[TW] Bella/Edward. BD SPOILERS.
Warnings: BREAKING DAWN SPOILERS
Fandom: Twilight
Characters: Bella/Edward -mentions of Rosalie-.
Title: Maybe it was until death do us apart...
Rating: G
Word Count: 1096 words
Summary: He hated himself. He hated himself for bringing this down to her.
Notes: So, emo-edward broke my heart, so, a little piece of him. Thanks very much to make_me_irish for taking a look at it. Thanks, hon ♥! So, this was done thinking on the lion_lamb contest, I'm still not sure if this will go there, or another one that has still to be beta-ed. But thought I should point it out, wouln't have written it if not for that LOL. Also, emo-edward = angst.
The world could end at any moment (part of him wishes it would) and he wouldn’t notice. He spent most days there, cradling Bella, seeing her wasting away, being destroyed by that little monster, if it even deserved to be called that. He felt like dying himself, and knew for the first time in his whole existence that there was not enough hate in the world to compare to what he felt for himself (it was pure, from the most evil part of his missing soul).
Bella came closer to him, searching for his embrace. He could feel Rosalie’s eyes piercing him, and her thoughts, the knives of her words cursing him. Only she could hate him as much as he hated himself (or he could pray she would, if there was something left afterwards). He shook his head, he didn’t want to think about what would happen and yet he did it all the time. He put his arm around Bella, her head resting in his lap, eyes closed. He wanted to think of how beautiful she still looked like that, but she was obviously starting to change. Her body was feeding whatever that was inside her, it was draining her, in front of his own eyes and there was nothing he could do about it.
“What are you thinking?” her voice was soft, a sweet melody that danced through his ear, that ended before he could drink it all in (it was done before it started). She coughed immediately after that and broke the spell that made him forget what was going on.
“I think that probably it would be best if you were not lying down…” he answered in a whisper, even though everyone would hear it anyway. He wanted her there, he wanted to be able to save her, to take what was killing them from inside her, just take it out and let her live. Fears crowded the dreams he couldn’t have, and every time Bella went to sleep, nightmares were all he could feel around him. He wouldn’t be surprised if reality started to fade away soon.
“I like it here,” she opened her eyes, and all he could see was the stubborn Bella and oh, how he wanted to curse her for being like that. Sometimes he wondered (all time if he was honest) what the hell could be going through that little head of hers, to keep her doing this. He would have done anything to please her, anything to make her happy, but nothing as much as what he would do to keep her alive.
“It is not good for you, love,” he wrapped her with a blanket, a smile spread on her face, her eyes still focused on him. He leaned and kissed her forehead, it felt warm under his skin and yet, it was nothing compared to how it used to feel. It was a fading warmth (tick, tock, tick, tock; the ticking clock of her life screamed).
“Don’t be sad, Edward,” her words were cracked; as if she didn’t have enough breath for them. It broke him. Piece by piece until there was almost nothing left. “This is good, the baby is good…”
He moved her, softly, to the other side of the couch, her smile fading in the process. That smile that he loved so much -the same he couldn’t conceive to be dying. Rosalie came to her immediately, and grabbed her hands. He was tempted to jump on her, fight her, to tell her quite a few things. Rosalie and her stupid need for a family. She didn’t care, all she wanted was the devil creature, for all she knew, Bella could die and it wouldn’t matter (he was so sure to hear nothing else on her thoughts that he didn’t care to listen to them anymore).
He was by the door in a second. He felt trapped (so much for home sweet home), tears he didn’t have wanting to reach his eyes, his aching dead heart. It felt like dying every second, every word. He wanted to scream at her, ask her what she was thinking, how could she even pretend that thing inside her was a good thing? How could she expect him to believe so too? He sighed, and let himself fall to the floor. Bella was by his side minutes later, her smell lounging on his nostrils, a smell that didn’t bother him, never as much as the fear of losing her. Rosalie’s thoughts caught with his mind, ‘you are hurting them.’ Them, always them, never her. He growled, but stopped when Bella laid her head on his shoulder.
“Stay with me,” she begged. He remained still. Eyes closed, pain cursing him, hate burning him from inside out (if at least it would just kill him once and for all).
“That is all you will let me do,” he answered finally, facing her. Her eyes shined between guilt and resolution. “Let me…” he didn’t know why he kept trying (maybe he knew, even if it was helpless).
“Trust me, Edward, please trust me,” tears came down her cheeks, her eyes looking for words he couldn’t give her. It was death growing inside her; it was death taking her away. This time he just couldn’t give her what she wanted, not when it was taking away from him the only thing he truly ever had.
He kissed her then. There was nothing passionate, or lovely about it. It was sorrow, pain, hate, despair, sadness and hope all mixed in one. It was death and life struggling, fighting, and trying to win that silent argument they both had. In the end, when they were apart, tears still falling, his body still hurting, the struggle was not finished. There were no winners, because in the end, they were all losing (and destiny knew whose fault it was).
He took her to the couch again, the blanket covering her, as if they were to hide the pain from her eyes (not a shield that could protect her anymore). He laid beside her, wrapping his arms around her, sharing soothing kisses. He kept his hands away from the ‘thing’ and for a moment thought about how it could have been. And so he stayed, eyes closed, smelling her hair, and the soft sweetness of her humanity. There was nothing else to do (and hate burned him when the thought came to life) but just sit and wait for death to take them apart, and then he knew, no world would keep him alive.
Fandom: Twilight
Characters: Bella/Edward -mentions of Rosalie-.
Title: Maybe it was until death do us apart...
Rating: G
Word Count: 1096 words
Summary: He hated himself. He hated himself for bringing this down to her.
Notes: So, emo-edward broke my heart, so, a little piece of him. Thanks very much to make_me_irish for taking a look at it. Thanks, hon ♥! So, this was done thinking on the lion_lamb contest, I'm still not sure if this will go there, or another one that has still to be beta-ed. But thought I should point it out, wouln't have written it if not for that LOL. Also, emo-edward = angst.
The world could end at any moment (part of him wishes it would) and he wouldn’t notice. He spent most days there, cradling Bella, seeing her wasting away, being destroyed by that little monster, if it even deserved to be called that. He felt like dying himself, and knew for the first time in his whole existence that there was not enough hate in the world to compare to what he felt for himself (it was pure, from the most evil part of his missing soul).
Bella came closer to him, searching for his embrace. He could feel Rosalie’s eyes piercing him, and her thoughts, the knives of her words cursing him. Only she could hate him as much as he hated himself (or he could pray she would, if there was something left afterwards). He shook his head, he didn’t want to think about what would happen and yet he did it all the time. He put his arm around Bella, her head resting in his lap, eyes closed. He wanted to think of how beautiful she still looked like that, but she was obviously starting to change. Her body was feeding whatever that was inside her, it was draining her, in front of his own eyes and there was nothing he could do about it.
“What are you thinking?” her voice was soft, a sweet melody that danced through his ear, that ended before he could drink it all in (it was done before it started). She coughed immediately after that and broke the spell that made him forget what was going on.
“I think that probably it would be best if you were not lying down…” he answered in a whisper, even though everyone would hear it anyway. He wanted her there, he wanted to be able to save her, to take what was killing them from inside her, just take it out and let her live. Fears crowded the dreams he couldn’t have, and every time Bella went to sleep, nightmares were all he could feel around him. He wouldn’t be surprised if reality started to fade away soon.
“I like it here,” she opened her eyes, and all he could see was the stubborn Bella and oh, how he wanted to curse her for being like that. Sometimes he wondered (all time if he was honest) what the hell could be going through that little head of hers, to keep her doing this. He would have done anything to please her, anything to make her happy, but nothing as much as what he would do to keep her alive.
“It is not good for you, love,” he wrapped her with a blanket, a smile spread on her face, her eyes still focused on him. He leaned and kissed her forehead, it felt warm under his skin and yet, it was nothing compared to how it used to feel. It was a fading warmth (tick, tock, tick, tock; the ticking clock of her life screamed).
“Don’t be sad, Edward,” her words were cracked; as if she didn’t have enough breath for them. It broke him. Piece by piece until there was almost nothing left. “This is good, the baby is good…”
He moved her, softly, to the other side of the couch, her smile fading in the process. That smile that he loved so much -the same he couldn’t conceive to be dying. Rosalie came to her immediately, and grabbed her hands. He was tempted to jump on her, fight her, to tell her quite a few things. Rosalie and her stupid need for a family. She didn’t care, all she wanted was the devil creature, for all she knew, Bella could die and it wouldn’t matter (he was so sure to hear nothing else on her thoughts that he didn’t care to listen to them anymore).
He was by the door in a second. He felt trapped (so much for home sweet home), tears he didn’t have wanting to reach his eyes, his aching dead heart. It felt like dying every second, every word. He wanted to scream at her, ask her what she was thinking, how could she even pretend that thing inside her was a good thing? How could she expect him to believe so too? He sighed, and let himself fall to the floor. Bella was by his side minutes later, her smell lounging on his nostrils, a smell that didn’t bother him, never as much as the fear of losing her. Rosalie’s thoughts caught with his mind, ‘you are hurting them.’ Them, always them, never her. He growled, but stopped when Bella laid her head on his shoulder.
“Stay with me,” she begged. He remained still. Eyes closed, pain cursing him, hate burning him from inside out (if at least it would just kill him once and for all).
“That is all you will let me do,” he answered finally, facing her. Her eyes shined between guilt and resolution. “Let me…” he didn’t know why he kept trying (maybe he knew, even if it was helpless).
“Trust me, Edward, please trust me,” tears came down her cheeks, her eyes looking for words he couldn’t give her. It was death growing inside her; it was death taking her away. This time he just couldn’t give her what she wanted, not when it was taking away from him the only thing he truly ever had.
He kissed her then. There was nothing passionate, or lovely about it. It was sorrow, pain, hate, despair, sadness and hope all mixed in one. It was death and life struggling, fighting, and trying to win that silent argument they both had. In the end, when they were apart, tears still falling, his body still hurting, the struggle was not finished. There were no winners, because in the end, they were all losing (and destiny knew whose fault it was).
He took her to the couch again, the blanket covering her, as if they were to hide the pain from her eyes (not a shield that could protect her anymore). He laid beside her, wrapping his arms around her, sharing soothing kisses. He kept his hands away from the ‘thing’ and for a moment thought about how it could have been. And so he stayed, eyes closed, smelling her hair, and the soft sweetness of her humanity. There was nothing else to do (and hate burned him when the thought came to life) but just sit and wait for death to take them apart, and then he knew, no world would keep him alive.