He's packing his things while I'm threatening to leave.
Edward and I are on the outs again. It seems we're never in sync.
This time, it's about Jake...and ultimatums. And, as always, it's a little about Edward's stifling need for finality; for loose ends neatly tied, bowed, and double-knotted.
He's pulling clothes frantically out of drawers, eyebrows pinched, lips pulled into an angry line.
"You have to make a decision, Isabella." He says my name like it's profane, like he might as well be calling me bitch. He says it as he stuffs my favorite shirt into a bag, the one that hasn't fit since freshman year at Forks, before he beefed up and became athletic pro.
"I'm not doing this again," is what I say. What I mean is, It's you. It's always been you.
He goes to the closet, bare feet padding across the floor, and pulls out shirt after shirt, pushing them all into his bag, hanger and all. All mine, I think. The white one with pale blue and pink strips. The one that reminds me of graph paper. The blue one with a black stain on the pocket. The yellow with the oddly short sleeves. All crisped collars and unbutton cuffs 'cause I know that's how he likes them. And I can admit, that's the way I like them on him too. Doesn't he see how I take care of him?
He stops, halfway between the bed and the closet door, a pair of brown leather shoes in his hands. He says, "You have to choose."
"I have!" I yell 'cause he should know this, and I'm scared, and I'm frustrated, and him leaving seems too real this time.
He looks to the small box sitting on the stand next to our bed. Eyes turn back to me, questioning and accusing.
"I have," I say more firmly, trying to make him understand that it doesn't need to be sealed with a ring and a wedding and a vow. To let him know I mean it without all those things. That my words and my love and my actions should be enough.
"Edward," soft 'cause I want him to listen and hear me, not fight. "I love you. I'm here. I'm committed. I'm not going anywhere. But I'm just not ready."
I know he doesn't understand, and I know he tries, but he should try harder. Either that or trust me.
We have our whole lives. It doesn't need to be now. It can't be because he's jealous. A shackle on my finger won't change that. It won't change how he feels about Jacob. Won't change how I feel either.
"You can't keep pushing," I say. It won't help, I think. But what I mean is, I'll leave if you do, and it's ridiculous 'cause he's already going.
He's standing in front of me, strap on his shoulder, another duffelbag in his hand. When did he get dressed?
"Bella," he says. It means Please 'cause he's asking for a reason to stay and permission to do so.
And I just say, "I'm sorry," 'cause I can't give him either.
When he leaves, the jewelry box is still on the nightstand, opened and gleaming.
It doesn't matter.
A little golden band can't fix what's broken here.
So this is the start to a new Twilight fanfic – although neither Rapid Fire nor Thunderstruck are finished (I'm still working on them).
This'll be a Bella x Edward fic but since it flashed between the past and the present, it'll also be a little Bella x James and Bella x Jacob. All other pairings are canon.
Hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think. All crit welcome. I promise to be gracious. :)