A/N: sorry about all the typos in the last couple chapters. they were written in the wee hours of the morning, so i blame a lack of proper attentiveness. a little piece of lemon pie for you. i tried not to be creepy about it. but i warned you about the angst, and here it comes!
APOV
I was thankful for the passing time.
I was stuck in my own skin, squirming around like a worm on hot pavement, begging for an escape. It was excruciating.
Edward and Emmett had each other, at least. That should have made me happy. I was trying to be happy all the time because it was simply expected of me. I couldn't believe how faithful and loyal Jasper remained over the first month of the school year—he never failed to listen to my rant sessions or to rub the back of my neck gently when I cried against his shoulder.
"Sh, Al. I'm here," he'd whisper, littering the sides of my neck with kisses. I pitied him in a way. If I had a girlfriend constantly having mental breakdowns, I'm not sure how well I would be able to handle that. But he was able, and that's all that mattered.
I felt, more often times than not, like I was hiking up a mountain with a five thousand ton pack on my back. My mother avoided me, and my brothers excluded me. I'm sure none of it was intentional, simply the way that they chose to handle grief. But I could hear my brothers laughing, the two of them down the hall or up the stairs, as I sat alone on the edge of my bed much like I had the day I found out.
Rain was expected.
The ground nearer to sea level had been experiencing some flash flooding, and it was almost impossible to walk on terrain without sinking in up to my ankles. Sure, I had designer rain boots, but for some reason, now I felt stupid in them. My clothes didn't fit even though I hadn't gained or lost any weight, and my room had outgrown me. Generally, people outgrow their homes. Their families grow and there simply isn't enough space anymore, so they move on. I had never known that your house could outgrow you. That you could suddenly be too small, slipping through the wrinkles in the floors of your own home. I was scared, so scared that my breath caught dryly in my throat as my windows gazed down at me with a wisdom and a knowledge that I knew I could never have. They had seen me, through all of this, and I was ashamed. I was a child, and they were scolding me. I was weak. I was weak, and I couldn't change any of it. I couldn't save Carlisle and I couldn't hold Emmett and Edward's interest. I could at least talk to my mother, but she was nowhere to be found.
Family dinner had become a tradition. Since the day that my dad's sickness was common knowledge among all of us, Esme made us all sit down and eat her food and make forced, polite conversation. It was always uncomfortable, generally consisting of clipped sentences and pointed glances. We communicated with one another using our eyes, widening them and squinting them and darting them and rolling them to agree with or to chastise one another. It was exhausting.
I wanted to be seventeen, doing stupid things and being with Jasper and not having a care in the world other than what I would wear the next day. But suddenly I felt middle-aged and washed up, and I wondered how long Jasper could stick around for me. I needed him, more than I needed air. It sounded a bit melodramatic, and although melodrama was commonplace for me, it was absolutely and completely true. Jasper was my anchor, and I wondered if he knew that. He kept me in place, he was my center. He had turned away from his near-constant anger, away from his toughness, and was now everything I needed. And as he stroked my hair while I cried on his shoulder, I knew.
"Jasper?" I asked, my tone muffled as he smashed my face into the flannel of his shirt.
"You don't have to talk right now if you don't want to, sweetheart." He cradled me, my legs swept up into his arms like a baby as he held his palm firmly to the back of my neck, rubbing his thumb softly behind my ear. He had softened up substantially over the past month or so, at least around me, and his voice was so saturated with care and hurt for me that it made me cry all over again. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" he asked, his tone getting slightly frantic as he pulled away to meet my gaze.
"No. You're perfect," I murmured, wiping away the remnants of my makeup and staring back at him. He laughed at me then, and it wasn't one of humor or sarcasm. It was just empty.
"You're delusional, Al. I think you need some sleep."
I didn't need sleep. Sleep was all I did. Sleeping took away the pain that I didn't deserve, sleeping washed out the sounds of my family living their lives as mine stayed still. Jasper and I went on only one date after that Friday night before it all went wrong. I turned back into a zombie, like I had when I found out, and it killed me to know that Jasper was holding out for me when I maybe would never return back to normal. At school, I stayed sunny, chirping to Bella and holding Jasper's hand and keeping up with my studies like I normally would. But it was afternoons like this, in my car or on Jasper's front porch or in my ancient bedroom, that I lost it. And Jasper was almost always there, which could have either been perfect or terrible. But sleep was not something I was losing along with my dad. So I laughed back hollowly at Jasper's assumptions, shifting to straddle him as we sat on his tiny little twin bed.
"I'm fine," I promised, trying desperately to pull my face back together despite the feeling of utter, sinking doom that I felt in the pit of my stomach. I brushed his wild, blond hair back gingerly with my fingers, kissing the bridge of his slightly freckled nose. "I'm just fine now. Thank you. For, you know, putting me back together."
"That sounds like you're a puzzle or something," he smirked, wrapping his arms around my waist and locking his fingers together behind me.
"I guess you could put it that way," I said thoughtfully, moving my cheek against his. His lips moved to kiss my cheek softly, and his gestures were so hesitant and careful that I wanted to scream at him. But it was my fault we were in this position and not like any normal, horny, hormonal teenage couple, so I kept my mouth shut. A few moments of silence—save the rain pounding loudly on his only window—passed before he spoke.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked gently in my ear before leaning back against the wall to look at my face. His face was one of devastation, of never knowing what I closed up in my skull without explanation as I cried to him. I rarely told him what I was crying about, and still, he comforted me. No questions asked, he was there. And these facts weren't helping as I tried to hold back the waterworks.
"You," I answered, my fingers finding the familiar stubbly edge of his jaw.
"What about me?"
I bit my lip with consideration. I was afraid, and that didn't happen to me often. I had been confident, fearless. But now, on his bed in his handkerchief-sized room as the rain poured down the panes of his window, my body was shaken with pure panic. I brushed his jaw for a few beats, making the circuit up to his ears and back down to where it met his neck a few times before answering him.
"Jazz?" I asked, my voice trembling as I stared into his dark blue eyes, counting his eyelashes.
"What's going on, Alice?" He sounded slightly irritated, or at least confused, as he stared back.
"If I tell you, will you run away from me?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Because, you just might." My explanations were ill thought-out and childish, but he was used to that kind of thing by now. His eyes, which had already been staring at me, now really looked at me. They burned into my irises with intensity as the insides of his wrists tightened around my waist.
"Alice," he said slowly, "I swear to God that I will never, never run away from you. I swear it." He almost hissed the words at me, with so much determination and an undertone of anger, that I nearly recoiled as the fear built up inside of me.
"O-okay," was all I managed to stutter as he gazed at me, unblinking.
"What is it, Alice?" He was waiting, and I was stalling. "Is it something about Edward? Your father? What?"
"No, nothing like that," I blubbered, looking down to his chest as it rose and fell beneath the pattern of his shirt. I cleared my throat before continuing. "I just wanted to know that…that you're here. And that you're not quitting."
"Well, you know now. You know that as long as you allow me to be here, I will be. I'll let you ruin the sleeves of all my shirts and take up as much of my time as you want. As long as you want me."
"I want you, always," I swore, a surge of adrenaline rushing through my veins. Why was this so hard?
"Tell me," he insisted, grasping my hips tenderly beneath his hands. "Please. It's killing me that you can't tell me." I scraped in a breath through my teeth, raking my eyes away from his chest, over his chin and his lips and his nose until they finally met his expectant stare.
"I-I um..I love you?" My statement came out as a question as I snapped my mouth closed, watching his face for a reaction. Confusion colored his features, and I decided to repeat myself. "I love you, Jasper. You don't have to love me back, but I love you with everything I have even though I don't have much left. I want to tell you that I'm glad you're here for me, because I couldn't do this alone."
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The minute hand on the clock crawled obstinately as he struggled to speak.
"Say something," I urged quietly, embarrassment washing over my cheeks.
"You don't have to do this," he muttered, looking beside him at the blue of his bedspread. "I know you're upset, but that doesn't mean you have to be in love with me, Al. I'll still stay here for you, no matter what. You don't have to love me."
"I know!" I blurted, hurt by his assumptions. "I know that! This has nothing to do with my life, in that sense. What I'm trying to say is that this," I gestured between the two of us, "has nothing to do with anyone else but you and me. Not anyone else. Not one, single person, Jasper, I swear." He continued to stare down at his bedcover, his eyes clouded.
"Do you mean it?" he asked softly. "Do you really mean it? You love me? Even if Carlisle dies tomorrow, or if I didn't let you cry on my shoulder every day, would you still feel it?" His blatancy was shocking, but surprisingly, it didn't hurt me this time. He was so naked beneath my stare, and it was strange for me to see him so insecure.
"I would. Without a question." His finally looked at me then, his jaw set in a firm line and his eyelashes wet.
"Don't do this to me if you're just going to take it back." He took his hands from my hips, crossing them over his chest as I continued to straddle him.
"Don't be like this, Jasper," I whined, trying without success to rip his arms away from the complicated knot they formed. I yearned for the warmth of his hands against me, the intensity of his eyes on my face. And as I bared my soul to him, everything that filled my mind and heart and lungs, he sat there coldly, his warmth away from me. "Please, don't be like this."
At my words, his hands were around my waist again, but not tenderly this time. He stood, lifting me from his lap and planting me on my feet away from him.
"People don't love me, Alice. People don't love me. Don't you ever wonder why I am how I am? I have fucking Rosalie as a fucking sister. People don't love me. So why should you?" He shook with anger and hurt, and it was the most terribly beautiful and devastating thing I'd ever seen. His breathing was frantic and panicky, his body tensed as if he were prepared to run from me. My heart broke beneath his raw pain as I stood there alone, his face tortured and lonely. I mustered up what little courage I had.
"You live your life, Jasper, like you're doing it all alone. You, of all people, should know what I have to go through." Guilt flashed over his features as his eyes still remained stubbornly just over my shoulder. "You know what I go through. You know what I have to do everyday. And you don't feel loved? I'm sitting here telling you how much I fucking love you with everything I have left and you're shoving it away. And you don't feel loved? That just fucking sucks, Jasper." I looked to the floor at my bare feet, my heart pounding furiously in my chest.
"I-I can't...you can't.." he broke off, his voice thickening as he yelled across the empty space between us.
"Be here, Jasper," I pleaded. "Please, just be here. I need you to know...just to know what I feel for you. I can't take you doing this to me, not on top of everything. I wish you could understand me, just once." Just then, a broken, ripping sound caught my attention, my eyes darting from the floor to a pair of pained, blue eyes.
Jasper was there, tears pouring down his cheeks as he choked out broken sobs. He was looking at me, his hair wild around his strong face, his shoulders slumped and defeated. Within seconds, he crossed the small space between us, crushing my body to his chest as his tears ran freely through my hair. His chest heaved against mine, his fingers clutching at the skin of my back as he wept. I wrapped my arms around his neck, sprinkling kisses along his cheeks and his neck and his forehead and everywhere I possibly could. He was in agony, and I wanted him to speak so I could know exactly why. I wanted, for once, to comfort him as he had comforted me those many times, to tell him it was alright and to let him use me as I'd used him. His chokes were excruciating, loud and unreserved as my ear pressed to his throat.
"I love you, Alice," he whispered in torn fragments. "I love you. I have, and I will, and I'm sorry." I brushed the hair at the nape of his neck carefully with cautious fingers, wondering if his outburst was just an act of impulse. He seemed to hear my thoughts as his fingernails dug into the fabric of my t-shirt, yanking me away from him to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips twisted into a sick scowl. "I love you so much that it hurts me. You're so perfect, Alice, and I stay with you everyday because I hate to see your face ruined with all the fucking shit you have to go through." Now, I cried with him. "I never want you to leave me. Please, don't leave me, Alice. I'm in this too far, and I can't take you walking away from me. You can do so much better, and it scares the shit out of me. But I love you, I love you so much you don't even understand, and I'm freaked the fuck out because you can just leave me at anytime and I won't be able to take it."
"I can't leave you, Jasper. You see me as this…this flighty, impermanent person that can just pick up and leave you, any time, and I don't understand why. I'm here, and I need you. I'm tired of being seen as this being who has no earnest emotionalism, someone who has no purpose beyond getting dressed in expensive clothes every morning and making good grades."
"You're more than that, and I see you for what you are," he said, taking my face in his hands. "I will love you as long as you're here for me, and I promise I will be whatever you need me to be, Alice. I will be indestructible for you; I will hide you from the ugly things that will ruin you from what you are."
It was so obvious what had to happen next. Practical. Expected, almost. I felt like I was in a movie, or some television hit series as the two of us tangled into his messy, blue sheets. Except, this was my life. Jasper was so real beneath my hands, his eyes like a little boy's as he looked at me with nervousness. I was afraid, and not because I'd never been with anyone before, but because this time, there was feeling attached to it. I'd never loved anyone I had sex with, and it was almost like I had a new set of eyes this time. He slipped my clothes from my skin, the room gray with the natural light from the window as he put my head against his pillow. His eyes lingered on my skin as he pulled the covers over us, licking his lips in anticipation. I didn't look at Jasper's long, perfect body with lustful eyes like I would have four weeks ago. Now I looked at his six feet, two inches with almost appreciation as I rolled over on top of him. It seemed so strange to me, that I was with Jasper, completely naked, in his childhood bed that had remained unchanged since I first knew him almost eleven years before that. It was so strange, but so faultless at the same time that it made the fringes of my thoughts hazy.
Jasper told me how much he loved me all over again as he ran his fingers over every inch of my skin, lingering in some places more than others, almost painfully slowly. He was rough, but always careful, as if I could break beneath his grasp.
"You are so perfect," he whispered as he planted a kiss above my bellybutton, my fingers tangling into the blonde hair that I loved so much. Before I could blink, he slid two long fingers into me, a low hiss building up in my chest as the rain continued to pound against the window. Every detail was so clear to me as I shuddered beneath him, my toes tingling as my eyes rolled back into my head. I tried to think of it as often as possible so that I could never forget. I silently thanked whoever was in charge of fate that Rose had chosen today to go with Emmett to Port Angeles and that Jasper's parents had taken a vacation to Alaska. Because the sighs and gasps and screams that slipped over my tongue were less than quiet, and also less than ladylike.
Jasper had lasted a while, and as I rose from the bed, wrapped in his dark sheet, I felt tired and sore. He sat up, uncovered and exposed, a yawn rumbling in his throat as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes. He dragged a pillow over his lap as he sat cross-legged, facing me, with a lazy smile on his pink lips.
"Don't hide," he muttered, his voice thick with the remnants of lust and of sleepiness from the afternoon's emotion. I smiled back at him, dropping the sheet and standing before him in the middle of his bedroom without shame. His eyes widened infinitesimally as he scanned my body, biting his lips and pushing the pillow down over his lap as I laughed. He opened his arms to me, beckoning for me to come back, but I just snickered and turned to pull my jeans on.
"We always have tomorrow," I promised. "And the next day, and the next day…"
"I'll hold on to that," he laughed, leaning against the wall and crossing his ankles. When I pulled my head through the hole of my t-shirt, he was already standing, his boxers on. He pulled me against him, the memories of the last hour awakening in my brain as the planes of his chest and stomach flexed beneath me. He planted a warm, soft kiss on the top of my head, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand as he so often did. "I love you, Al. I mean it," he murmured, tracing my spine with his fingertips.
"I know you do," I sighed. "I know."
It was hard to walk away from him, and to climb into Esme's Mercedes to head home. Edward had the Volvo again, undoubtedly to whisk Bella off to some other secret location, and I was glad for him. I had found peace, somehow, within the arms of Jasper Hale. And Edward deserved that, too.
Emmett's relationship remained a mystery to me, since Rose and I had started the 'don't ask, don't tell' pact, but I could see in the symmetry of his face how happy he was. He was safe, and now, so was I. I knew Bella could take care of my twin brother, and I thought of him briefly before turning my thoughts back to my afternoon's adventures in the blue sheets of Jasper's bedroom.
A/N: hip hip hooray! reviews are the best. even better than Jangstper ;)
