clears his throat, opening the little box with shaking stone fingers to reveal a stunning silver ring that catches the moonglow in all the right ways. "Marry me?" For a moment you are speechless, before flinging yourself onto him with a shattering thud.

"Yes!" You reply, joy seeping out of every pore. "Oh God yes yes yes!"

That tingling when you believed you had found your soulmate;

And you lay, gasping and shuddering on the ground. Blood coats your fingers and the broken body of the young man is draped over your frame, mouth gaping open into a scream that will be frozen until his bones are reduced to ash. His neck is a mess, all torn muscle and snapped tendons with a split jugular that accounts for the congealed pool of red, matching the one that sits pretty in your stomach. You had been so hungry and he was so unprepared, one second he was smoking the next you were on top of him, fangs snapping and jaws easily sliding through bones like paper. He is twisted at an odd angle, head rotated so that he stares at you with lifeless eyes despite the fact that the rest of him is tilted away from your shuddering form. You wrap your arms around yourself and squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to push back up the blood that now sloshes around your insides, fusing you with a sickly warmth you don't want.

Dimly your face reflects in the now gooey mess, covered in head to toe in the liquid. Chunks of flesh from where you threw your head back still scatter the alleyway, venom seeping from your mouth to create a dribble that slides from your lips and down your cheek. Much like tears.

There are footsteps, and suddenly Jasper has kneeled beside you. He props you up against the wall, where you continue to stare blankly at the ravaged man's husk until the southern war veteran gently closes his unseeing eyes and yours do the same without consent. Arms around you and he lifts you into the air, slowly moving you away from the dreaded alley with the shattered boy and the rest of your humanity. You can see that he is struggling to keep the beast inside, but for your sake he manages; an intensely painful process that you always want to go through but never manage all the way. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his salty tang, feeling a surge of affection that surely would have knocked you well off your feet if you were standing.

Without a doubt, you can't love him more than you already do.

Meeting Esme and Carlisle, them welcoming you into the family with open arms;

Despite your bubbly and joyful attitude, the cirlces under your crimson eyes told no lies.

You hurt.

It wasn't quite a new experience, but underneath the pain carried a sort of weariness that you felt whenever you looked in the mirror and bared your teeth, half expecting fangs to pop out and complete your appearance of an unwilling monster. Sometimes you wish you could look back on your human life to see what you did to deserve this, the constant bloodlust you don't want, the amazing abilities you don't need. The cold here was comforting, harsh winds shielding your dazzling skin from the sun that has become more of a hindrance than help. You weren't sure why, but you were drawn to this place.

Like an invisible line it pulled you in, tugging at your chest. There was just something here that called to you. Your visions would become strong but sporadic, always ending with a fleeting glimpse of two faces much too beautiful to be human, smiling like you weren't what you are. Like they were... inviting.

Out for the night, you happily hummed and tugged Jasper along to the various stores and he went willingly, just content that you were smiling again. Stopping every once in a while to peer into the windows, the streets become narrower and more intimate. A twitch in your brain like migraine sufferers have before the storm, and suddenly you halt in the middle of the paved path. Images flash before your eyes, of a woodland path and a long, winding road, ending in a regal looking house with the two same people and others in the background; always smiling.

Shaking off the clinging fog and your mate's concerned gaze, you glance over to the right and see the very same path; beckoning you with untold tales of excitement. Positively shaking with curiosity you start off at a run that normal people certainly couldn't replicate, hearing Jasper crash silently in the brush around you. Along the dirty road you ran, flying, feet barely skimming the ground. In a matter of minutes you arrive at an old, secluded house. It stood regal and proud, windows catching whatever faint glow could be taken from the hidden sun. As you skidded to a stop five figures came out, standing wordlessly on the front porch. They appeared to be unnatural, but their eyes were golden. What..?

As the sun finally broke and shone on the lead male's face, his skin began to sparkle brilliantly. With wide eyes you realized they were the same as you, and suddenly you wanted to know how. For the whole day you were entranced with their stories, taken with the way they switched to animal blood to stop harming people. Remembering the broken corpse of the young man, you quickly wished to know their secrets. You were smitten ever since.

And finally your first time, full of awkward bumping and not quite feral tendencies, still not quite sure how things were supposed to be done;

Low panting filled the clearing as two bodies moved together, nervously trying too hard to please the other. The man's taller frame seemed to swallow the woman's smaller one, crushing her with the demanding but sensitive weight of his arousal. Still they writhed, caught up into wondrous sensations and curious hands. As you felt him pause, you looked up into his mildly worried orbs. "Are you sure this is alright?" Ever the gentlemen. Smiling, you wrap your legs around his naked waist, slightly shifting your hips. "Of course, love."

As he sunk into you and you felt yourself filling up, a muted gasp was the only thing you could really transfer. Together you moved to an unheard rhythm, twinging in some places when he poked where things shouldn't press. It took you a while to figure out the movement (if you had ever done this before, you certainly don't remember) and pace, the ways to make him twitch. But in the end, you still managed to arch, clawing at his back as all your muscles clamped around him, a shuddering moan escaping your lips in release. He smiled, pleased with himself until surprise took him over as you rolled.

Now hovering on top and legs spread into the splits, you grin much like a cat. "Ready to go again?"

Unknowingly you've reached his door, and as your hand comes up to knock his svelte voice replies. "Enter, love." That Southern drawl makes your heart twinge painfully, but still you square your slim shoulders and march into the room, shutting the door behind you. He sits with his feet up on the desk, legs neatly crossed at the ankles and a novel half-open in his hand. When your frame appears his smile beams on his youthful face, beckoning you with the free arm. You stay put; imaginary sweat forming on your skin. But the feeling like a knot too big for your throat sits in your passageway? Completely real.

Suddenly aware of the nervousness coming off you in uncomfortable waves, his brow furrows in confusion, and you feel the uncanny shifting deep within your soul as he rummages through your emotions. His face changes to hidden worry and slight dread at the guilt he has uncovered, now sitting bright and pretty in the room; a lump where your heart is supposed to be.

Before he can speak, you open your mouth to cut him off. If you hear the tentative pleading he will no doubt acquire, you might just chicken out. You desperately try and glimpse the future, but your mind is changing too fast for it to take purchase. One thing is known; he won't take it well. "Jasper, listen. I know that you've felt the growing rift between us too. And I have to admit, it's mostly my fault. For a long time I've been going through my memories to sort out why this happened, and I can't find an exact reason." (Lies.) "All I know is that... t-the place in my heart that loved you has dulled to the point where I j-just can't feel for you anymore like I used to."

Shock is permanently chiseled onto those features you've known for longer than you care to count, but you bravely plunder on. "I've tried and I've tried but the s-spark, it just isn't there for me anymore."

(now for the hundred dollar statement that will shatter him)

"I... I don't love you anymore, Jasper. Not in the way you want. But I can't lie to myself anymore. And I certainly can't lie to you. You deserve better than that." Dead silence. That's all you can call the space of time where nobody speaks and nobody breaths. Then the shaking comes, and he doesn't even try to hold himself together.

"You what?" he roars, leaping up from his chair. Tendons are visibly straining on his neck and biceps, lips curled upwards into a violent sneer as his blond curls fly around him. Gone is the gentle man that the whole household loves; the beast has taken reign of his emotions. The primal urge every single one of the vampire race feels at a certain time rears within, turning his smoldering eyes pitch-black with fury. "You barely talk to me for a few weeks, and suddenly decide that after several decades of marriage, you don't love me anymore? This is bullshit, Alice!"

You yell back, despair creeping into your voice. "It might very well be bullshit, but it's the truth!"

"There isn't a switch that can turn on and off love! There has to be an event that causes it! Or a certain... person." He pauses, face twisted into realization. The fresh wave of guilt solidifies the answer into rock-hard cement, and his voice is suddenly very quiet.

"You've been cheating on me?"

Sob. Nod.

"How long?"

Silence.

"How fucking long have you been keeping your dirty little secret, Mary Alice?"

"I-I don't know! A couple of months, maybe? I didn't keep track of fucking time, like a little calendar that marks the date 'start of when I fell for somebody else'!" Jasper snarls angrily, clenching his fist so hard that the bones pop in their places. He doesn't even notice.

"Who is he? Who's the asshole that took you away? I will slaughter him!" (if only you knew)

But you shake your head violently, not willing to let slip. Bella isn't ready to tell yet, and giving him the name of a human female that's dating his brother certainly wouldn't help the situation. Instead you back up towards the door, not liking in the least the way his eyes hold nothing but seething bloodlust. A whimper escapes your lips. "Jasper, calm down. You're scaring me." It turns him back outside his own mind, and his voice is cold now. Clipped, with an edge of defiance.

"I still love you."

"I know."

"I won't stop until I have you back."

"I know." His features crumples and all the fight goes out of him. Like all the rage and cold anger just drains away in defeat once he realizes that you're serious and he will have to seriously battle to win you back, not knowing how far he is from winning. In a whisper he says something about a hunt, and disappears soundlessly out the window. Carefully you lever yourself down onto his sheets that still hold lingering traces of the man you fell in love with, and hold on until Rosalie comes to take you away.

(-)

The past month has been strained beyond belief. Though Jasper remains in the household he does everything in his power to avoid you, taking a different car, sitting alone at lunch. Hunting at different times. But what unnerves you is the constant scanning his gaze does to try and penetrate a secret admirer that has caught your eye, the boy he will have to beat. Too bad he's looking in the wrong direction.

With an inaudible sigh you plop down food you won't eat, landing on the hard tables with a graceful gait. Bella smiles shyly at you and you beam back, the rest of the family chuckling at your enthusiasm. Though it was technically your fault for this rift they still don't blame you, a fact you're intensely grateful for. Not sure how long it will last, you decide to take all the comfort in it you possibly can. During lunch you all talk about random topics, trying desperately to ignore the gaping, empty space where Jasper's form is supposed to be seated. There are whispers from other tables speculating on the reason, and you want nothing more than to go over to them and run their heads through a wall. However, a stern glance from Edward (atleast it was a thought that didn't count) quells the urge. For now.

When the bell shrills and tells you to get your ass back to the books, Bella brushes against you, causing electricity to shoot up your left side, and a meaningful glance connects. It screams I Need To Talk To You and you internally swallow, wondering exactly what's in store. Regardless, there is a nod and you trudge back to class.

No concentration is needed for things like this, the scanning you can do easily gives you the answers before hand; though your eyes shift in and out of glazed so often the teacher asks if you need to be sent down to the nurse. Turning over, you give a bright but distracted smile and shake your head, answering his question flawlessly. With a shrug the lesson goes on, and you're free to resume thoughts of your chestnut lover. What does she want? Any attempts to look into things always result in her face being clear, but the words nothing more than a hushed murmur. Growing increasingly frustrated, there is a decidedly loud snap as the pencil breaks easily in your hand, betraying the intensity of your annoyance. With a quick glance down at the ruined wood, your hand comes up and asks to be excused, something the teacher gladly gives.

Wanting and needing are two different things. Wanting is craving something so that it becomes a constant in your mind, hovering just out of reach. But needing is the feeling of crippling desperation that soaks into your body that leaves confusion and the certainty that you'll die without reassurance or atleast some form of answers (that have become increasingly sparse these past few days). Hating yourself for so easily giving in the the aching curiosity that a mere glance from the beautiful girl can stir inside a you, your mind morphs and twists on itself as scenarios play out like little stories inside your head; a movie reel you're powerless to stop.

When school finally ends you bolt headfirst out the door, eyes already sweeping the lot for your girlfriend. It takes a few minutes of hopping impatiently from one foot to the other (Jeez, Alice. They all laugh. You need to go to the bathroom or something?) before she comes out and you instantly breeze towards her with the loping grace you have always possessed. Her whole face lights up and you have to content yourself with a hug that lingers just a fraction too long before pulling away, missing the feel of her skin the moment she parts. "Come on." She mumbles and drags you to her old truck, something you could probably carry faster but don't care to say because this means more time with her. Waving to your family, you begin the clunky ascent towards her home.

For a moment you drive in silence, but the bursting need to know quickly overwhelms your fragile attempts at patience. "So, what did you want to tell me?" You ask, feigning indifference. But she knows better. She always knows better. With a muted sigh she draws up the rustbucket to the side of the road, and turns to face you with a serious expression, much too severe for her beautiful features.

"Alice," she starts, and you internally panic, remembering what happened the last time she began a sentence with that.

"This never happened, alright?"

Oh god, maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she figured out that she does love Edward in the end, and you're nothing but a toy that she's kept around this long for a good fuck. Maybe she just wanted to see if you were serious about throwing Jasper away for her, but she never meant it when she said she'd do the same for you. Even... the time she needed was just to figure out her feelings, and Edward's overpowered yours? As each thought creeps into your mind like the plague, it becomes apparent that your features have darkened considerably because she waves a hand in front of your eyes and quickly you snap back into reality. They are banished when you see her expression, a delightful mix of concern and determination that is so uniquely hers.

"I'm going to tell him." You stare at her dumbly.

"What?"

"I said," she repeats the words slowly, like talking to a rather slow child. "I'm going to tell him. I'm ready, Alice. I want you. All of you. And I want, no, need the world to see it too." Stunned into silence, you lunge at her without a second thought, encasing her in your smaller frame. She starts but instantly relaxes into your touch. A low, keening noise begins at the back of your throat, brought forth from overwhelming happiness.

"Alice, what's going to happen?" There is a sudden uncertainty that you wish so hard to wipe away from her trembling voice. Yet, there is nothing you can say. The shadows hold no answer.

You kiss the top of her head gently. "I don't know, my love. I really don't know."

fin.

A/N: Well, holy shit. It's 1 30 AM and I really wanted to finish this before I went to bed. This is, without a doubt, the single longest bloody piece of writing that I've ever ever EVER done. I apologize if there's spelling/grammar errors (I've been working on this for hours and am very quite tired) and if the roughly second half of the story isn't as good as the first, because this was all done in one sitting. Painful but satisfying, I assure you. Maybe I'll edit later. Or something. I don't know.

By the way, the line 'a pair of crying children'? Yeah, taken off one of my favourite original fictions of all time, Weak Hands by Amberspirit. Just letting you know, so I don't get yelled at.

And um, I've never read any of the Twilight books or seen any movies besides Eclipse, so I'm sorry if I've gotten something wrong in advance? Reviews would be freaking amazing, you know. (And no, this is going to be a oneshot. Sorry people.)