Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.
Author's note: Initially, this was going to be from the point of view of Esme but I came up with the first chapter of Broken Smiles and Goodbyes, a series of one-shots from her point of view sort of became redundant. In that time, I also became a huge fan of Jasper/Rosalie in a sibling, twin sort of relationship, so I changed the perspective to Jasper's, making the appropriate changes along the way. It's taken me quite a while to write this, partially because I wanted to make sure it was at least slightly in-character and partially because clinics has exhausted me. Seriously, try having more than one 7.15am start and grabbing lunch whenever you can. It's NOT FUN! Anyway, please tell me what you think. Reviews are the only way I know I'm doing something right or wrong. And this is the first time I've tried to focus on a purely platonic relationship between two characters in Twilight. Hope you enjoy it!
Vanity and Control
He had sat on her bed for the past fifteen minutes, cross legged, watching Rosalie brush her hair thoroughly until it shone, putting her lipstick of a subtle shade on that made her lips just that little bit more pink and attractive, lining her eyes with eye liner lined so faintly that it would be difficult to note but it made her eyes just that much more striking and effectively applying blusher so that it looked natural and enticing. This was the Rosalie that the rest of the family saw, of course, but, for him, it was only the surface of a murky depth that Jasper had become familiar with, yet still found confusing.
He saw what the others didn't. He saw the way the lipstick had to be just the right shade and applied in just the right way, and heaven forbid Rosalie put too much of it on. It would all have to wiped out, completely and totally removed from her lips, and then she would apply the lipstick on again, just the right shade in just the right way and, hopefully, just the right amount this time. Her eyeliner would be applied with the type of precision human eyes couldn't comprehend or spy. The colour and shade is especially chosen with the outfit in mind, to delicately enhance the carefully chosen outfit that she chose to wear today; He has never seen the eyeliner smudged or, worse, a hue that doesn't complement the clothes. The blusher is carefully selected for optimum effect, and applied with such light hands that humans could only envy and with a flair that an artist could only dream of having, highlighting the vampirically-enhanced bone structure in just the right way. And, not least of all, the hair would first be brushed until it shone brighter than ever, before being styled in just the right way; not a hair out of place, unless that was the purpose of the style. And this was the Rosalie that he saw – the one that needed things just right, the one that couldn't handle anything less than perfection.
Edward scorned her and called it her vanity but he was wrong, Jasper thought, wrong and blind. He should have been inured to the self absorption that was prevalent in their family, with the special blind spots that they all seemed to have for someone or something, but it still never failed to irritate him that Edward never tried to understand the working of Rosalie's mind. He would have failed, of course. Even Jasper could not fully grasp the complexity and perplexity of her mind, but it galled him that Edward never made an attempt to look beneath Rosalie's facade. If he had, he would have realised that Rosalie's beauty wasn't really her strength, the amplification that turning into a vampire brought. It was her weakness. It didn't stem from a need to be pretty or pride in her beauty. Jasper suspected that it stemmed directly from her last day as a human. Beauty had been her downfall; it was why she had been left more dead than alive in the streets. In revenge for that, Rosalie would make sure that her beauty never left her vulnerable again. She would hone her appearances and sharpen it into an effective tool every single day, to use as a weapon.
Rosalie did it, too. Nobody used her looks more effectively or lethally than Rosalie. Nobody used the art of seduction to get just what she wanted more than Rosalie. And nobody was less in control of everything around her than Rosalie. She had one brother who could read her thoughts at will, often using them against her in bitter arguments. She had another who could sense every little alteration in her mood, though he had never, and he would never, use these against her. She had a sister who could predict the consequences of any decision she chose to make, whether she wanted to know them or not. She had a mother figure who loved her so much that she could detect no flaws in her poor Rosalie. She had a father who was far too noticing to be ignorant of her flaws but whose excessive guilt meant that he always waited patiently for her to come forward herself. She had boys who all desired her in the way Royce had desired her and girls who hated and resented her, willing any and every ill omen her way. Worst of all, she had a husband who could overpower her in a second, should he want to.
He never had. Jasper bit back a furious growl that threatened to erupt from his lips, as he watched Rosalie's daily rituals. No, Emmett definitely had never hurt Rosalie because if he had, Jasper would have made sure that he had paid for it. Regardless, once in a while, when dark memories of the past were haunting Rosalie's mind – he could always tell when this was because Edward would abruptly leave the room, his lips a thin line - a tingle of irrational, unfounded fear would flow through her if she was reminded of her husband's excessive strength. He had watched her closely enough times to know what would happen. Her lips would be pulled into a very thin line, her eyes dilated, her unrequited breathing would grow just that little bit faster and heavier and she'd look around for him. He always gave her a slow nod, a sign to show that he understood how she felt, even if there was no reason why she should feel this way. It was a sign to indicate that he would always be there for her, ready to protect her from anyone and everyone, be it Emmett or her own self. And her breathing would slow down to her regular rate and she'd look away without ever acknowledging what had passed between them; just another guard to make sure nothing could hurt her, Jasper suspected, although he was a little hurt that she would do this to him, albeit unconsciously.
She was distractedly running her fingers through her hair now, clearly thinking of something amusing, as the edges of her lips pulled up just slightly. He could sense the laughter within her but he didn't interrupt her. He was content just watching her. He was always content with just watching, protecting from a distance unbeknownst to everyone, occasionally reassuring her and, very rarely, he would talk to her about those forbidden topics that brought unwanted tingles down her back. After all, he was the only one who seemed to see the control that lay underneath the superficial vanity. They weren't really related at all. They didn't have the same genetic parents or even the same upbringing. They weren't friends or lovers either. They were something beyond such mundane relationships, something so much more.