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Hey there! I don't really write Twilight, but I've grown attached to reading (Good!) Twilight fics. So I just decided to type up this little oneshot. No lemons - Dear God, no. And I would also recommend listening to Girl with Broken Wings (Nobody Sings No More) by Manchester Orchestra after or while reading this - Its vaguely what this oneshot is based on.
She had always been beautiful to him - he just didn't want to admit it. How could she not be appealing to him? Even with her vanity, her beauty was as effortless as breathing.
He remembered the day that he first witnessed the almost fantastical beauty that was Rosalie Hale. True, he really hadn't been able to appreciate it, but he remembered it all the same. To him, it felt like only seconds ago.
She had been sitting in the local book store - and by what he had picked up in people's minds about Rosalie Hale, this was quite strange behavior for her. She was sitting on a wooden bench in the window as if she was on display, posture ramrod straight and hands folded neatly under the book she seemed to be enraptured in. Her hair was curled by someone with very meticulous hands, and the slight smirk on her pink, full lips only added to her beauty.
True, she hadn't taken his breath away - not as he had suspected. Instead, he only felt a vague appreciation, covered up by great annoyance of the thoughts that were literally screaming themselves at him.
"Uh! I cannot believe Georgette would so such a thing! She's so dim-witted. Ha, she reminds me a bit of Penelope. What was that twit going on about yesterday? Oh, yes, her pretty little -"
Edward tried - and failed - to shut out the stream of loud, vain thoughts. But it was impossible. They were the strongest and most insistent he had ever had the misfortune to hear. One by one, they shook through his brain as jarringly and loudly as an earthquake, leaving just as much damage.
Edward couldn't help the stream of rather creative profanities that ran through his own mind as he quickly rushed out of range. By the time he was in the forests - his haven - he had as close to a headache as a vampire could get and a whole new - and less flattering - opinion of Rosalie Hale than he had already possessed.
Still, the sight of her almost icy beauty lingered in his mind. Those pretty - yet dangerous and intelligent - blue eyes that seemed to be watching him as he quickly hurried from the bookstore seemed to always be in the back of his mind, a constant companion to his usual thoughts. He was annoyed by it, of course - it felt like someone was watching him.
The second time he saw her was a little easier - he had given much thought on how to tune out Rosalie Hale, and he discovered that singing "The Star Spangled Banner" worked quite well to drown out particularly noisy minds.
So it was with newfound confidence that he actually sought out Rosalie at the marketplace, positioning himself at a store that he knew she would be going in.
Sure enough, it was only minutes after he took up his post at the register that she entered. She looked just as beautiful as she had last time he saw her - same curled locks and icy stare, this time in a summery, floral print dress and matching shoes. He couldn't help but note that the color went well with her skin - the light blue tones brining out her creamy skin.
As soon as she entered the store, though, the loud and forceful thoughts also came with her. This time they were complaining about how some woman named Gianna had tried to flirt with her husband-to-be, the highly esteemed and well-respected Royce King. Edward, of course, could care less, and promptly began singing the national anthem.
"…Who does she think she is, anyway? I -"
Oh, say, can you see, by the dawns early light -
"…she isn't even pretty! And what was Royce doing, even humoring her. She is -"
Whose broad stars and bright stripes! -
"…I'm going to kill her! Well, I'll have Lindsay do it. She was always quite the follo-"
AND THE ROCKETS RED GLARE, THE BOMBS BURSTING IN AIR!
"Why are they all such idiots? Uh, it's disgusting. I wish they would just leave -"
"Over the land of the free, and the home of the brave!"
It took exactly half a second for Edward's brain to register that he had said that last part aloud. Only a moment after that, the whole shop turned and stared at him. The lady behind the counter gave him a peculiar look.
However, it seemed to have done what he had been aiming for - for once, Rosalie Hale was completely silent.
With a small smile, his eyes flickered toward hers as he hastily left the store. He had found a way - an embarrassing one, but still a way - to keep Rosalie Hale's loud and obnoxious thoughts at bay. It was more than a triumph to him.
Of course, he had thought that this would've been one of the last times he would ever see her, but he had been wrong. Not more than a month later, just as they were going to leave for a new, less sunny place, Carlisle found a bleeding and dying Rosalie on the pavement.
He remembered that she had looked like a dying angel - golden hair fanned out in a corona around her face, a perfectly unruly mess, eyes closed so that her lashes brushed against her cheekbones.
She had looked absolutely heavenly, and for once, without all her loud and obnoxious thoughts, Edward could appreciate it.
But when Carlisle wanted to save her, he put his foot down. He knew that he wouldn't - couldn't - put up with those demanding, vapid thoughts for the rest of his immortal life. Even being in the same room with her was torture. But he didn't want to admit that he would leave a girl to die just because of her thoughts - the one thing about someone that were meant to be personal and private.
Instead, he tried another route.
"You can't just save her because she's dying. That's what humans do - die!" he reasoned earnestly to an already determined Carlisle. "We can't just change that whenever we fancy!"
Carlisle sighed, then looked at him with a slight amusement, as if he were a child that had said something particularly naïve. "You don't understand yet, do you?" he said, already leaning toward Rosalie's exposed neck. "But you will eventually."
With a grunt of frustration, Edward rose from the dying girl's body and strode off into the night. He needed to think - but of what, exactly, he wasn't sure. How to leave the family again? How to make her leave? How to completely eradicate Rosalie Hale from his life forever?
Unfortunately, the millions of answers that immediately flooded his mind were neither probable nor legal. So instead, he tried to come to terms with the situation. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he had thought. Maybe she would change.
He snorted at his own wishful thinking, then ran into the forest and far away from changing vampires, obnoxious thoughts, and the troubles of life that never seemed to leave him.
Six months after Rosalie's transformation into a vampire, Edward's problems was just as complicated as they had been. Rosalie's thoughts - though no longer full of vanity and spite - were still as loud as ever, and now displaying a strong depression at her new identity. Sometimes, Edward could sympathize with her - the transition from human to vampire was frustrating and hard. But most of the time, he just wanted to punch her in the face.
She couldn't stand him. That much was obvious, and he didn't need to overhear her thoughts to know that. The way she talked, looked, and avoided him all rang of incredible distaste that even Edward didn't think shallow little Rosalie was capable of.
But Edward knew that it was partially - if not wholly - because of his distaste for her. She thought that he didn't want her - and that was really all she cared about in a man. To be wanted was to be loved in Rosalie Hale's book. Denying her that was the worst thing he could've done to her, and he felt slightly guilty. Because if he was being truthful to himself, he deeply wanted the icy, cold angel. But he could never admit it - he didn't believe in defeat, nor change of hearts. And he certainly didn't think that her personality was as radiant as her looks, as she might presume.
It was still hard, though. He didn't want to hurt her more than she already was, but also didn't want to put up the front that he thought she was amicable in any way. It was tricky, dealing with a devastated and broken woman, and he knew that that was the reason he had finally given up.
It had started in the middle of a perfectly normal Sunday night. Both Carlisle and Esme were out hunting, and Edward and Rosalie were left alone together. Rosalie was standing in front of the large mirror that dominated the living room, Edward quietly playing the piano beside her. She was looking at her eyes - or, more accurately, loathing their transition from blue to gold.
"Gold is such a pretty color. But in eyes? Disgusting. I look like I've poured urine on them or-"
"Could you please quit shouting at me? Your obsession with your looks is getting a tad bit annoying," Edward said, hands faltering on the keys as he turned to look at her.
"At least I care about things. Enjoy things," she answered coldly, "What do you like? Nothing." He didn't miss the double meaning behind her words.
"I enjoy things," he answered back just as icily. "Unlike you, always moping about. Please, do us all a favor and get over it."
She was silent in her mind, but he could tell that she was upset.
He tried to ignore it, turning a blind eye to her thoughts and actions and back to his keys
Instead, he caught one small, fleeting thought most likely only meant for Rosalie.
"I just want to be happy again."
With a long hesitation, he answered the thought. "You will be, Rose. It gets easier. Trust me."
"It's just that…" If she were human, he was sure she would've been crying. Instead, air catches in her throat, causing her voice to come out as if briars were stuck in her mouth, "I just want to feel again." She gave a dry sob, looking up at him. "Anything! I don't care what it is!" A sharp, painful laugh bubbled from her mouth, and she gulped deeply as if she could not get enough of the air that she no longer needed.
He didn't know what to do - he had never once been in a situation like this. Girls avoided him once they got the message that he wasn't interested. He had never had a relationship with another female - even platonic - besides Esme. And it scared him more than his physical attraction toward her.
So he settled for going on instinct. "Give it time." He reached out a hand and lightly touched it against her shoulder in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. "You'll feel."
The temperature seemed to shift in the room, and she stared up at him with sad eyes. Her thoughts were a torrent of emotions, nearly unintelligible. But he picked up the main emotion in it: Lust.
It was not an emotion he had ever once wanted to be near. Lust was more of a human emotion, something he hadn't dabbled in since he was alive. To be frank, it scared him. Much more than her moodiness and her anger and sadness that she constantly threw at him. This was different - more primitive, more desperate.
"Help me," she whispered, pulling him close. So close he could count each and every eyelash that fringed her golden irises. Closer than he had ever been to anyone.
Before he could even react - even think about what the reasonable, rational Edward would do - she had her hands around him, pulling him to the point where her lips grinded desperately against his, pushing his back against the piano and heaving tearless sobs. The intensity of her nearly burned him, it was so rough and unyielding.
She pulled back, but only to rip off his shirt. She looked blankly at the buttons popping to the floor, making skittering sounds as they clattered around the floor.
Edward frowned at her, eyes blazing. "Are you sure you…?" He let the question hang in the air.
"Yes," she whispered fiercely, her eyes raking over his body before she dived into another kiss.
And Edward - with so many months of ignored desires and emotions, kissed back just as eagerly. Possibly harder. But how could he know? It was the one moment in his entire life when his mind was completely silent.
After it was over, he carried her silently up to his room and laid her on his bed, slipping down next to her. She had stopped crying, her thoughts settling down into a calm and placated state. She looked at him with tender eyes, and he stroked her ratted hair back and away from her face.
"Thank you," she said. "For being there - I know how hard it was, seeing as you despise me."
He gave a light chuckle. "I don't despise you. You just mildly annoy me. And, sometimes, you can even be tolerable on your better days."
A small smile curves on her lips, and she reaches up to touch his face. It sends a shiver down his spine.
"But you don't love me, do you?" she asked as she moved closer to him, her curves lined silver by the moonlight streaming through the window.
"No," Edward said, though he suspected she already knew this. "But I admire you. More than I had thought I would."
Her thoughts were soft, quite. They didn't change at this news. Instead, she pulled him close, till he could feel her perfumed breath on his face. "As I do you," she murmured quietly against his lips before closing in again and attacking them with fervor. He did the same, melting into the kiss and forgetting anything and everything he had ever known.
When Esme and Carlisle returned the next morning, they found a broken headboard sitting in their trash can, shattered to pieces and hastily stuffed right to the bottom. It looked, sad pitiful - the ornate gold design reduced to kindling. But both couldn't help but smile as they recognized who's it was.
Rosalie and Edward never spoke of the incident again - that chapter of their lives was long over. He had Bella. She had Emmett. Yet still, he didn't miss the lingering memories and stolen glances that were directed to him by a certain blonde angel.
And he had a strong feeling that she didn't miss the ones he sent back.
Please review if you like it! *Bats eyelashes*