Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or anything to do with it, however the OC's are all my own. The concept of Jasper being the 'God of War' is something that I've read in a few fics, but I don't know where it originates, so I'm sorry for not giving credit where credit's due! Plus, I have no idea what Louisiana, or Wisconsin are like - I'm from England, so please, forgive any mistakes. Have a great day, and I love you guys!
Camilla POV
November 2020
Madison, Wisconsin
Because Clyde had spent the night over at the Cullen's house - gross - and my dad had left for work earlier that crisp Saturday morning, I decided that I could, in theory, be a lazy fucker, and lounge around the house in my underwear, watch trash TV till the middle of the afternoon, and eat a whole heap of greasy, fatty take-out.
Of which I did.
Waking up around half past eleven in the morning, I had an especially long, practically scalding shower, in which I washed my hair, shaved my legs and underarms, exfoliated my skin and massaged my scalp, all the while singing along - out-of-tune of course - with the very best of the 90's rhythm and blues.
After I was done, it was clean past midday, and I brushed my teeth and washed my face, languidly, in front of the foggy mirror, and padded back into my bedroom, wrapped up with a thick white towel. Languorously, I pulled on a clean pair of underwear, and an oversized, short-sleeved blue shirt, and pulled my damp hair into a high, messy bun.
Skipping down the stairs, I slid across the laminated floor, grinning the entire way, and walked into the kitchen, to get the house phone, and call up the nearest pizza place, and waited for them to deliver my meal. I switched on the TV, tucking my feet beneath my butt, curling my toes, once, twice, getting comfortable with my seat. It took nearly half an hour before the pizza was delivered, and with the ding dong of the house bell, I pulled open the door only to see the face of my big brother.
With a smile on his face that made me feel slightly on edge.
"I come with gifts, cher," he said, coolly, "I already paid for it, sugar. C'mon."
He nudged past me, placing the flat cardboard box on the table in the living room, and flipped it open, revealing the cheesy pizza of deliciousness with slices of pepperoni and barbecue sauce, and I sighed, in relief, "I'm so hungry."
Clyde didn't respond. He simply heaved out a large puff of air from his body and sat where I had been before. This unnerved me, immensely. Usually I couldn't get him to shut up, especially after a date with Ali-Cat. Something had to have happened. Halfway through my first slice, I voiced my upset, and he simply levelled me with an unsettling stare, and said, simply, "Eat, cher."
He didn't want to talk about it.
"Here," I raised my slice up to his face, "Take some."
He shook his hand as a 'no', but I wasn't having it. He was going to laugh, even if I had to tickle the life out of him. Jumping onto the sofa besides him, I pushed the pizza slice closer to his cheek, brushing his face slightly, the sauce smearing on his cheek, and I grinned, happily.
"Come on, Cly," I whined, teasingly.
Over and over again.
He glowered at me. He glared. He stared. He frowned. He scowled.
Then, he cracked a smile.
It was small. It wasn't his usual grin, but it was there. And it was real.
He couldn't ever stay mad at me. I think it was a twin thing.
He grabbed my wrists, and bit into the segment, tearing off basically the rest of the slice, leaving me the crust, and I growled, pathetically, "Asshole."
He stuck his tongue out, showing me the chewed up bread, and said, mockingly, "I know, jerk. Lemme eat, I'm starving."
Nearly an hour later, we had practically finished the entire circle of the takeaway pizza, and we had been laughing and joking the entire time, but I felt like it was time for me to address his affront.
I noticed that his hair was different, too. His hair, which he had left to grow out over the last few months, was falling more into his face, curly as every imaginable hell. It still looked a little wet, too, honestly. His clothes were the same as last night, and there were bags beneath his eyes, as if he hadn't slept very well the night before.
"What's wrong, Cly?" I asked, my brow puckering with sadness. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and asked, his tone hollow with despondency, "What makes you think something's wrong, cher?"
"Don't make it out like I'm the crazy one here," I said, a huff in my tone, "I know you, Clyde. You're my brother. My twin. You cant lie to me."
He winced then. "I know."
Exasperated, I sighed, hitting his knee sharply, "Then tell me!"
He nibbled on his bottom lip and after a tense moment of silence, he replied, "Alice and I had an.. Argument and I ended up sleeping in the guest room. I didn't want to tell you because you're friends. We're okay now, we sorted it out this morning, but still.. It kind of threw me off my game, that's all, cher."
Fixing him with a stare, I said, "Hmph. Alice and I are friends, but you're my big brother. I'll always take your side."
He chuckled, and ruffled my hair, slightly, "I'm gonna go get a drink, you want one?"
Nodding, I turned my attention back to the TV - some trash-talking TV show that normally would interest me in ways that it really shouldn't have - and crossed my ankles beneath myself, picking at the scraps of pizza we had left, my mind completely elsewhere.
Why did I get such a bad vibe from his words?
Why did I feel like he was lying to me?
I couldn't shake the scratchy, frosty feeling in the bottom of my stomach that told me that my brother was deceiving me, or at the very least, omitting something from me.
The afternoon went by annoyingly slowly, and I found that my brother was holed up in his room for most of it, leaving me furiously cleaning the kitchen and stressing over ways to get Clyde to stop being so distant and actually open up to me like he used to.
An idea struck me, as I was scrubbing the grease that collected in the chrome. It wasn't a lot, considering I cleaned this kitchen bi-weekly, and made sure to keep it pristine.
I knew what I had to do.
But I would have to wait for my time to strike.
-0-
Practically kicking open his door, I found the curtains drawn closed and a seemingly unconscious Clyde, strewn, face-first, in his navy sheets.
Jumping on his back, I pinched at his skin, feeling him wince and shuffle at the uncomfortable sensation. I used to do this when we had been kids, and it pissed him off just as much today as it had back then. He groaned, wearily, "Stop it! Mph, Camilla! Fuckin' get off!"
Giggling, I nudged his large hands out of the way, and said, "Up! Up! UP!"
"No!," he said, groggily, "Stop! Leave me alone!"
"Nope!," popping my lips on the 'p', and started wiggling with more vivaciousness, waking him up.
Eventually he kind of just stopped fighting me, and just let out a low, distressed yell into his comforter, and I asked, teasingly, "Are you up yet?"
He huffed, hopelessly, and mumbled, "I hate you."
Beaming widely, I said, "I love you too. C'mon, sugar! I got something for you! Oh.. Dress warm. We're going out!"
He simply grumbled, and I shuffled off of his back, and skipped out of his room, slamming his door especially loudly, just as an extra incentive for him to actually get up.
After a quick shower to wash away the gross, I had on a pair of thick pale blue skinny jeans, tucked into a pair of burgundy Vans, and a long sleeved, white thermal shirt was layered beneath a thick olive coloured sweater. I had spent the last hour packing a little Tupperware container for my brother and I to nibble on while we were out, and I was ready to leave.
"It's two in the fucking morning, Cammy," Clyde's angry, yet calm voice echoed as he walked down the stairs, "You better have a good fucking reason for dragging me outta my bed, you damned heathen."
"I do," I said, , pulling my backpack onto my shoulders. Clyde sock-clad feet touched the floor, and I turned to look at him, noticing how sullen his skin seemed, as well as the bags beneath his eyes.
I hoped I made the right decision drawing him from his sleep.
"C'mere," I said, grabbing Clyde's forearm in my palm and pulling him to the front door.
He stomped into some shoes, his eyes barely open, and mumbled, "You better not be fucking around with me, Camilla."
Rolling my eyes to the darkened night sky, and said, "You'll have fun, Cly, I promise."
I thought I heard him mumble something like, "I doubt it," but his lips barely moved so I couldn't be sure.
Slipping into the driver's seat of his Camaro, I kicked the engine into gear, and stated, seriously, "Buckle up, Cly."
Passing the scenery, I noticed the thrumming in the atmosphere between us. It was like a sentient being. Juddering with energy. Awkward for sure, uncomfortable as hell, but alive. It was an unspeakable sensation. I felt like my skin was prickling with uneasiness and anxiety.
"So.." I said, hoping to ease the tension, "Beautiful night."
He scoffed. "It would've been better from my bedroom."
"Stop, Cly," I sighed, "We used to always do this."
"Yeah," he said, annoyed, "On the roof. Not out in the fuckin' forest. Dad's going to kill us."
With a sneer, I commented, turning the corner, slightly, "Clyde, you didn't come home last night and dad didn't care. He's dead-dog tired and sleeping half the time and the other half he's at work."
He went silent in contemplation.
"Exactly."
The rest of the journey was quiet, and the mood was worse than ever. I felt somewhat pissed at my brother's actions, but I couldn't talk to him about it.
There was something he wasn't talking to me about and it was hurting him. We've never actively lied to one another. But you're lying to him everyday, that disgusting voice in the back of my head mocked, And he doesn't even know it. It wasn't my fault. I couldn't tell him everything about Paul. It would kill him.
Yes. Exactly. Maybe he's not telling you because he doesn't want to hurt you.
But what else could he tell me that could hurt me?
You never know, it said, mockingly He's never going to forgive you once he finds out.
Oh hell, didn't I know it.
Pulling into the small cubby, I switched off the car, and nodded at Clyde, who slipped out of the vehicle, behind me.
"Come on," I said, quietly, "We gotta go up the trail."
He groaned, but said nothing, and trailed behind my shaky yet determined form. Even if he wasn't going to tell me everything, he was going to enjoy himself this morning.
Arriving at mine and Danny's special Spot took a little longer than it would have if Danny himself had led us, but I was glad for it. The cool of the night was soft against my skin, brushing it lightly, like a soft, yet loving caress. It reminded me of Jasper.
And that thought brought a fond smile to my lips, quirking them upwards slightly, and a gentle blush coating my cheeks. I loved him so much that it was driving me crazy.
"What'chu thinking about, cher? You look kinda cold," Clyde asked, concerned, "You want my jacket, Cam?"
Shaking my head in refusal, I pushed past some braches that had blocked my view and walked forward, stepping out onto the high, grassy hill that was mine and Danny's special Spot. Grabbing Clyde's hand, I yelled, happily, "C'mon!"
His eyes widened, but he followed me, quietly, and I pulled him towards the bench a few feet away from us. The wind was mild, but it was enough for me to draw my cardigan closer to my body. Shaking off my backpack, I pulled out the Tupperware containers that were seated, securely, in my bag, and said, "Here. Let's eat."
One container held a fruit salad, and I pulled out two plastic spoons for us to crack into place and use. The other was filled with the cold yet still-delicious vegetable noodle and chicken stir-fry that I had made a few nights ago, for dinner. Dipping my head at him, once, I said, humorously, "Dig in."
We ate, animatedly, in relative silence, with an odd comment being thrown in here and there. The minutes ticked by, and after glancing at my watch, briefly, I saw that it was bordering on four in the morning.
Sun-rise was almost upon us.
Tapping Clyde on his forearm, I said, "Look," using my fork to illuminate the city's skyline, "Beautiful right?"
His breath caught in his throat, for a split second, before his expression smoothed out, and a contented gleam shone in his hazel eyes.
"Yeah," he sighed, resignedly, "It is, cher."
The sky was painted a deep obsidian, with only the peeking of a lighter shade of dark. There was no orange, or pink, or blue - that always came later. It was this moment that we loved the most. The gradual lighting of the Earth's sky. The small changes in the heavens made identical smiles break out on our faces. The flickering stars still winked above us, like millions of eyes blinking in discord, and the half moon was still visible in the distance.
As the seconds passed, the sky began getting lighter and lighter, and I felt my spirit swell and rejoice at the dark of a new day. When it was possible for me to see every familiar pane of my brother's face in front of me, I turned back to the food, and dug into the fruit salad, quietly.
"I kinda love it here, you know," I admitted after a moment, hoping that my secret would at least prompt him to at least feel something.
His brow quirked, suggestively, and he stated, a sense of resigned hurt in his tone, "Jasper, right?"
"No," I answered, quietly, "Not just him. This place.. It's so much different that Baton Rouge, but I like it just as much. If not more. These last two and a half months have been an eye opener. I.. I actually made friends her- Hey! Don't laugh at me, you asshole, I'm serious! I feel like.. I don't know, I feel.. Good about this place."
He smiled, listlessly, "I do too, cher. Me too."
"You don't sound it, Clyde."
He huffed, quietly, "I know. I'm sorry," then his eyes zeroed on something in the distance, and his lips set in a firm line, and began, firmly, "This city. It's.. Its opening my eyes to some new things. Things that I'm not so sure I like, but I'm getting used to," he said, coolly, running his fingers through his hair nervously, "I love Alice."
Clasping my hand over my mouth, I gasped, even though I had an inclination that this was the case.
"You do, do you?"
He grinned, adorably panicky, "Yeah.. I do."
Placing my hand on top of his, I said, holding his eye contact, "I'm happy for you, Clyde. I really am."
And I was.
-0-0-
Last update for a while guys!