Disclaimer: S. Myer owns all, but what I wouldn't give for a Jasper of my very own-sigh.
A/N-Dannie insists that I warn you all of some angst ahead. This was not a planned outtake, but when I was chatting with Dannie one night, it came to me, so here it is. It is probably the one and only time we see this pov.
Hugs to C Me Smile, who did a quickie turn around on this chapter for me.
Huge hugs and apologies to Dannie-I'm so sorry I did this to your Perfectward.
I am incredibly honored by the comments feedback these outtakes have received, each word of every review makes me smile, I love how well loved the boys are, thank you all so much. You are all the best! *group hug*
"**~~**"
Lost Without You
Location: Seattle, WA (Miserable)
"**~~**"
Without you I'll be miserable at best
You're all that I hoped to find
In every single way
And everything I would give
Is everything you couldn't take
Cause nothing feels like home, you're a thousand miles away
And the hardest part of living
Is just taking breaths to stay~Matchbox Romance
"**~~**"
Epov
My back was to the nightstand, the warm humid air caressed my bare skin as the sheet bunched up around my hips. Before, I might have enjoyed the sensation of the cool cotton against my body, and perhaps even have let my hand wander down to my morning erection.
But there was no morning wood today. My cock was soft, limp…useless without him.
I didn't need to roll over to see the time.
The clock would be blinking the same it did every morning, mocking me and my inability to sleep.
Alone.
Each morning I woke up after intermittent sleep, and for a few brilliant, amazing seconds, I would forget he was gone. Then reality would slam into me, unforgiving in my grief, and in the loneliness that settled deep within me and refused to leave.
At first, I fought it. I went to work, I studied, and I went about my boring daily life. After three days, I was waving the fucking white flag, surrendering to the pain that had gripped my heart so tight it hurt to taking a fucking breath.
I fucking missed him.
Groaning, I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face into his pillow, inhaling his muted sweet scent deeply into my lungs in an attempt to breathe some life back into me. With each deep breath I took, I begged to borrow his strength, just enough to get me through the day without him. Enough to keep me going until I could get back home and return to our bed.
Slowly prying my eyes open, I ignore the pain that shoots through my head at the reintroduction of the new day.
Even though dawn had risen, no sun streams through our window.
No sun has shined since he left.
Two fucking very long weeks ago today.
That was the worst day of my life. Watching my lover, with my best friend by his side, drive away from me as I stood there helpless in the early morning mist. Like some Lifetime movie, I had been tempted to run after him, beg him to stay with me, to not take his love away. But I just stood there, numbly waving as the red truck got smaller and smaller. Even after it was out of my vision, I remained, clinging to the hope that he would change his mind and turn around.
Return to me…to us.
After several minutes, I slowly realized he wasn't coming back, the tears on my cheeks grieving for the loss of my hope as it died a quick and painful death.
Wiping my eyes, I had turned and walked back to the house, the ache already crushing my chest with the weight of his leaving.
The only positive thing in my life was my work.
I can't deny that I enjoyed my internship at the hospital; it really had turned into a great opportunity for me. The patients and doctors kept me busy most days and shadowing my father on his daily rounds had quickly become my favorite part. The light that shined in his eyes as he cared for each patient, gently holding their hands while they complained or thanked him for helping them inspired me. It was what kept me getting up day after day to face the mundane routine even when I didn't think I could take another hour, much less another twenty-four. Working with my father and his colleagues was fulfilling, but each day as I woke up alone, ate alone, and came home to an empty house, I questioned if it was all worth it.
Every night when I undressed and crawled naked into our bed, I would lay in the dark silence, listening to nothing but the sounds of the summer night outside our window while sleep eluded me, never allowing me to fall blissfully into the darkness, never allowing me the relief I longed for from the pain. Instead, sleep would sit at my side, close enough to reach out and touch, but never close enough to embrace me completely, only a teasing brush of blackness before the light rudely called me back.
I was broken.
My body was with me, a vessel to get what was left of my heart and soul through the day. The rest of me, the important part of me, was over two thousand miles away.
I never knew someone could ache so much.
Days off like this were the worst. Without the distraction of work, my mind had nothing to do but dwell on the emptiness of the house, of my fucking soul.
Sighing, I rolled over and glanced at the clock.
Fucking five thirty.
It was useless to stay in bed. The pain of being in our bed alone almost overwhelmed the comfort I gained from sleeping where we had spent our last night together. Clenching my eyes to both recall and suppress the memories of his expression when he saw the guitar, how his eyes light up when he realized what it was, or his voice low with sadness as he sang, his warm body pressed against my back, his strong thighs straddling my hips as he called out my name when he came.
Pushing the heels of my palms against my eyes, I forced myself to build a resolve, even if just a brief one to get me through the next hour.
It was how I lived now, hour to hour. By the end of the four weeks, it would be minute to minute.
Sitting up, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and after sitting for a minute, I felt strong enough to get up. My phone sat on the nightstand next to the clock and my fingers literally twitched with the need to pick it up and call him. If only to hear his sleepy voice say hello.
I just needed to hear his voice.
Who the fuck was I kidding? I needed much more than his voice.
I just fucking needed him. All of him.
No, I would resist calling him for as long as possible. The entire reason for the trip was to regain what he and Bella had lost due to her relationship with Jake. Certainly, calling to check on him, to just hear his fucking voice, would not be beneficial to what he was trying to accomplish with her.
In the dark, I made my way to his bathroom naked. I could have easily gone to my bathroom, but mine lacked…him.
Lacked his presence.
It was everywhere in his bathroom. From his green cup, to his electric razor, to the towels hanging on the back of his door, even in the odd-colored bathmat he had chosen.
In his shower, I turned on the water, forcing it as hot as my body could tolerate, the heat and mist enveloping Jasper's essence around me as I used his body wash and shampoo. The shower was my favorite part of the day, it was where I felt the least guilty when the tears would fall, the water from the showerhead blending with them, carrying them down my body, not leaving behind any evidence of their existence.
Like a robot, I went through my morning routine, a ritual to get me through the day. After my shower, I dried off and threw on my jeans before going to Jasper's dresser. Opening one of his drawers, I shuffled through his shirts before spotting the one I wanted to wear. The cotton was soft in my hands as I slid the shirt over my head and down my body. As I did every morning, I pulled the material up to my nose and took a deep breath.
Disappointed when it smelled more of detergent and softener instead of his scent, I continued with my ritual. Releasing the shirt, I whispered, "Morning, love," and closed my eyes, picturing Jasper in front of me, waves of his hair in his face, damp from his shower as he smiled at me, his full lips pulled into a dimpled grin. Reaching up, I would push his hair from his face before pulling him down for a kiss, wanting to feel the satin texture of those plush lips on mine.
I loved the rare mornings when we didn't have to rush, when we could be ourselves, and take our time waking up, untangling our limbs from one another slowly. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, we would stretch languidly, our hands fluttering over each other, always ending up where we desired them most, before finally escaping the safety of the bed to spread our wings for the day.
I always flew higher when he was by my side.
Now I wanted nothing more than to be in the cocoon again, because not only was I not flying high, but I felt like any minute I was going to get snared in a net, unable to break free.
Closing the drawer, I glanced over at his laundry and realized I was going to have to do it soon. He had taken some clothes with him, but he and Bella had packed light, figuring they could stop to do laundry and would be buying some items on the road.
The first few days after he had left, I had worn a shirt from his basket, one he had worn and smelled of him so strongly that I felt like he was next to me. However, after three days of consistent wear, I was forced to toss it back into the dirty laundry.
Sighing, I left our room and headed down the stairs.
I had put off going to the kitchen as long as possible.
I fucking hated the kitchen.
Ironically enough it used to be one of my favorite rooms. It was where we would gather after each day, while Bella and I would cook, Jasper would watch, often in awe, and we would talk about our day. We reconnected there every night.
Jasper and I had reconnected there in a very different way.
As I stood barefoot in front of the marble counter, I remembered the cool, hard stone against my ass as I had sat on it while Jasper kissed me, right before he pulled me off and lowered himself to his knees.
I had never expected anything could be so…fucking amazing.
The warmth of his lips, the silkiness of his tongue, the way his eyes looked up at me from under his lashes. When he had taken me into his mouth for the first time, I thought my entire body would burst from sheer pleasure. Admittedly, I had been eager for that day to arrive, the one where he felt comfortable enough in our relationship to perform such an intimate act. Each time we were together, his confidence in us built, each time he pushed his boundaries, expanding them bit by bit. I was patient, I would take whatever boundaries he wanted to set, and when he was ready to leap over them, well, fuck, I gladly followed his lead.
His embarrassment over gagging or pulling away when I came was one of the most fucking adorable things I had ever seen. The blush, the shyness, his shame over not being perfect.
How did he not understand it was perfect? There was not one second of him being on his knees for me that wasn't perfection.
Fuck, there wasn't one second of being in his presence that wasn't perfection.
Forcing my eyes from the countertop, I glanced at the toaster and couldn't help but smile. It was one of the few times I smiled each day.
However, the hardest place to look was not the toaster, but rather the dull black pot that sat alone on the stovetop. The morning he and Bella had left, after he hadn't turned around, I had come into the kitchen. Kneeling before the stove, I had opened the drawer and pulled out his spaghetti pot before standing and setting it on the shiny black surface of the stove, just where it had been when he had cooked bacon in it.
The pot hadn't moved in two weeks.
The pot represented my life; black, empty and not moving.
Finally, I opened the refrigerator, standing in front of the cold glow while trying to decide what looked appetizing. I had eaten like shit since Jazz had left, my appetite was little to nothing. The thought of cooking something made my stomach queasy, so I grabbed the milk, a bowl, and a box of cereal from the counter. Sitting down at the island, I poured the cereal and milk, and digging my spoon in, I lifted the food to my mouth.
I tasted nothing.
The sugary rush I usually got from cereal never hit, instead, the tiny pieces tasted dull and dry. It was complete silence with the exception of my own chewing. I attempted to finish half the bowl before finally giving up and tossing the rest into the trash.
At least I had made it through more than the day before I began to feel nauseous. I saw that as improvement. Eager to get out of the kitchen, I walked into the living room and considered turning the on television.
But nothing was worth watching.
Instead, I went over to my piano. Even though dust coated the black wood, it stood proudly waiting for me to sit and play, but I wanted nothing more than to curl up under it, letting it cover me in its dusty blackness, protect me while I nursed my wounds. Although, there were no bandages for the wounds I felt, there would be no healing until the one I missed was in my arms again.
Sitting on the bench, I let my fingers caress the black and white keys, the cool ivory soothing against my skin. Pressing random keys, off notes burst through the silent room, through my silent heart. It was my routine, to sit and touch the keys while pondering what song to play.
I don't know why I fucking bothered to even think about another song.
I always played the same song.
I would play only one song until he returned.
Sighing, I allowed my fingers to play the first few notes before stopping. Gasping for breath, I wrapped my arms around my stomach, hoping to hold together the gaping hole that had been created by the notes. I leaned my head down to rest on the piano as I let my body rock back and forth in effort to salve the hole, stitch it temporarily so I could continue.
Sheer, utter pain.
It hit me every time I began the song. Only it was worse, sharper and more intense than ever before.
Closing my eyes, I saw him sitting on our bed before me, his arms holding his new guitar as he sang to me. I saw him sitting between my legs on the bench while my arms encircled his waist as we stroked the keys together, making beautiful music. I saw him dancing shirtless, his hips swaying to the bass as the music coursed through the building. I saw him lying in my arms, his cheeks wet from tears as I hummed our song to him, coaxing him to sleep.
I saw him as mine, giving himself to me.
I saw him mouthing the words 'I love you, Edward' right before sleep claimed him from me.
I had lain next to him all night, never once closing my eyes for fear of morning coming too soon. All night I held him, clutching his warm body to mine, stroking his hair and whispering our lyrics in his ear. As he slept, I watched over him, his guardian angel one last night, praying that someone worthy would take over my watch for the next four weeks.
Bella.
It was up to her to keep him together, keep him sane and make sure he accomplished what he needed to do in Texas. I was depending on her more than I ever had before. My life was literally in her hands. I had told her this the morning they left, whispering the words to her as I hugged her during our goodbye.
Please return him to me safe and sound.
She promised, smiling sadly up at me as I kissed her forehead.
In his absence, I had found out what I was made of. It wasn't flesh and bone and muscle. I was made up of Jasper and our collective moments together, some short, some long, but always together. It was these moments that kept the air in my lungs.
I needed those moments.
Before I realized it, I was standing in front of the mantel over the fireplace. My fingers skimming over the pictures framed there. Moments of time captured by my mother smiled back at me. Bella, Alice, Jasper and I dressed for Prom, Jasper and I at one of the Christmas parties making faces in front the lit tree, Bella and I sitting on the porch on a summer day eating ice cream cones, the four of us dressed for Halloween. Jasper looked striking in his Confederate uniform with his arms around me and Bella while Alice laughed at something I had said.
Settling on the last one, my favorite, framed in a plain wood, I picked it up and examined it. I don't remember how old we were, but it was a few years ago. Jasper and I were outside in the snow, our cheeks flushed from the cold, our arms draped around each other's shoulders. His blue eyes fucking pierced through the honey curls that hung in front of his beautiful face while he grinned, showing off his dimples to my mother. Next to him, my grin was just as big, my hair sticking up everywhere, damp from the snowball fight we just finished. Only I wasn't looking at my mother, I was looking at him with eyes bright with the emotions I felt for him.
Anyone else looking at the picture would see two friends having fun.
I saw one boy madly in love with another.
And I was so fucking lost without that boy.
Walking back over the bench, I never took my eyes off his as I sat back down, setting the framed image gently on the top of the piano. Placing it just right, I smiled at our faces and whispered to him.
"This is for you, love."
With more strength now that he was near me, I started to play. The notes began to come easier, the pain in my chest easing as I kept my eyes on his smiling face. Filling the air with song, my piano kept me company, supporting me with the music she helped me make.
With tears streaming down my face and falling onto the ivory keys under my hands, I began to sing, as I did every day.
"When your down and troubled
And you need a helping hand
And nothing, whoa nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest nights.
You just call out my name,
And you know where ever I am
I'll come running, oh yeah baby
To see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall,
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.
You've got a friend."
By the end of the first verse, my voice was almost a whisper, but I continued.
As fucking hard as it was, I continued.
Just like I would every day until he was home.
Until I was whole again.
As the last note faded, the silence once again welcoming me back into the world of loneliness, I hung my head and just let them fall.
There was no fucking use trying to stop them anyway.
The ring of my phone startled me, giving me one more minute of light from the darkness I was about to walk into. Pulling it from my pocket, I grinned when I saw his name.
Of course he called, he had heard me.
All you got to do is call
And I'll be there
It had been his promise to me.
"Hey, love," I answered, unable to keep the smile or tremble out of my voice.
"Hi, baby," he sighed, I could hear the relief in his voice as much as my own. I knew he hurt as much as I did. Of this, I had no doubt. "I was just thinking about you." I recognized the hidden sadness in his voice all too well, having become accustomed to disguising it myself.
"I was just thinking about you too," I whispered as I slid my fingers along the keys of the piano, thanking them for getting me through one more hour.
"You were?" his voice sounded hopeful, as if he thought this separation was only affecting him. I wanted to tell him how lost and useless I was without him, but I couldn't. There was no way I would ask him to return early for me. I would make it by going through the motions each day until he walked into our house again, all smiles and hugs.
"Always, Jasper."
"**~~**"
Thanks for reading!
A huge, huge thank you to everyone that read and voted for Mergers and Acquisitions, as it came in second place in the Slash/Backslash contest, out of 60+ entries. I was shocked, speechless and excited. We have already begun the next chapter of Mergerward and Escortsper.
I'm thrilled to announce that Dannie and I have partnered up to host a contest called Devirginizing Edward. Details can be found here http :// www . fanfiction . net/u/2180161/Devirginizing_Edward (remove spaces). So, get busy writing Edward gettin' busy for his first time!
