AN: Twilight.Alice in Chains. All things that I do not own. Simply the product of my overactive imagination.
Sorry I've been gone so long. Life has been chaotic as of lately. Enjoy!
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It was a day like any other. Rainy, wet, green, and Edwardless. I'm surprised I've lived in these conditions five months. Truth be told, if it weren't for Jacob Black's saving grace, I knew I would not have survived. He was the glue that kept me from falling apart.
I looked outside my bedroom window. It was foggy, wet from the rain. I felt captive in my own home, as if all the walls and windows were closing in on me. I had to get away from it. I had to get away from all of it.
I think it was then that I decided I would see Jacob. Surely seeing his smile or hearing his laugh could break me from this reverie. I pushed my bulky red truck to its limit, a sad 55 miles per hour. At this rate, I would never make it to La Push. And with the weather conditions, forget it, I might as well be driving to Seattle.
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It took me nearly forty-five minutes to reach the little red house that belonged to Billy and Jacob Black. I felt instantly better when I parked my car in the gravel driveway. I heard rock music coming from the garage, an Alice in Chains song.
Ain't found a way to kill me yet. Eyes burn with stinging sweat. Seems every path leads me to nowhere.
The closer I got to the garage, the louder the music was. I realized that Jacob was whistling to the beat of the song. When the guitar riffs kicked in, Jacob stopped cleaning the Rabbit and played air guitar. He sang along with the chorus, off key.
No, no, no, you know we ain't gonna dieeeee.
I just stared at him in the doorway of the garage, trying not to laugh. He still hadn't noticed I was there. In a way I was glad, I had a feeling Jacob wouldn't act like that if he knew I was around to see it.
I drank him in like a blind person seeing for the first time. He was shirtless, exposing his thin, wiry frame and long, lean muscles. He wasn't buff but surely in a few years he'd be there. But that wasn't the reason why I couldn't keep my eyes off of him.
It was his skin. I always pictured Native Americans like they were in my history textbooks; the old, crinkled sepia toned photos. Jacob was nothing like that. He was colorful. His was red like sunset with hints of brown. He was vivid. He was free, singing and playing his air guitar imitating Jerry Cantrell. Most importantly, he was alive.
I didn't know it at that time, but that was the moment I fell in love with him.