Author's Note: Here's a short one-shot set during New Moon. Please read assuming there is no Jacob Black and the fact that Edward never comes back for Bella. This story was inspired from a song. This is a one-shot, so please do not request for more. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. I do not own the song.
Somewhere in the distance, the wind carries the light music of piano into the air. I realize my eyes are closed. It's the strangest thing. I can still see. I can see the meadow stretched out vastly from where I'm standing, in the shadows of the trees. Weak rays of sunlight touch the neatly trimmed grass and the wildflowers sway, giving into the influence of the gentle breeze. Everything is peaceful. Calm. Quiet.
I open my eyes and look down. My bare feet are buried in the plush green. The white dress I'm wearing blows east, along with the breeze. My long hair blows with it, and stray tendrils brush across my face, briefly clouding my vision. I reach up to brush them away.
Green trees. Green grass. Little bits of blue, pink, red, and yellow pop up as flowers, prevalent and scattered. A gust of wind bring stray leaves swirling around me like a whirlpool, with me at the center.
It's our meadow. The meadow he took me to when I first found out his secret. The place we both confirmed our feelings for each other. The place where everything began.
Despite the beautiful sight that surrounds me, my heart is heavy. There's something missing. There's a gaping hole in my heart, something that makes me want to weep bitterly. All energy leaves me. I have no strength. It feels so familiar. I'm so used to it, the way I'm ready to give up instantly, to surrender myself to this heavy weight that grabs me and pulls me to the ground.
My knees start to buckle. But something catches my eye. I catch hold of the last of my energy that's attempting to leave my body and manage to stay standing. I take a step forward, uncertain of what it is that has captured my interest.
Sparkling. Like diamonds. Pale, hard skin. Inhumane, striking beauty. Tall. Messy, bronze hair. Golden eyes. I hold my breath involuntarily, afraid that if I move even the slightest bit, I would wake from this fantasy.
It's like he never left. He's wearing the same clothes as when I last saw him. He walks toward me slowly, even for a human. His eyes are smoldering, with such depth and emotion. When he's halfway across our meadow, I realize I must be dreaming. He never broke a promise to me. He will keep this one. He would never come see me again. So this is proof, that this is all a dream, and that this is reality. I can never see him again, except in a dream.
I accept it. The epiphany is a sad one, and I can feel another jolt of a gash in my heart. But funnily enough, my heavy heart lightens. My shoulders lift, as though I've been relieved of a huge weight. I'm so incredibly happy to see him again, in all his glory and grace.
I take a step toward him. Then another. And another. I start running. I need to see him properly, to touch him before he can evaporate right in front of my eyes. Not again without mental preparation.
I stop abruptly in front of him. His hands reach out automatically to steady me, a habit he's learned to hone when he was still with me. I stare up at him, taking in his beautiful face hungrily. He reaches up to caress my cheek, meeting my eyes with the same intensity.
It's really him. It's really him, in front of me. Touching my face. Staring at me. His eyes hold so much love and adoration that it seems impossible that he ever made me that promise. He's here. He's here. He's here.
My mind is blank. There were so many things I wanted to say to him. I can't even muster up the common sense to rack my brain to remember. I'm just staring at him like an idiot, lost in past memories and the overflow of emotions that – finally – helps me breathe.
He smiles. That dazzling, crooked smile that I loved so much. I'm seeing it again. It's for me to see. It's aimed at me.
I know this is a dream. I am self-aware. He's in front of me only because it's a dream. I've missed him for far too long that my subconscious has produced him inside my mind as I sleep. I'm going to try my best to remain asleep. To keep myself within this dream so that my bubble can't burst.
He leans in to embrace me. His cold, strong arms flood back memories of the past. I bury my face in his hard chest, breathing in that achingly familiar scent of honeysuckle. The nostalgia digs deep into my heart. It hurts so much. But at the same time, I feel whole, as complete as I've never been after he left. I close my eyes, relishing in the moment.
His hands rub my back rhythmically, in a soothing manner. His lips brush against my ear, and I open my eyes slowly as his sweet whispers begin.
You've been through so much, my Bella.
Those words remind me of what my reality is like. I quickly turn my thoughts to this wonderful dream, for fear I would wake. I withdraw from his embrace, though reluctantly. I'm curious. How much does he know of how much I'm suffering because of his decision to leave me?
His timeless face is somber and full of regret. Remorse and guilt. And yet...
He takes my hand and kisses it softly. His lips move again.
Put down your burden now, love. I'm here.
I tighten my grip on his hand. It's as cold as I remember. As hard as I recall. I take another step toward him. I still can't bring myself to speak. I don't want to do anything that might wake me from this fantasy.
Still, I can't help but keep thinking. Keep wishing, over and over again. Tell me. Please, tell me. Tell me.
He smiles that beautiful crooked smile. Together, we sink down into the green grass. It feels like dèjá vu. We've done this so many times before. Playing in the meadow. Talking, flirting, kissing. Exchanging stories, questions, and worries. We do it again. He never lets go of me. A bright smile lights up my face. It feels strange, using my face muscles after so long.
With him, I don't have to worry about anything but waking up. I'm doing my damn hardest not to think of anything unpleasant. I remind myself that I have to make the most of this opportunity. Keep holding me. Keep touching me. Keep whispering sweet words of love to me.
His long, nimble fingers play with my hair. When the cool breeze blows tendrils of my hair against my face, obscuring my sight, he brushes it away gently. His eyes are filled with nothing but love for me. How I wish it was true. How I wish this was all real.
Tell me. Please, tell me. Tell me you missed me too. That you missed me as much as I missed you.
The sound of the piano is soothing and comforting, much like his presence. Dynamics of soft and slow. Much sweetness. Memories of love and beautiful times that remain only in my head.
As time passes, my worries seem to diminish. It feels like an eternity since he's appeared in front of me again. Nothing is happening. I'm not waking. It feels real. I'm going to do so well. I'm going to be on my best behavior so that he doesn't ever think to leave again. Please don't leave me again. Just stay here with me forever. I won't wake either. I won't leave, ever. I'm not going to let you leave again.
He repeats his words. Put down your burden, love.
The music continues. We continue to stare into each other's eyes. We smile. I run my fingers through his messy hair, and he plays with mine. He holds my hand. I grip it tightly.
Time passes.
His smile fades away. At the same time, I notice that the music is drawing to a close. The piano is ringing out the last few measures of the song. My heart sinks. My smile disappears.
He stands, helping me to my own feet. He smiles apologetically, pitying me. He smiles at my pathetic self. I, who was having fun with him like an idiot, not knowing the fate that I would come across at any moment. I hate that smile. A pitying smile. A sad smile. It doesn't match him. It does nothing for my battered heart. My exhausted mind.
I have to leave.
Such simple words. How can such words have so much power over me? He seems apologetic to be saying them. Pained to be hurting me again.
My face contorts. He knew. He knew too. He knew this was all a dream. He knew.
He embraces me for the last time. He doesn't say anything more, but I can decipher the message: This is my farewell. This is goodbye.
I pull away first. I smile for him. I don't want to let him leave. But I'll smile for him. It's the best I can do, after everything he's done for me. To let him leave with a last memory of me smiling at him.
He's turning away. It's cold. Like that fateful day in the forest, he turns away from me. He doesn't look back. The only difference is that he's moving further away from me at human pace. I'm watching every step he takes away from me.
It's tearing me apart. I can feel the bloody wounds freshly scarring my heart. Is there anything more for him to ruin?
He's going far away. His figure is getting blurry. I'm crying now. Earnestly. The tears fall one by one. There are no sobs. There are no hysterical, desperate cries for him to stop. I'm resigned. He's leaving. There's nothing I can do to stop him. The tears fall nonstop, little by little.
When I wake once more, I will be alone again. The loneliness feels familiar now. I'm used to it. The emptiness is familiar. I'm used to it. The pain is familiar. I'm used to it.
I don't want to let him leave me again. I didn't have a choice before. I never had a say in the decision. I don't want to let him go.
But I can't see him anymore. He's gone.
...
My eyes open. I'm back in reality. There are no weak rays of sunlight, brightening up my world. There is no plush green grass. There are no swaying trees, no wildflowers. No cool breeze, nothing to tickle my bare feet. The man I love is truly gone.
My heart feels empty. It's bitter. It's chilly. The familiarity is depressing.
Thank you. For meeting me, at least in my dreams.
I love you. I'll treasure all the times we shared. Every moment, every touch.
I'll be fine. Don't come again.