A/N: Hey guys! I know I haven't done anything in long...long...LONG time, but as I was listening to this song (over and over again, because I'm obsessed with SHINee), this story idea slapped me in the face, hard, and I couldn't not write it down. :) There's lost of angst and hurt/comfort, but a tad bit of romance too, if you squint. Sorry if the lyrics seem a little weird, they've been translated from Korean. If you're not sure what they mean, send me a message and I'll clear it up for you (or at least tell you what my opinion is, lol).
Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own Twilight or any of its characters, otherwise I would not be on fanfiction and would be making millions of dollars.
Song: "Lucifer" by SHINee
"Even if I try to avoid you, I can't find a place to hide
I'm trapped by you, who I can't even deny
If it was love, if you really loved me, don't do this to me
Her whisper is the Lucifer"
Ever since he had found her essentially dying on the forest floor, Paul had grown a bit of a soft spot for Leah. It wasn't because of how pathetic she looked, or how easily he could get her into bed with him, not that they did anything. Paul wasn't going to be suckered by her big brown eyes or pouty lips, because Paul was a logical kind of guy, and he felt that he knew better than pretty much anyone how said pouty lips could get a man into trouble.
As he watched her swallow the last of her soup, her eyes drifting to a close, he realized how damn tired she looked. Tired of Sam, tired of the pack, tired of living. Her skin had turned an ugly shade of yellow and was bruised, cracked, and muddy. The legs that could once stop a man in his tracks and make him bend over backwards to get a second look were now bony, thin, and covered in a thin layer of hair. Her cheeks were sunken in, her flesh stretched disgustingly over the curves and hollows of her once beautiful face.
"You look like a crack whore," he told her with disdain.
She ignored him, remaining in that deep, drunken stupor of sleep. He continued to stare at her in a slight state of disgust mingled with sympathy for a few moments before he sighed and went to fetch a wet rag. After cleaning her up, he collapsed onto the bed beside her, making her stir slightly.
"Shut it, woman, it's my bed," he growled defensively when she shot him a glare. She attempted to roll her eyes but she was already falling back asleep, her slackening body falling against him.
And even if she was ugly and smelled bad right then, it hurt him just a little bit to see how far she had fallen from the proud, beautiful, fiery creature she had been.
Smelly or not, pack was pack, and Paul decided that maybe what Leah needed after all was just a little bit of sympathy.