This chapter has some pretty big developments for our boys; so I won't hold you back from it any longer, except to say that I don't own Twilight.
-o-
Jasper
He's my height, but weighs about fifty pounds more; and every ounce of that fifty pounds is solid muscle. His dark hair is cut close, but still betrays the tendency to curl if it's allowed to grow out at all. His eyes are dark brown, and not being able to distinguish between his iris and pupil gives them a slightly wild look. All in all, he cuts a rather intimidating silhouette.
Until his eyes crinkle into a smile, deep dimples pitting his cheeks; and then my brother-in-law Emmett McCarty is about as scary as your average Build-a-Bear. Hugging him is much like hugging a stuffed animal as well, except I've never hugged a toy that lifted me off the floor.
"Jay!!" he enthuses as he squeezes the breath from my lungs. "Good to see you, dude!"
"You too, Em," I gasp. "You're going to break my ribs…"
"Hehe, sorry," he grins, and my feet return to solid ground. I stand aside and he steps past me into my apartment. "Hey, thanks for putting me up while I'm here!"
"Of course," I smile, twisting my torso a bit, pretending to check for rib fractures. He rolls his eyes, and I take his coat from him and hang it in the closet. "I'm really glad you're here, Em."
"I'll bet," he says, his twinkling eyes becoming more serious. "You've had a rough go of things the last little bit, huh?"
"That's an understatement," I reply, shutting my eyes against the memory of this afternoon's conversation with Carlisle.
"Well, I'm here now," he pats my shoulder, teasingly condescending. "We can paint our toenails and braid each other's hair, and then we'll share a pint of Ben & Jerry's."
I give him a playful shove. "Huh – guess since Rosie doesn't have any daughters she had to turn you into a girl!"
"Ohhh…" His eyes narrow and he drops into a wrestling crouch. "You think you can take me, Slim?"
"No," I concede. "One whiff of those feet and I'd be out cold. Jesus, Em, you're killing my appetite."
He straightens up and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sorry about that; it's been a long day. Maybe I should shower before dinner."
"Sounds good," I nod. "Come on, I'll show you the den, where the spare bed is; and then you can hit the shower."
The banter continues over dinner; and then – because Emmett doesn't joke about ice cream – we do split a pint of Chubby Hubby. Emmett, in his non-threatening way, draws me out about Edward; and I know his real concern is how I'm handling things. I manage to allay his concerns, knowing that the contents of our conversation will be relayed to Rosie, and then to my parents. When I'm ready to change the subject, I get him talking about the boys.
His face lights up as he describes Brandon's latest kinder-gym accomplishments, and how Gabriel knows all the primary and secondary colors by sight. Something I love about Emmett is that, although he teases and jokes around, he knows when to be serious, when not to push; it's very easy to be with him.
Chat about family, work and life in general consumes the rest of our evening; and pretty soon Emmett is yawning, having had a very long day of travel and meetings. He'll have more meetings tomorrow; and then we're going to meet back here to grab Thai food at a little place I've found nearby, before Em catches a late flight back to San Diego.
Lying in bed, my mind replays my conversation with Carlisle this afternoon. Edward has reconciled with his parents. Carlisle and Esme have their son back, for which they must be ecstatic. Edward has a family again – I suppose I don't have to worry any longer about his damage consuming him. I should be happy for him – for all of them; it's everything I wanted for him.
Except it's not. Because I also wanted me for him. I never dreamed that in order for me to help effect this change, I'd need to be the sacrificial lamb. I wanted Edward to be whole again; now it's happening – without me. It feels like he's rejecting me all over again. Of course he should seek out his parents; but does it have to be either them or me?
Why not me, too?
Sleep doesn't come easily; and when I finally do drift off, my dreams disturb me. I dream that I am standing in a large, non-descript room. I know Edward is in the room as well, but I can't see him because we're separated by a large, tri-fold screen. He doesn't talk to me; instead he speaks to Carlisle, and Carlisle relays a message to me from Edward. Then when I give Carlisle a message to take to Edward, I hear Carlisle tell Edward the wrong thing – he's not listening to me and he's not representing me accurately to Edward. All I want is to talk to Edward and have him listen to me.
Please just listen to me.
Edward
After Alice leaves my apartment, I work late into the night. Her pulling the Jasper pictures out of the folder has ripped the Band-Aid off the wound; I might as well finish what has already been started. I continue looking through them – the shots of the two of us that I had worked into a single collage; me sitting on a bench along the Canal; my beautiful Kas, with his angelic curls framing his face as he paces the sidewalk beside the water. The pictures of him are all so beautiful, it's difficult to narrow it down; but before two a.m. when I finally drag my ass to bed, I manage to bring the selection down to seven that I absolutely can't live without seeing every day.
The next morning, I'm woken by my telephone ringing shortly before ten a.m. I consider ignoring it, but figure it's time for me to be up anyways. When I answer, my father says, "Up and at 'em, son, the day's half over!"
I chuckle hoarsely, remembering my grandfather's favorite means of rousing us when we stayed over at their house. Of course, my grandfather would say that at seven in the morning; at least in this case, my father is correct.
"Morning, Dad," I reply.
"The life of the self-employed," he sighs. "I tried to get a gig like that, but hospital boards of directors tend to shy away from a freelance chief of staff."
I'm half-asleep, but even in my addled state, I know that when my father makes a bad joke, he's nervous or uncomfortable about something. "Is something wrong, Dad?"
"Well…" he hesitates.
"Is Mother okay?" I ask.
"Oh yes, she's fine," he quickly reassures me. "Something happened yesterday, son, and I need to tell you about it. I'm concerned that you're going to be upset with me, though."
"Okay…" I reply hesitantly, with no idea what to expect.
"I had a meeting scheduled yesterday at the hospital with Jasper," he begins nervously. "He came for the appointment a bit before the time we had scheduled," he goes on, "at about ten to two or so. It was when I was expecting your call...and, well, you called a bit later than you'd said you were going to..."
Instantly I am sitting bolt upright. "What happened, Dad?" I ask him directly. This is getting painful.
He sighs and goes for the direct route as well. "He was sitting there when you called, and he heard Gina transfer the call to me. When she transferred the call, she told me it was my son on the line."
"Shit," I curse, not caring whether my father wants to scold my choice of language. "What did he say?"
"When I hung up from speaking to you, Gina came in and told me he'd been there for the appointment but left in a hurry. She was worried – she said he'd suddenly gone white as a sheet, and just left without an explanation. She didn't know, of course, about you and him. She called his assistant to let her know that she didn't think he was feeling well."
My hand covers my eyes as I picture Jasper's face. "So you didn't talk to him?"
"I went to his office," he continues. "His assistant was very concerned about him too; it seems he went into a full-blown panic attack."
"Oh my god," I whisper, my heart constricting at the thought of Jasper in pain. "Was he okay?"
"I stayed and talked with him for a while," he says. "He calmed down eventually; I suggested he head home for the day."
"You talked to him…" I croak. "What did you say?"
"That's why I'm calling," he says. "He heard it all, Edward; I couldn't just leave him to suffer that…I had to give him some context around why you were calling."
"Jesus…" I sputter. "Did you tell him about family counseling?"
"No, no," he assures me. "That will be up to you to tell him, when and if you…well, whenever. I did tell him that you had come home, though; that it was his impact on your life that made you change your mind about having a relationship with us. He gave us our son back. I had to thank him for that." I don't answer – I know it's true, and yet it's still difficult to hear it, how much my parents and I owe to Jasper, the man I treated so badly. "Edward…I'm sorry this happened. I hope you understand that I had to tell him something."
Ignoring his plea, I murmur, "So…what did he say?"
-o-
Late Tuesday afternoon, I leave my apartment and head north over the canal, to Fremont. I have been in an agony with worry about Jasper since I awoke to my father's call. Jasper is upset – from his conversation with Dad, he feels that my reconciliation with my parents happened at his own expense. The last words I spoke to him were so hateful, so awful. I can't wait another day to tell him the truth about how much I really care. I want to be with him – only him – for the rest of my life.
I have to see him – a phone call won't do. He loved me before, and that was after he found out just how damaged I am. Even if he doesn't love me now, even if he doesn't want to try again, I can't wait one more day to apologize for the horrible words I said, and to tell him the truth: I love him.
So I trek out into the rain, rehearsing in my head what I'm going to say when I see him. I've tried to time my arrival for shortly after he gets home from work, so he's not in the middle of dinner but hasn't just walked in the door.
My knees tremble as I push the button for his intercom, the tone echoing loudly in the empty space between the two sets of doors. After a moment's pause, his beautiful voice comes through the intercom. "Yes?" he says.
"Jasper…it's Edward," I reply hesitantly. "I was wondering if we could talk."
After an interminable wait, the automatic door lock buzzes, signaling the release of the lock. I grab the door and yank it open, then stride to the elevator and jab the button several times. Before long the door opens and I step in and push the button for Jasper's floor.
I step out into the hall and as I make my way to Jasper's door, I hear hushed voices having what seems to be an animated discussion inside his apartment. I stand for a moment outside the door and strain to hear. I only catch a few words, not enough to have any sense of what they're saying or even who is with him. Finally, I raise my hand and knock on his door.
The door opens, and for a moment I wonder if I knocked on the wrong door. Standing in front of me is a huge, intimidating man – he is a couple of inches taller than I am, and built like a Mack fucking truck. He has black hair and very dark eyes, and he has a carry-on bag over his shoulder. Vaguely it occurs to me that he looks like a bouncer; but this thought quickly vanishes when I realize that, beyond this brute, stands Jasper…or rather, Jazz. He is drawn up to his full height, his chin proudly held up, his eyes narrow. His face looks like a blank mask, but I know him well enough now to see past the façade, to recognize the hurt in his eyes.
The stalwart man who stands between us steps wordlessly to the side to allow me to enter; but I look at Jasper, silently asking his permission. He lifts one eyebrow, then his eyes drop to the side and he gives a barely perceptible nod, granting his assent. I step in, past the "door staff" and into the living room. "Wait here a minute," mutters Jasper tonelessly. He and the other man step into the hallway; and from where I stand I can see them. They are again in what appears to be an animated but nearly-silent conversation; I am stymied to make out what they're saying.
While I wait, I try not to stare at them; I do steal a few surreptitious glances. Every time I look at the man he looks familiar to me, yet I can't place him. I would definitely remember someone that size if he went to Spin. Maybe he goes to one of the other clubs? The conversation appears to end, and Jasper embraces the man, kissing him on the cheek; then my heart stops as Jasper says three little words.
"I love you."
The man returns the sentiment, and then, after giving me a final appraising look, disappears from my view as he strides down the hall. Jasper stands watching him for a moment, then sighs, turns and re-enters his front hall, closing the apartment door behind him. Slowly, wordlessly, he comes to stand about five feet from where I wait. Jasper is even more beautiful than my memory gave him credit for – his blonde curls framing his face, his limpid green eyes gazing back at me. His lips are as delicate and soft-looking as ever, but they are devoid of the broad smile I love so much – not a dimple in sight. We stare at each other in silence for a moment, and then I clear my throat and begin.
"I interrupted your plans."
"Yes," he replies coldly.
"I'm sorry for that," I return quietly. "Your date doesn't have to go; I could come back another time…"
"My brother-in-law," he says pointedly, "does have to go. He has a plane to catch."
"Oh," I reply lamely, not knowing what else to say, and silence takes hold once more. This time he is the one to break it.
"Why are you here, Edward?" he asks guardedly, but there is a glimmer of vulnerability in his tone.
"My father told me he spoke to you yesterday," I reply carefully, "and I've been worried about you since he told me about the conversation."
He looks scornful and cocks one eyebrow at me. "You were worried about me?" he repeats flatly.
I nod. "Because you were so upset by it."
"I'm glad you got your family back, Edward," he sighs. "I'm not upset about that. But it was a shock to find out that you had reconciled with them, after you dumped me" –I wince at this—"for having a relationship with them. A very superficial relationship, at that."
"I know how hypocritical that sounds." He shoots me a deprecating glance. "Okay, it is hypocritical. I feel horrible that you were hurt. I'm really sorry you found out the way you did, Jasper. I was going to tell you myself, but I wasn't ready…"
He barks a humorless laugh. "'I was going to tell you'. Where have I heard that before?"
Point taken. "I know," I concede. "There were some things that I wanted to tell you the night we…well, when we went to dinner that night, I was going to tell you how I felt about you." I swear I see a flicker of something in his eyes - hope? Interest? I can't tell.
He asks slowly, "How you felt?"
"Well, more accurately," I correct myself, "how I feel."
He looks at me searchingly, and when he speaks his words are guarded and deliberate. "And how do you feel?"
I take a deep breath and hurl myself from the precipice. "Jasper, since you came into my life, I've changed in ways I could never have imagined. You taught me so much in a short period of time. You helped me realize that I could bottom without feeling ashamed – that it was a gift I could give to someone who was worthy to receive it. When we were together and I thought about you, it was like someone was blowing a balloon up inside my chest – it forced against my insides, pushing until I thought I would burst from it. All the time, though, I thought that balloon was empty – that it would deflate or burst and be left in shreds, nothing of substance remaining. I was wrong – it was full of…it was full of your love, Jasper. It filled me up, and I was the one who threw that away." I pause for breath and to collect my thoughts before I continue. "I kissed you with my eyes closed." He looks confused at this, so I explain. "Before you, I had never, ever kissed anyone with my eyes closed; it made me feel too…vulnerable…I don't know. Unprotected. But with you, I closed my eyes – not the first day; but that weekend we spent here…" I gesture at the space around me "…right here in this apartment…it made me feel so safe with you that I fucking closed my eyes. And then…I started thinking how much I'd love to be here waiting for you when you got home from work at night, and how if I had to go away, I'd want you waiting for me…"
He is starting to look overwhelmed, and I stop, waiting to let him absorb some of what I have said. He wanders aimlessly around his living room a bit, as I stand in one place, watching him. Eventually he turns slowly to me and says, "But that night…when you saw me with your parents…"
"Yeah," I swallow hard, remembering my horrible behavior. "Jasper, I was so shocked to see you talking to them. It was like being punched in the stomach."
"I tried to explain," he says…
"I know. I wouldn't listen." I blanch as I remember my reaction. "My behavior that night – the things I did and said – it was inexcusable."
"You fucking broke my heart," he says in a near-whisper, his voice breaking on the last word.
"I know," I whisper in reply. Tears come to my eyes as I realize afresh the pain I brought to this beautiful creature. "I'm sorry."
"You're…crying?" he asks incredulously. I don't answer, and for a moment the only sound is my occasional sniffle.
"I have done a lot of crying in the past few days," I reply when I am able. "I've brought so much pain, to so many people. You, my parents, my sister…in a thousand lifetimes I couldn't make up for it. And then last week when you called me – I was awful to you again…" He doesn't answer but the look in his eyes shows he certainly doesn't disagree. "And you were so irenic, just trying to apologize and I wouldn't let you. Like I was raised by wolves or something – like no one taught me manners. But it was that night, Jasper; that night, something so simple happened to make me remember all the things we had said and done…I had tried so hard to forget it all and pretend it wasn't there. But I couldn't ignore it anymore."
"Ignore what?"
"All the things I'd wanted to say to you that night at dinner – I remembered them all, even though I worked so hard at" – fucking you out of my mind – "pretending they weren't there. But that one mundane thing blew the doors off the vault; and I broke down. And I knew."
"What?" he whispers, as though he's afraid to hear the answer. "What did you know?"
I step closer to him and he leans away from me, ever so slightly; but I look him directly in the eyes and breathe, "That I love you."
He sucks in a sharp breath. "Don't say that…," he says, shaking his head slowly.
"I would never say it if I didn't mean it," I promise. "But I do mean it – I love you, Jasper; so deeply."
He holds one hand out in front of him, palm towards me, as though ready to push me away if I step closer. "Edward…don't do this to me, please…," he pleads softly.
I move on. "But even though I realized I love you, I also became painfully aware that I am completely undeserving of you, that I don't even know how to be in love. And I had to go to where I could learn again – where I learned the first time."
He nods slowly in understanding. "Your parents."
"Yeah," I confirm. "They welcomed me home with open arms, my mother especially. And the next day we talked, the three of us. They know everything, Jasper; they know all about you and me. And you were right about my father – I never should have doubted you. He didn't hate that I was gay; all the shit that went down when I came out…but I guess you don't know what happened. He says you wouldn't let him tell you about it."
"No," he shakes his head. "Talking to him about something that you hadn't shared with me…it felt like I would be disloyal to you by doing it."
"After we had broken up," I continue, "you were protecting my privacy. Still."
"Of course I was," he says a bit defensively. "I mean, the relationship with your parents was the whole reason you ended it, right? I still hoped then, that maybe you would, you know…"
"Pull my head out of my ass," I offer.
"After some time and perspective; yeah, I hoped you would," he agrees. "And I knew that talking about you behind your back wouldn't help my cause in that respect."
"I should have known that you would never betray my privacy." I grit my teeth at my own stupidity. "Thank you for protecting me." He simply nods. "There's something else I need to tell you…"
He grimaces. "I don't know how much more I can handle."
"This is important," I insist gently. He gazes at me for a moment and then nods, inviting me to continue.
I swallow hard. This is the hardest part – being honest with him about fucking other guys. Even though I didn't let them fuck me, even I am not so clueless as to assume that Jasper will say it's all okay because I didn't bottom. The truth is that, not 30 hours after we broke up, I was back at my place fucking someone else. I loathe myself for it – how can I blame him if he loathes me for it too?
"Can we sit?" I ask.
"You go ahead," he says, now wary. "I'll stand." I remain standing with him, and begin my awful confession.
"You know I went to Chicago, right? The Tuesday after we...after that weekend."
"Yes, I knew," he says, still cautious.
I continue, "When I was in Chicago, I went to a club. And actually, before that I went to Spin; the night after we broke up. And I was there again last Wednesday night when I got back from Chicago."
"Okay," he says slowly, not yet comprehending what I mean – that me going to a club adds up to more than just dancing. I need to be explicit.
"I…I picked up a guy, each of those three times," I whisper, barely audible, loathe to admit it even to myself.
"Oh…," he says, his face full of pain. The sound of the word escaping from his mouth is less of a word and more of a whimper of pain. "Oh…," he repeats, and he bends at the waist, his hands braced against his knees, supporting his upper body as though he might be sick. I say nothing more, waiting for him to process this information and lead the conversation where he needs it to go. He can get angry at me, scream and kick and fight against it if that's what he wants, or question me, all of which I will accept as my punishment for being such an unmitigated ass.
He straightens up, and there are tears in his eyes. I don't know whether it's because he didn't consider this possibility; or if he did consider it but believed or hoped it wouldn't happen.
"You said you'd never give your gift to anyone but me," he whispers. "Did you…" he trails off, unable to finish the question.
"No – I didn't, Jasper; I didn't let anyone else have it. It still belongs only to you. It will only ever belong to you," I promise him honestly, stepping closer to him and putting my hand on his arm. "And," I add, as though this might make a difference for him, "I didn't have any of them in our…my….the bed in my room."
He collapses onto his couch, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands. I sit gingerly beside him. "Jasper," I whisper. He flinches at the sound of my voice so close to him, but doesn't remove his hands from his face. "Jasper," I say again, "I am so sorry for what I did. I miss you so fucking much; every minute of the day, all I want is to have you back with me. Christ, you don't know how much I wish I could take it all back – have every part to do over again. I would have listened to you that night. I never would have kicked you out of my apartment. I wouldn't have picked anyone else up. I never would have fucked things up so completely and totally; but I didn't know it yet, Jasper. I didn't know I loved you."
I reach up to gently pull his hands from his face, holding them in mine. "But I know it now; and if you'll let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove that to you. I'm so sorry, Jasper – do you think you can ever possibly forgive me for all the massive fuckups I've made?" He doesn't look at me, keeping his eyes riveted to his lap. I offer, "I know I don't deserve it."
He finally speaks. "Don't do that, Edward. Don't try to make me feel sorry for you."
"No, I don't mean it like that; I'm not looking for sympathy. What I mean is that I haven't done anything yet to earn your forgiveness."
"I know you've had problems, Edward, with your parents, and in your personal life. I can forgive the reaction you had; maybe you had conditioned yourself so much that you couldn't help it - I don't know, I'm not a psychologist. But a relationship between us? It's not as simple as just forgiving you."
Time to ask the big question. "Do you think you could love me again?"
Finally his eyes meet mine. "Love isn't the problem."
He loves me, I mentally sigh in relief. "What is?"
"Equanimity. Endurance. Integrity. Permanence." He speaks the words slowly and nods slightly with each, punctuating his point. "This ripped me apart, Edward, and we were only together for two weeks. What if we get back together, and after a few months, maybe a couple of years, something happens that scares you, makes you panic and flee. I can't live my life on eggshells, Edward; I'm not going to constantly worry that I'm going to do something to spook you, and that you'll be out there fucking around while you figure things out. It's all intensity and fire; but when the fire gets too hot, who gets burned?"
I don't answer, because we both know the answer already. "Kas…" I whisper, intending to repeat my declaration of love; but his body stiffens and his head slowly turns to meet my gaze. The look of contempt in his eyes cuts me to the quick.
"Don't…call…me…that," he says, his teeth gritted. "You may not call me that."
I release his hands and pivot my body on the couch so I can lean against the couch back. I let my head fall back until I am staring at the ceiling. I can't believe how close I was to having it all; and I let it just slip through my fingers. No, scratch that – I threw it, hard, as far from me as I could. Have I ruined every chance?
With my head leaning back, my tears slide down my temples, wetting the hair above my ears. Jasper sits nearly motionless, looking toward the window. Long moments pass as our passive standoff continues. Finally I sit up and he turns to look at me.
"Is this it, then, Jasper?" I ask. "Is it all lost? Isn't there anything I can do…?" I trail off, unable to continue.
He sighs. "I don't know." His hand comes up to rub his forehead, as though he has a headache. "I need to think."
I nod. "I understand," I answer quietly. "I should go, I guess." Unwillingly, I rise from the couch. He stands with me and follows me to the door. He reaches for the doorknob, but I catch his hand in mine and spin to face him.
"I need you to know, Jasper, that I love you. Regardless of what decision you come to, I will never stop loving you, for as long as I live." I take his other hand and we face each other, our hands clasped. "Tomorrow afternoon I have to go to San Francisco for a job. I'll be back early Saturday afternoon. And I will miss you every moment I'm gone." I'm longing, desperately, to kiss him, to feel his soft, sweet lips pressed to mine – it's almost overwhelming. But I can't do it – to try might place even more strain on this tenuous truce.
Instead, a meaningful look must suffice; and he returns it for a long moment, his eyes guardedly wistful but still holding a world of hurt behind them. "Give me till Sunday," he whispers. I nod – I'll agree to nearly anything he asks of me right now. He reaches for the door, and pulls it open, still holding my gaze and one of my hands.
"Sunday," I repeat, and he nods. Releasing his hand, I step into the hallway, not breaking our gaze. "I love you, Jasper."
"Goodbye," he says, and I turn away, towards the elevator. For an instant, as the door closes, I swear I hear a whispered voice add, "beautiful". Quickly I whirl around; but the door is closed, and I am standing in the hallway alone.
-o-
Hence, the long-awaited and much-requested event – Edward and Jasper talking. It was a difficult situation for both of them; but Edward said what he needed to say – now the ball is in Jasper's court. Any thoughts on what will happen on Friday night when Jasper and Jack go out?