Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer

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Where the Lines Overlap

All We Know

~~ Mark ~~

(When I Close My Eyes) It's You There in My Mind

"Jasper," I rush out, my voice strained, every ounce of strength I have left pouring into his name. "You—don't ever forget—I love you."

His eyes are wild with pain, with desperation, but his grip on me is steady, unyielding. His touch is the last real thing anchoring me here.

"I love you, Moony," I breathe, my voice breaking.

And that's when I know—I have to let go.

I don't want to. God, I don't want to. But the world is slipping, crumbling, tunneling at the edges. My body feels distant, weightless, like I am no longer tethered to it. Everything around me is blurring away, dissolving like ink bleeding into water. But the last thing I see before I slip under—before I go where he can't follow—is his eyes.

Those deep green irises, like tropical pools… vast, endless, shimmering with something I can't hold on to. So deep they could swallow me whole.

And they do.

I fall into them, dive into their immensity. The second stretches, stretching with me, bending, unfurling, like the last golden moment before sunset when light lingers just a little longer—when time itself seems to hesitate, unwilling to move forward. And in that impossible pause, I see it all.

Every look he ever gave me.

The first—cautious, uncertain. Guarded, but not closed. The look of someone who wasn't sure yet if he wanted to let me in. A flicker of hesitation, as if the idea of me was something he hadn't expected, hadn't planned for. But then—something shifts. A breath of warmth, the first crack in the walls. Openness, tentative but there.

It's not long before curiosity glints in his eyes, a flicker of intrigue, something waking up. A question forming, unspoken but persistent. I could read it so clearly… Why do I keep looking?

I go deeper.

Recognition. A spark of interest. The way his gaze lingered a beat too long, as if he didn't mean to look but couldn't quite help it. Awareness settling in, a silent pull that neither of us fully understood yet. Then amusement—teasing warmth, a hint of mischief curling at the edges. A challenge in the way he tilted his head, the way his eyes lit with something playful, something dangerous in the best way.

Deeper still.

Softness. The quiet kind, the kind that settles over you like twilight, slow and certain, unnoticed until it's wrapped around you completely. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching. His expression, unguarded in those moments, full of something I couldn't name at first. Then I could. Something gentle. Something rare. Care, stitched into the fabric of every glance, deepening with time, with every shared moment, every word, every silence.

Understanding—deep and unwavering, like he saw me, really saw me, and never wanted to look away. No hesitation, no doubt. Just quiet certainty, the kind that settles in your bones, the kind that says, You are known. The kind that doesn't waver, even in silence.

Then trust. Not just given, but offered. A slow, deliberate unfolding. His eyes, completely open to me, holding nothing back. No walls, no barriers—just him, letting me see everything that lived beneath. He let me in. Chose to let me in. And I stepped forward, knowing I would never leave.

Affection, soft and steady, woven into every glance, every fleeting smile, every unspoken word. A quiet warmth that never demanded but always was—something certain, something sure. Something that didn't need to be spoken to be understood.

And then—longing.

The kind that lived in the spaces between words, heavy in the silences that stretched too long but never long enough. In the way his gaze lingered, searching, aching, as if he was trying to memorize me in case I ever disappeared. The way his hands would hover, just shy of touching, before finally closing the distance. The pull of something inevitable—something neither of us could escape, something neither of us wanted to escape.

A gaze that wanted, that asked, that needed.

And then love.

Not sudden, not all at once—something steady, something that took root quietly, growing in the spaces between moments. It wound itself around us like vines, intertwining, creeping closer, wrapping tighter until we were bound. Until there was no part of me untouched by it, no place where he hadn't left his mark.

Love that settled into the lines of his face when he smiled at me—that dimpled, slightly toothy grin, so achingly familiar. The first thing I ever noticed about him, the first thing that ever made me think I was in trouble. Love that was there in the quiet, in the way his gaze softened when I spoke, in the way his fingers would brush against mine—not asking, not taking, just knowing.

Love that deepened, that became something certain, something unshakable. A presence that never wavered, never dimmed, only grew. Love that became familiar, that became home.

Love that became everything.

That reshaped me. That reshaped him. They shaped us.

And as it holds me, as it carries me, I let it take me under.

I sink into it, into him.

And I feel it. The treasure he gifted me with, each and every moment of our journey—a pinnacle, a constant that anchored me. Something I only truly knew with him, for him, because of him.

Happiness.

The kind that isn't loud or demanding, but exists in the quiet, subtle moments. The kind that doesn't need grand gestures to be felt, only a glance, a fleeting touch. Like the way he looked at me from across a room, eyes catching mine in a way that said everything without a single word. It wasn't the kind of look that asked for anything in return—it was just there, calm and unhurried, a presence that grounded me no matter where we were.

It was in the way his gaze softened, warm and knowing like he could see into me and still love me—no questions asked, no conditions. A soft smile would tug at the corner of his lips, and at that moment, the whole world could fall away, and I'd be content in the quiet of us.

The connection we shared—this bond between us—wasn't just something we felt; it was everything we were. It was a pulse, a rhythm, unyielding and ever-present. It stretched across every glance, every touch, every moment. The kind of connection that doesn't need explanation, because it's always there, woven into the very fabric of us. A bond so vast it didn't have a beginning or end, one that reached beyond everything else, timeless and infinite.

And as the pull of time grows gentler, I realize—I am drowning.

But I am not afraid.

Because I am not leaving. Not truly. I am taking him with me. Every glance, every smile, every moment he ever gifted me—I carry them as the weight becomes easier, more serene.

I see his last look. The glint in his eyes is strong, so strong that it swells, expands—brighter, wider—until it is everything.

The light rushes forward, glows so intensely it flashes, consuming me, filling me—my eyes, my lungs, my heart… my soul.

And in my last breath, I breathe him.