stephenie meyer owns twilight.
"We are impossible." he said, dropping his eyes down to my feet. His face fell, defeated.
The knot of his eyebrows refused to smooth out beneath my heated fingers. I pressed roughly, almost desperate trying to sooth away everything, but it didn't matter. It wasn't working. Frantically, I raked my brain for anything that could hold him here but I came up blank. My heart-beat suddenly took residence in my ears as it pounded harshly shutting out every other sound in the room. Everything distorted beneath my watering eyes. The ground melted into waves fusing with my feet, elevating me on a shaky cloud. I clawed my fingers into the worn blanket, fisting the wooly texture.
I searched his face for any contradiction to the finality of his words. There wasn't any.
His eyes were downcast, refusing to face me.
His lips were pressed together, forming a thin frown. I ghosted my thumbs over the corners, trying to mold them into a glint of hope.
He shrugged them off, taking my hands in his, slowing raising his eyes to mine.
You know that feeling that you get in the back of your throat, when it swells into this big giant ball of tears and you try to swallow it.
As if you could swallow back the pain and the wounds.
Like vomit it bubbles up to the surface and shoots through every crevice in my body and I'm suffocating. I take the polluted air in shallow gasps as if my life depended on it.
"Can't you see we're not right, Bella?" he tries to explain, rubbing small circles into my palm.
I try to hate the way his words feel like razor-sharp knifes scraping against my skin, shredding flesh down to bare bone. I try to hate the way most of his smiles are half-hearted and broken, chipped off from repeated stabs.
I try to hate him. God knows I try, but I can't.
After all, I am the only one to blame.
I brought this upon us.
I took the other half of his smiles and drowned them in my self-pity. I neglected every part of what could have been, and fell for what was.
I beg like the bitch that I am for him to take me back. I kneel before him, wrapping my snake-like arms around his legs, sobbing into his knees.
"Please." I weep, staining his jeans with snot and salty tears.
He tries to dislodge himself from my iron-grip, but I refuse to budge.
"Bella, c'mon." his voice quivers and it's all that fuel that I need to keep pulling.
He walks and I am being dragged against the marble flooring, my entire body falling limp at his feet. The chill of the floor soothing against the heat of my skin. He bends down snaking an arm behind the nook of my knees cradling me like a baby, gently pulling my body flush against his. And I feel the warmth and comfort as it radiates between us. And can't he feel it too?
He sets me on our bed. My bed, now.
His hand makes its way to my face, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand lingers there, then it ghosts down my neck and my pulse quickens to an impossible speed.
I close my eyes reveling in the feeling of his touch as it ignites a fire only he can summon.
"It's too late for this," his voice is nothing more than a pained whisper, yet it still startles me as the sound is so much closer than I anticipated.
I can feel his hot breath on my ear promising what I wish could be lies. He grazes his lips to my temple, placing a chaste kiss there as his forehead rests against mine.
I cry like it's the only thing I know how to do, while he holds my face in his hands. And I want to tell him that they're burning me, that they're killing me. I'm gasping for air, hiccups tearing through my lungs, constricting my chest. My vision blurs from the hysterical water works and next thing I know his lips are on mine. He's breathing into me, giving me everything that I need.
And I'm alive.
His tongue snakes its way into my mouth, and how can I deny him when he makes me feel this way?
And suddenly the realization hits me like a bullet to the head.
And I know.
It is too late for us.
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