I finally decided that I should post this, even though I am so unbelievably disappointed in myself for writing a twilight fan fiction. *sigh* Please don't be as disappointed in me as I am. It's just…it was in my head after I saw the second movie and wouldn't leave! So I typed it out…and then hoped to never touch it again. But I like to post things, so here it is – part one. (Yes, there is more than one part. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.) Aso, congrats to Spain for winning the world cup. And Carles Puyol. isn't he a fine piece of meat.
"What a marshmallow." We both looked at the bathroom door, and I swear Jake smirked. I just knew he was enjoying Mike's early departure from the film, and the way that he was forced to leave. Although, I had been thinking the same thing, although I don't think I would've used the word marshmallow to describe Mike. I was glad Jake was here though, even though he took some enjoyment from Mike's illness. He kept me from walking out of the film. It was a shitty movie.
"You should really hold out for a guy with a stronger stomach." I looked up at him, flicking my eyes back to the floor when he looked at me. I hated when he said things like that, because it gave me the wrong idea and I hated it. Jake could be cruel sometimes, though I knew he never meant to be. He was too sweet for that.
"Someone who laughs at the gore that makes weaker men vomit." He continued, unknowing that he was hurting my heart. His cute little fake chuckle didn't help at all.
"Yeah, I'll keep my eye open for that." I wouldn't have to. As long as Jake was near me, I wouldn't have to find a man with a stronger stomach. I swear, that boy would eat anything. We walked a few steps in silence, and then he brushed his knuckles against mine, before taking my small hand in his. I felt like a child, his hand was so large, but it wasn't fair. He probably thought that this was what friends did; he just didn't seem to understand how I felt about him. I don't want to be friends.
I even called him beautiful, but he ignored it. 'How hard did you hit your head?' He'd asked, using my supposed 'concussion' as an excuse to brush away my complement.
"What, I can't hold your hand?" For some reason, his voice had turned hard and he pressed his lips together. I knew it meant he was angry, he did it often enough when Quill and Embry came around, teasing him about his 'girlfriend.' I can remember the first time they did it; he almost tripped over himself to explain that there was no way I was his girlfriend and he had definitely not said that. Once he'd gotten over the shock of someone insinuating that.
"No, of course you can." I looked at the floor before looking back up into his beautiful eyes. They weren't anywhere near the gold of the Cullen clan, but the chocolate colour just made me feel … safe. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, a habit from my childhood. Whenever I was sad or morose, the damn thing just jumped in there. Mum and Charlie could spot it a mile off.
"I just think it, you know, means something a little different to you." And it did. Jake just wanted it to be comforting, to help me get over Edward, just wanted to be friends with me.
"Okay well tell me something, you like me right?" Of course I do, moron, I like you way too much. You'd completely freak if you found out. So all I did was nod. Although, from the look on his face I waited too long, lost in my thoughts. He ducked his head for half a second, and I wondered why there was a glimpse of a frown on his face.
"And you think I'm sort of…" His face, normally a handsome sight, was absolutely gorgeous when he smiled. His hair fell down his shoulders and I just wanted to tug at it. He tried to smother the smile, but couldn't quite manage.
"…beautiful." He finished and then I had a sudden thought. What if… what if he knew? What if Jacob Black knew that I really, really liked (maybe, sort of even loved) him and now he was going to make fun of me because of it. It didn't sound like something Jake would do, not in a million years, but… maybe.
"Jake, please. Don't do this." I could tell I was close to tears, and I think he knew it as well. I could feel the tell tale sting behind my eyes and the slightly hysterical feeling that I always got building up in my chest. It would not be good to start bawling in the middle of a cinema (even if we weren't in the actual theatre). I had to sit down, so it did. Turning my back on Jake helped some. I couldn't see his face, unless I looked in the mirror.
"Why?" He asked and I looked up at him, wanting to glare but knowing it was hopeless to try with the building feeling of emptiness and despair in my chest.
"Cause you're about to ruin everything…and I need you." It was true, I did need Jake. He was so energetic, and happy, like a puppy. His teeth were even pointy. Whenever he was near, it was like he just brought me to life. Even the mention of him made me feel happy. If he started to tease me about my crush, I don't think I could handle it. I know that I would regress to what I was like when the Cullens left, but worse.
Because Jake had been my supporting pillar, and now I couldn't live without him. Without Jake, there was no Bella. Not anymore, at least. Simple as that. And, though I could not believe my life revolved around a boy again (and I'd promised myself it wouldn't happen after Edward) I thought that my heart would be safe with Jake. Because he's Jake.
"Well I've got loads of time." He paused and I wondered what he was talking about. Time? Does that mean he's going to wait to tease me? Build up his arsenal? Get his friends to help him think up jokes?
"I'm not gonna give up." And, once again, I was about to get crushed. I couldn't help the tear that leaked out of my eye, though I hoped he didn't see it. He was on the other side of me, but I forgot about the mirror.
"It's because of him, right?" I was vaguely confused, until I remembered that Jake thought I was still in love with Edward, and wasn't saying his name so he didn't upset me. But what did Edward have to do with Jake teasing me about us (or the lack of an 'us.')? I was confused. Jake moved from against the banister he'd been leaning against, a really bland kind of colour, and sat next to me. Our knees knocked, and I resisted the urge to snuggle into him. God, he was always so warm. Why was that? Maybe he was just superhot.
Okay, I admit that I just had a mental giggle in a time of crisis. But I'd never been much good with disasters. Thinking about how amazing Jake was, and joking about his body temperature was a way to distract myself.
"Look, I know what he did to you. I would never, ever do that. I won't ever hurt you, I promise. I won't let you down. You can count on me." And I was confused again. While that is incredibly sweet (and such a Jacob comment) why does everything seem to revolve around Edward? Jesus! I'm over the bastard. Jake jerked in his spot next to me. I hope I didn't just say that out loud.
"What do you mean you're over Edward?" Okay, maybe I did. What do I say? Oh, I've been over him for a while (almost since I started to hang out with you, actually) and just continued to avoid the subject because I couldn't concentrate on those gorgeous muscles you proudly display when the though of Edward is about. That probably isn't the best option.
"Bella, if you're over him then why won't you-"
"Well," Mike said as he appeared around the banister. Jake, who had been so close to me seconds before, jerked around. There was silence as I struggle to complete Jakes unfinished sentence in my head. Why won't I what?
"I need to go home." Oh God, I wanted to strangle that man, boy rather. I shifted on the stair, brushing my hair behind my ears as Jake turned to Mike. I have never seen him glare so hard, and seriously, at someone before. Although, the uncomfortable look on Mike's face was slightly satisfying.
"Um, I was feeling sick before the movie, okay." Mike had never been good with excuses. And that was just lame. Jake thought so too, if his noise of 'Psht' was anything to go by.
"What is your problem?" Thought the question was aimed at Jake, I so badly wanted to answer 'you.' Because the way that Jake had worded the sentence, and the tone of his voice, before we'd been interrupted didn't give off an 'I'm going to tease the fuck out of you' vibe.
"Right now?" Jake asked.
"You." Wow, telepathic.
"You're my problem." I'd never seen Jake get so aggressive, so fast. Hell, I'd never seen Jake become actually aggressive. The wrestling with Quill did not count, because neither were serious about it.
"Feelin' sick? Maybe you need to go to the hospital." The tone Jake was using suggested, to me at least, that he would gladly find a way to put Mike in the hospital.
"You want me to put you in the hospital?" Hmm, maybe I was the one who was telepathic. Actually, this is not an appropriate moment to be thinking stupid thoughts.
"Jake, Jake, Jake the movie's over." God, I absolutely jumped at any chance to touch his arm, didn't I? I don't actually think that I can fit my hand around his bicep. And there wasn't a chance when he was flexing.
"You're…really hot." I don't think anyone has any idea how long I've wanted to say that. Honestly. Mike's roll of the eyes suggested that he thought I meant what I wanted to mean. (If you get what I mean) But he was actually burning up. As in he was sick.
"You feel like you have a fever, are you okay?" Jake had never been sick, not so long as I'd known him. And I can even vaguely remember when I got the chicken pox at Charlie's, Jake sitting on my bed and eating ice cream out of the same tub. He didn't get chicken pox.
"I don't know what's happening." He sounded confused, and Jake is always so sure of himself. Something was definitely wrong.
"I gotta go." My first instinct was to tighten the hold I had on his arm, but I just let him slip through my fingers.
"That dude is weird." Mike said. I shook my head.
"Mike, do you need a lift or…" I trailed off as he shook his head.
"I already called my mum, she's on her way. Do you need to drive him home?" I nodded.
"See you at school on Monday." Unfortunately.
"I hope you get better really soon." I nodded, waving good bye as I ran after Jake. How the bloody hell was he going to get home? I drove him. His damned Rabbit was out of gas. (And we were running late, with no time to refuel.)
He was no where to be seen, so I ran for my truck. I jumped in and started the engine. I started to roar down the road, waving at Mike's mum as she passed. I hadn't been driving more that a few minutes when I saw him. He was half staggering down the road. I could see him shivering. I sped up. He took half a step to the right, trying to get off the road, but landed on his cute little arse. I stopped the truck.
"Jake!" I cried, running towards him. He tried to push himself up. I bet the loser would've tried to tell me he was fine; if he hadn't over balanced that is. Getting him to my truck was a hassle. He was protesting verbally, but didn't try and get out my (admittedly weak and feeble) grip. I had one arm around his waist gripping as tight as I could and the other was on the wrist of the arm slung around my neck. I'm glad he couldn't see my blush. Holy shit – was every part of him this firm and muscled? He was like a rock wall with abs.
Finally, I got him to my truck, and then had to force him in. My excuse of 'you need some help' was an excellent cover to grope his arse. Oh god, how much of a perve am I? But, no need to ponder on that right now. He needs a doctor, or someone who could help him. I didn't like the hospital, too many memories, but I'd go there for Jake.
"Take me to La Push." Well, at least I didn't have to go to the hospital. His voice sounded really hoarse. And deeper, kind of. Does that mean he hasn't hit puberty yet, if his voice hasn't dropped? Wow, if this is Jacob Black before puberty…just wow. I amused myself with inane thoughts about the younger teen huddled against my side for most of the trip. He was getting worse, and I think Jake's also giving me a tan. Or sunburn at least.
I was starting to get worried. He was making noises, in the back of his throat. He sounded like an animal. I needed to do something, anything, to calm him down. If he started to thrash, there was no way I could stop him. And I'd probably crash. Like with the bike, but dead.
I took one hand off the steering wheel, thanking God there was no snow, and placed it on his head. I started to stroke his hair, wondering if I could ask him what shampoo he uses to make his hair so soft. His hair looked messy, but my fingers didn't catch one tangle. I untied the back of his hair from that little pony tail type thing. I have no idea what it's called, but it suits him. The tie was made of leather and had some kind of dangly thing on it, but it was too dark to tell what it was and my peripheral vision kind of sucks. I so did not want to take my eyes off the road.
Without knowing it, I started to talk to him. And I told him. About everything. I spilled my guts to Jacob Black. While he was unconscious. Cowardly lion is right. I suppose maybe one day I'd tell him when he was conscious and not suffering from a fever that was making him act kind of like the rabid dog I saw some one put down once. Completely out of it, and jerking and with really smooth fur (I knew the dog before it had rabies) but thankfully he wasn't frothing at the mouth. Yet. If he started, I think I'd have a heart attack.
I might've told him about Tim, the dog with rabies, while we were driving to La push. A lot of useless information came out. But I can definitely remember telling him all this cliché stuff about him being my sun, and how my life was an endless night with out him and his warmth. He was my lighthouse on a stormy sea. I don't know, it probably sounded worse than that, I tend to babble. Eventually, as we got closer and closer to the Black house, I remembered that Jake liked music but, because of my recent aversion to it, he'd not been listening to too much when I was with him. Which was all the time.
I flicked on the radio and found a station which claimed to play 'the hottest songs this side of the equator.' But when I heard the chorus of a Miley Cyrus song, I switched channels. The music on this channel was something more to Jakes taste. Acoustic, easy going. It had a good beat, singing something about a lighthouse, and I half wished the drive to Jakes was longer because the music had a relaxing effect on both of us. And then Jake started to mumble and jerk again, and I sped the rest of the way to Jakes house. (Even though it was only a few meters.)
I switched the engine off and looked around for anyone to help. There wasn't anyone. So I had to lug Jake out of the car. It was hard, especially since I'd stopped talking and he'd started to groan and it was terrifying. Luckily, someone walked past. I didn't even care that it was Sam Uley, the leader of that cult that Jake warned me about. He helped me get Jake into his house and placed him in his own bed, while I talked to Billy. I tried to explain everything the best I could, but I think I lost him when I started to talk about Ripper. (Tim the rabies infected dogs' daughter. Turns out Tim was a Timette)
Billy called Charlie, and assured me Jake would be fine, there was a flu virus going around, and I should probably go before I caught. I nodded.
"Can you get Jake to call me when he's better?" I asked. You know, I really suck at my 'I only care for Jake as a friend act,' at least if Sam Uley's face was anything to go by. I said bye to Billy, and he gave me a cookie to tide me over until I got home.
I left it on the radio station the entire way home. It reminded me of Jake, in a good way, rather than the silence that would have been there without music, which would have reminded me of searching for Jake and finding him staggering on the side of the road.
Weeks passed. Weeks and weeks and weeks. And I still hadn't seen Jake. I was getting really worried. Like super worried as Jessica would say. He wasn't returning my calls, which varied in desperation. They went from a simple 'Hey Jake, give me a buzz,' to 'Jacob Black, I will come up there and glue the phone to your hand if you don't ring me back. Even if you have turned into a leper.' I hope that one gave him a laugh.
I spent an entire school night searching for cures for leprosy because of something Charlie said.
I just wanted to hear his voice, to make sure he was okay. I think I might've said that I just wanted to hear his voice on one of the messages. God, how pathetic am I? How love struck? How intently worried about Jacob Black? My thoughts just leapt from one disease to another, one debilitating illness to another. I looked up cures for leprosy. Eventually, when my worry became too great, I would bake things for me and Charlie. I don't know why, I just did. I once read a book that said people do all types of crazy things to relieve stress and comfort themselves. But I really suck at baking.
One morning, it was wet and miserable and cold, (surprise!) so I went out to the store and brought packets and packets of cake mix and cookie dough and all types of things. Charlie was at work and I came back from the shops and decided to bake for my sickly ill best friend. I made chocolate chip cookies, white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies and muffins, apple and cinnamon muffins, banana bread and vanilla cake. I knew Jake liked those types of delicious baked goods.
I knew Jake liked all baked goods.
I knew Jake liked almost everything that was edible.
And then I had to go out and buy containers for all the oddly shaped, sickly looking, mainly unhealthy treats. I finally placed the treats in their new homes and used purple sticky notes to write what each of the containers contained. Then, I went to bed. It was cold and the rain was lulling me to sleep. And it was a Saturday. As the rain on the window coerced me into sleep, I decided to go visit Jake and take him the treats myself. I would even take a mask that painters used to avoid paint fumes if Jake was still contagious.
Even if it made look like a weirdo, not like I had much of a good reputation to begin with. And Jake knows that I'm a bit odd. My thoughts didn't stop as I fell asleep, and I had a dream about trying to put a paint mask on a gigantic, huge wolf.
Jake still hadn't answered any of my calls by the next morning, and I'd half hoped he would so that I didn't have to drive in the rain, and I was noticeably worried. Well, I was almost all the time now but my bottom lip had taken refuge in my mouth, you see. So Charlie didn't want to leave me alone to take his fishing trip. I can't understand why they fish when it's raining.
Fishing is different to swimming. When you swim, you're already wet. When you fish, you're trying not to get wet.
"We should be back around three." I nodded, placing the phone back in its cradle. I wondered how many muffins Charlie had eaten, mentally trying to figure out if I'd still have enough to sneak one or two on the way to La push.
"Hey, I don't have to go fishing today." The thought was nice.
"Yes you do." I smothered a smile. Charlie's friends always amused me, always ready with a quick comment and a smile.
"Yeah, you should totally go! Remember to be careful. I'm just gonna chill. Maybe bake some more." Charlie smiled.
"I didn't know you liked to bake. You're good at it." I laughed. Had they tried any?
"Do you want a muffin or two for the road?" I asked.
By the time they left, I was down four muffins.
I packed the remaining goodies in the truck next to me and strapped them in. I didn't want them getting hurt, though I don't think they could've have gotten much uglier. But there were two pretty ones. Out of all the icing I got with the packets, I only iced two muffins. I had made those two muffins specially, so they were more like cupcakes. The icing was purple on one and dark blue on the other. Sprinkles made out the letter 'J' on the blue one and 'B' on the purple, with chocolate chips decorating the 'corners' of the iced treat. I hoped Jake liked them.
The radio station was still turned to the one that was on when Jake first came down with his fever thing. Or his leprosy thing.
The rain continuously got heavier and heavier, and I wish I'd brought a thicker jacket. But if Jake still had that fever I could just use him as a heater, hopefully he wouldn't mind. I arrived at Jakes place mid morning and there he was. Jake.
Jake was walking around. Outside. In the pouring rain. Shirtless. Or at least, I thought it was Jake. But, he had shorter hair. Much shorter hair. But it was his walk, I'd recognise it anywhere. Staring at his bum for a bit, I decided it was Jake. I couldn't count the amount of times I'd had to come up with an excuse as to why I was staring at his butt.
But now I was confused. Why wasn't he in bed, dying from some horrible disease? I leant closer to my dashboard to see who it was, because I was not going out in the pouring rain for anyone but Jake. As I got closer I realised that it was actually Jake. God, did he look good when wet. That little corner of my brain that came up with the most inane (and perverted) comments decided that I should carry around water bombs from now on. Or a hose.
I ran the thought from my mind. This wasn't a time to be admiring Jake (although I had previously thought that anytime was a good time.) this was a time for questions, and shouting, and wondering what the fuck he was doing in the rain if he was too sick to call back and, hopefully, a time for answers. Probably not, though. People don't seem to like giving answers. It could get rather annoying.
I turned off my wipers, switched off the engine and got out of the car, my eyes glued to Jake's hulking figure. Did he get bigger? I had not thought it possible but, apparently, it was. I shut the car door, though I didn't hear it slam shut like it normally did. I was too pissed off to care. I had been in the rain under thirty seconds and already I was soaked. Why was a sick person walking around?
"Jake." I called and he looked like he was going to keep walking.
"Hey!" There was not a chance in hell that was going to happen.
"You cut your hair off?" It was the first thing I said. But, can you blame me? He had looked so cute with his hair, it had been part of him (metaphorically and literally) and he seemed … older, fiercer with out it. Wow, his chest did get more defined.
"…And got a tattoo?" I don't think I've ever found tattoos sexy. Until now.
Jake looked slightly ashamed and a bit reluctant to say anything.
"Bella." And his voice was like a low rumble that just spread through my chest, heating me up. Who needs a thick jacket in the rain when you've got Jake? I pushed the (slightly) unwelcome thought out of my brain. He was not going to distract me with his wet shirtless body and husky voice. Yes he was.
"I thought you were too sick to come outside." I couldn't look him in the eye; I was pretty sure all the anger that was building up would evaporate if I saw his chocolate brown eyes. Even with the new haircut and tattoo.
"Or pick up the phone when I call." I was so angry about that, I didn't even care I sounded like a jealous, overprotective girlfriend. I was ready for him to say about how he had been really sick, but had made a miraculous recovery. Or that he was just heading for the phone. Or anything that tried to claim his innocence. And I was so ready to shoot it down in flames.
"Go away." What?
"What?"
"Go away." This was not happening again. I refuse to let this happen again. Edward may have been 'the love of my life', but Jake is my world. I knew that if he really wanted me to go, I would. But I wouldn't survive our parting.
"What happened to you?" He stayed silent, not a good thing. He turned to leave, leave me. I slapped his arm, just below the tattoo. I didn't really want to touch it, because I might start to caress it. It did look nice... I snapped myself out of it and glared at him.
"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" I think my voice was getting shriller and higher in pitch by the minute. I saw people in the background, near the woods. Sam Uley. I blame him.
"Did Sam get to you, is that what happened?" He looked angry, then. And I didn't know why. Jake was the one who told me about Sam in the first place. I so didn't buy his 'Sam's trying to help me. Don't blame him.'
"If he was trying to help you, he'd let you call me back. I assume he'd the reason you're not calling me back." I said. Jake sighed.
"He's not the reason I'm ignoring you. The reason is those filthy blood sucking leeches that you hang out with. The ones you love. The Cullens."
"What?" This was about the Cullens? About Edward? Why did Jake constantly bring them up? I still care about them as individuals, but I don't love Edward. And Jake kept putting words in my mouth. Maybe Jake was in love with Edward, and couldn't let it go? No, that would be very traumatic for me. And he'd just called them 'filthy bloodsucking leeches,' so I don't think that they're bosom buddies.
"Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been lying to everyone. Even to Charlie. But you can't lie to me anymore Bella. Not anymore."
"Jake, I don't-" I was interrupted by a shout from the group, the cult, I'd seen earlier. They were shouting Jake's name. His full name. He hated when I called him that.
"Look Bella, we can't be friends anymore." My heart shattered. I had been miserable when we were 'just friends', how was I supposed to survive with no contact? I loved him!
"Jake, no! I know that things have been awkward between us for a bit and I promise I'll make it go away. I just need some time or something." That was a lie. There was no way I could ever stop loving Jacob Black. Not even if Edward came back.
"No, Bella. It's not you." I nodded, my bottom lip being sucked up again.
"Of course. So that's the line you're pulling. It's not you, it's me? Really?" I asked, shaking my head.
"It's true." He sounded sincere.
"It is me." But nothing would ever make me stay away from him. Even if he turned out to be some type of supernatural beast. That small part of me giggled and reminded me he would be more like a (sex) god. His sigh broke me out of my thoughts that were slowly heading towards the gutter. Why didn't he have a shirt on?
"I'm not … good." There had been another word that he'd wanted to use, but couldn't. What, was he trying to spare my feelings now?
"I used to be, a good kid. Not anymore."
Bull-fucking-shit. That's a lie. Jake Black will always been a good kid. You can't change who you are, at the core of you being. Not Jake, anyway. He's too good and pure to ever change. He might look like a bad boy now, but he still had the same, affectionate puppy eyes that made me want to bundle him up with warm blankets and take him home.
Would a blanket even fit around him anymore?
"This doesn't even matter, alright." That was a low shot, telling me I didn't matter.
"This is over." Hmm, where have I heard that before? Maybe last time my still beating heart was ripped from my chest. And I'd thought I could trust Jacob.
"We're not even dating, and you're trying to break up with me." I stopped speaking, and my bottom lip popped back in. I bit down on it, trying to stop the tears, even though they probably wouldn't be seen in the rain.
"But Jake, you promised me." I was grasping at straws.
"I know Bella." Very thin, ratty looking straws.
"I promised you I wouldn't hurt you. And this is what I'm doing. Keeping that promise." I gave a small, hysterical giggle. How does he consider breaking my heart not hurting me? Maybe he meant physical pain. I'm sure if he hugged me with those muscles he could break a rib or two.
"Go home." I shook my head.
"You're my best friend."
"And don't come back." He didn't even pause. He backed away a step.
"Or you're gonna get hurt." He started to run away and I let the tears fall. My last attempt to bring him back was spoken too softly, too late.
"But I love you."
My breathing increased and I started to hyperventilate. I watched him catch up with the others and they all disappeared into the forest. I turned and walked back to my car. The door was open a bit. I slid in, but it was just as cold inside as it was out. My clothes were soaked through, and I'd probably catch a cold. I looked at the seat next to me, filled with edible treats. I wouldn't eat them. When depression sets in again, I'll have no appetite. It's probably better to get a head start.
I searched through the trunk, eventually finding a scrap piece of paper. I scribbled him (Oh God, was Jake going to become the next Him – he whose name must never be spoken for fear of Bella killing herself (not that I'd kill myself)) a note, shoving it on the dash. I placed all the containers, thankfully air tight, on the front porch of Jakes house. I piled them up, made them look neat, and then ran back to the Truck. I grabbed the note and sprinted back, keeping it dry. I didn't want the ink to run.
I wedged it between two muffins, the two iced ones. I walked away from the porch slowly, crying my eyes out in the rain. I jumped up in the truck and started the long, lonely drive back to my house. The radio was on again, playing that stupid song about stupid lighthouses.
I hate lighthouses.