A/N: it's Jacob/Bells from Twilight! sry for those who were for rose/scorp.
He could've sworn he'd had a chance. He could've sworn.
But as well as he knew Her, it wasn't enough (it was never enough). He did everything--begging, crying, screaming, shouting, hurting, lying, then begging again--and She never even listened. No, Her eyes were full of stars and blindness as She slowly made Her way to Her demise.
And then it happened. It actually happened.
She.
Was.
Dead.
He almost thought it was a joke when He came and told him. He, it turned out, was no more a gentleman than he was. Yes, the sophisticated poet was no more refined than the wild teenager who had wanted nothing more than to keep what had been given to him. His eyes were so damn smug--how could any half-decent person be that arrogant? But no wait! He wasn't a person, He was a goddamn rock--that he began to wonder if He had killed Her just so He could prove He was better than him--the youth who had picked up the pieces and put them back together, only nobody was there to piece him like he had Her (no horses, no men, no king, he wondered why he'd even been sitting on a wall in the first place).
It almost killed him when He left Her, and part of him actually died when he found out that She didn't care.
He had run to Her house, peered absently through the window while judging the distance between tree and room--but She was there.
Perfect. But so hideously flawed.
White skin. Dark circles. Red, red eyes. Undressing.
Oh God.
He had just sat there, still, silent, and mesmerized as his gaze hungrily gathered what he could of Her while fighting the urge to tear Her apart and burn Her away from this world like he should have done Him before He killed Her.
And he begins to believe that there is a heart behind that pristine, disgusting, ugly, beautiful shell of the girl he (once) knew.
He goes back every night, eager yet appalled at this sick, twisted addiction. As he runs his emotions off, his mind connected to everyone else's, a voice laughs at him.
"She's still there," he argues. "She's her. Bella. I can change her back."
"Oh honey, she's harder than the stone she resembles and twice as cold. You say you stand--stood--a chance, but all of us know that's a lie, even you. So all you can do is watch from a distance, from afar, at war with yourself every second of the way, pretending pretending pretending..." And her voice fades out because she is delusional. After all, he's not the only broken one. And that broken voice keeps on laughing till she drowns herself in her own tears, and then some.
He tries to tell himself it it isn't true.
And at times he even thinks he believes it.
A/N:
HeEdward
She/HerBella
she/herLeah (get it?)
Yes, I realize that logic plays almost no role here (like, what is Bella doing in her house with Charlie around??) but I needed to get this out.
Reviewing would still be nice, though.