[A/N: Read the series a few days ago. The love, it makes my heart melt. Quick little thing I whipped up because I couldn't hold my melting heart in Short though.
There was a time when I could run my smooth warm fingers over the freezing cold ones of my lover. Hands older than my grandparents; ageless hands none-the-less. The stark different between our temperature was always noticeable, it made the hairs raise up on my skin, and--more often than not--raise a blush to my cheeks.
Sometimes, I miss those days. I miss the human warmth.
It was something I took for granted at the time, but in all honesty I was too dazzled by the love of my existence to consider what I would miss when I didn't have it. No, that's not necessarily true. I thought, or knew rather, that I would miss Edward if I didn't have him. Being human would have been completely worthless, living would have been worthless, being a warm body with a beating heat--You guessed it--Worthless.
The first few years were hard. I broke a lot of hearts when I disappeared, but they got me back for it eventually, as I knew they would. I had to watch them die after I got myself under control, I always considered that thier sweet revenge for breaking thier hearts: they broke mine. They never knew what I became, nor did they ever see the Cullens or myself again. I saw them though, as my parents and my friends got older, I watched them. They would have never suspected it, but I watched. With Edward ever faithfully at my side.
Even with my dead heart still, it still ached when I watched them die off with time. One by one, day by day. He was there to hold me in his pale arms; his shirt always available to dry my tears. Part of me was sad, but there was another part that welcomed the tears, it meant my humanity wasn't dead.
I think it was around then that I realized just what I missed about living and how much I missed it. I remember running my fingers over my soft--but eternally cold--flesh. He found me there, basking in the sunshine deep in the mountains. I think I got the idea that if I sat there long enough my blood would boil, my flesh would pinken, maybe, just maybe, my heart would beat.
It did beat that day. Not in the conventional sense, but still: it contracted. He swept me in his arms with a passion that I had felt everyday. They used to say sweet things become dull after awhile. It's been so long and his loving embrace, his lips on mine, his flesh--Now with no real difference in temperature--pressed close and bare to mine have never gotten dull, not ever.
I realized that day that everything human was still there, in Edward's eyes. In his gaze, the same gaze I'd fallen in love with. Not the hungry eyes I had suspected at one point, but eyes radiating pure, unrestrained love. My choice I would never regret, as long as I lived with him, together.