A/N: I don't own Twilight. So here is chapter 66. It's even shorter than the last one, but I put a lot of heart and pretty details into it. But since every last one of you guys seems to hate Paul and Bella, it probably won't mean much. And that's okay, I guess, but don't ignore them for long. Next chapter will have a lot more motion.

Thanks for sticking around and of course, enjoy.

LXVI.

for you, i was a flame
love is a losing game
five story fire as you came
love is a losing game

"That was the last box," Bella said a few days later, as she dumped a cardboard box of dollar store macaroni into a pot of hot water on the shabby stove.

She tried not to worry, but she couldn't help it. She and Paul were amorous lovers. They were carefree, full-time lovers with an us against the world attitude, but so far, the world was winning and they were too broke to even put up a fight.

"So what are we gonna do about it?" Paul asked from the couch, a beer in his hand and his eyes on the static television screen, trying to focus on ESPN.

"You know my truck is fucked up," she called from the kitchen. "Jacob's still looking at it, but he says it just might have died."

"Should've taken it to a real mechanic," he replied.

"We're on a budget," she reminded him. "That's why we're out of our last box of macaroni and cheese, Paul."

"Okay, okay," he said. "I'll go get more, then."

"With what money?"

"I'll find some."

"But would you come back in ten minutes?" she tested him. "Or an hour? How about a week?"

"Calm the hell down," he told her. "All your whining isn't really helping the situation."

She left the kitchen and he found her sitting right next to him on the couch.

She loved him. She still did. That was what she told herself every single day as she woke up on a mattress on the floor with Paul in the house where his father had beaten him countless times. She told herself that she still loved him when they would have TV for breakfast and sleep for dinner once they were out of canned vegetables and macaroni and cheese, completely void of energy. When he would forget to go get food or forget to pay the water bill on time, she remembered that she still loved him. That didn't last long, though, because her stomach would always speak much louder than love.

And that was what killed her about Paul: he lived on a completely different wavelength than her, where reality didn't matter and his heart would always roar louder than his stomach could ever growl.

Paul was pure fire all on his own, and he had attracted Bella like an inquisitive, helpless moth. He'd changed her, too, so that she had become a flame, latching on to him, helping him grow stronger and bolder and more energized. But when her little flame had died out, had he noticed? Had he seen her? Why couldn't he see her?

Why couldn't he see her?

Everybody else could.

She leaned forward, pressing her elbows to the tops of her cold thighs. She stared vacantly at the beer stain (or was it a blood stain?) in the carpet. She'd been especially lifeless lately. She supposed that the lack of food could have a part in that. She had constant headaches and frequently felt nauseous despite not consuming much. She was also exhausted. She felt like a zombie. If she wasn't so empty now, she would be going crazy about the stain, running around like a hurricane just to erase it.

Paul put his hand on her lower back, gently rubbing tiny shapes into it with his thumb. His hand was scorching, but it didn't feel brand-new it all.

It was raining hard outside, and Bella prayed for the silence. The gods didn't listen. The roof of the house was especially a wreck this winter—there were a couple pails scattered throughout the living room, catching the raindrops that constantly fell in this part of Washington. Every time the pails would overflow at the worst of times and Bella and Paul had to dump them out in the front yard, she would tell herself that she still loved him. It wasn't even a lie—it was a motto.

I still love you was their motto through everything. Through the car troubles and the money troubles, through the rhythm of the rain drizzling above them, through their naked bodies so often together, through the tattered sheets and destroyed mattress, there was still love. The lack of worries also remained. Don't worry about it prevailed when I still love you didn't seem quite true.

Don't worry about it—I still love you. I still love you, so don't worry about it.

He continued to rub his thumb into the small of her back. "Don't worry about it, baby girl," he told her. "I still love you."

She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them, tears immediately starting rolling down her cheeks. She was ashamed of them, but she couldn't do anything about them.

He muted the TV. "What's wrong?"

"I've been thinking of leaving town," she confessed. "I think I just might."

"Where have you been thinking of going?" he asked.

"Florida, so I can live with my mom."

He didn't take his hand off her or clench his fist or anything. Nothing changed. She wondered if he was deaf.

"I've been feeling… off about this whole thing we're doing," she told him. "I've been feeling that way for a while now, and I was hoping all that would change because I love you—so much—but nothing has changed."

"I guess that's why you've been living out of a suitcase since you moved in, right?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "Yeah, that's why," she replied.

He didn't even blink. It killed her. She wanted him to fight her, wanted him to cuss at her and make her feel bad. Where was the fire in him? Where was the energy, the light? Why couldn't she see him?

She tried to bring it out in him, not just for the sake of a fight, but for them. "I love you," she told him again, "but—"

"No," he interrupted her, taking his hand off her back and sitting up straight. "No, fuck that. Bella, where we are right here, right now, is all we'll ever need. We don't need nobody else. We especially don't need your mom. We're grown."

There's my fire.

"What if I don't wanna be grown just yet? You really think living like this is ideal?" She gestured to the buckets of rainwater. "We're fucking broke."

"I've been broke all my life."

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna live like this forever. And even then, I've still got some real fucked up shit to go through in my head, and living here isn't gonna make it better, Paul."

"So that's it?" he asked her, a disgusted look on his face. "You don't wanna try and make this work? You just wanna run off because you think it's not gonna get better?"

"You're such a hypocrite!" Bella cried. "We're nearly the same person."

"Shut the fuck up," he told her.

"No, you shut the fuck up," she retorted. "Don't act like you haven't been running away your whole life. You run away from home, from the people who love you, from everybody. Now you're suddenly an advocate for hope and that it gets better bullshit because maybe I don't wanna deal with everything? Fuck outta here."

He just shook his head. "You're wrong, Bella," he said. "You don't know how wrong you are."

"What's the difference between you and me, then?" she asked. "How is my decision different than any of yours?"

"The difference," he replied, his voice hard and cold, "is that nobody has ever wanted me to stay. I actually want you to stay."

More tears began to form in her eyes, and she couldn't do anything to stop them. "You think shit's that easy?" she asked him. "You think you can just say you want me around and it's like I'm all better?"

"I guess so," he said quietly.

"I take back what I said about us being the same person. I love you, but you can't fix me."

"I don't think I can fix anything," he admitted. "I know damn well I can't fix people."

"No one can," she said. "It's okay."

"I'm gonna fight for you," he promised her. "I can't fix you, but I sure as hell can fight for you."

Bella was such a crier. She had always been a crier, and she would never stop being a crier—especially after this. Her heart felt so heavy. She felt heavy, with her exhausted eyes and undying headache, but Paul always had the capacity to make her feel lighter. He was a light on his own, and when he touched her—when he finally touched her again—he made her feel kind of light herself.

He kissed her, and she knew that it was proof that he would fight for her. What people always said about her was true: Bella would do anything for love. She would kill for love. She would die for it. She would believe in it for the sake of it. It was a blessing and a curse all in one.

Just like Paul.

She still loved him nonetheless. With him, she had nothing to worry about.

It was raining hard outside—it just might never stop. It was also raining inside. Both Bella and Paul knew the pails would overflow again, but it didn't matter. The world came crashing down on them in their house in La Push, the badlands, but it was okay.

They were the last couple on earth.

A/N: If you skipped this chapter due to the involvement of Bella and Paul, that's okay. There's more to come in the next chapter!

Thanks as always,

HS