The Sparrow & the Dove
Summary:
Two birds: a glorious white dove and scrawny sparrow. The dove is eating something that it's found on the ground whilst the sparrow watches on. The sparrow will never be good enough, and the dove will always be stood too far away, revelling in luxury and joy whilst the sparrow watches; wishing and waiting for something that will never, ever come. My name is Seth Clearwater. I am the sparrow. And the dove? That's Edward.
I'm looking out of the window. It's nearly dark outside; it's the funny time of night where the sky is covered in pink streaks and neither the sun nor the moon is lighting the sky on its own. I guess it's kind of pretty, but there's nothing pretty about my life right now.
Outside, there is a large, perfectly mowed lawn. There are two birds: a glorious white dove and a scrawny sparrow. The dove is eating something that it's found on the ground whilst the sparrow watches on. The sparrow is standing about two feet away from the dove. Every so often, he sparrow tries to make its way towards the dove, hopping nervously closer, but then the dove will glance up at it and the sparrow will skitter away again.
The sparrow is feeling anxious and rejected and mournful, wanting nothing more than to be next to the dove, with the dove, sharing food with the dove. But the sparrow will never be good enough, and the dove will always be stood too far away, revelling in luxury and joy whilst the sparrow watches; wishing and waiting for something that will never, ever come.
My name is Seth Clearwater. I am the sparrow. And the dove? That's Edward.
I'm in his house right now, where he lives with his wife, Bella; his daughter, Nessie; his adoptive brothers, Jasper and Emmett; their wives and Edward's sisters, Alice and Rosalie; and his and their adoptive parents, Esme and Carlisle.
This family seems so perfect. Everyone's in love, everyone is happy and contented and beautiful. Everyone is going to stay that way forever.
But then there are those of us who are on the sidelines. Sort of part of the family, except not. One of those people is me; the other is Leah. She's been in this place for a long time. Jacob, our alpha, used to be here with us, too. But then Nessie was born and he imprinted and everything was great for him.
Don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge any of them their happiness. I would never wish for Edward or Bella or Jasper or Alice or Emmett or Rosalie or Esme or Carlisle or Nessie or Jake to be alone. I just wish that Edward was available. No, I wish he was taken; I wish he was taken by me.
Yes, I'm in love with Edward Cullen. I love his brown-red hair that he's always running his long, thin fingers through. I love the way he's got an air of grace and nobility about him, and yet he's so casual. I love how he always knows what to say and how his brow creases when he's thinking. I've catalogued all of that stuff and yet I've never been able to think about it around him. I can't lust after the real him; can't gaze at his perfection when we're in the same room, because he'd know.
And he can't ever know. If he knows, he'll hate me. If he knows...
"Seth."
I jump a foot in the air. Did I really just hear Edward's voice, or did I imagine it?
Slowly, I turn around, wincing inwardly. I see him there, in the doorway, his arms stiff by his sides and his jaw set into a hard line.
Aw, crap. There's no point trying to hide my thoughts now; he's heard it all. He knows, he knows, he knows.
"Okay," I say, before he can say another word. He's looking at me strangely – probably with disgust – and I don't want to hear the words behind his emotions. "Okay, I'll go. I'm going now. You'll never see me again. I'm sorry."
I stand up to walk away. The quickest exit is down the stairs, but Edward's blocking the path to them. So, I'll have to phase and leap out of a window. I can't walk towards him; I can't walk past him; I can't look at him, not anymore.
"Seth," he says again.
His voice is closer now. He's right behind me. I can feel his cold breath on my neck. I can smell his floral, minty scent and feel it burning, like aerosol spray, in the back of my throat. And yet I can never hate that smell.
"Edward," I croak out, closing my eyes and leaning my palms against the window in front of me. If I have to hear the words, I don't want to stick around to let him hear me think about them. I'll listen and I'll leave.
I can feel those razor blades that Jacob and Leah told me about. I can feel the sharp pain in my stomach and the heavy weight in my throat. Fuck, I'm going to cry. This is not good.
"Seth, you don't have to go."
"I do."
"Please don't go."
What? Did I hear him right? Did he just ask me not to go?
"Yes," he whispers, answering my thoughts. Holy crap, his hands are wrapped around the tops of my arms. He's so close now; I can feel the empty pounding of his long-gone heart bumping against my back.
Even though I'm frozen still with terror, I can't help but lift my hands to rest over his. His fingers are so cold. Like an ice-lolly after a really hot day. Like the feeling of the cool sea beneath your toes after walking over a hot beach for hours. So good...
"Why?" I ask. I dare not hope. I dare not hope that he wants me too...
"Because..." he hesitates and I imagine his brow furrowing. This is difficult for him.
There's a pause, which is filled with my slow, wary breathing and his barely audible breathing.
"Because, Seth... you're... well, I want you to be... I mean..."
I turn to face him and his hands fall away from my arms. He's just a few inches shorter than me; I have to lower my head to press my forehead against his.
"Is this what you want?" I whisper.
Then, like I've dreamed of doing for so long, I kiss him. I let my teeth graze along the hard, cold, smooth pink flesh of his lips. I joy in the taste and then I let my lips press gently against his. Not for long; just for a few seconds, just a suggestion of a kiss. But a kiss all the same.
I pull my mouth away, letting him take that in. I know that I have to go slowly; to let him learn and let him comprehend and let him come to terms with this. This is going to be very different from the past; very different from making out with men who already knew and accepted their sexuality.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
Shit. I got the wrong message. "Uh, sorry, I thought..."
"I mean, why have you stopped?"
That takes a second to sink in. But, when it does, a huge smile breaks across my face. I imagine that, outside, the sparrow is right next to the dove; I imagine the two of them sharing the food and the grass and the late evening light.
I push my lips back against Edward's, and this time he joins in with the kiss; this time, it's more than a suggestion. His hands curl around the back of my neck, his fingers so cold and urgent as they press through my hair and into my scalp. My arms wind around his waist, my fingers locking together behind his back.
My back is pushed hard up against the window ledge; his body is pressed tight against mine, as his tongue traces my lips, but he's still not close enough. I move my hands up his back to his face, where I stroke the hard, sharp edges of his cheekbones; the slow, sure motion of his hard, solid jaw as his lips move with mine...
And now I can feel his hard-on through his trousers. I know that he'll be able to feel mine. I pray that this doesn't freak him out; that he doesn't pull away and run.
Across the corridor, there is a door that leads to a guest bedroom. Edward pulls me towards it, his hands moving down to press into my shoulders and my arms; he massages the muscles like a pro, and I wonder what else he's good at.
I can feel him smiling at my last thought as we fall through the door and onto the soft, feather bed. I pull off his shirt, breaking most of the buttons off completely. He rips away my T-shirt, tearing it completely in half. I move my mouth down his jaw, his neck, his chest; down to his nipples, which I take tenderly between my teeth.
His fingers are tracing my abs, my pecks, my arms...
Pulling my mouth away from him for a moment, I snap the button on his trousers before tossing them away. He's wearing grey, cotton boxers. For some strange reason, I half expected long johns, like they used to wear in the old days.
That cracks him up; his body ripples with laughter as he tugs my jeans off of me. After that, it only takes a moment to remove our boxers, and he's inside of me.
I twist my neck round, easing my tongue inside his mouth; he brings one hand around to the front of me, which he uses to grab my dick.
It's in the midst of this dark, heavy, warm-yet-cold heaven that we are interrupted. A stray bird; a wandering bringer of exposures, quite literally shed light onto our secret: the door opens. I can't see who's on the other side – the sudden light blinds me – but Edward, with his superior sight, can. He gasps, and then he's gone, scrambling for his shirt and trousers as a female voice screams and runs away, yelling in anguish.
I watch Edward as he runs from the room, desperately calling out one word: "Bella!"
The door shuts behind him and I slump back on the bed in the dark, listening to the footsteps. He came – no double entendre intended – and then he went, just like that.
I get up and walk to the window, wanting to catch a last sight of the sparrow and the dove before I leave. The sparrow is alone, crouched on the grass, trying to keep warm beneath its scrawny feathers as the wind buffets it. I glance up into the sky; the dove is flying away with another dove.
There's no point in me sticking around here.
