Author's Note:

Rated NC-17 mostly for language.

This story is based off of the plot in the musical "The Last Five Years" by Jason Robert Brown. This musical uses song to tell the story of a couple who, despite their best intentions, find themselves on different paths. There's something about their story absolutely fascinates me. Although the lyrics give a bare bones outline, they don't delve very deep into their relationship. I recently found myself wanting to know more about what happened between them, and find out where they missed each other.

Enter Edward and Bella; the perfect vessels for this heartbreaking love story.

The outline of each chapter is based on the songs in the musical, but the back story is all original content. Bella's story is told from the end of their relationship to the beginning, and Edward's story starts and the beginning and ends at the end. Yes, you heard right; in my story, Edward and Bella do not end up together. It may be confusing at first, but please rest assured that all the pieces will fall into place before our time together is through. Have faith, dear readers, and enjoy.

DISCLAIMER:All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners, Stephenie Myer and Jason Robert Brown. The original characters and plot are mine. I am is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

We begin at the end.

Anger comes first. Flashing, blinding, consuming. It starts off slow, lapping at your lungs and your fingers and your gut, building relentlessly, compelling you to run, to scream, to destroy. Your brain is a jumble of senseless firing synapses and your entire body trembles with the nervous energy of it all, from your scalp to your lips to your toes. You can't sit still, can't eat, can't sleep, can't focus on anything but the wave of rage that drives you to the edge of insanity before it swells and finally, blessedly breaks.

But after that brief moment of reprieve, when you're crashing headfirst into the next mindfuck of emotion, you find yourself longing for those ebbing, electric tides of anger and rage. Because after the anger and the rage comes the pain.

Oh God, the pain.

Ripping you wide open to the white-hot sun, dissecting you piece by piece, and even after you're left eradicated and empty, it continues to demand more, and more, and more.

It's been three days since Edward left me, and I have nothing left to give.

They say that hindsight is 20/20, but I disagree. It's skewed and distorted, like you're caught underwater looking up. To reflect on the past five years and figure out how we got here is the equivalent of trying to find a needle in a haystack. The answer is there, somewhere, but the chances of finding it amidst the microscopic fissures and cracks in our relationship that turned overnight into gaping canyons and bottomless chasms are formidable at best.

"We're broken, Bella, and we can't fix it anymore," he'd said.

The receiver of the phone had been cool and metallic in my hand as he delivered the blow and I'd clung to it in desperation thinking that maybe, just maybe, if I held on tight enough, he would have to stay.

"It's better, for both of us, baby. I'm so sorry," he'd said, reaching across the miles, through the line, and ripping out my heart.

I wanted to beg him to come home, to love melike he'd promised- for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do us part- but the reality of the situation sent ice through my veins and I couldn't move, couldn't speak. He whispered goodbye, and I stood listening as the dial tone turn into a busy signal, thinking, why do you get to decide?

Now I sit on the cold, hard floor in the middle of the bedroom we shared, surrounded by pieces of us. To my right, a tattered grey Amherst sweatshirt that still smells like scotch and peppermint and him. To my left, the napkin covered in my hurried handwriting that I'd pressed into his palm the first night we met. In front of me, a black and white photo; my arms slung around his neck, squinting over his shoulder into the sun, his face turned towards mine, lips brushing my cheek. And in my hands, the note he left me this morning.

Bella-

I called Elise to help me pack my bags, and I went downtown and closed the bank account.

It's not about another shrink. It's not about another compromise.

I'm not the only one who's hurting here. I don't know what the hell is left to do. You never saw how far the crack had opened- you never knew I had run out of rope. I could never rescue you, no matter how I tried. All I could do was love you hard, and let you go.

All I could do was love you, Bella. God, I loved you so.

Edward

I want to cry, but tears seem too small, too inconsequential for the massive void ahead of me that is life without him. I want to forget, but the essence of him is ingrained in every fiber of my being, and I could no more forget that than I could myself.

Instead, I struggle to my feet and make my way across our apartment, shoving five years of memories into cardboard boxes and trying to ignore the fact that, every time another box is taped shut, a little piece of my soul stays trapped inside. I move methodically, removing anything and everything that reminds me of him until there's nothing left.

If I could take down the plaster, the wooden planks, the nails and insulation and wiring that hold this very place together and pack them away, I would. I would pack the Vietnamese restaurant down the street, every museum we visited, every place we've kissed. I would pack away the sun and the moon, the clouds and the stars until there was nothing left but darkness and even then, it would remind me of the shadow of his smile.

We loved, once; oh God, Edward, didn't we love? Carefree and innocent, unscathed by the raw and ravaged landscape that heartbreak so often leaves in its wake. We learned together what it was like to move in synchronicity, two halves of a whole. We sang and wrote and breathed and fought and loathed and laughed and lived. I can no longer remember who I was before him, but I do know this: I will love him unrequited for the rest of my life.

Everyone has their cross to bear. This is mine.

When the last of the boxes are piled by the door and the first vestiges of sunrise appear outside my window, I crawl into our bed and pray for the numb oblivion of sleep.

Edward is gone, but I am still here, learning how to breathe without him and covered with scars I did nothing to earn.

I am still hurting.

End Notes:

The note left by Edward includes the lyrics from one of the songs in the musical. Some of Bella's thoughts are bastardizations of lyrics, too. There will be a lot of this story, but I will always give credit where credit is due.

Future chapters are much, much lengthier, so do not fear. Also, remember, this story is not told in chronological order. Just like Edward and Bella, you're going to have to pick up the pieces along the way! =)

This is my second attempt at fanfic (the first was a disaster) so I hope you enjoyed it. If so, let me know. Even if you didn't, I still thank you for reading. And so ends the longest A/N in history. Until next time...

Hez