I can honestly tell you that I have no idea where this came from. Thanks to my friends who pre-read/beta-d it, and made into something actually cohesive. I appreciate it greatly.
Disclaimer: Not Stephenie Meyer. I don't own Twilight.
-one-
It might have been the way she felt in his arms, the spark he got from just being this close to her.
She felt very good in his arms, right somehow, even if was only carrying her to the nurse's office.
After all, someone had to do it…and he had recently decided that it should be him – only him. Ever.
Never anyone else.
He contemplated setting her down, and taking a knee there on the sidewalk behind the school, with Newton watching – lurking was more like it – behind them.
He might have done it, too, except that he didn't have a ring.
Also, she had her eyes clamped shut and her cheeks were a sickly, unfamiliar shade of green.
(there was another problem as well, one that pertained to his desire to suck her blood)
-two-
Her mouth on his.
It was like fire; sweet, floral, tangy fire that he wished would consume him. Fire he wanted to feel over and over again.
Edward froze, locking his jaw and pushing Bella away.
Be a gentleman. Be a gentleman. Be a gentleman.
The phrase repeated itself in his head; a mantra, not at all soothing.
Under no circumstances could he rip her clothes off and pin her against that tree.
It simply wouldn't be proper.
He glared at the empty space on her ring finger with imperceptible contempt.
"Oops," Bella whispered, slowly opening her eyes, her breath still coming in sweet, ragged pants.
"That's an understatement."
-three-
A walk in the autumn forest should have been romantic.
This was anything but.
He was breaking her heart.
"You…don't…want me?" Her lips trembled; it shook his core.
Of course he wanted her. He wanted her forever.
Forever.
He would want her for the rest of his days.
He very nearly dropped to his knees and sobbed a proposal into her stomach.
But he didn't.
Instead, he left.
-four-
She was so close. He could practically reach out and touch her.
There was only darkness beyond his closed eyes.
Edward breathed her name.
"Bella,"
It fluttered around the damp attic like a hopeless and caged butterfly.
He was holding her, kissing her, bathing in her scent, drowning in her hair, showering her in promised of love for all eternity.
She was smiling at him.
(not really)
He pulled away, knelt at her feet, opened his mouth.
He opened his eyes.
-five-
It was wonderful to be back in her bed. More wonderful than he'd ever imagined.
Yet, something was wrong, different.
First of all, it stank. Her room reeked of saline, from tears. He could practically feel the wet spots on her pillow.
And secondly, it was empty. Her books were gone, leaving a dusty book shelf. The CDs, the pictures, the pile of passed notes she used to keep on the desk.
Where were they?
What had she done with them?
He wanted them all back. He wanted – needed – to bring them all back.
It was his job to make her whole again.
He gently touched her back, she didn't respond, didn't move, continued sleeping.
"Oh, Bella."
His sigh ruffled the strands of her hair.
-one-
This wasn't happening. These words were not coming out of his mouth.
Maybe they were.
He didn't want them to.
He had never wanted anything so much in his existence.
"Marry me first."
She looked like she might be sick.
He actually bit down on his tongue.
It was supposed to be special. It wasn't supposed to be a trick.
Just one more thing she deserved to be pure, just one more thing he had twisted until it was grotesque.
fuck
He couldn't even propose without manipulating her, without dragging her good intentions through his convoluted world.
"Okay…what's the punch line?"
He deserved that.