A/N: Um. Yeah. Addiction. Needs to stop…
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He used to dream that she was paper-white and angry; sharp red eyes and teeth that glinted like his did when he phased, when he used to start shaking at these thoughts, at the fact that it was her and she was gone and there was nothing he could do about it.
He would scream out in his sleep, his hot skin sweaty and damp, tears dripping down his face, his perfect façade broken, his heart thumping like he could feel the crack down the middle.
When he woke she was next to him, her breaths quiet and constant, softer than the tick tock of the clock and warmer than the shifting of the blankets, something he could set his life to, something he could count and keep.
Sometimes, she would sit up, like she had heard his change, wipe the running lines on his cheekbones away with her parted sigh. She would frown and ask what's wrong and he would say nothing, you're here and she would chuckle silly boy and press her lips to his in the darkness.
She would walk her fingers down his bare chest, tickling his skin with kisses; her dark hair swinging around his neck. Her round, red mouth tilted upwards in a smile, and she whispered things like yes and forever and Jake, dear Jacob as he shivered when her nails slide down his back.
But the dreams never stopped completely, and every time the quiet engine of a luxury car slowed as it passed by the door of her house she would stick her neck up, her eyes glinting hungrily, a lost sadness reappearing like it had never left.
Bella, he murmured in the darkness. She shifted uncomfortably in his arms, and he kissed her forehead as she slept. Bella, honey—he's not coming back.
I'm here. Me, your Jacob.
Why am I never enough?
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END