Special thanks to my lovely ladies, Lou and Nancy, for pre-reading and betaing. Most of all, for the increddible support.
So, here we go with this new one.
Convulsion [second meaning]: a violent disturbance.
Stephenie Meyer owns the original characters.
Plan A: Graduate from Forks High School, leave for Seattle, sing lead vocals in a Glam-rock band, hit the charts, become a celebrity. By the age of thirty-five, marry the most devoted and good-looking fangirl, become the father of 2.3 adorable kids, and live a happily ever after in a luxurious, artistic, but warm and cozy house far-far-away from your stupid home-town.
Did you hear that? It was the sound of paper sheets being shred into ugly pieces. In this particular case - my wonderful scenario, ruined by Fate, while she smiles her wicked, triumphant smile.
So, dear friends, welcome to the reality of Plan B: I am a physician, following in my father's footsteps, living a boring, or should I say, mundane, tedious, routine, dull, colorless, unexciting life. To top it off, the devoted wife and adorable kids are out of the schedule, considering I highly appreciate men's body parts; women's - not so much, thank you.
Yup, I am a gay man, in my late twenties, and I still live with my parents in my stupid home town of Forks, WA.
Got the picture?
I still don't get it, to be honest, but obviously, that's the way things happen. Fate is one evil bitch, and people with plans are her favorite objects to toy with. And still, as the same old song goes on forever, us little fools called humans keep struggling and trying to prove Fate wrong. There has to be more to it than this, we repeat to ourselves, and dream of less of the boredom, the mundaneness, the tediousness, the routine, and the dullness, and more of the color and the excitement. There just has to be more…
My parents, they don't believe in Fate. They actually never think about it. They simply live their share of living, breathe their share of breathing, eat their share of eating, work their share of working... and have already bred their share of breeding - thus bringing me, Edward Anthony Cullen, out to the bright world.
Erm, there's one more detail to the whole "outing" thing. It's that they don't know I'm gay - but I intend to tell them. Soon. Honestly.
Dad and I work in the same hospital. You've guessed that right. We work different shifts, thank God, so he doesn't see how I try to repel the nurses, or how appalled I am when one of them decides to venture hitting on me. My, oh my, you should see their faces when I reject suggested dancing, movie nights, or any other type of dating whatsoever. What a dumb idiot, I hear them say, too bad he's soooo good looking. They know nothing about me. I'm actually intelligent, witty, and all-in-all gorgeous, it just doesn't show on the surface. Ha ha ha.
Am I ever going to find a single person to see through me, some day? This year, maybe? Or at least next year? Please? Nah, that bitch up there, she's especially evil towards me these days.
Because, you see, I have that one patient… he is.. ooooh. Wait, I can't really find my words right now, and 'ooooh' doesn't even begin to describe him. He has the type of unearthly beauty you only see on a magazine cover, and yet, he is absolutely real, breathing his calm breaths in a hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines, in the semi-darkness of his isolation.
He's alone in a room, which makes me glad - when I stand by his still figure and ogle, nobody sees. He doesn't see me either; he has been sedated for days because of his illness. The man is in very poor condition. Almost every bone in his ribcage is broken. If he wakes, he will be in terrible pain. So I prescribe that he sleeps for a few more days.
You won't wake up, not yet, Jasper, I speak to him in my mind.
Because he needs time to recover, and I need time to ogle.
I don't know how to explain this. Have you ever seen food that looks so delicious you don't even want to start eating? Maybe just lick a little and keep the taste on the tip of your tongue forever? That's what his lips are. I believe they will be the most delicious thing ever to have existed. I do want to lick them. Very, very gently at first. Just barely touching, tracing the masterpiece of their outline with my own lips, hoping to hear his breath in my ear. And then, at some moment, I would devour the delicacy.
Faces in kids' paintings have those curled and exaggerated lashes, and Jasper's are almost that long. They are the longest lashes I have ever seen. I can only imagine what his eyes will look like when he opens them at last, surrounded by that exuberance of little, curled, and oh-so-delicate hairs.
For now, I can only sigh and imagine. I bet his eyes are blue, and he will look angelic. Shit, I will not be able to gather my thoughts once I look into those eyes.
And his form…
My look often runs over every curve of this body. Over. Every. Curve. Because those curves are worth looking at. And that one time when I lifted the end of the bedsheet… I was scared; if they caught me, it would be the end of my career, of course. But I did it, because I couldn't resist. When I did it, I couldn't stop staring at his penis until I felt dizzy and nauseous. Although I hated myself, I also congratulated myself - I could die a happy man right then, having seen a wet dream in flesh and blood.
Then I spoke to him for the first time. "Fucking gorgeous," I said into his ear, and I was totally screwed, because he responded. More precisely, his form responded to my voice, the one form in the middle of his body which I had just stared at. The white sheet was significantly tented. I was almost dead.
Dad is so grateful to me lately. I told him I realized he had very little time with Mom, and offered to take some of his shifts. So, these days, I spend more time in the hospital, which allows me more time with Jasper's prone figure.
But today, when I'm headed to the room where I intend to do some more ogling, that bitch up there decides to give me the finger.
"It seems we're losing him," a nurse says, pointing at Jasper's door.
He's supposed to recover, and I will wake him up soon!
How come we're losing him?
I look up to the ceiling, hoping I can focus on the right direction.
I'm going to win this one, bitch. He's not dying on me.
While I try to comprehend, and stand with my feet rooted to the floor, two women appear out of said door. They are quite the opposites, one of them tall and blonde, and the other one short, with black, spiky hair. The nurse turns towards the noise of their heels clicking in a cacophony over the marble floor while the two women approach us. The nurse introduces them as the sister and wife of my patient, correspondingly.
I'm straight to the point. "Nurse Stanley, are there any complications with our patient's condition?"
"Oh no, Doctor, but his wife here says she wants to find medical care elsewhere. They want to transfer him to another hospital."
I turn to the wife, measuring her five-feet-two delicate frame, and hate her instantly.
"Why didn't you contact us, Doctor? We would have chosen another facility." She speaks in a tiny voice, but there's something to it… Maybe she's tired, or worried about her husband. Or she hates me, too.
The question is, how do I get rid of the body after I murder the pixie.
Shut up, Cullen, the man has the right to be happily married.
"He was brought here unconscious and hasn't woken yet, Mrs. Hale. We haven't found any information on him except for a bunch of business cards, stating the name of Jasper Hale, business manager at Hale Enterprises, Seattle. We assumed it was him. No other contacts."
"But his phone, his wallet…" She's persistent, but no, there was no such thing. They must have been stolen from the scene of the car accident when he was injured. I tell her there was really no way to contact her. She looks to be calming down.
"Good thing the police investigation led to us then, huh?" This is the blonde talking. I have to get rid of her body, too.
"It sure is, Madam. It's good for him to be with his relatives when he wakes." I'd rather be the only one beside him when he wakes. I want to look into those eyes at last, and I don't want witnesses if I act weirdly.
"Why are you keeping him sedated, Doctor, I have to ask?"
Nasty pixie. And a good question.
I have to persuade them moving him out of here is the worst possible idea. That they should not disturb him, not even move around him. After a twenty minute conversation, they get the point, and I'm granted a couple more days with the sleeping Jasper.
When they leave, I have the time to think the whole situation over.
Well, a wife.
But his body did respond to my voice. Is there a chance that he...
Wait and see, Cullen.
Once again, I'm headed to the semi-darkness of Jasper's isolated room. I'm running late giving him his sedatives.
A/N: Come on now, I need your thoughts. Please review.