A/N: This is based on the beautiful song by Emilie Autumn. And this is a pairing I sort of loved since the begining. I know most people will throttle me for splitting up the ultimate canon pairings Stephenie made, but poo on you. Read and review? Enjoy!
Dislcaimer: I do not own Twilight ro any of the characters.
Willow
I only write love songs to those whom I don't love
I only reach for him who's tied to someone else's glove
That which I hold inside, which I admire and deride
Which I protect and hide is yours
A love which once resided in my heart, although you never knew existed, still burns deeply, igniting the very pit of my soul into deep despair…
Thick, black ink dripped violently onto the end of the line, staining the pristine white stationary she kept in her desk drawer. It was only ever brought out for special occasions, but as of late she seemed to be using it more and more.
Night after night she would sit at the piano and tap out an array of notes with no connection to the other. The compositions lacked the necessary passion laced with the chords to form that sultry, gentle touch she was looking for. The would-be love was right at her fingertips, but it felt as though her muse were thousands of miles away. Her so-called paramour was just as solid as the day they met, however, her eyes saw him as nothing more than a faded spirit; a stronger, bolder image breaking it's way through to the surface- a love from long ago. A love that was foiling her inspiration for her loyal, beloved… friend. For a friend was all she thought of him as now.
In truth, she never did let go of the day years ago when he first came into her life. All cavalier attitude, subtle shrugging off, and uninterested gazes. On the surface, there was nothing that indicated he felt even a n inkling of emotion towards her- too bad his nonchalance was not returned. Oh, how she wished it were! Especially now.
Sighing deeply, she slumped down in her chair, the antique fountain pen falling from her pale hand to the floor with a resounding thud. Gone were the songs that wouldn't write themselves. It was time for a different approach. A letter, which had been going… well… going. Not incredibly well, but not horribly wrong either. How do you tell someone that after years and years that you were in love with them since the day you first met? Is it even possible to express such a thing in words? She didn't know. But she did know was that it was a hell of a lot harder when your beloved had found happiness with another.
Opening her ears to the rest of the house for the first time in hours, she could hear the childish laugh of the revoltingly beautiful woman that now frequently graced her home. Mingled with it was the soft whisperings of the sweetly alluring voice that constantly haunted her daydreams. How she wanted the whispers to flow into her ear, instead of that ungrateful human. What did she know of eternity? Of love? Of an eternity of unrequited love? Nothing. That was why she was undeserving of the bronze, haired god who treated her like a queen. Foolish child.
Picking up the unfinished letter, she quietly left her room and followed the hallway down to the end. Opening the door, she was pleased to find her father's study unoccupied. A warm fire was burning slowly in the corner, casting an orangey glow about the otherwise darkened room.
Taking one last glance at the brilliantly scripted page, Rosalie whispered "Goodbye, Edward" before letting it slowly fall from her hand, being engulfed by the ever-cruel flames.