A/N: Post Eclipse, but excludes Breaking Dawn. R&R, please?
Disclaimer (because I haven't done one in forever): Everything belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Lucky bitch.
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In his dreams, she is still broken.
He can see the cracks in her porcelain skin beneath the surface; he sees the draining light behind her dilated eyes.
Her hair is long and messy and her lips, her beautiful soft pink swollen lovely lips are cracked like the drywall in his room.
He wakes up loud and sweaty, looking around in the dark for a sign of some sort—anything. His black pupils widen when he remembers the dream (justadreamjustadreamjustadreamjustadream), but the tears don't come until he realizes the truth and it crashes like waves, beating screaming relentless close so close.
She is gone.
And there is nothing he can do about it.
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In her dreams, he is not in love.
She can see him look at her with hatred, snarling with his deep husky low beautiful voice, his sun-browned skin glowing almost red in her eyes.
His hair is short because he kept it only for her, and his fingernails are long, the pads of his feet black with dirt—he has given into the animal without her.
She wakes up cold and screaming, her arms thrashing against invisible restraints, but it is useless useless useless and her head clanks loudly against the headboard as she tries to stifle her cries with her damp pillow. Because it is not just a dream, it is real, and though the evidence is not in front of her she knows it in her heart (throbbing pain electric coursing through her veins): he doesn't love her.
He is gone.
And there is nothing she can do about it.
--
He phases in the moonlight his cropped black hair slowly changing in color and length, his legs widening and curving, mouth lengthening, teeth glinting. There is nothing else like it in the world.
He runs with the wind whistling loudly in his ears, the ground distant and pliant beneath him. Images fill his head of pale skin red eyes sickly sweet beauty; he shivers something powerful that is not from the cold.
He knows that she is with him, that she is happy and perfect and free, that she does not think of him not at all not at all that she is safe, and that is what's important.
But his hands ache to hold her, his skin to touch her, his lips to kiss her—his entire being rumbles, shatters from the inside out without her.
It is not important (gonegonegonegonegonegonegone). It does not matter.
He lies.
--
She begs him to change her, because it will make things right again, make her think of him as her one and only, her endless love, her gift, her heart. There is nothing else like him in the world.
Because it will be painful. Because it will be real. She will not think of Jacob Black. She will not think of Jacob Black. Her mind will be consumed with burning thrilling dying blazing pain. She smiles something that is not joy.
She knows that he is far away and running, that he has friends and lovers and sun, that he does not think of her never ever never ever that he is safe, and that is what's important.
But her eyes long to see him, her heart to take him, her neck to reach him—her shrinkig soul clatters, smoking out her happiness without him.
It is too late (nomorenomorenomorenomorenomore). It does not matter.
She lies.
--
He almost believes he is dreaming again.
But she is not broken, nor is she paper white. She is real and soft and warm and here for him. Her hair is brown and to her waist, but it is shiny and healthy like the pink glow in her cheeks, and her lips those lips oh god he wants to kiss them kiss them kiss them till they are black and blue.
She is nervous and it's cute. She smiles uncertainly at him and every bone in his body rejoices.
The words spill quickly from her mouth (I'm sorry so sorry so stupid forgive me Jake please I miss you I want you I need you I love you) and she bends on her knees to beg but he doesn't let her and presses his mouth roughly against hers.
Her lips part and he thanks god for those lips for creating something so beautiful for bringing her back for everything and anything and nothing at all for the moon and the night and the cold and for vampires and werewolves and every myth there is because she loves him oh god yes she loves him and it is the only thing he wants in the world.
Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.
--
She almost believes she is dreaming again.
But he is not empty, and his hair is long and silky. He is dark and hot and tall and alive. Every doubt is gone and she knows that it is right because he is Jacob, russet Jacob wolf Jacob beautiful Jacob her Jacob and oh god she missed him and wants to hold him crush him until he is folded against her.
He is shocked and it's cute. He shuffles awkwardly on his feet and she almost kisses the ground beneath him.
The words come quick and deeply (I was wrong dead out of my mind take me back Jake please miss me want me need me love me) and she holds her head low in shame for him to yell but he doesn't want to and presses his mouth sweetly against hers.
His hands hold her face and she praises the earth for those hands for giving her something so beautiful for letting him love her for one and a thousand and infinity for the sun and the sky and the heat and for trucks and motorcycles and every garage there is because he loves her oh god yes he loves her and it is the only thing she cares about in the world.
Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.
--
They dream together of rainbows and chocolate and neither has nightmares again.
He makes her laugh and she is his angel and the give and take makes sense because they both want each other and nothing else.
Days pass in ecstasy and every touch is knew. He still stares at her pink lips with adoration and she follows the bluish veins in his arms like they are the map to another universe. They kiss like it is their first one and their touches send hot white heat pain perfect shocks down their spines. Her hand fits seamlessly in his and it is so very right.
I'll love you foreverandalways. I'll love you foreverandalways.
Right now, you're all I need.
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END