He sees her without her noticing. He sees deep within her and she never knew it. All the little things she does and he watches so carefully. Her hair could catch in the wind while she's still a mile outside of La Push; he'd still smell it. He would sniff out the air the second it hit him and smile to himself, knowing she'd be right around the corner. Bella....His sister used to wear a pomegranate lotion, which is what her scent reminded him of. Pomegranate, clean sheets and some light smell that he still couldn't figure out.
His heightened senses were indeed a blessing to him, he continued to think, even after he realized it didn't matter anymore. Her scent would be gone within a matter of time and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. She gave him hope after all the misery of finding out he was some sort of freak...which she abruptly stole away. That blood-drinking bastard stole away the only real chance he could have at a chance to win Bella's whole heart. Even if she thought it would never be whole again.
He looks down at his hand, feeling the hot print of her lips from just weeks ago. She had left him, standing out by her door with no more than a small kiss to his palm. Just this small token of some sort-of-beautiful love, it was enough to make him feel like busting out of the confines of his human skin, just so he could howl all hallelujahs into the night. But it wasn't a happy thing. Her quick kiss to the palm and slight look of frenzy was not a happy thing. She wouldn't even look directly at him, he could see. Her frighteningly tight hug gave him the feeling she was saying goodbye for good. This girl had blown up his heart-shaped balloon, only to turn around and pop it so soon afterwards.
The very first time she kissed him, it was to kiss him goodbye and this he was certain, was not a good sign.
Their first kiss should've been minutes before, when he knew she would kiss him back. Or he had at least hoped so. It would've been slightly awkward but warm- real. He imagined her breath mingling with his, a small sigh escaping from someone's mouth. Hands tangled up in the locks of her hair and around his neck. It would've been a slow torture. A beautiful torture. It would've been the kind of thing that Shakespeare tried to describe but would fail at by doing so. The one thing he wanted was to know in that exact moment, was if he had not picked up the phone, being an arrogant jackass trying to impress Bella by not letting go of her face...maybe things would be different. Maybe he wouldn't have shown up for weeks or months....even years. One could only hope. And hope was all that Jacob had left.
When news traveled back to him and he found out Bella had returned, the only thing he wanted was to keep her out of harm's way. And harm happened to be a suicidal vampire whom Bella was in love with, still. It sickened him to think that Bella would act as though the past 3 1/2 months never happened. Like there wasn't something between them. Like...she hadn't figuratively died because of her supposed love. What a bunch of bullshit, if he ever heard any.
Two weeks went by, without so much as seeing her face. It nearly killed him, just not seeing her face again, let alone the suspicions that it was the Cullen bastard who was keeping her from him. If it weren't for the treaty being in place, he wasn't sure if he would've been able to stay away from Bella's house. Even through his fury and anger at her, he still worried deeply that she was in danger. If only there were a way to keep Cullen away from her, at least at her house...
Bella was furious with him. To her, Jacob just made her life worse by telling Charlie about the motorcycles. She had told him herself that she was already grounded, but this was just icing on the cake. He could've kicked himself, when he saw the murderous look on her face. She'd never looked so betrayed before -at least not to him. But then again, he had never done anything to betray her trust. When he 'left' it was only because he wasn't allowed to see her, not because he chose not to. Comparing his unrelenting loyalty and affection for Bella, to Cullen's sudden disappearing act and show- he was coming up empty. He believed she loved him sure, sure. But if the...asshole....had any sort of love for her why would he in turn hurt her? What was his reasoning behind the pain in Bella's heart?
Seeing her with him...it kills him slowly. It's like a slow-acting poison, but backwards. Instead of the pain ending at his heart, it begins there. He begs her to come see him, if only for a short while. She sounds as though she wants to...but she can't. Surely this is not the way she wants their friendship to end. He'd sprout wings and fly to Forks, if he knew he could get just a moment alone with her.
His heart beats harder than ever. Not because of the wolf, but because it takes more effort to get him moving. He finds the rejection to be mind-numbing. The thought of escaping to the woods to never look back, well, it crosses his mind more and more. He just wants his best friend back where she rightfully belongs. With him, not....him.
Finally, she's back. The Bella without a cause...was back home. She'd sneaked out of town, successfully evading the vampire patrols and here she was. He didn't want to let her go again. All the questions he wanted to ask...he couldn't, in fear that she would be offended and leave to go back to the arms of his new enemy. She was aloof, like sneakers and a favorite pair of jeans that fit just right. They walked First Beach, just like they always did. This time however, he didn't take her hand. He assumed that she wouldn't want to be near him like that anymore and although his hand was itching by his side, he would respect her space.
Her smiles quickly end once the subject of the treaty comes up. She doesn't see the plain hostility of the vampires and werewolves, so she can't possibly understand. All she sees are people she loves holding a grudge. If only it were that simple....He wants to rewind and edit that part out. Less serious talks and more smiling and fidgeting by Bella. It was oddly still cute how her smirk could light up his own face, even though the pain and seriousness of their situation.... A catch-22, some would say. He would love her no matter what, he was sure. But if she knew this secret fact, then she would find it easier to turn into...no. He can't think the mere thought. Bella going warm as summer breeze to cold as sleet on the road. He wouldn't allow himself to think it.
He sees her more and more. And more around him than he'd like. Their look for each other really freaks him out. It was too much, too intense, too full of forgiveness and too much the look of a martyr. He'd end up leading her to her death, just looking at her like that. That wasn't how love should be. Not real love. Real love was give and take. It was 'I accept you for being stubborn and you accept me for being a hot-head.' A love that could survive was based on acceptance and playfulness and honesty...and heat. How could you expect heat from a sheet of ice?
This wasn't real, this was a nightmare straight out of hell and Bella with her eyes all low and her mouth on his. It wasn't right. He wasn't the one she should be giving that look to. She should keep the look of her flushed cheeks when she realizes he's staring at them. She shouldn't let that blush ever fade away. Even if it turns to a scarlet red because she's irritated. Better irritated than dead.
She's sitting at the opening of the garage, with a brown bag in her hand. She's patting the ground next to her and is all smiles and stars in her eyes when he sits down. She misses him, but she could never let him know. It would tear at his fragile heart and she would suffocate from seeing his pain. Her head is on his shoulder and his arm is around hers. They sit in perfect quiet, knowing all-too-well that this moment in time wouldn't last long enough. She's engaged...and he knows now. His kisses before the fight...they didn't have the full effect on her until he was lying in bed, cussing because most of his right side had been crushed. She wanted to scream with him, every time he said something that made her blush, every time he winced at the slightest pain. Her heart sang out a sweet and slow melody for him, although he'd never hear it. She had it covered up in layers after layers of ivy and roses for him. Only for him.
He's laughing at her scrunched up face because the sun is in her eyes and she can't see him right at all. But it makes her think how backwards that is because he is her sun and she sees his face better than anyone elses. Her words trip her up right then and there and all she can get out is how he is the sun and she can't see but she's wrapped up tight in ivy and sweet breath. It makes almost no sense to him, except she's watching him and watching his eyebrows grow close like he's figuring out a puzzle. His hair is growing longer each time she sees him, this time she pulls her fingers through naturally, as though this were the most normal thing to do. They could make an excuse that anything and everything between them is normal, even when it is so very new.
The hand-holding thing was no longer off-limits. She liked holding his feverish hand, feeling like she was attached to an open flame. But in taking his hand to hold it, she knew she was starting to rip off his band-aids. The ones that had been holding him together since she left him for him.
Rip. Holding his hand.
Rip. Tracing her finger up and down the knuckles, feeling them flex under her touch.
Rip. He is the sun, she can't see. Everything about him is starting to slowly blind her,
Rip. Hands pulling softly through silky black hair. Stopping to momentarily push some behind his ear.
She couldn't stop, no matter how she looked at it. She would hurt him by every single action of hers unless she were to leave him all behind for him...Jacob.
There's a moment right before you die, where you supposedly see your life flash before you in an instant. This time, no one was dying.
Before.....Before she was an inch away from his face, she was biting her lip in frustration.
Before she was biting her lip, she was sitting facing away from him, sure he wouldn't answer her question.
Before she was looking away, she had asked him a simple question: "Do you love me?"
Before she asked him this question, he was looking at her mouth, wondering how words like sun and blinding could sound so miraculous coming from her lips.
Before he was watching her mouth, he was feeling the breeze pick up, her scent was in his face.
Lives flashed before their envious eyes, but no one would die.
Lips came crashing together like a tsunami coming after the coast. It took them both by surprise, once when their lips broke apart immediately, their eyes flashing open quickly........ and again when their mouths suddenly came back together. There was a sweetness to the fierceness of it. There was a shyness to their passion, however subtle it was. He was thinking things about putting his hands in her hair and grabbing on for dear life. She was breathing him in- all of his woodsy smell that reminded her of pinecones and cinnamon and the smell of sweet vanilla. She was faintly aware of her surroundings, but he never lost the thought of immediate danger.
She pulled him closer by the front collar of his t-shirt, needing him to be closer to her than at all possible. She was lost in the new feeling of being free. Free and happy.
He was breathing ragged breaths knowing it would be more difficult for him to stop than her, sensing this would have to end some time. But he hoped beyond all hope that maybe they could sit there forever, their mouths melting together in harmony and ease.
Rip. Faces so near.
Rip. Mouths fit together in eagerness...
Stitch. Words are spoken.
Stitch. 'I love you' is no longer a ghost to him.
Stitch. Engagement is off.
Stitch. No more layers and layers of ivy and roses.
Stitch. Truth only remains. He is the sun, the air she breathes. Healthy for her all-around. She was a fiend for him, but it was no addiction.
Stitch. Stitch. Stitch.