My face was flushed and I struggled to catch my breath. Edward panted heavily as well, his body covered with sweat. He left bruising kisses along my neck, his arms wrapped tight around me. I dug my fingers into his back perhaps a bit too much, but if I hurt him he certainly didn't show it. He was used to pain, he told me once.
If his stories were to be believed then he'd certainly experienced his fair share of pain. His prosthetic arm, cold and stiff against my skin, testified to that. It ran deeper than physical pain though. He and his brother sat me down one day and explained their unique situation, that they'd lived in a different world before they came to live here. It was utterly ridiculous, but I hesitated to disclaim them. After all, it hardly seemed a coincidence that they bore a striking, unnatural resemblance to my childhood friends.
I thought the heartache would never end, having to be separated from Edward while I studied abroad. We'd intended to marry once I returned, but when I finally did, both Edward and sweet Alfons had perished, disappearing from my life forever. As if it wasn't enough, two strange yet familiar faces stood before their graves. I suppose each of us must have looked like we'd seen a ghost. Edward had actually come running up to me, embracing me fondly before realizing his mistake. His strange, golden eyes stared back at me, full of despair.
His eyes…
Eyes that were now firmly closed as he let passion override his grief. He whispered my name, no, her name, as we made love. Perhaps that wasn't the right term for it. We both understood what this was. We'd both lost our one love, and yet here we were, tangled in the embrace of a ghost, a tangible image of our shattered hearts.
He continued to whisper my name, and I could hear the distance in his voice, as well as the pain. I could never replace her, and I had no intention of trying. We were both too broken to ever have a chance at happiness together. We were just looking for an escape from the pain, the memories, the guilt. It was nothing more than a brief respite from the turmoil within our souls.
I cried out his name, shuddering as he collapsed into my arms. With trembling hands I wiped the sweat from his face and pushed his bangs back. His strange gold eyes stared tiredly back at me as my heart clenched at the memory of my Edward's shorter hair. I closed my eyes as guilt washed over me, the tears falling freely now. He smiled sadly in understanding and kissed every tear that fell. We gently embraced, still shuddering in the aftermath of our passion.
He was never mine, nor I his. Neither of us could fill the void within our hearts. In the end we were nothing to each other but a means with which to numb the pain. It wasn't love, and we knew we'd never regain what we'd lost.