book/movie; Twilight
pairing; Jacob/Bella
warnings; spoilers up to last book
disclaimer; I do not own Twilight (duh), or any of the characters used.
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"Long time no see", she smiles, strained, sure to exaggerate the movements of her lips so the action doesn't go by unmarked - as if the twelve muscles needed to pull off a decent contented expression haven't been used for a long time.
"To say the least", Jacob replies nonetheless, realizing that his happiness for her actually being her is pretty impossible -and, really, useless - to suppress. "I'm glad you came."
It's actually genuine, not even the trace of a lie covered in smooth-edged politeness, and he hopes she understands that.
Bella smiles again; broken and tired, not even half of what a sincere grin should possess. Come to think of it, she looks sick - all hollowed out, a breathing corpse with sunken-in cheeks and deep violet bags under still prominently beautiful chocolate-shaded eyes.
I hear the Cullens left, he recalls Billy announcing the other day, in a by-the-way-tone, ..I hear they didn't bring her with them.Jacob had not needed to ask who he meant. Weird prejudice built on the grudge the former generations of his family held against the household of the sickly pale, but inhumanly good-looking Cullens aside, Jacob has other reasons for the absolute loathing he feels towards Edward.
And she is standing right on his time-bleached doorstep wood, looking positively heart-broken.
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Being with Bella was-
(hard to explain, easy to fall into)
-unforced, soothing, pleasant, natural, relaxing, amusing, instinctive, eventful, never boring, simple, peaceful, lively, like breathing, like existing, like..
"Love", Jacob explains, smile playing at his full lips as he throws a can of Coke at the girl sitting on top of his car's hood, thick dark hair contrasting utterly with alabaster skin. "My sister got married and moved to Hawaii because she fell in love. There wasn't really any other particular reason. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, can't a girl be curious?" she replies, a bit too fast, and Jacob catches the jab of anguish flickering across coffee-bean-eyes before she plasters a mask of upturned lips and vibrant life onto her face and lowers her gaze, allowing the curtain of hair to shield her from his searching eyes, bony fingers fiddling with the can.
Jacob bites his lip and quickly changes the subject. Her pain is contagious, and it echoes throughout his body in an agonizing intimate way. When he lets his clumsy fingers glide across the side of her face, though, adjusting the stray locks of hair to behind her small ear, she smiles, and it makes him breathe out in relief, forever unable not to return it.
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After months of traumatizing nightmares and hours spent tormented and awake while imagining glistening fangs and arctic body temperature hidden behind the shadows in the corners of her room (and the disappointment when her eyes adjusted and she realized there was nothing there) and the constant zombie-like lifestyle she had adapted to, Bella wakes up for the first time in what feels like two eternities to the sound of the kettle simmering downstairs, Charlie rustling with the news paper, the sight of sunshine peeking in through heavy curtains and a general feeling of bleary-drenched peacefulness.
She realizes she has slept throughout the whole night, and the relief she feels is almost equal to the sharp piercing of something ice-bitten in her chest.
Bella twists in bed, suddenly very aware of everything around her, and she wonders if it really is possible, when she turns and discovers the dreamcatcher she inaugurated last night, hanging securely over and between the bedposts.
That's right, she thinks, sliding a hand slowly through knotted hair. That's right.
"Bells? You just woke up?" Charlie asks, unable to hide his absolute surprise at the sight of her pajamas and the swollen eyes when she walks down the stairs.
"I did", she replies as if nothing is out of the ordinary, reaching for the milk carton on the kitchen counter. Walking towards the window, she wonders what the people of Forks would think of police chef Swan's impression of a fish on land; his mouth is still hanging slightly agape, coffee mug slack in his grip.
Bella sweeps the drapery aside, allowing the sunrays to flood in and surround the small kitchen. It reminds her that she won't endure the day alone today, or tomorrow, or the day after that.
She can't help smiling, even though no one is there to watch her.
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So.. motorbikes, huh?"
Bella laughs a little at that, sheepish, kicking glittering stones that are embedded into the stretched out-beach of La Push.
"Okay, so, maybe I wasn't the best driver.. that just means I need practice. We're still trying it again tomorrow, right?"
"Sure we are", he answers, smiling, sitting down on the bent and half-dead, half-breathing tree where they have spent many past days. She sits next to him, staring up at the sun glaring from in between greyish clouds, and she raises her hand as if actually able to reach it, spreading long fingers out and watching the light slip through them, making her skin glimmer at the edges.
"It's getting warmer", she quietly remarks, before resting her mop of chestnut hair on his shoulder.
Jacob grunts in answer, already feeling his eyelids getting heavier, and even as he slowly begins to slip into blissful unconsciousness, he feels her light-boned body shuddering against his broad frame.
"Not that warm, apparently", he murmurs teasingly, a deep laugh rumbling within his chest as an afterthought, vibrating against her ear, and he slips his arm around her frozen body and it's just perfectly normal, the sunshine blocking the remains of chilling winter-frost out and their breathing in perfect synch.
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It's this one time, when hanging out in the backyard by Jacob's house.
They're taking a break in their studying, Jacob's sprawled out in the chromatic green of the grass and Bella's sitting up next to him, talking about how summer break is only a month away. She mentions something about how excited that punk Mike is about it, planning to throw some big party as to welcome the weeks of absolute freedom.
"I'm not going, though", she continues, chuckling, "obviously. Parties aren't my thing."
"It's probably gonna suck anyway", Jacob cuts in, eyes shut against the bright light the sun is inflicting upon him on this unusually sunny day in dull Forks. "Since Mike's the one organizing it", he adds, frowning as if the name's something bitter looping around his tongue.
Bella hits him in the shoulder without putting any real force behind it, but he catches her thin wrist in his large, tanned hand anyway, cracking one eye open.
She's fallen forward just a bit, forced to lean over quite awkwardly as she tries to pull her arm back without any effort. Jacob grins.
"I'm barely even trying", he laughs, low and pleasant, and she cocks her eyebrows downwards and tightens her mouth into a line, displeased with his apparent advantage.
Jacob's thoughts turn foggy, as if they're floating outside of his body, so when he pulls just a bit on that bird-boned arm caught in his it's because he really can't help she looks like a goddess when the sun catches against her hair and brings out the red in it, her face paper-white and flawless, lips dark and eyes round like portals to another world only soulmates can enter.
She exhales shakily, and two seconds go by as he observes her features up close; the short distance between their noses is making him dizzy and his grip slackens.
Bella pulls back, citrus-scented hair snug of brushing against his face as she sits back up. She doesn't meet his gaze, but she drags a firm tongue across her dry lips, and Jacob unconsciously does the same.
"Oh, please", she finally breaks the silence, smiling but still refusing eye-contact, "I could beat your sorry ass any day."
Jacob reaches for her hand, and she doesn't object as rough fingers close around her own. He feels tired. He has felt tired for about a week now, despite getting the same amount of sleep as always.
"I bet you could", he replies, absently, like a whisper of the wind. "I bet you could."
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There's pain. Anguish. He hears voices; everything's burning.
Flickering, like almost-memories or dreams in low quality. It's all fleeting, blinking by much too fast, changing in hues from bright orange to passionate red, stark yellow and dried-blood-pink.
He knows nothing, and all he knows hurts him. Physically, mentally. He thinks he might be screaming, but he can't be too sure.
Jacob doesn't recognize the voices. Can't detect if Billy's somewhere in there or not.
Fire. Thunder. He feels the stretch in his body as his bones are rearranged, skin pulled taut, his inside bulging and pumping and moving, things cracking and breaking and being ripped apart.
There's this jab straight to his chest, and he feels it vibrate throughout his being. It's a familiar one.
Bella, he thinks, and he doesn't know if it's because he's sure he will die and needs to spare this last moment of consciousness to the memory of her.
When Jacob opens his eyes and learns the truth, however, he sort of wishes he would have died, instead.
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"Jake, stop it. I know how you're feeling, but really, this is-"
"You have no fucking idea how I'm feeling."
"All right, okay. I know it's hard, son, but there's nothing wrong with it. It'll be fine, no matter how it seems right now."
"Nothing wrong?" it's almost just a breath. "I turn into a- that fucking thing, a goddamn monster. Hell, I. I turn into a wolf, right, exploding - shifting my body completely into that of an animal's, all because of some really weird legend and you tell me there's. Nothing wrong? That it'll be.." he laughs, dry, eyes unseeing and wide. "..Fine?" Jacob ends in a hiss.
Billy stares at him, face motionless and eyes unblinking. He looks old.
And Jacob has to run at the speed of light, growling viciously in the back of his throat; needs to get out of this place, this house, this reality of his before he loses control and snaps his father's neck like a twig.
Now, that wouldn't be fine.
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It's raining outside, lighting flashing across the sky his bedroom window displays as he stays unmoving on the bed, too-long legs dangling off of the edge.
His shirt lay forgotten on the floor. He could probably empty a whole ice-pack on his stomach without feeling a tinge of discomfort.
The phone rings again, and Jacob closes his eyes tightly, hiding his face against the wall and breathing musk in.
"Sorry, Bella, Jake's not better yet", his father's saying in the other room, voice not giving anything away. "Ah, yes, highly contagious, apparently. I'll tell him to call you up when he's able to get out of bed."
Jacob blinks rapidly to stop the pressure building up behind his eyes, liquid like bitter heartbreak slipping down one warm cheek as the rain smatters away against the glass pane.
Somehow, the sunny days seem so far away, now.
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A/N; this is what i have so far. 1 out of probably 3 chapters. i'm too tired to think of anything interesting to say to make you leave a review, so i'll just bid you goodnight then. hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading.