Here's another chapter of ICF for you all. I apologise that it's taken so long time, but I'm never the world's fastest writer and things have just been crazy busy of late. I just started a new job last week so I've had very little time to write of late. My beta SunKing has also been occupied finishing the second book in her mythological fantasy series, but she found the time to go over this chapter for me (she even started it on her birthday, that's how awesome she is). It's the sequel to The Kingdom, called Morning Star, and I'm super excited to read the next installment!
I hope you all like this chapter, I worked hard on it. As a warning, some parts may be tough to read but as a whole, I hope it gives you a further insight into Jasper.
As always, thankyou thankyou THANKYOU for all the reviews, faves and alerts. They are all so appreciated and I'm amazed at all you guys who helped me break 400 reviews recently. I love you all! Hopefully you'll all forgive me for being massively unoriginal and using another song title from The Used as the chapter. In my defence, I like the song and I think it fits.
*** Love to Alverdine, SunKing, SydneyTwiMum, venis-envy and everyone else I WC'd with to get this done. **
Song: The Story - 30 Seconds To Mars
Chapter 14: Light With A Sharpened Edge
JPOV
I scrolled through my contacts to find the familiar number and heard the click as it connected. It rang several times before she finally answered and I could breathe a sigh of relief.
"Hello?" Bella sounded kind of harassed, and I immediately wondered if I'd picked the best moment to call.
"Uh, hi, it's Jasper," I said awkwardly, wondering why I was so nervous, considering I'd already spoken to her on the phone several times.
"Oh, hi!" She sounded genuinely pleased to hear from me, which gave me the confidence to ask her the question I'd originally been planning to ask.
"Well, me and some friends are going out on Friday night, and I was just wondering if you'd like to come?" I asked, the words tumbling out in a rush.
"Um..." She sounded unsure, and I wondered if I'd been too forward. But wasn't that what friends did - invited each other out to things? There were going to be plenty of other people there, so it wouldn't be too pressured. I wanted to introduce Bella to my friends, and I hoped she'd enjoy herself too. "Okay then, I will. I'm kind of busy with finals but I think I can spare a night."
...
The plan was to go to the Electric Ballroom to see Face Punch, some terrible local band that Pete knew somebody in. We tended to go out and see bands a fair bit. It was a fun venue with a great atmosphere, so I'd been there a lot even if the act playing wasn't something I liked. I met up with Bella around the corner from the venue and once we were inside, I found the group and introduced her. She and Irina immediately struck up a conversation, and I couldn't help but cringe a little. I was sure she was probably grilling her about whether or not she was fucking me. I knew that Irina was an irrepressible gossip, so I'd have to endure being teased about the nature of my relationship with Bella at a later date.
Bella seemed to fit in well with my friends, which was nice – I hadn't been wrong that it would be good for her to meet them. It dawned on me that I was almost behaving as if she were my girlfriend, even if I wasn't introducing her in that sense. However, from the looks that the others shot me, it was clear that they noticed that our relationship had potential to be more than just a platonic friendship.
When the band came on, they were pretty dire- some terrible indie-rock outfit that really needed to learn how to play their instruments properly. My ears wanted to run away screaming, and by the looks on the faces of the others, they weren't massively impressed, either. Bella stood beside me the whole time, and every so often, I'd smile at her,
"The band blows, right?" I said to her, smirking slightly, and she laughed.
"Oh, thank God you didn't like it!" she exclaimed in relief. "I thought I was going to have to listen to you going on about how great you thought they were and just nod awkwardly."
I stared at her for a moment, shaking my head. It wasn't about the fact that she had assumed I had such poor taste in music, even if that privately amused me. I just couldn't help being disconcerted by how comfortable I felt around her. It wasn't usual for me to feel so close to someone I'd only met a few times. I'd already let my guard down around her, and it was almost too easy to confide in her. I would have to consider the implications of that at some point, even if that wasn't something I wanted to do. She was stunning and interesting and could hold a good conversation, but it was more than that. We shared an inexplicable connection, and it was becoming more and more difficult to deny it to myself. That sounded pretty hokey when I arranged the words in my head, but I couldn't think of a better way to describe it. I just couldn't help but be around her, like a moth being drawn towards a flame that glowed brighter every time I spent time with her. I was slowly learning new things about Bella, but I wanted to know more. And frankly, there were lots of other things I wanted, but I was still wrestling with myself over the potential consequences of those things.
"Terrible, aren't they?" Irina said, shaking her head in disbelief, and I was returned to reality.
Pete suddenly appeared at me side. "Great idea coming to see these guys, right?" I said in a sarcastic tone.
He laughed loudly, and I was pleased that our working relationship and friendship appeared to be back on track since we'd aired things out a few days before. "My bad. James is a nice guy, but the band absolutely sucked ass. Apologies for putting you all through that. We do have good taste, Bella. Honestly."
"I'll take your word for it," she told him with a grin, and I was pleased to see her looking so relaxed and confident. She fit in well with my friends.
"Would you like another drink?" I asked her. "I'll get it."
"Yes, please," she said graciously, her eyes slightly unfocused.
I smiled to myself, noticing she was probably a bit on the tipsy side. Perhaps it wasn't best to get her another drink, but then, she seemed to be enjoying herself and I didn't want to be a killjoy. At any rate, I would certainly make sure that she got home safely at the end of the night.
"Vodka soda."
I knew the barkeep, so luckily I was served quickly despite the fact the venue was heaving. I handed Bella her drink and took a sip of my beer, draining almost half of it instantly. It was getting hot with all the people in there and I was pretty thirsty. We talked for a little while, just shooting the breeze. Irina latched onto a nearby guy and immediately went off into some dark corner with him. I snorted. Typical her.
"You're really quite beautiful, you know," Bella suddenly slurred, hiccuping into her drink, and I laughed. She was definitely more than a bit toasted if she was saying things like that to me. It wasn't the first time someone had told me that, but it hadn't happened to me in a long time. It was nice to hear, though, of course.
"Look who's talking. You aren't so bad yourself."
She smiled slowly, the corner of her lips turning until her smile was in full bloom. The pale glow of her smooth complexion in the dim room, and her slightly pink cheeks coupled with that gorgeous smile did something to my insides. Her lips parted a fraction, and they were rosy and just barely moist. I couldn't help but entertain the possibility of kissing her. I toyed with a strand of her hair that had slipped from her ponytail, and she stepped closer. Her fingers were white where she was gripping her glass so firmly, and I wondered if she was nervous as I was. It wasn't just the four beers I'd had, or the way she smiled that drove me to action; it was more than that. She made me feel happy in a way I'd almost forgotten I could be.
I knew then that I was going to kiss her. My feet shuffled forward, but she didn't recoil from my closeness. Her head tilted the side, and I let my fingers trace her cheek as I moved in so close I could feel her breath on my lips. She smelled like vodka and sweetness and something irresistible. It would have happened, too, if she hadn't been distracted by something outside of her field of vision.
Irritated by the fact she'd turned away at what would have been the crucial moment, I followed her gaze and landed on the sight of Pete and Charlotte. They were sitting nearby on bar stools, and she was slumped against him as his fingers played with her blonde curls absent-mindedly.
"Mm, I love you,; you know that, right?" he murmured in her ear, and she smiled at him radiantly, raising her head to kiss his cheek tenderly.
I turned my face away, embarrassed to be privy to such an intimate moment between two people so obviously in love. Especially considering they usually spent their time together engaged in good-natured banter. They'd been married a while, and it was rare to see Pete being so tender. It made me feel weird. The truth was, I missed being like that with somebody - sweeping back a girl's hair from her face with the pad of my thumb, placing a kiss on her cheek, a whispered 'I love you' in her ear. My gaze wandered over to Bella, who I hadn't realised was standing right beside me, and as I met her eyes, I saw they were full of tears. She'd noticed the idyllic scene we were inadvertently intruding upon, and it had obviously affected her too.
"Bella?" I addressed her quietly, my voice etched with concern. I reached out to touch her shoulder in a comforting gesture, but she shrugged it off.
"I'm sorry, I have to go," she muttered abruptly, trying to blink the tears away, and with that, she turned on her heel and rushed out.
I wasn't about to let her go like that, though - not after last time. With an exasperated sigh, I slammed my half-finished pint down on the bar and went to follow her. As I pushed through the throngs of people crowding the pub's entrance, my eyes flickered around, looking to see if she was somewhere around. I stepped through the doors out into the bitterly cold night, shivering as the biting wind hit me. The immediate area around the front was crowded with groups of smokers, huddling on the edge of the kerb to keep warm. I inhaled the surrounding air and thought how badly I wanted a cigarette right then, but Bella was my priority. I had to know where she'd gone, for I was afraid of what she'd do if she was alone.
An icy trickle that had nothing to do with the cold crept up my spine as I realised I felt some responsibility for her. Whatever she wanted me to believe, she was fragile and I didn't ever seem to be able to get it right. I'd envisioned it as a fun night for us both, a chance for her to meet some nice people and relax for a change, and instead I'd only made everything worse. I should have known that it was going too well, that something had to give. The fact that Pete and Charlotte's romantic interlude had clearly triggered something inside Bella was an obvious indicator to me that her emotional wounds ran far deeper than I'd imagined. There had to be more to it than simple heartbreak. What was she hiding?
Scanning the pavement, I found no trace of her and my sense of foreboding grew. Where had she gone? I rounded the corner and saw an opening to a side street just up ahead. I knew I had to check it. The small street was deserted- no sound but the intermittent whisper of the wind. I stayed still for a moment, listening, and my ears caught a small sound that could have been a sob. On the corner up ahead, there was a broken-down building that had evidently been a convenience store of some kind, but had long since been closed and was boarded up. I reached it quickly, and as I moved around the other side to the doorway, I saw her.
Bella was slumped in the doorway, hands wrapped round her knees, her head bowed, quietly weeping. My face crumpled as I saw her - she looked so small, so broken, almost like a little girl. I wasn't sure if she'd let me. I wasn't sure if I could. But I wanted to try my best to comfort her. As I took a step forward, my shoe crunched on some broken glass that lay on the concrete, and she looked up in shock.
"J-Jasper?" Her voice was weak, tremulous as she looked up, then dipped her head, clearly ashamed that I was seeing her in this state.
"Hey. You okay?" That sounded so stupid - clearly, she wasn't in any way okay. However, the sight of her in such pain distressed me so much I had trouble forming the right words. She didn't answer and stared past me, the tears still silently falling down her face.
Not knowing what else to do, I moved and sat down beside her on the freezing cold stone of the step. She grudgingly moved to let me sit there, but she still wouldn't look at me. Tentatively, I touched her arm. She hadn't worn a coat, and her skin felt so cold, literally shivering under my touch. Despite the fact I was pretty cold myself, I removed my coat and offered it to her.
Even through her tears, she laughed. "You don't have to do that."
"Yes I do," I told her, and she complied, letting me tuck the coat round her. She sighed, her head disappearing into the neck of the coat as she burrowed into it.
"Hiding under there?" I said.
"I feel like such an idiot." Her words were muffled, but I understood them perfectly.
I shifted, feeling really uncomfortable on the hard ground while I tried to think of something to say that wasn't contrived. I didn't think she was an idiot at all, just a girl in a great deal of pain that I could barely even understand. Bella didn't seem to have many people to confide in, but if she wanted to, she could confide in me. She didn't have to tell me why she was sitting in a doorway crying her eyes out, but I had a feeling it was the same thing that caused her to harm herself. With a pang, I remembered the scars on her thighs and hoped that she hadn't done it since.
"You're not. Maybe you don't want me to be here, but I couldn't let you just sit here on your own. It's not safe out here when it's so late."
"It's not that I don't want you here." She emerged from the coat, tucking it round her shoulders with one hand. I noticed that one of her hands was clutched in such a solid fist that the skin was white where it was stretched out over the bones. I wondered why that was, but then she spoke again and I was distracted.
"I just don't like people knowing that I get like this. I may look normal on the surface, but on the inside, I'm...ugly." The last word came out as a whisper, and I could see that it cost her a great deal to say it.
"Nothing about you is ugly, trust me on that," I told her, and then I put my arm round her. I'd expected that she'd immediately shrug it off, but not that time. She leaned into me, and I was grateful of the contact, given that I was really starting to feel the cold myself. I turned my gaze to to her hand that remained in a rigid fist. What the hell was that about? I took the hand, and she froze, trying to pull it back.
"Get off me!"
"What's in your hand?" I asked, starting to get worried as she was being so cagey.
Her eyes met mine, and they were weary, as though she no longer cared if I knew what she was holding. The pressure of her fingers slackened, and a set of keys fell from her hand. On her palm, they'd left angry red marks where she'd been squeezing them so tightly, but they hadn't yet drawn blood. Oh God. I should have noticed sooner, or done something. She'd been hurting herself, even while I'd been sitting right there next to her. I took her hand and traced the marks ever so gently, so as not to hurt her.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tear splash onto my coat, and she choked out a sob. I had no idea how I should respond, but I brought her hand up and kissed the marks, a childish action to sooth them. Bella gasped, and I realised I was crossing the line into inappropriate behaviour. However, it wasn't in the slightest bit motivated by my attraction to her - I was just being kind. Her breath caught as my lips touched her skin, but I pretended not to notice. Just like she hopefully wouldn't hear how fast my heart was fluttering in my chest.
"You're kissing it better?" She was almost smiling, and I was starting to feel a bit like a fool.
"Now you must think I'm really a freak, as if you didn't when we..." She paused, blushing furiously, and I knew exactly what she meant. "Oh God, this is so embarrassing."
"Don't sweat it," I said, running my other hand through her hair in a soothing gesture. "This isn't even my favourite t-shirt, so you can get it as wet as you like."
I dropped my hand back to her palm that still lay open. "Why do you do that to yourself?" I asked, circling the marks that were only just starting to fade.
"Because I don't know how not to."
"God, Bella. What happened to you?"
"You won't know what to say, and you'll just feel awkward."
I took her shoulders in my hands, turning her towards me so her gaze was locked on my face. "Try me."
"You tell me something first," she countered. I froze. That I hadn't expected.
"What do you want to know?"
"Just tell me something real. Something true. Like, where did you grow up?"
"Well, my Mom's family are from Texas, but she moved to Macon, Georgia, so I grew up there."
"You're Southern through and through, then," she said with a light smile, rubbing at her tear-streaked cheeks. However, there was something hidden behind her eyes that I couldn't quite ascertain. That feeling grew when she took my wrist and squinted at my arm.
"You've got tiny scars on your arms," she surmised. I knew she'd notice eventually. A fair few people had, but I'd brush off the question unless I knew them well enough to explain.
"Not just my arms." Even though it was really cold, I lifted the hem of my shirt to show her the marks that dotted my torso. Her hand tentatively reached out to touch one before she drew back, and I pulled my top back down. "Cigarette burns."
"I never even noticed," she marvelled, her eyes softening. "How did you get those?"
"Let's just say I never really had much of a father. He was a drunk, and he used to knock my Mom about. One night, I guess I just got sick of sitting at the top of the stairs pretending that I couldn't hear her screaming and begging him to stop. And then I'd hear it afterwards when he said he was sorry, and he loved her, and he'd just had a bad day, and he was drunk..." I swallowed hard as I finally found the courage to meet her eyes. They were pitying, but not in a way that irritated me. She knew I had more to say, and was just letting me talk.
"One night I just lost it. I saw him knock her head against the wall until she passed out, and I tried to fight him. I was only eight and obviously couldn't touch him in strength. You can imagine what happened next."
Bella's jaw was taut, and she let out a sharp intake of breath. "God, Jasper, I didn't even know. That's just so.."
I tried to look at her, but I was unable to take my eyes off the filthy concrete of the doorstep where we sat. I was afraid to meet her gaze for fear of what I'd see in it, so I just kept talking.
"We never saw him after that, he just cleared off then and there. I guess he was afraid my Mom would call child services or the police and report him. He needn't have worried, really. Whatever he did to her, for some reason she'd still loved him. When he left that night, it was like she just gave up then and there. I pretty much had to fend for myself. I got her up in the morning before I went to school, made the meals, and tried to do the best I could, but it wasn't easy. We didn't have a lot of money and it was hard to make ends meet.
"On a good day she'd get dressed, put on makeup, sometimes even make the dinner. But on bad days she'd sit there slumped in her robe, drinking glass after glass of vodka. It was like she couldn't even hear me if I spoke. Over time, she got sicker, until she couldn't do much at all. When I was eleven, she got really sick and had to go into hospital. I didn't understand at the time, but she bled to death from esophageal varices - swollen veins that just suddenly start to bleed if you have advanced liver disease. The doctors tried their best, but they couldn't save her."
…
I opened the front door to the blaring sound of a daytime chat show. The teacher had kept me late today for not getting to class on time this morning, but I'd just said nothing and eventually she'd let me go with a sigh.
"Mom?" I called, hoping she'd answer.
I was always worried because of that time where I got home and she was just lying on the sofa fast asleep, but it didn't even sound like she was breathing. She smelled funny, like that really strong clear stuff she drank sometimes - vodka, it was called. She wouldn't wake up even when I microwaved some spaghetti and brought it to her. She'd apologised for scaring me and said she was fine, but it had frightened me.
I was happy to see when I entered the kitchen that she was at least sitting at the table, and she'd put on some clothes instead of just wearing her robe. She had a glass of that clear liquid in her hand though, which made me feel nervous. I really hated it when she drank that. It made her words jumbled and sometimes she'd get angry, or worse, she'd just cry and cry. I never knew what to do when she was like that.
"How was school today?" she said, not taking her eyes off the TV. She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, her face twisting slightly as she swallowed.
"It was okay. I'm sorry I was late home, the teacher kept me back."
"Oh, right," she said distractedly, taking another drink.
"Mom, please don't drink that. It just makes you sick."
"Stop it, Jasper. I'm fine here. Just go do your homework."
"But we don't have homework on Wednesday, I told you. It's only Tuesday and Thursday."
She looked at me, and her eyes were all blank, like she didn't even realise who I was for a second. I remembered that my Mom's eyes used to look all pretty, so blue that they almost sparkled. Aunt Maria always used to say I had her eyes, too. But that was a long time ago, and we didn't see Aunt Maria any more. Whenever I asked why, Mom told me it wasn't for me to worry about. I hated it when she said things like that.
"I'm sorry. I should have remembered," she said, and she reached out to ruffle my hair. It was a good day today. At least she was talking, not just staring off into space. I felt my body relax slightly, and went to the fridge to see if she might have got something for dinner.
...
I blinked, struggling with the glimpse of my ten-year-old self I'd just seen in my mind's eye. For a moment, I was still that same scared, insecure little boy, trying to make sense of all the burdens that weighed so heavily on his young shoulders.
"Jasper, I'm so, so sorry," she whispered, and I could see a tear glistening at the corner of her eye. Her hand closed around my shoulder, and she squeezed gently.
It was hard to think of these things, much less even talk about them. I had no idea why I was even telling Bella now, except that she'd wanted to know something that was real for me. I wasn't looking for pity, as I was giving her the facts stripped bare.
"That must have been awful for you," she added, and even though it was something I'd heard people say before, I knew that from her, it was heartfelt. "But you were really brave to stand up to your father, you know."
I sighed. "Thanks," I managed to say. "I don't really feel like that, but thanks for saying it anyway." I took a shallow, rattling breath, trying to process my thoughts to explain it to her better. Just knowing that she cared was enough, somehow, for me to keep going, no matter how difficult it was to speak.
Some of the moments in the time immediately following my mother's death remained hazy, but the hours after her death were still as lucid for me as they had been then. The doctor told me that she wasn't going to wake up, and they'd done everything they could, that he was so sorry, but I hadn't wanted to hear it. I'd screamed until my lungs felt like they'd burst, and tried to hit him before he'd gently prised me off him, his eyes full of pity as they looked upon me. I recalled a glass of milk being pressed into my hand by a well-meaning nurse, and then throwing up all over her as my stomach revolted at the thick, sweet liquid. It was a such a vivid memory that even right then I felt nausea swirling in my abdomen. I'd run, afraid of being reproved for it, and they had police combing the area for me. Of course, I hadn't gotten far before collapsing from exhaustion and grief, and a police officer quickly found me under a bench in a local park, shivering.
"Things did get better for me," I told Bella, shooting her a reassuring smile. I hoped she didn't notice just how brittle it was on my face. "They contacted my Aunt Maria. Her and my Mom hadn't spoken in a few years- probably a lot to do with my father. She hadn't seen me in a long time, but I went to live with her in Atlanta. I kind of went off the rails for a few years academically, but I was okay in the end. And Maria was great with me, she treated me like her own son. I don't speak to her as much as I should, really."
Talking to Bella was far too easy - it was almost effortless. I knew I was in danger of revealing far too much about myself, so it was time to bite my tongue. "I'm sure the irony is amusing," I added. "My parents had alcohol problems, and I work in a bar for a living."
"Is that what you've always done?" A half-smile came to her lips.
"Well, when I was a kid I went to school," I said, evading the question. "So now you know a lot about me. Trust me, it's not something I like to talk about, but somehow with you I don't mind." I met her eyes and shot her a brief smile which she returned. "Now it's your turn."
"Quid pro pro, Doctor Lecter?" she joked, despite the fact her voice was shaking, and I sighed at her attempts to turn the conversation away from herself.
"Bella," I said quietly. "Come on."
She took a deep breath, shuddering. "This will sound stupid, but it isn't like it sounds. My...boyfriend died," she said in a rush, and a noisy sob immediately followed it. I froze, trying to process what she'd just told me but unable to just then. All along, I'd been looking into eyes hollowed out by grief, and I'd never even known. Wave upon wave of pity crashed over me as I pulled her close to me, holding her tight. The contact felt alien to me, as it had been such a long time since I'd held anyone in such an intimate way. And at the same time, I ached to feel her close to me. I held her against my chest, stroking her hair with my free hand.
"Why the hell would I think that sounds stupid?" I murmured, shocked that she would even think that.
"B-because people might think it was just some stupid high school romance. But it wasn't. I loved him," she sobbed, soaking my shoulder with her tears. "He was supposed to be here, we were supposed to go to college together. I wanted to be a writer, and he was going to be a composer. We had a plan, and then he just...decided to leave me."
Suicide? The word circled in my brain, but I couldn't bring myself to verbalise it in case it upset her further. If my heart had been pounding before, after that it felt like it was about to beat out of my chest. Bella was so much more fragile than I'd ever thought she was. What had happened to her was so much more terrible than I could have even envisioned. She'd lost the man she loved, and through his own doing.
At that moment, I hated myself even more for the way I'd treated her that night. She clearly wasn't dealing with what had happened to her. Not that I was one to talk, but still. I'd never felt so wretched, while simultaneously grateful that I could be the one to comfort her.
"He got depressed, and for a while it didn't seem to get any better. But things were going to be okay, and I thought he'd started to turn a corner. Instead, one day when I went to work, he – he took some pills, and I found him," she went on, her words heavy with the force of her sobs.
I exhaled sharply, unable to find the words to express how bad I felt for her to have gone through something so horrific.
Outside the doorway, I noticed the rain was coming down, falling softly as she wept. Bella drew back from my embrace a little, and her eyes looked up into mine. Her expression was unfathomable, but she raised her head so her face was just inches from mine. Her hair was bedraggled, her face streaked with traces of makeup that her tears had washed away, but she'd never looked more beautiful. She reached up, her fingers tracing my jaw line.
"You need to shave," she muttered, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Mm-hm," I replied, still unmoving while she drew even closer. My mind was screaming at me to move away, but still I didn't move. Suddenly, she blinked, and just like that, the spell was broken. She lowered her head, and rested it against my chest. I breathed a sigh of relief. I seriously needed my head examined or something. A girl tells me her boyfriend died, and I think about kissing her? Momentarily, I trembled, hoping that she hadn't noticed.
"If you've got a cigarette, that'd be great, actually. I've run out."
I didn't know how to make her feel better, but cancer-causing sticks? Those I could provide.
"I'm so sorry. If I'd known, I never would have..." I said, instantly regretting my choice of words.
Her face fell. "Never would have what?" she said, pulling back from me. We both knew exactly what I'd meant, so I didn't answer her rhetorical question. But at the same time, I didn't mean it. I'd taken advantage of a girl who was hurting, but then, it had been what she wanted at the time too. I handed over the requested cigarette and lit it for her, idly watching the end glow dimly in the faintness of the street lights.
"It made me feel better," she said, tapping her fingers so flecks of grey ash fell to the pavement. "At least for the there and now. Don't apologise for it, please, or I'll feel even more embarrassed."
"Okay, but I just wish I hadn't been so rude," I said slowly, exhaling impatiently as I failed yet again to articulate myself sufficiently. "I'm sorry, you don't deserve that. I was cold and callous and just..."
"Seriously, don't," she whispered, her face taut. The brown eyes found mine, and they were full of unspoken questions I had no answers for. "This is exactly what I don't want. It's why I never tell people. They treat me differently, like some fragile flower that might burst into tears over the slightest thing."
"Bella, this is not the slightest thing," I told her firmly, taking her chin in my hand and tipping it upwards so she was forced to look at me. "It's awful, and you shouldn't have to keep it inside. I mean, you can talk to me if you want."
I understood better than she knew, even if I couldn't tell her that. The pain of loss that rips your soul apart, leaving nothing behind but emptiness and broken shards that you can't bear to piece together again. Yes, I knew what that was like.
"Thank you," she said slowly. "I don't know why I told you. I guess I just wanted to tell someone for a change. And I guess I didn't want you to think I was crying over nothing. "
"Like I said, it isn't nothing." I was silent for a moment, listening to nothing but the sound of our breathing in the stillness of the night.
Bella turned to me and bit down on her lip, her tongue nervously darting out before she spoke again. "If I asked you to, would you take me home right now?" Her words were careful and considered, almost businesslike, but I swear my heart stopped.
"Y-you're drunk," I spluttered, trying to evade a response. "Look, if that happens, it's not going to be in response to this. You want this for all the wrong reasons. And besides, I'd be taking advantage of you in the worst sense."
"If?" she echoed, raising her eyebrows, and I felt my face grow hot. "Sorry. I never should have said that. I was just being facetious, I guess."
Like I believed that for even a second. And I wished she wouldn't say things like that - it was a dangerous request, given how alluring I found her. It was a strangely pleasant idea, despite its ethical implications.
"It's okay," I said carefully. "And I didn't mean 'if' like that, I just said the wrong thing."
"Oh, I know," she said, a little too seriously, and despite her tear-streaked face, I got the feeling she was making fun of me. "Look, I know I'm a mess right now, but I'm not usually like this. I can cope. I thought I was coping, but then sometimes it just hits me and I..." She trailed off into noisy sobs again and I fell silent, just letting her cry it out.
"Sometimes it just hits you."
"I don't need to be rescued, Jasper," she said eventually, lifting her head from my now-damp chest.
"Believe me, I know that," I said carefully, combing my fingers through her hair absent-mindedly. "Why don't I take you home now?"
She nodded. I stood and gently helped her to her feet. She didn't live too far from where we were, and the short journey home passed in silence. She handed my coat back to me, her expression somewhat bashful as she blinked at me from beneath her heavily smudged eyes.
"Thanks." I knew that word was for more than lending her my coat. She'd appreciated that I was there, even if she couldn't admit it.
"Anytime," I replied, then realised how that sounded. She frowned, and I hastily backtracked. "You know what I mean. I mean I'm glad I was able to find you. You shouldn't have been on your own then."
"Please don't do that to yourself," I said awkwardly, knowing that it wouldn't be really be much help to her, but feeling like I had to mention it regardless.
"I try." Her voice is tremulous, and as she unlocked the door with shaking hands, I considered inviting myself in. She could have probably used some company, and so could I. But I knew very well that wouldn't be a good idea. Considering what she'd just told me, I knew Bella was suffering terribly and I didn't want to complicate things further by making her feel guilty about spending time with another guy who wasn't her dead boyfriend.
My walk home brought me no peace, but that was hardly surprising after everything we'd discussed. I was shocked that she'd been hurt so badly, and I was almost glad I hadn't kissed her. It had only been two years or so for her, and I didn't want to try and replace another man.
How do I even know that I'm ready?
I'd learned to suppress every feeling, but I couldn't with Bella. That meant that my ugly, painful feelings went hand in hand with every wonderful one I felt when we were together. When I got in, I took a long hot shower that warmed through ever freezing muscle from the inside out, and then stumbled to bed. Unfortunately, sleep did not find me, and I was forced to let my mind loose in processing its mixed-up thoughts.
I knew Bella didn't think I was a monogamous type of guy, and I wondered if it would amuse her to know deep down, I truly was. I'd spent six years of my life with the same woman, and I'd thought all I'd ever want was her. Even though fate had seen to it that neither of us had been able to pursue the brilliant futures we'd once longed for, it had brought us such intense happiness. Only for a time, of course, because events beyond our control had torn us asunder. It was a remarkable thing, how two people who'd shared the utmost love and respect for each other could come to regard one another with only contempt and hatred.
Although, the last one was only true for her side. I'd never hated her, and I couldn't help but wonder sometimes if she still hated me, whatever she was doing now. Hopefully at least one of us was making a success of our life somehow. I was still struggling to even piece together the broken shards of everything we'd lost that one day she walked out. She'd brought my whole world tumbling down like a poorly-built house of cards. I'd thought our years together had knitted together a solid foundation that couldn't be shaken, let alone smashed. But I was wrong. Everything is fragile. It only takes one terrible thing that you can't take back to destroy everything you've so carefully built. I sighed, burying my face in the pillow as I remembered that day she'd gone.
...
We'd been standing there for several minutes, but I was still unable to accept the sight before me. She was wearing her coat, the set of fancy pink suitcases lying beside where she'd sat at the kitchen table and waited me to get home from work. Straight away I'd known what she was going to do. With a sting, I remembered how I'd bought her that set of luggage as a gift, the first expensive present I'd been able to afford to buy her. We had picked it out together, spending an afternoon in the department store while she excitedly pointed out different models and wheeled them about. I'd just sat there and laughed to myself, amused by how excited someone could get over what seemed to be such mundane, functional items. But I had lived to make her happy, and if that was what she wanted, so be it. It seemed that I'd come to make her unhappy in recent months, compounded by the blackness of my own despair. I didn't blame her for how she felt, but I'd hoped that we could help each other. Sadly, she'd never let me help her even for a second.
"Please, don't," I heard myself say, the numbness spreading throughout my body. I was reeling from the shock that she'd finally found a way to leave me forever. In happier times, the revelation that she'd been offered an apprenticeship in Paris would have thrilled me. I wouldn't have hesitated to join her there, as I could have probably found work anywhere in the world in my chosen field. Even now, I was proud of what she'd achieved. I had tried to reason with her, and by that point, I wasn't above pleading. Even if it made me pathetic. "Can't we just talk?"
She rolled her eyes, a world-weary sigh escaping her. "What would be the point? It doesn't change anything. That – still happened." Her lids closed, and a single tear made a path down her cheek, smudging the coal-black makeup that outlined her eyes.
I breathed out from between my teeth, simultaneously trying not to lose my temper or break down in tears. At that moment, it seemed either was entirely possible.
"Maybe you should, then. If you're going to make me feel guilty for the rest of my life. Believe me, I do that job well enough on my own."
That wasn't the full story, of course. I felt guilty for how I'd behaved in recent months, for spending too much time away from home drowning my sorrows in whatever dive bar I could. However, when all I encountered at home was cold indifference and apathy, it didn't exactly make me want to return home.
She winced, and just for a brief moment, I saw a hint of the loving, laughing girl who used to drag me into dark corners of the school corridor and force me to make out with her before class. In a flash, it was gone, and the only thing left was the hollow mask of pain that clouded her beauty.
"I'm sorry, Jazz. I can't do this any more. Don't you think I've tried?"
"You haven't," I said, no longer caring that my voice dripped with venom. The time had passed for murmured endearments and tears. The tears had all been shed, and we'd said all we could say that was loving. "You barely even let me get near you these days, let alone spending enough time with me to talk."
"Don't you see," she whispered, her fingers fiddling with a strap on her suitcase, "It's too painful. I can't. Something's died inside me, too."
"You don't love me any more, then?" I said, already knowing the answer. My voice was remarkably composed, given that I was screaming on the inside.
Resentment and bitterness had already washed away our love and mutual respect for one another, burning them away like acid etches through metal. Until then, I didn't realise how much those emotions had taken hold of my own heart. The two of us had fallen so far away from each other, and I hadn't even realised it until then. I was never able to exactly recall the remainder of the conversation we had that day, and I was grateful for that. It had been full of justifications and pat statements to try and sooth each other's guilt and loathing, but that we knew would do nothing of the sort. And then there were no words left.
I stood there silently as my entire life walked out the door.
It's not real. It isn't. No. No.
When the lock slotted back in with a whisper, I still couldn't believe she was really gone. I wound my arms round my sides, tightening my grip on myself even when it started to ache. I've never known how long I stood there for, the minutes passing like a dying heartbeat that's so faint and slow you barely even register it. However, the next day, I found fresh bruises where my fingers had been.
She called me a few days later to see how I was, but I hung up the phone as soon as she asked, relishing the click as it fit back into its plastic cradle. How do you fucking think I am? I thought savagely, my heart thudding almost painfully in my chest. I never told her that after the phone call, I stumbled to the bathroom and vomited until I tasted bile on my lips. Then I lit my first cigarette of three years and choked it back, the familiar, acrid taste providing some small comfort. I never told her any of those things, because after that, we never spoke again.
No.
…
Winding the covers round myself tighter, I registered a dampness on my pillow and realised the tears had been flowing out of my eyes for several minutes. It was the first time I'd cried in months. In spite of everything that had happened, I did miss her, and I longed for those familiar days. However, with every moment I spent with Bella, I felt as if I might be finding a new kind of peace.
Y'all still with me? I know I really put you through the wringer sometimes, but I wanted to show more about Jasper, and that means explaining more of his past. There's something else I have yet to explain, but as I say, I have a reason and it will happen soon. I love my characters and I absolutely believe in an HEA - I'm not the kind of girl to put you all through this angst without hopeful resolution on the horizon. They're both starting to heal, even if they don't know it yet. If you liked it, a review would be wonderful and tends to make me write faster. Thanks for reading! xxx