ANGST! I love it!

Work sucks, have another chapter.

Chapter Thirteen

JPOV

Edward was in the shower and I had no fucking idea what I was going to do when he got out. To be honest, the only thing that was stopping me from completely freaking out was the fact that I could concentrate on the throbbing in my eye and the cold of the ice pack against my face. That lowlife fuckstick Paul had one hell of a right hook. I knew I should be ashamed at myself for such a violent act of aggression, but God, it felt good to know I landed a few decent blows of my own.

Of course, that wasn't the reason I was on edge. No, that was because no matter how cold the ice against my eye was, I couldn't stop feeling the burn on my lips that Edward's mouth had left when I kissed him.

Shit, I kissed him.

I kissed him; there was no way I could deny that it was entirely me that had initiated it. Not that he had protested, but that was irrelevant for now. Shit, it was hard to think straight when I thought about the way he had kissed back... I almost wished that it had been me that had gotten drunk and kissed him, just so I didn't have to go into how I went from punching a guy that kissed him, to kissing him myself. Not that I would ever, ever blame drinking for forcing myself on someone, that would make me too much like my dad and- no, that wasn't even I thought I wanted to finish.

My insides were a mess of butterflies as I sat on Edward's bed, freshly showered, waiting for him to come back into the room. When we had got back from the party, Esme had made a fuss when she saw my eye and demanded - somehow nicely in a way that only she could manage - to know what had happened. I mostly left the talking to Edward, since I wasn't sure if he had wanted his parents to know the uncut version of events, and because I was fairly certain that I wouldn't be able to tell the story without including the words 'motherfucking son of a bitch'. To my surprise, Edward had told them a mostly unedited version of what had gone down, only leaving out the part where I had gotten in twice as many hits as Paul, a fact that, while I was stupidly proud of, may not come across well to my best friend's parents. Although I received a stern look from Esme and a lecture on how 'violence is never the answer' from Carlisle, I could tell that neither had their hearts in it when I saw the flare of rage hidden in their faces when they heard what Paul had done to their only son.

I kept going over in my head how I could approach this when Edward came back into the room, but every scenario ended with something along the lines of 'Hey Edward, I know we're just friends, but when I'm around you I can't think straight. Also, speaking of straight, I think I'm not,' which just wasn't as eloquent as I would like to put it. Actually, this whole night wasn't exactly going to plan… When Jacob Black, an old friend of Edward's that I had met once before, showed up with a couple of the Quileute boys, I had to admit that I was a little jealous that Edward immediately focused his attention on them. In an effort to not be 'that friend', I turned my attention to Bella Swan and Angela Webber; two girls whom I soon discovered were my kindred spirits. The three of us, despite being 'the quiet ones' struck up an easy conversation that allowed me to momentarily forget that Edward hadn't spoken to me since we arrived. Soon the sun had gone down and I found myself sitting between two pretty girls who both shared in my common interests, yet all I could think about was the way the fire light had made Edward's eyes shine. Angela was the first to pick up on my distraction, with Bella not far behind. Both girls had shared a knowing look, and verbally cornered me into admitting that it was Edward that was on my mind. Sitting there in the dark, it felt as if all that I am was laid out in front me, as Bella and Angela sorted through my mess of feelings. As I described to them how I felt after Edward's accident, a rare show of openness on my part, I could feel the pieces clicking in together in my head.

I'd always just chalked up the way Edward and I connected to the fact that, as friends, we just understood one another. I hadn't really given it much more thought than that, to be honest. But ever since Edward's accident, I felt like things had changed, intensified by the sudden possibility of losing him. These last few weeks I've found myself growing restless anytime Edward and I had to be apart, and that sort of thought scared me. I'd always found comfort in Edward, and I'd never questioned it, just being content in the way he made me feel. The thing is, I didn't have a reasonable explanation on why I had kissed Edward tonight. There was no rational fore thought involved in how I acted, all I can say with certainty is the when I saw Paul forcing himself on Edward I saw red. The next thing I remember is the feel of my fist connecting with the side of his face, consequences be dammed. Though, in hindsight, I wished I'd had brains enough to kick him instead, because right now my hand was throbbing from the residual injury of punching my bedroom wall. I should really work on not punching things.

The only thing I knew for sure is that in that moment, the second I lent forward to press my lips against his, it felt so fucking right. Everything made sense the second he started to kiss me back, and thinking about it now was making me well up with I feeling I don't even know how to describe. My chest feels like at any second it's going to burst, and my throat is choked with desire and, if I'm honest, fear.

I'm not gonna lie, I'm fucking terrified right now. I have no idea what I'm going to say, or how Edward is going to respond. All of his reactions thus far are pointing to a positive reception, but what if he thinks about it, and decided that this isn't what he wants? What ever 'this' is, or might be, has the potential to be awful in the long run. Does Edward really want to be tied to my burdens even more than he already is? Do I want to put him through that? At least now, while we're just friends, he has the option to get out with minimal guilt, but if we were something more?

Fuck, I don't know if I can do this.

Just as I was contemplating making a break for the door in a colossal show of cowardice, Edward emerged from the bathroom, effectively cementing me in my place with fear. Neither of us says a word, or even looks at each other as he makes his way around the room, seemingly waiting for me to break the silence. I watch him pointlessly straighten books and paper sitting on his desk in my peripheral, all the while trying to breathe around the lump that has formed in my throat, rendering me speechless.

"So…" Edward shatters the tension between us when it becomes apparent that wasn't going to.

"So," I repeat, my voice sounding more strained than I'd like.

"Look - Jasper, I'm just going to say it. If you want to forget everything that happened tonight, that's cool, I'm not going to push you into anything." Edward runs a hand through his slightly damp hair, as he stops to lean on the against the glass wall opposite where I am sitting on his bed, surveying me with a guarded expression.

He's giving me an out. I can't tell whether it's because he truly does just want me to be okay with this, or if it's his way of letting me down easy. If I decided to put this all behind us, then he wouldn't have to face the guilt of pulling out later. Fuck, I can't get any of this straight in my head, and the look on his face while he waits for me to say something is killing me. I drop my eyes to my hands in order to escape his stare, and desperately try to figure out what to do.

On one hand; if I say that I don't want to forget what I did, I don't want to just put this behind us, I might actually be able to talk through fuckstorm that is raging in my head with the one person that I want to consult. And maybe, just maybe, this, what we have together now, might become something more, something worth risking our friendship for.

But on the other hand, do I want to risk what we have? Or, more importantly, does he? Even just before in the car, he said that he was too scared to risk our friendship for something more. Can I really justify pushing him into that kind of risk, when he clearly didn't want to act on it before I kissed him?

"Jazz, please say something? I really don't know what to think right now, and you just sitting there is freaking me the fuck out, if I'm honest. Look, I know this is big, but we all make mistakes, you're allowed to regret it, I just need to know-"

"I don't regret it." My head snaps up to look into his eyes, and I hope to God that my face conveys the sincerity of what I'm saying. Because I don't regret it, I truly don't. I may not know what to do now, but I know that the kiss, the way that it felt, it was just fucking right.

"Then tell me what you're thinking. Please, Jasper? Just talk to me." There was a hint of desperation in Edward's voice, and it stung to hear. When I still didn't look up, Edward pushed off the wall and came to sit beside me on the bed, his closeness set my skin on fire and I had to remind myself to breathe. "Jazz, please…"

"I…" My chest was starting to ache, and not from that ready-to-burst-happy feeling from before, no this was more like the holy-fucking-Christ-I'm-going-to-cry feeling. I had to swallow a couple times to be able to get the words out, and when I did every single word tore through my throat with absolute agony. "I can't do this Edward. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't do this to you." My voice sounded like a broken whisper as I came to the decision that I couldn't, wouldn't, put him through this with me, he deserved so much better, and I didn't want to stand in the way of that.

"Jasper… It's okay, I mean, we can just forget about this and-"

"No, Edward, we can't. I fucked up- I am fucked up. You don't need this shit, you don't need to deal the shit I put you through, I'm sorry. You deserve someone who knows how to be there for you, and how to look after you, someone who isn't damaged. You deserve a better friend than me. I think I should just go. I'm sorry."

I stood up from the bed before Edward had the chance to see the tears that were forming in my eyes and made my way to the door of his bedroom. Edward called me back and I tried my hardest not to hear the heartbreak in his voice as I walked out the door.

My head and chest ached as I made my way downstairs to the Cullen's living room. I had no idea where I was going, because Edward had driven me here from my house, I just knew that I needed to leave.

"Jasper?"

I stopped in my tracks on the way to the front door when I heard Carlisle's voice behind me. Taking a steadying breath, I turned around, praying that Edward hadn't followed me from his room. He hadn't, thankfully, but now I was left to deal with his father, when all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and never come out.

"Jasper, son, what happened?" Carlisle stood in front of me and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Nothing, I- I'm sorry sir, I just really want to go home." I couldn't meet his eyes; because I was afraid that if I did he would see how I had hurt his son.

"Okay, well come then, I'll drive you." Carlisle left no room for argument as he grabbed his car eyes and I followed him into the garage to his black Mercedes.

The drive to my house was mercifully silent, and I managed to keep my emotions in check for the most part. As I got out of the car when Carlisle pulled up to my house, I ducked my head back in the door to thank him for the ride; my alternative plan had been to walk home.

"Thank you for the ride Carlisle, I'm sorry it was so late."

"Nonsense, it wasn't any trouble. But Jasper- is everything okay? You know you can speak to me about anything you want?"

I nodded in response and ducked my head slightly so he couldn't see the shame I was sure was written on my face. "Carlisle?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you please tell Edward that I'm really sorry…"

Bless his soul, Carlisle just took the message, said goodnight and let me go inside without questioning me further. The minute I walked in the door the sounds of a Dallas Cowboys game flittered through from the living room. Great, Emmett's home.

I made my way for the stairs, hoping that I could get past my brother and into my bed, when Emmett appeared behind me on his way to the kitchen.

"Jay-Jay! I didn't expect you to be home tonight." Emmett's booming voice made my head ache and I thought about ignoring him and just going to my room, except that Emmett moved to block my path to the stairs. "What's up Jay?"

"Nothing Emmett, I'm tired, I just wanna go to bed-" My brother's gasp stops me from saying anymore. In my haste to try to get around him, I had forgotten all about my bruised face.

"Jay, what the fuck happened to you? Which motherfucker do I have to go find?" His tone is dead serious, and I don't doubt the threat. Emmett doesn't take a lot of things seriously, but when it comes to someone messing with his family, well that he doesn't joke about.

"It's nothing Em."

"Like hell it's nothing. What the fuck happened?" Emmett was purposely standing across the bottom of the stairs in order to stop me from escaping this conversation.

"Nothing okay. Its nothing," I ran a hand through my hair in frustration, ignoring the dulling pain in my hand. "This drunk guy kissed Edward and I punched him, end of story."

"And clearly he punched you back."

"Obviously, can we just drop this please? I'm fucking tired and my face hurts. I wanna go to bed." Emmett held his hands up in a surrendering gesture and step aside to let me up the stairs.

The minute I stepped into the room it felt like all he energy left my body, making it an extraordinary effort to strip off my clothes and crawl under the covers of my bed. Despite the exhaustion I felt, my brain was running rampant and the hopelessness I felt was all consuming. I stared at the ceiling and let the evening play back in my head, the consequences of what I'd done came crashing down and it started getting hard to breathe, like there was a massive weight sitting on my chest. I fucked up, I fucked up so bad.

I didn't even have the energy to cry, but the tears fell down the sides of my face regardless. I'd lost my best friend, the one person that truly understood me, all because I couldn't keep my shit together long enough to not fuck things up.

Story of my life.

This is what's best for Edward, and that's all that mattered. He needed to find someone that will be good for him, not someone that he has to constantly worry over, it's just not healthy for him to have to deal with my messed up psyche. It's time that I stopped dragging him down, and learnt to deal with this by myself, no matter how much it killed me to do it. He'd be better off in the long run to not have me in his life.

~ bfoso ~

Edward and I hadn't talked for nineteen days. I'd only gone to school for about half of that, spending most of my time lying in bed staring blankly at the ceiling, slipping in and out of sleep. The days I did go to my classes I can barely recall what went on, only that I avoided Edward at all costs. The weekend after I had left the Cullen house, Edward had called and left multiple messages, but I ignored every one of them. It killed me to do it, but it was the only way I could make things right, was to let him let me go. If he ended up hating me, it was probably all the better. The first day I had gone back to school, almost a week later, Edward had tried to talk to me by my locker, but I slipped into the hallway crowd before we could be alone. I wasn't proud of what I was doing to him, and I wasn't dumb enough to think that it wouldn't hurt him, but Edward was popular, he would make other friends. He didn't need me.

Emmett started was starting to show his frustration towards me the more I withdrew, he tried everyday to get me to talk to him about what was going on, asking me why Edward hadn't been around and what happened between us. That was one of the hardest things, lying to my brother and seeing the look on his face when I wouldn't open up. After I had moved in with him, Emmett and I had promised that we would come to each other about anything that was going on, but evidently, I couldn't get that right either. After two weeks, he eventually gave up trying to talk to me, and it became easier to just stay in my room, only leaving when I could summon the energy to go to school.

I stopped taking my medication, seeing no point in trying to keep away the black feelings that were getting through anyway, and as a result the nightmares became a nightly occurrence. The dreams seemed to alternate between memories of what my Dad had done, and dreams of Edward. The one involving Edward was always the same; I was in a river, being washed away with the current, when I saw his hand reaching out. I always took Edward's hand, trying to save myself, but instead I end up pulling him in, dragging him down with me, into a blackness so suffocating that I wake up gasping for air.

Right now, it was six in the afternoon and I was lying in my room, having just taken a shower. Yet again, I had indulged in my vice; the little blue box containing my blades had taken up a permanent residence on my bathroom shelf for easy access these days. It was getting dark outside, and I was beginning to slip into unconsciousness again when my phone started buzzing on my bedside table. My first instinct was to ignore it, as I had every other time my phone had rung, but after it rang out and immediately started to buzz again, I pulled myself up off the bed and grabbed my phone. Looking at the screen I let out a groan when I saw my sister's name. I let the call ring out, but it just rang again and I knew that she would just keep at it until I answered.

"What Rose?" My voice was croaky from misuse as I answered the phone, expecting a string of abuse to follow.

"Jazzy? Are you okay? Em called this morning, he's worried, what's going on?" My sister's voice sounded uncharacteristically soft and it made my heart ache.

"It's nothing Ro, I promise. I'm fine." I tried to be as convincing as possible, but I doubt she bought it. My sister wasn't dumb by any stretch of the imagination.

"Well, I don't believe you, but okay. Anyway, Mama wants to talk to you." Before I could protest, Rosalie had handed the phone over and the distinct sound of my mother's voice was on the line.

"Jasper? Baby boy, what's going on? Emmett sounded so worried earlier." My mother's southern twang was more pronounced than us kids, and hearing it almost made me well up.

"Everything's fine Mama, I promise. Em's worrying 'bout nothing. I just haven't felt like going out or anything, I don't want you or Rose to worry." Fuck, if I thought lying to siblings was hard, it had nothing on lying to my Mama.

"You know I can't help but worry, sweet. It's my job." My Mother's voice grew wistful. "Even if I can't be there to worry in person."

"Mama, don't do that… I'm fine, everything's okay." I pinched the bridge of my nose in order to suppress the headache that was forming behind my eyes. I didn't want my family to worry over me, I just wanted to wallow in self-pity in peace.

"I'm sorry baby, I just miss you. And I don't want you to get back to how you were, you know, after…" Her voice went quiet and I prayed for this conversation to end before things got any worst.

"I miss you too. But I'm not going back to that, this is just, I dunno, a bump in the road. Nothing to be concerned about. Cross my heart." After the night I was found in the basement, bleeding and barely conscious, it had taken weeks for anyone to be able to get me to say more than a few words at any given time. I know that my family lived in constant fear that anytime anything got bad with me I would revert back to that withdrawn state and stop speaking and interacting with people all altogether, and I did my best not to give them reason to think that I would get like that again. I prayed it wouldn't, for their sake as much as my own.

"Promise me you're looking after yourself Jasper. And please, listen to your brother. Lord knows how much Emmett cares about you, he just worries like me and your sister do." I could hear a faint sniffle following her words, and I knew that if I didn't get out of this now, it was going to end with me having to hear my mother cry over me, again.

I don't know whether it was a stroke of good or bad luck that at that moment when I finished telling my Mama that I'd take care of myself, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs towards my door. Assuming it was Emmett coming to check on me, I started to tell my mother once again that I was fine, but before I could finish the sentence my door was flung open and Edward Cullen strode into my room. The look on his face was a mixture of determination and fear and it made me sit up on the bed and effectively ended the conversation I'd been having.

"Uh, Mama I- I gotta go. Yeah, yeah I will, I promise. I love you too."

The room was silent when I hung up the phone and the tension between Edward and I was palpable. He stood, arms crossed, mouth set in a hard line staring at where I sat on the bed. I figured he was waiting for me to say something, so I opened my mouth to tell him that he would be better just to leave, but as soon as I went to speak he cut me off.

"Shut the fuck up Whitlock, and listen. 'Cause I've got some shit to say, and you better sit there and fucking take it in."

What? You mean you thought everything would be fluffy right away? Shame on you, the boys don't get it that easy. ;)