Hey guys! This is just something I came up with two nights ago when i couldn't sleep. This is only the first part, i think this story is gonna be short though. 2 chapters? At the most 3 chapters? Anyway, read the first part and do tell me what you think and offer some suggestions for what happens next so i can improve on chapter 2 and give you guys a decent storyline and ending. However, i will probably only update the second chapter for this story when i have updated up to chapter 7 for my other RenesmeeXAlec fanfic, "I LOVE YOU"s. Yup, anyway, hope you like this. REVIEWS GIVE YOU KARMA! :D Who doesn't want karma?!
You sit down on the plush cushioned chair, and smile as the waiter swiftly fills your glass and pulls out a menu. You take it, and enjoy the feeling of your fingernails grazing the leather surface. You open the menu, your hands clutching its sides, and pretend to read the words. You eyes see the words, fancy names of dishes with even fancier descriptions, but your mind cannot register it. It's too occupied with something – someone, else. Your grip on the menu tightens and you nervously drum your fingers rapidly.
This is impossible, you mutter dejectedly to yourself, before altogether slamming the darn menu on the table and abandoning your efforts at staying calm. You scoff softly to yourself. Calm? Under such circumstances, it was almost ludicrous. Your heart beats in anticipation, and a little dread, and pathetically, you exhale resignedly and crash your face into your palms. You stay in that position, listening to your own breathing.
Suddenly the air feels different. Your body starts to make little movements that you almost aren't even aware of. You can't see, but you can feel goose bumps appearing on your arms. You nose sniffs instinctively and your lips part. And you knew. Like animals knew a natural disaster was going to happen.
But this wasn't natural. It was a disaster, granted, but nothing could be further from natural.
You take a deep breath, look up, and you see him. You can't help but gasp at the sight of him. There was – still is nothing more beautiful in the world than him. For a moment you do nothing except to stare at him. He is in a black suit, blacker than the last time you had seen him, it fits perfectly, contouring his broad shoulders and lean body exactly the way that all men tried to achieve. He looks the same as he was, from his full lips, to his defined nose, to his arched eyebrows and finally, his blood red eyes. He is smiling, but not quite, there is some twisted aura of sadness infused into it. For some reason, that makes you sad too.
He still looked so devastatingly gorgeous.
You stand up gesturing with your hands towards the empty seat across you, struggling to appear nonchalant. He doesn't immediately sit down, instead his gaze wonders to your outstretched hands. Though it wasn't meant for him, his hands shoots out, quick as lightning, and grabs yours before you can retract them. Your eyes widened and you gaze at him imploring. With a small smirk, he lifts your hands to his lips, and kissed each finger at its tip, so slowly and tantalizingly.
You don't say anything, stunned speechless, because you realize how much you actually missed it – the desire, the… No! You mentally berate yourself, you are stronger than this. You move to take back your hand, but he clutches it tightly, no doubt effortlessly as you struggle to pull away. His face darkens at your insistence but he doesn't surrender it. He sits down, still holding your hand. Both your hands are in the middle of the table, and you stop fighting it, because you know he always wins. And that deep down, you felt the longing, to touch him once more, to hold him like you used to, like you no longer can.
There is a silence. It isn't awkward, it was just silence. It always felt like that with him, you never felt pressured to say anything, to fill any gaps between conversations, it was comfortable that way. At some point you realize how ridiculous it would be to sit there in silence for ever and you clear your throat. He looks amused and you arch an eyebrow at him.
"You still do that." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. He seemed happy of it.
"Do what?" You can't help but reply petulantly, even though you already know what he is referring to.
"You still clear your throat when you want to talk but don't want to be the one to start first." He says with a hint of a smile on his lips.
You feel suddenly indignant; no one has ever seen it that way. "Of course I don't. I can be the one to talk if I want to."
"The word is 'want'. In this instance however, you don't."
You don't notice, but your free hand is gripping the fork. "Let's try this, shall we. I'm going to start the conversation."
There is silence and he looks at you like you were an imbecile, not realizing your waiting for his reply. You glare at him, and squeeze his hand impatiently, prompting a confused 'what?'.
"I'm waiting for your opinion!"
He stares at you, lips curling upwards at the sides, "of course, go ahead, start the conversation."
You smirk satisfactorily, ignoring his growing smile, "okay, then… Let's see…" You trail off, trying to think of something to say. You vaguely remember the thousands of things you had yearned to tell him over the past few years, and yet now, for the life of you, you can't think of one.
"Er…Well –"
"Are you happy?" He says abruptly.
"Gah?"
"Are you happy?" He repeats his question, his stance tense and gaze unwavering. His eyes look into yours and you feel your throat hitch. You look at his face, the very one you have always had in the back of your mind, the one that haunted you in your dreams, the one you could paint a picture of without looking effortlessly, and you think about your life from the day it ended.
No, of course I'm not. I can't be, without you. Never have, never will. "Yes, I am. I am very happy," you reply softly, making sure to keep your voice steady and without cracks. Your stomach feels queasy, like you are going to throw up. "What about you?"
His face is blank and expressionless, but that doesn't fool you. You know that the time when he is thinking the most has always been when he looked the most unaffected. He regards you with a look, his lips pursing ever so slightly, and you shudder inwardly, trying to discern what he was thinking. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally smiled, flashing his straight white teeth, "am I happy?"
You nod your head. He seems to ponder the question, his eyebrows mashing together ever so slightly. For a split second, you wonder if maybe he wasn't happy, you don't understand why but you cringe at that thought. You hope he has been happy, you don't think you can bear it if he hasn't.
"I guess I am."
You muster up a smile at his reply and nod your head. His accessing look has returned and he seems to want to say something. So you sit quietly and focus on the feeling of his hands on yours. It is cold, as expected, and yet, it still felt strangely warm and comforting. You inhale deeply as you relish in the comfort of a feeling so foreign for many years and yet still felt so familiar. You suddenly feel glad that he didn't let go at the start.
You stare up at him and almost immediately, as if he were waiting for the moment you would look up, he asks, "does he treat you well?"
You feel your entire body shake slightly, unsteadily and you fight to find the words to answer him. He does. But he's no you. "He does. He really does. He had given me all I can ever ask for." 'Except you,' you want to add but your mouth clamps shut, preventing any attempts at the insane.
"…That's good." He smiles, his angelic face looks relieved and lighter, relaxed. And suddenly a strong sensation of love courses through you. Desperation and panic follows after as your heart starts to race faster. Oh my god, you think, oh my god. Because suddenly, painfully, you realize that after all these years, after all the trying to forget and the burning of the photos, you still love him.
God damn it, you still love him. As sure as you did all those years ago. Your grip on his hand tightens and he notices, his face suddenly serious, observing you. You miss him, you don't know why or how, but you just do. You never once did ask, never once felt the need to know as much as you did now, and no amount of self control could have stopped the words that were rushing from your mouth……
WHAT DO YOU THINK RENESMEE IS GONNA SAY??!!! FIND OUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! Oh by the way, in case you're still unclear, the "you" in this story refers to Renesmee while the "Him" is Alec. Yup, more details and background in the next chapter. :D
