Disclaimer: Twilight does not belong to me. It belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to babysit.

I let the music ebb and flow around me, the strains so tortuously beautiful.

So much like Bella. I remembered sitting here, playing for her, and then turning to see tears dripping down her face as she watched the play of my fingers across the keys. I had thought my heart would break for sheer love of her, if it were possible.

I know now it is possible. I tore myself away, and tore myself to pieces in the process. But worse than that was what I had done to her, because I loved her. I needed--desperately—to find a way to make it up to her.

I thought of the way she rejected my proposal, half-terrified, and nearly laughed. I understood why, of course, and had even expected her reaction, but that didn't mean that I had been aching for her to say "yes" anyways.

I still wanted, needed her to say "yes".

Carlisle was right: I wasn't about to live without her.

There was just the "little" matter of her humanity.

I sighed, and let my fingers trail down the keyboard a few octaves, still playing.

The music matched the storm that was just beginning to brew outside.

I was glad no one was in the house. I needed solitude right now, a place to pour the notes that were written inside me. My mind was my own, for a change. No one else's thoughts barged in. Bella was the only one I wanted beside me at the moment, the only one I could stand to see me in this state of confusion.

It would be so simple to change her, to secure her to myself for eternity.

But how could I do that to my beloved? Would she grow to hate me for it, loathing me for what I stole from her?

Rosalie hated me. Hated that Carlisle had taken her humanity from her, for my sake, intending for her to be my companion.

I don't think she ever really believed that she would have died—well and truly died, as only humans do—if he hadn't.

I shifted the melody to a minor key, bowing my head over my hands. It seemed unnatural, even to me, how quickly my hands moved and how skillfully the digits coaxed forth the notes.

Again, I could see Bella in the music. Her passion, curiousity, beauty, innocence: all of it was right there in the beautiful strains. And yet, it wasn't. No inanimate object, no matter how beautiful, would ever compare. No sound was so glorious, no smell so enticing as she was.

She made it worth it. Eternal damnation was worth it, if it meant I was able to love her.

A smile curled over my lips.

Perhaps Carlisle was right.