A/N.: This story was started a long time ago but I never finished and was kind of sitting there in my unfinished files. I dug it up tonight and finally wrote it down to an end. I'm not sure if it's going to give the feeling I was planning, but I thought I'd give it a try. It's more angsty than what I usually write but tell me what you think! Oh, the title and the bit on the summary are from "I Can Feel Your Pain" by Manchester Orchestra.
Both of her hands rub up and down his one oversized hand until their fingers are intertwined and settled together. Their eyes are focused on their joined hands. The wind blows a little more violent than moments before when they were walking down the wet sand alongside of the open sea. The familiar broken tree seemed smaller somehow after they had taken their seats.
When the warmth of his hand between hers becomes too strong she takes a deep breath to inhale the chilly air around them to attempt to cool off a bit. He sees that as a sign of preparation from her part for what's to come and softly breaks their tense silence.
"When are you leaving?"
"Tonight" she whispers still focusing on their hands, "I'm on the red eye."
There's a never-ending silence. Nothing that she says can change what is happening, the changes that have already been made by the natural course of life. The hand that she holds with such love and care once lived to hold only hers. But not anymore. It pains her to think about it so she stops. Her breathing ceases for a moment when he turns his attention from their hands to her face. Watching her closely he aches to know what she isn't saying.
"How do you feel?" he asks on a lack of better question. He needs to hear her speaking, moving, breathing, being with him for one last time.
She gives a weak smile that doesn't reach her eyes and lifts her head just enough so he can see her face properly as she speaks, "Like I should've seen this coming."
The thick layer of sarcasm doesn't go missing when he squeezes his fingers against hers and places his free hand on top of their jointed ones.
"You haven't done anything" he tries to reassure her, but she only nods staring off at the water, "Bella…" his voice falters at her name, "It's not your fault."
"Sure, sure" she trails off making him smile nostalgically at her choice of words.
The drizzle stopped a few minutes before they sat down but there are still some light drops of water hanging from the tip of his spiky hair. When he shakes his head they fly freely to land on her pale face next to him.
"It's not" his voice is harder now.
She smiles in response. He has known her so well over all this years that she doesn't have to tell him she doesn't believe him, he knows. Even though his attempts to convince her otherwise are wasted, she appreciates.
The wind whirls around strongly making her hair hit her face. With a gentle stroke of his thumb, he brushes it off her cheek. She can't look at him so she fixates on the small mound of sand by their feet. His head ducks trying to meet her eyes.
"Bells" he calls ever so softly and she feels her heart thump harder against her ribcage, "This is…you're going to be fine. You know that, don't you? It's not the end while we don't get our happily ever after, right?"
He snorts lightly but she does it bitterly and with an edge to her voice, she finally looks up to stare at him, "I don't believe in fairytales."
His eyebrows rise up and he sticks his jaw forward, "You used to."
Their hands loose their grip and she slowly retracts hers, folding her arms tightly against her chest and tucking her hands under each of her arms. His one hand remains settled on her knee, with palm up, waiting for her to take him again. But she doesn't. She did it once, a long time ago, when it seemed obvious and right and it coasted her a lot – far more than she ever thought she'd have to pay for it. He doesn't know, but he's breaking her in ways that she had never broken him before (and that was a lot).
She had a plan, she chose a life. It was all going accordingly when he first offered his hand along with a choice; a backup plan. It seemed easier, it seemed natural, it seemed right. It felt right. She hesitated a lot, she hurt him even more. She had her plan and she wouldn't change her mind. Why not? By the time doubt clouded her mind she was sure his hand would be no longer there – but it was. It took all she had in her to make the change, to choose his plan and make it theirs. There was no pain like it, she thought at the time. But the relief and the reward were greater so she forgot it over the years.
No one told her there was a flaw in the plan. She took him as he was: human, flawed, childish, warm, fierce, wild, werewolf, pushy, insanely in love with her. It was all she could ever ask or want of him. He only wanted her in return and she gave it to him. All of her, that was enough. Of all his human flaws it was his werewolf side that broke the plan. It shattered it into million pieces and swept it far, far away from any of them.
She can't change plans again; she doesn't think she has it in her anymore. The problem is that there is no change because there's nothing to be changed into anything else any longer. There's nothing and there's her. His hand won't ever be there for her again.
Glancing down, she can see the hand physically on her knee and feels her throat closing up with the little voice inside her head saying it's not the same thing. That hand is not hers to hold; it's not an offer, it's a sad attempt of comfort in the inevitable. His eyes are so sad and almost as broken as hers when she feels the tears pricking up and blurring her vision of his face.
She presses her lips together before unfolding her arms and throwing them around his neck to hold him against her. He's tensed under her and she finally cries, mostly because he never denied all of him into their hugs before. She can't stop the sobs that rip from her throat and into the chilly air, her shoulders shake and she snuggles closer to him, burying her face on the crock of his neck.
A soothing hand runs up and down her back and for a moment she loses herself and kisses him right below the jaw. The whisper coming from him is almost a warning.
"Don't…"
If it wasn't broken by his own tears.
She leans away from him and brushes one finger across his bottom lip to wipe away a single stranded tear, "Why can't this change the way I feel about you, too?"
This is all she can think about for the last few days. All day long. She's trying to find the answer, it's useless and she knows it.
"I'm sorry", he begs for the thousandth time. The words became one as he blurts out more rushed and desperately each time.
"Not your fault either" she reminds him automatically as she always does every other time.
He presses his palm against her cheek, drags up to her hairline and pushes her long hair back, lowering his hand down her neck and resting it on her shoulder blade. She shivers at his touch and sighs closing the distance between them. He touches their lips first and gently brushes his against hers. But she's having none of that.
With her hands on the back of his neck, she balls her hands into fists on his hair and pulls him closer, kissing him harder and aching for him to respond the same way. He only keeps one hand politely on her waist and the other on her shoulder blade. She pushes herself up and then down on his lap, forcing her way inside his mouth with her tongue. He gently pulls back and she ignores when he tries to push her by the waist, dragging her kisses across his face and down his neck.
"Bella" he groans quietly getting away from her grasp.
She keeps her arms around him with all the strength she can manage, "Jake, please…"
"I can't" he shakes his head and it kills her.
She pulls completely away from him and stands on the sand, holding her hands together and standing almost as tall as him sitting down. Blushing from embarrassment, anger, frustration and something else she can't identify, she bites her lip. She can't let go, so she waits for him to do it for her.
"I don't know how" he starts on a hoarse voice, "But you will be okay."
That's what he's been repeating to himself over and over again. He's not breaking her forever, she'll be okay. She won't be hurt for long, she'll be okay. There's no need to torture himself over it, she'll be okay. He doesn't need to worry, she'll be okay. That version standing in front of him of the girl who once meant the world to him isn't going to last much, she'll be okay.
She can't agree or disagree with him anymore. Her chin quivers and she stares up to him.
"I love you. More than I have ever loved anyone or anything else in my entire life. More than I thought it was possible to love another person in any shape of form. I'll never be able to stop loving you."
It feels like she's adding like you stopped loving me.
"I love you, too" he responds the unspoken words but she shakes her head.
"No, it's not the same. So you don't."
He looks away from her and to the ocean. The waves crash violently against each other and break restlessly on the shore.
She hesitates for a moment, but she can't stand this anymore, she has to go. One caring hand settles on his jaw as she pulls him and kisses him on the temple. Her lips linger there longer than it should and she can hear him sighing deeply. His eyes are closed so she brushes her lips on his eyelids before backing away.
He catches her hand before she's too far and kisses her palm, closes her fingers into fists and covers her hand with his own.
"It's all I can offer you now" his tone is almost apologetic.
She takes her closed hand back and holds it close to her heart, "I'll take it."
The tears are coming down her face again and she can hardly tell that he's crying too. Their smiles never reach their eyes as she walks backwards and away from him. He can't turn his focus anywhere so he only watched her leave.
She's gone and he's left with her kisses burning his lips and his neck. The ocean seems calmer now, almost solemn. Jacob leaves the broken tree knowing exactly how Bella felt when she chose him and wondering if it really was all for nothing.