Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer
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Where the Lines Overlap
Final Season - We are Broken
('Cause) I just wanna be whole
I woke up to the dim gray of early morning filtering through the blinds, casting faint lines across the ceiling. It was quiet—the kind of quiet that felt wrong, like the world was holding its breath after everything that had happened. For a second, I could almost pretend none of it was real. That I hadn't told him, hadn't seen his face turn pale. That I hadn't stood there, frozen, as the machines wailed behind that pane of glass.
The memory of my father's expression wouldn't leave me—the mix of anger, pain, and... was it disappointment? Probably... certainly.
My stomach knotted, guilt chewing at me like I'd pressed the wrong button on something delicate, and now it couldn't be fixed. The image of him lying motionless on the other side of the ICU window was burned into my mind, a cruel reminder of how powerless I'd felt.
That helplessness twisted into something sharper—a need to make sense of it all, as though untangling the pieces might give me back some control.
The night replayed in my mind like a film stuck on a loop, each detail harsher than it had any right to be. I'd gone over it again and again: the words I'd said, the expressions I'd seen, the sterile smell of the hospital clinging to me like a second skin. But the more I tried to piece it together, the more something else started to rise to the surface, slipping out of reach just as I thought I had it.
Edward's detachment.
He'd been by my side throughout the night, steady, the Edward I'd known my whole life. But at some point, he'd become someone I didn't quite recognize. His silence had felt deliberate, his calm, almost too controlled, like a mask he wore too well.
I searched my mind, tracking the night backward as though I could pinpoint the exact moment he'd changed.
It wasn't during dinner, or even when I came out to my father and he… collapsed. No, it was later.
It was at the hospital.
That was the first time I'd noticed it. The way he stood just a little too still, his voice too measured, his eyes… distant. It wasn't his usual placidity; it was something colder, something that didn't feel like him.
And now, lying in bed with the night pressing around me, I couldn't shake the unease it left behind, like a shadow clinging to the edges of my thoughts.
A question surfaced, unwelcome and piercing: Was this about Mark?
I tried to push it away, telling myself how absurd it sounded. Edward couldn't have known what was going on between Mark and me—my feelings, the tangled mess they'd become. But the idea refused to let go, circling my mind like a specter I couldn't shake.
The ache followed, sudden and raw, a longing I'd tried to bury last night but couldn't ignore now. It pressed against my ribs, insistent, refusing to stay hidden any longer.
I squeezed my eyes shut, the urge to hear Mark's voice clawing its way past the walls I'd carefully built. It was overwhelming, drowning out reason, and I shook my head sharply as if I could physically dislodge the thought.
Sitting up, I let out a shaky sigh, everything closing in at once. My phone sat on the bedside table, silent but taunting, its presence almost unbearable. My chest felt tight, breaths shallow, as I curled my knees up to my chest, trying to hold myself together.
But then, I gave in.
My hand reached for the phone just as the screen lit up, vibrating softly against my palm. Mark's name flashed, and my heart stuttered, quick and uneven. Without thinking, I answered, barely able to breathe as I waited for his voice to come through.
"Jasper…" Mark's voice broke through the silence, a sigh carrying my name like he'd been holding it in.
My pulse quickened, a tenderness threading through the chaos, and I couldn't help the faint smile that pulled at my lips. For a moment, neither of us spoke; the soft rhythm of his breathing filling something inside me that had felt hollow all night.
"Did you sleep at all?" he asked, his voice gentle.
"A little," I murmured. "What about you?"
He hesitated.
"I tried, but… I was too worried."
"Why didn't you call?" I asked softly.
Mark let out a shaky exhale.
"Didn't want to intrude… or risk interrupting anything. I figured maybe you'd need that."
A sigh slipped out before I could stop it.
"The whole thing is driving me crazy, Mark. I—I don't know what to do."
He paused, and then his voice came back soothing.
"Just… try to keep calm. You don't have to make sense of everything all at once. Any changes with your dad?"
I shook my head, even though he couldn't see it.
"No, he's… still in a coma." The words felt like stones in my mouth, each one heavier than the last.
"I'm sorry, Jasper," Mark said, his voice filled with something deeper than sympathy. "And sorry for calling out of nowhere. I didn't mean to make things harder."
"You didn't." I almost laughed, though it came out more like a sigh. "I was actually fighting the urge to call you. Didn't want to… bother you."
"You never bother me." His reply was soft, but the sentiment behind it was everything. For a second, it was all I needed.
"Can I… ask where you are right now…?" I said carefully, feeling a bit too bold, as if I didn't really have that right.
Mark chuckled softly, his voice full of that familiar warmth.
"A bit possessive, aren't you?" I could practically hear the grin in his voice.
"I'm sorry… I can't help it." I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I like it, you know," he said, his voice tender, the words lingering in the air like a touch.
I couldn't help but smile to myself.
"I'm still sorry," I added earnestly.
"Don't be. Well," he said, his tone still playful, "I'm in my car, about to head to my grandma's place for Thanksgiving."
I paused, a curiosity stirring. It felt like a way to keep him on the line, to keep the connection alive just a little longer.
"What's she like? Your grandma?"
"She's… unforgettable." His voice softened, and I could almost see the fond smile that must've been on his face. "She's this fierce little woman, never one to back down. She'll have you convinced she's forgotten to make my favorite dish, just for the thrill of seeing me panic. But really, she remembers everything—every detail. She probably even remembers the time I skinned my knee on her sidewalk when I was six."
I chuckled at that, caught up in the gentleness of his words. He continued, his tone growing even softer.
"But she's gentle too, in her own way. Loves to bake—her pumpkin pie is famous. And she'll offer anyone a seat at her table, no questions asked. She's… she's someone you can count on."
Hearing him talk like that made me feel closer to him, like I'd just caught a glimpse of a hidden part of him.
"She sounds… amazing," I said quietly, the sincerity in my voice catching even me off guard. "I hope I get the chance to meet her someday."
Mark paused, and his reply came softer, almost hesitant.
"She kinda knows you already. Not in person, but… yeah."
A strange, happy buzz lifted me up, cutting through the heaviness I'd been carrying. I sat up straighter, surprised but smiling.
"Really? How?"
Mark hesitated, his voice dropping a bit, almost like a confession.
"I, uh, tell her everything. So… she's been hearing about you since the very first day we met."
His words hung in the air, the honesty of them settling into a comfortable silence that neither of us rushed to fill. Eventually, Mark's voice returned, soft and serious.
"I'll take you to see her. First chance we get. She'll love you."
For a moment, I could hardly speak. But I couldn't shake the question that had come up, so I asked it, my voice tentative.
"What is it about… that day? When we met?"
Mark's silence stretched, then he sighed, a sound so soft I barely caught it.
"I was hooked the first time I saw you," he murmured. "I was running late that day, and when I got to the gym, you were set up for a shot... I just stopped to watch. You made a three-pointer, and then… you shook your hair back… and I saw the light in your eyes… yeah. That was it."
I was immediately taken by his words, and I laughed, soft and low, a little shy but also spellbound. Mark chuckled too, and for a moment, everything felt simple—just him and me, as if nothing else in the world could come between us.
"At first sight, then?" I asked quietly.
He didn't miss a beat.
"At first sight, yeah," he said, his voice barely above a breath. "And then I got to know you… and that was it for me."
I shrugged, feeling the truth slip out before I could stop it.
"I don't know when it happened," I admitted. "I just remember the first time I noticed you."
"When was that?"
"The night we went to that gay club… when you were trying to make me dance."
The memory lingered, the way I'd felt caught between the simple fun of it and something I couldn't fully understand then. It wasn't just how Mark made me feel at ease. It was something deeper, like the first crack in a wall I hadn't even realized I'd built.
"That's what all that staring was about?" Mark asked, a smile in his voice, though there was something softer behind it, a hint of surprise.
"Yeah…" I hesitated. "I wasn't staring on purpose, though. It only hit me when you asked. I was just... astonished, I guess. I'd never noticed anyone like that before, except…" I cut myself off.
"Edward." Mark finished, his voice softer, carrying a quiet sadness, a trace of resignation, like he'd been waiting for me to mention him.
The way he said it—the weight of it—made me regret bringing it up, even if it hadn't been intentional or conscious.
The veiled tension that followed brought all the complications between us rushing back into my mind. It made me feel like standing on unstable ground. And with that came the question I hadn't been able to shake since leaving Providence.
"Have you…" I hesitated, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Have you seen Kyle?"
Mark was silent for a long beat, and I held my breath, feeling something heavy settle over me.
"Yeah," he answered finally, his tone measured. "I… I'm trying to make sense of things too, Jasper. I haven't given him an answer, but… I'm still going with the flow, I guess." He paused, his voice growing even softer. "I don't wanna hurt you. I just feel like… this is something I need to do. At least for now. I need to see how far it goes."
A pang of sadness twisted in my chest, but I forced myself to keep it hidden.
"It's okay, Mark. I… I can't demand anything from you."
He took a deep breath, and there was a tenderness in his words that felt like a balm.
"If things were different... if you weren't already so tied up with Edward, I wouldn't even think twice. I'd choose you, without a blink."
I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips as I looked down, a warmth spreading through me that felt almost like relief. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't simple, but in that moment, it was enough.
After another sigh, Mark went on.
"But right now, I'm trying to figure out what's real with Kyle, and it's not because I don't feel something for him. It's just... I can't ignore what I feel for you. It's stronger than anything I've felt in a long time. But I need to see where I stand. I'm trying, but it's hard when I know how deep your feelings for Edward go."
The subtle smile that had been on my lips flickered and faded.
I opened my mouth to say… something—I didn't even know what yet when my door creaked open. I saw Bella standing there, her expression soft and cautious as she stepped inside.
Bella lingered in the doorway, her eyes filled with quiet questions.
"Can I come in?" Her voice was soft, tentative.
I nodded, struggling to focus as Mark's voice filtered through the phone.
"I should let you go," he said gently.
"Wait," I blurted, unable to let the moment slip through my fingers.
He paused.
"It's okay, Jasper. You can call me anytime, alright?"
I took a shaky breath, letting my heart take over before my mind could pull me back.
"Mark… I—" My voice faltered, and I closed my eyes, pushing the words out, unguarded. "I… I miss you."
There was a subtle, surprised gasp on the other end, followed by a pause that felt like it stretched forever. Then, his voice came back, quiet but certain.
"I miss you too."
We lingered in silence for a second before we finally said our goodbyes and hung up.
I put the phone down and glanced up. Bella was watching me, her expression guarded but her eyes sharp with an understanding that made my stomach twist. She'd heard more than I wanted her to. My pulse was still thrumming from the call, but now it quickened for a different reason as I braced myself.
Bella's voice broke the silence, equal parts disbelief and something gentler.
"Mark...? As in your closest friend in Providence? Your basketball mate, the captain of your team? The one you run with every morning?"
Each word hovered in the air, as though she was trying to wrap her mind around it. Her wide eyes searched mine, as though she was piecing together what I couldn't bring myself to say.
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat tight, and closed my eyes. then I nodded—barely. The movement felt too big, even though it was barely there.
She didn't push. Instead, she sat beside me on the bed, her presence calming but still so full of expectation. I turned to face her, my heart hammering in my chest, the fear of what she might think making it hard to breathe.
But she wasn't angry. Her gaze held no judgment, only something rawer, more patient—empathy, maybe.
"So... what's happening, Jay?" she asked gently.
Her question cracked something open inside me. I inhaled sharply, feeling the words press against my chest. I'd never said it aloud, but somehow, with Bella's soft eyes watching me, the words rushed out, rising like a tide I couldn't hold back.
"I'm in love with Mark."
The truth in those words felt strange, like I was confessing something dark and secret. Saying it aloud felt like exposing a wound I'd been hiding, painful and relieving all at once.
But relief was short-lived. Guilt surged in its place, crashing over me. My chest heaved, and I hiccupped, burying my face in my hands as tears spilled out.
"I'm such a jerk," I whispered through the sobs. "How could I do this to Edward?"
The words poured out, frantic and unfiltered.
"I didn't see it coming, Bella. I didn't—I swear, I still love Edward. I do. I want to be with him. But I want Mark, too. It's like—I'm losing my mind. I don't know what to do."
She let me unravel, her silence anchoring me. Then, her hand settled on my shoulder, her fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles.
"It's okay, Jasper," she murmured. "You're not a jerk. You're human. You're figuring it out, and that's okay. You don't have to have all the answers right now."
I sniffed, struggling to regain some composure. Her words were like a lifeline, but they didn't erase the tightness in my chest, the unease that seemed to gnaw at me. Still, for the first time in a couple of days, I felt a bit lighter, like the burden of it all wasn't as suffocating as before.
Bella stayed silent for a moment, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder, giving me the space to collect myself. When I finally met her eyes, I saw nothing but understanding in them, as if she could read every word I wasn't saying. But then, her voice broke the silence again, soft but firm.
"Jay, I know this feels huge, and you've got a lot going on," she said, her gaze unwavering, taking in more than just what I was saying. "Between your dad, coming out, and all these feelings... it's no wonder you feel torn. But maybe—just for now—focus on your family. Let that be your priority."
I nodded, letting her words sink in, though the guilt still twisted inside me, tightening my chest.
"I know. I need to be there for my father…" I rubbed my forehead, hoping to push away the ache building there. "But he's lying in a hospital bed because of me."
She shook her head quickly.
"Hey, no. Don't do that to yourself. This isn't your fault."
I shook my head, the denial instinctive.
"But it is," I admitted, the words spilling out before I could think to hold them back. "I keep thinking if I'd just... waited. If I'd told him differently. If I hadn't pushed him with Edward right there..." I sucked in a breath, fighting to keep it together.
"Stop," Bella interrupted, firm but not unkind. "You're carrying way too much. You need to let some of it go."
I blinked, overwhelmed.
"But I can't, Bella, this is all my fault and I can't even think straight because of everything that's happening with Mark and Edward. It's like I'm being pulled in every direction, like I'm stretched between them." I heaved a breath. "I can't just ignore it, Bella. It's tearing me up."
"Look, I know you don't want to hurt either of them, but you can't keep going like this. You're going to have to make a decision, or it's going to break you. You need to find a way to face it eventually."
I nodded, feeling like I was barely holding onto the threads of all these feelings and responsibilities.
"I know I can't keep this up. But right now… it's like I'm not even sure how to feel, let alone what to do. And Edward, he's here for me, but he's weird, since last night something changed and… then there's Mark, and he's on my mind too, all the fucking time." I swallowed, the ache of it overwhelming. "It's just... it's too much."
Bella watched me for a moment, her expression softening.
"You're not going to figure it all out at once. Take it step by step. Be there for your family first. Be here for your dad. When you're ready, you'll face the rest."
Her calmness was like a balm, making me feel like maybe I could handle everything in smaller pieces instead of letting the whole mess consume me.
I let out a long breath, the tension easing just a little.
"Thanks, Bella. Really. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'll always have me, Jay," she said, a soft smile breaking through her worried expression. "And that's one thing you don't have to question."
.
.
.
Later that morning, I walked up to the Cullen house, the familiar path stirring up a strange sense of nostalgia. It was quieter than usual, with Edward's parents at the hospital—Esme with my mom and Carlisle still on duty. But even in the stillness, the place carried an undercurrent of memories—most of them tied to Edward. The last time I'd been here was when we'd just started dating, and the thrill of being together felt electrifying, like something entirely new.
As I reached the porch, I spotted him by the oak tree, sitting on the old swing. For a moment, it was like looking back in time. I could almost see us there on that day not so long ago, just beginning to open up to each other, before anything had gotten so complicated. I remembered how I'd confessed to him right there, the nerves and the relief all tangled together. A smile crept onto my face, but it faded as I focused on him.
Edward seemed so different. Lost in thought, his expression was somber. In the past, he would have noticed me staring even from across the yard, somehow attuned to me in a way no one else ever was. But now, he didn't seem to register my presence at all. An unsettling feeling crept in, unfamiliar and disturbing.
I took a step forward, then another, until I was only a few feet away. When he finally looked up, his eyes met mine, but it was with an empty smile, a hollow kind of acknowledgment. I crouched down in front of him, feeling an awkwardness I hadn't felt with him in ages. This distance had started back at the hospital, slipping in when I least expected it, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was getting stronger with every moment we spent apart, even now, when we were just inches from each other.
"Hey," I said softly, studying his face, searching for something familiar.
"Hey," he replied, his voice thin, his gaze flickering away again, as though he was looking past me back into his own thoughts.
I could see something weighing on him, like a burden he wouldn't share, and for the first time, I wasn't sure he'd let me in.
The silence pressed down, thick with everything we weren't saying. I wanted to reach for him, to close the gap, to feel that connection between us again—but I hesitated, unsure if he'd reach back.
Edward sighed, his gaze finally returning to me, and I caught a flicker of something dark in his eyes—something I hadn't seen there before.
"How are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. But before I could even respond, he scoffed, looking down at his hands. "Sorry. Stupid question. I know you must feel… awful. About everything."
I frowned, thrown off by his tone, the way he seemed to fold into himself with each word. He wasn't usually this hard on himself, not like this.
"Edward…" I started, searching his face. "What do you mean? Why do you sound… so down?"
He looked away, his jaw tightening.
"Just… everything that happened last night. It shouldn't have. None of it."
The way he said it, like he was somehow responsible, made no sense and only deepened my confusion.
"You mean…"
"You… coming out…" He made air quotes, his gaze dropping for a moment. "And then your father reacting badly and collapsing…" He let out a slow breath, almost like a sigh. "I told you, you didn't have to—not this time—but you were so sure. I should've stopped you."
"So, what—you think we should've just kept this a secret?" I tried, but couldn't keep the edge out of my voice as I asked. "Pretended like nothing was going on in front of my family forever?"
He looked at me, reluctance written in his eyes.
"Maybe we shouldn't have gotten together in the first place," he mumbled.
The words hit me like a blow, sharp and cold, stealing the air from my lungs. A thousand thoughts surged at once, each more disorienting than the last.
How could he even think that?
I swallowed hard, my voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and hurt.
"Edward… you can't mean that."
He exhaled sharply, as if he'd been holding his breath for hours, his gaze fixed on the ground. Desperation surged through me—I could feel this distance widening, a dark, jagged thing taking root between us, an invisible wall rising higher with each word he refused to say.
Without thinking, I reached out and cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me.
"Don't say that. Don't even think it. We love each other, Edward. We're supposed to be together. We're supposed to be fighting for this."
His eyes glistened, his resolve crumbling as he met my gaze.
"But don't you see?" His voice broke. "I'm the one who put you in this situation. I turned your life upside down. If it weren't for me, none of this would've happened. You're… you're straight, Jasper. You'd be dating some girl right now, not—"
"You're talking crazy," I interrupted, squeezing his face gently to pull him back to me, to snap him out of whatever spiral he'd fallen into. The guilt in his expression, the sadness—it hurt to see it.
Under my hands, Edward's expression softened just enough to let me in, but it was clear he was still bracing himself for impact, shoulders tense and eyes wavering, like he was barely holding it together, retreating somewhere I couldn't reach. And I couldn't ignore the ache clawing at me, knowing part of my heart felt tangled up in something beyond us, with someone else. But Edward didn't know about Mark, about any of that. He didn't know I was just as lost as he seemed to be right now.
I took a steadying breath, trying to gather my thoughts.
"Edward, none of this is because of you. My father… he reacted how he did because of his own issues. And I'm…" I hesitated, feeling my own guilt swell, that restless part of me that wasn't all here. "I'm struggling too, but it's not because of you."
He looked down, and I could see the tension ripple through his frame, his mouth pressing into a hard line.
"But you weren't supposed to be in this position, Jasper. Not with me. Before we got together, you had a normal life, and you were going to be fine, maybe even happier. You would've…" His voice faltered. "You'd have been better off without me. With someone else, living normally, without all this… this chaos."
The thought of Edward imagining me with someone else cut deep, but I fought to keep my voice steady.
Gently, I tilted his face upward so he had no choice but to meet my eyes again. Despite the turmoil churning in me, I held on to one truth: I still loved him, even if my heart felt confusingly split.
"Look, I know it's been hard, and I don't have all the answers," I said, my voice softening. "Maybe I'm a mess right now—maybe we both are. But that doesn't change how much you mean to me. I'm here because this is what I want. I love you, and I want us. I need you to believe that because I can't imagine being without you."
Once more, Edward's eyes filled with unshed tears, his defenses giving way. He shook his head slightly, and his voice cracked when he spoke.
"I don't think I could bear hurting you more, Jazz. What if this—us—is just a big mistake?"
A flash of fear cut through me, sudden and icy, as if we were teetering on the edge of something irreversible. But instead of pulling away, I leaned in, letting my forehead rest against his.
"We're not a mistake," I whispered, more to convince myself than him. "We're both shaken by what happened, but we can figure this out, together, one day at a time. My father, everything—we'll handle it. But I can't do it without you."
Edward sighed, his breath shaky.
"I don't know if I believe that right now," he murmured, his voice rough. "But… for you… I want to try."
My heart leaped at that and relief washed through me, easing the tightness in my chest. I squeezed his hand, anchoring us in the moment.
"Then that's enough for me. We'll figure out the rest together, okay?"
He nodded slowly, his hand tightening around mine.
But then came a pause, subtle and lingering, like the hesitation of an extra breath. It was enough to stir a ripple of unease in me, as if he was holding back something I couldn't name.
Just as quickly, his usual warmth returned, like a mask slipping back into place. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead—a gesture so familiar, it almost made me believe everything was fine.
"I'll be here, Love," he whispered. But the way he said it felt hollow, more like he was reassuring himself than me.
I wanted to believe him—needed to—but that unspoken distance remained, an ache neither of us addressed. For now, I pushed it aside, letting myself trust in his touch and his presence. We'd face my father and everything else together—because we were together, weren't we? Edward was still here, holding my hand, and that was enough.
We stayed like that, the silence thick and painful, but grounding too. I didn't know how to solve the growing distance between us—not when I was so tangled inside myself, torn between loving him and feeling things I didn't know how to face. But for now, I clung to the one solid truth I knew: whatever else I was feeling, I loved Edward deeply.
The shadows hanging over us were hard to shake, but right here, with him, I let myself believe we might find our way through them.
I leaned in, closing the gap between us, pressing my lips to his. I needed that familiar closeness, the comfort that had always felt like home. Edward responded to the kiss the way he always did, his hands resting gently on my shoulders, his mouth moving against mine with the tenderness I craved. But this time, there was something different—a restraint, a hesitation that tugged at my heart with a deep, unsettling ache.
As I pulled back, I looked into his eyes, pouring out all the need I felt. The words came out in a hushed, vulnerable pleading whisper.
"I need you, Edward. I need… I just need to feel close to you." The plea slipped out before I could rein it in, a raw truth I hadn't fully acknowledged until now.
Edward's eyes softened, and for a moment, something flickered in his gaze—a trace of pain he couldn't quite hide. He exhaled, the breath warm against my cheek, and then he stood, taking my hand. He didn't say anything, just gave me a small, reassuring squeeze as he led me inside, up the familiar stairs, and into his room.
The door clicked shut behind us, and in the quiet space, he turned to me and kissed me softly, slowly, the touch of his lips gentle, almost reverent.
As he led me to his bed, there was a quiet intensity in the way he moved, his hands gripping my waist and neck with a firm insistence that sent heat pooling low in my stomach. When we reached it, he broke the kiss gently, his breath ragged as he stared at me, searching my face as though memorizing every line, every hint of vulnerability I hadn't even meant to show, like he was trying to unravel every thought I wasn't ready to voice.
He reached up, his fingers dragging along my jaw before threading through my hair, pulling me toward him with a possessiveness that made my pulse race. This kiss wasn't gentle—it was deep, demanding, a clash of lips and tongues that left me gasping and made my knees weak. His hands slid down my back, pressing me flush against him, and I could feel every hard line of his body against mine, the heat between us searing.
Edward eased me onto the mattress, his lips breaking from mine only to trail down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there in a way that made me arch against him. His hands were everywhere, tugging at my shirt, fingertips tracing over bare skin with an urgency that left no doubt about how much he wanted me.
As we undressed, his gaze never leaving mine, his touch turned rougher, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me closer as though he couldn't stand even an inch of distance. His lips left a scorching path along my collarbone, down my shoulders, my chest, my stomach, and the friction of his breath against my skin made me tremble. Every touch, every press of his mouth, felt like a demand and a plea all at once, as though he was staking a claim even as he was offering himself.
When he finally moved above me, his gaze locked on mine, and the world fell away. There was nothing but him, and I could see it—the intensity of his eyes, the hunger in them, the desperation, the need that mirrored my own. His hips rolled against me, the slow grind drawing a broken gasp from my throat. His hands pinned mine to the bed, his grip unyielding, and he leaned down, brushing his lips over mine, like a gentle tease.
His hands moved down, his fingers skimming over my thighs, coaxing my legs apart with softness that made my chest tighten.
Right then he didn't rush, his touch measured as he trailed kisses down my body, each one a whispered reassurance. His fingers explored with care that bordered on reverence, eliciting soft sounds from me as he worked to ensure I was ready for him. Every motion felt like a tender affirmation of his love even amidst the desire that burned between us.
When I whispered my readiness, he finally paused, and I watched as he reached for the condom, his gaze never leaving mine. His movements were almost painstaking, as though he was afraid of breaking whatever fragile thing we were building here. It was careful, and yet the way his hands trembled betrayed the intensity simmering just beneath the surface. I felt the gravity of his every action, as though he was trying to convey what words couldn't.
The moment he entered me, a sharp gasp tore from my lips, the sensation stealing my breath. It was slow at first—intentional—as though he was holding back, giving me a moment to adjust. But the connection was instant, a jolt that seemed to flood every nerve, and I gripped him tightly, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he pressed deeper, filling me completely.
His movements began with a slow rhythm, his forehead pressed to mine, each thrust deep and deliberate, in a controlled gentleness bordering on restraint. I felt each motion, each press and retreat, pulling us into sync until there was only the sound of our breaths, each heartbeat seemingly echoing in the silence. As he moved deeper, his hands roamed my sides, and I found myself clinging to him, my fingers pressing into his back as though I could keep that moment forever.
But as the need grew, the desperation took over. The restraint cracked, giving way to something raw, something primal.
Edward's pace quickened, each snap of his hips harder, each thrust becoming more relentless, more urgent, yearning clear in every motion. Heat surged through me, spreading like wildfire, and I arched into him, meeting him with the same intensity. His hands traced the curve of my waist, and my nails dragged down his back, desperate for purchase. The sounds spilling from my lips—soft gasps and breathless cries—only seemed to fuel him.
His lips found mine again, devouring me in a kiss that was all-consuming, a collision of passion and need. The room was filled with the sound of our breathing, the creak of the mattress, the slap of skin against skin, and every fiber in my body burned with the intensity of it.
Edward whispered my name, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion, and the sound sent me spiraling. His left hand slid down to grip my thigh, pulling me closer, deeper, and the tension coiling low in my stomach grew sharper.
He raised his head just a bit, our eyes locking again.
"I'm here. I'm with you," he murmured, the words breaking between shallow breaths, cracking with a sentiment I couldn't quite name.
My chest ached at his voice—fractured, reaching. The words hit me like a lifeline thrown into a storm, pulling me back from the edge of something I didn't want to face. I felt my eyes misting, my throat constricting. They resonated through me, and I clung to them, letting them anchor me, even as something deeper inside whispered that nothing could fully reach that distance.
But for a moment, it was enough—enough to believe we could find our way back to the place we used to be, enough to feel that the space between us wasn't as vast as it seemed.
The intensity of Edward's movements mirrored the weight of those words, each thrust carrying the unspoken vow that we weren't lost, not yet. My eyes burned, my heart clenched, and I let myself fall into the rhythm of his body, into the fragile hope that this connection could hold us together.
For a heartbeat, everything else fell away—there was only Edward, his body moving against mine, his heat, his breath, the unfiltered intensity of him. It struck me how much I needed this, needed him, not just as a lover but as the one person who could silence the turmoil raging inside me, even if only for this moment. My chest ached with the force of it, the undeniable pull of us together, and I gave myself over completely, the surrender both terrifying and liberating.
As Edward drove us both closer to the edge, his right hand slid down to entwine with mine, our fingers locking as we moved together, and in that moment, as our bodies tensed and shuddered, the intensity peaked and it finally snapped, a pulse of pure sensation that swept through us both, leaving nothing but the sound of our breaths and the pounding of our hearts in its wake.
He followed me, his body trembling against mine as he buried his face in my neck, his breaths ragged and uneven. For a moment, there was nothing but the sensation of him—his weight, his heat, his touch—anchoring me, grounding me in a way that felt almost painfully right.
As we lay entwined afterward, his fingers ran lightly over my arm, his breathing slowing as he held me close. And yet, even with his body surrounding me, even aware that the circle of his arms should've felt like home, like the perfect place for me, the place where I belonged, I couldn't shake the ache inside me—the sense that something was displaced, that the feelings and connection between us were slipping away, no matter how close we were.
In the quiet that followed, the fear I'd been holding back began to creep in, silent and insistent, driving me to grasp Edward even tighter, desperately hoping the physical connection we'd just shared could somehow bridge the growing distance between us.