Fireworks
Other possibilities: Rocket, banger, firecracker, Roman candle, sparkler, explosive, pinwheel, pyrotechnics
Definition: 1. Bright exploding object. 2. Angry Outburst. 3. Eye Popping
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The first time I saw Edward Cullen, my world of previous darkness exploded into fireworks of fantastic colours.
Colours I hadn't considered before were suddenly the highlight of my day.
The strong bronze of his hair, darkened underneath, lighter on top, and always perfectly tussled.
The pale marble-esque pallor of his skin, which seemed to glow indiscriminately wherever it appeared.
The varying shades of molten amber that were his eyes – from bright, gold-like hues, through to delicious caramel tones, through to deepest, almost black-amber, which stirred unfelt feelings, unfelt desires, and sent them thrumming through my body.
His simple elegance, designer cut clothes, which varied slightly daily, but revolved around dark, brooding colours – rich browns, a flash of deep burgundy, ashen greys, and faded blacks – mixed with light, airy colours of tans, creams, a soft whites.
All of these colours suddenly became integral to my being – to my being happy, to my being healthy, to my being sane.
And suddenly, the colours of the world got a little sharper as well – the pale off-white paint of the walls at school, the smudged linoleum on the floor, the dark forest green that covered the lockers, all became sharper, more defined.
As time went by, though, the outside colours slowly faded into non-descript shades of nothing. The only colour in my life was Edward.
Sometimes, I could see the sparks of electricity between us, especially during movie time in class. I could feel every spark of red, every zap of purple, every flash of yellow, every glow of green, every glint of orange, every flicker of blue, and every sparkle of every other colour in between.
The first time I saw his vampiric diamond-like skin I was rapturous – I had discovered another reason to breathe, another reason to smile, another reason to live. It was another colour unique solely to Edward.
My only reprieve from this colour overload coupled with colour deprivation in Edward's absence was Jacob.
My Jacob.
There was no need for fireworks – everything was as it should be. Normal.
His beautiful russet skin, his luxurious and soft black hair, his fast growing stature, was all as it should be. Normal. Natural.
Like the first sun rays of the days, or the moonlight breaking through the clouds, it was as it should be.
Nothing sudden like fireworks.