Author's note- Set in an alternate universe where vampires don't sparkle, werewolves are a thing of myth and Jacob and Leah are free.
i own nothing, zilch, nada.
Jacob / Leah
It was autumn in the small town by the sea. Little girls in their red parkas kicked up the golden leaves and played under the trees.
She spent most of her autumn under the covers asleep. She never woke in the dead of the night, never tossed and turned. Never, ever remembered her dreams. Thank God.
Before things were so screwed up, she used to dream vividly. Colours and shapes and light. Now whenever she closed her eyes all she saw was darkness. When she was with him, she could only sleep with his arms around her. Now, she slept alone, always alone.
To say she was different would be an understatement. She was completely and utterly unrecognizable. Gone were the days of hurt-your-face smiles; gone were the days of ice creams on the pier.
He was gone and she was alone. And the seasons kept rolling by.
Winter came and the chill crept in.
She needed an extra blanket on her bed, no one to keep her warm during the cold nights. She put on her boots and trudged through the snow. Passed the seat that overlooked the sea and thought of him. Always him, always him.
She wrote him letters. Letters that explained so well what she couldn't say that day on the beach.
I'm sorry, I was afraid, I was scared you'd hurt me, I love you, please come back to me.
She never sent a single one.
One night, while she was walking home, she passed a boy that she could have sworn was him. He was about the same height. Tall, so endlessly tall. Had the same kind of hair. Dark, so endlessly dark. It wasn't him, and she could have sworn she heard her heart break again.
Winter died into spring and there was life again.
The ice melted and the pretty flowers opened their petals and reached up to the sun.
She stood in the shadows and lit a cigarette.
A rumour spread through the small town that he was coming back. She bought herself a large bottle of vodka and passed out for three days.
He had come home for his fathers funeral, dead at fifty-three. She sent a bunch of white roses, anonymously of course. She had forgotten long ago who she was.
He had been home for two weeks before she bumped into him on Delgado Grove. Tall and dark and so deliciously the same. They made awkward small talk and when he smiled, and said it was nice seeing you she nearly screamed. He was fine, and she was not and it hurt so much that she could barely breathe.
Another trip to the liquor store and all the pain disappeared.
Her cousin came by to drop off a casserole. She didn't answer the door and it was left on the porch.
She saw him again three days later, her hair a mess, why was she such a mess? He was perfect and unbroken and not hers. He asked her if she wanted to get a coffee. She nodded and offered him a smoke. They walked along the cobbled street, and a colony of gulls flew over their heads. She brushed her arm against his and it felt so damn good. He was working as a mechanic at Henrys garage, and was living in a small apartment that had no hot water. God, she missed him. He played soccer on Thursday nights, and God he had nice lips. She told him that the weather was fine, and her family was fine, and she was fine, and everything was fine, fine, fine.
Later that night she broke five plates.
She washed her clothes, hung them out to dry, and tried not to think about him.
She didn't see him again until the day before he left. He was sitting on the pier, his feet dangling in the ocean. She was walking by, on her way home. He smiled, and she waved and he asked her to sit. She swung her legs and looked for little schools of fish in the water. He was so close and so perfect and so the same and she couldn't control herself. She kissed him.
And he tasted of warmth and the sea and of home.
He looked at her for a moment, and then slowly bent his head to hers. His hands ran up and down her spine and his arms pulled her tight against him. Hold me tighter, oh God pull me closer. They broke apart for a moment before she leaned forward and kissed his eyelids. Told him that she was sorry, that she was stupid, and that she loved him. So much, God she loved him so much. He stood up and helped her to her feet. Told her that this was wrong, and that they had been apart for so long, and dammit that they were so young. He kissed her wrists. Once, twice, three times. Told her that he didn't care, this was it for him. She was it for him. Him, her, them.
Spring turned into summer, and skin became tanned and freckled. Ice cream was sold on every corner, and the nights were warm and endlessly long. They sat together in the surf and she squealed when the waves knocked her over, he laughed and pulled her up. Kissed her wrists. Once, twice, three times. She was his and he was hers. Always, always, always. And the seasons kept rolling by.