Disclaimer:

S.M. owns these characters and someone owns the rights to this movie, I just borrowed the concept.

Preface:

This is an UPDATED version of the story that I'd posted like 4 years ago. So please REREAD it because I'm changing A LOT of stuff! Quarantine and too much time on my hands has made me come back to fanfiction. That and my roommates and I rewatched the Twilight saga and I remember how much I loved these characters.

So enjoy and please review. Like do you guys wanna still read this lol


Spring

She was supposed to be wearing a white dress.

She was supposed to be getting her hair curled and pedicures and manicures for her and the girls. She was supposed to be stumbling over her vows and sobbing or at least pretending to, to pacify her mother, and getting cake smashed in her face and dancing around like a damn idiot even though she had no rhythm.

She was supposed to be happy and getting married.

Instead, she was dressed in black watching as they lowered her fiancé into the ground.

All it took was one car, one driver who decided to drive home rather than call an uber to rip her life apart and effectively end it. She didn't know if she should yell, curse the world or throw herself into the grave. She wouldn't do the latter obviously, she lacked the dramatic flair but she was buzzing on the inside, ready to fall apart at any moment.

She should cry.

She could feel the weight on her chest and the lump forming in her throat. All it would take was one tear and she was positive the flood gates would burst open. She knew people were watching her, waiting for her to collapse against her mother's shoulder in grief but they'd be sorely disappointed. She was a natural born stuffer, something she claimed to have learned at a young age. While her mother and younger brother showed no hesitation in showing their emotions, she was the rock. Her father used to tell her that she was a tough nut to crack and she took pride in it.

Except now.

Now she felt like she had to compartmentalize her emotions. She used to allow herself a small respite and sob to Sam when everything got too much. He'd make her tea, nod his head and let her cry for however long it took. If it was an hour or four, he'd sit there silently smoothing her hair until she picked herself back up and was back to herself without another word.

But now no one was home to make her tea. No one was there to smooth her hair and let her cry on their lap for far too long. No one but the damn dog, who she hated, and who hated her back.

She forced herself to clench her eyes closed and she was sure she heard a few people hold their breath, their eyes burning holes into the back of her head. And yet when she opened her eyes again, there was nothing but dry eyes and indifference written on her face. Today she wouldn't crack. Today she'd be strong. Tomorrow she'd reconsider.

Everything moved quickly after they lowered him into the ground. The small crowd moved from the graveyard to Sam's mother's house and everyone was crowded in the kitchen, whispering amongst themselves when they weren't breathing down her neck. She heard people mumble condolences, felt pats on her back and she was positive she even hugged a few people but she wasn't really there. The second his casket left her sight, it was like nothing else mattered.

Her mother was being insufferable. When she wasn't in such a shitty mood, she'd thank her for being there and picking her up when Leah didn't know what direction was up but right now, there was only so much primping and prodding she could deal with. She kept asking her if she was hungry or tired or needed water and all she wanted to do was rip this restricting dress off of her body and stab something with the bobby pins that were keeping her bun in place.

"Leah honey, you have to eat something," her mother said for the millionth time, seeing the distant look in her daughter's eyes. "You didn't eat this morning and you should let me make you a pl-"

"I have to pee Mom, I'll be back," she cut her off, hoping that her mother wouldn't follow behind her to the bathroom like she did earlier in the day. She was grateful but right now, she just needed a second, just one single second where she wasn't the almost widow and no one was pitying her, even if that second was in Debra's horrible peach colored bathroom.

Her trek to freedom was a lot harder than she anticipated. It was like each step she took someone would stop her, tell her how sorry they were, how young Sam was, how this was all just so heartbreaking or something else that made her sick to her stomach and she'd be forced to smile and console the poor guests that probably hadn't seen Sam in years.

By the time she got to the bathroom and pushed open the door, she wasn't expecting anyone to be in there considering how many people she'd greeted and walked away from but she was met with blonde hair and tangled lims leaning against the bathroom sink. She blinked a few times and didn't even have the energy to be angry.

"Get out."

The blonde fluff of hair became visible as the caterer and she gasped, seeing Leah. She adjusted her skirt and shook her head. "I'm so so-"

"I don't care, get out," Leah breathed.

"Sorry," the girl muttered again, her voice cracking as she walked out of the bathroom

Leah turned back to the bathroom and felt a hiss bubble in her throat. Of all bathrooms in all the world, why did this have to be the bathroom Sam's idiot best friend decided to hook up in? She didn't know whether to scream or vomit in disgust but she was honestly considering a combination of the two.

"I know you're a degenerate Jacob but you do realize there's a funeral going on out there right?" Leah said shakily.

He raised a hand to wipe at his own lipstick smeared lips and held the other up in defense. Of course he wouldn't have respect for the dead. He didn't even have respect for the living and yet again, Leah wondered how the hell Jake and Sam became friends. While Sam was honest and trustworthy, Jake was sleazy and a smooth talker. If Sam was the good guy that every girl wished they could meet and fall in love with, Jake was the guy that every girl wished they could forget after a night of drinking.

"Thought I locked the door. My bad," Jake sighed, pushing himself off of the sink.

She wanted to say so much. Like the fact that they were at Sam's funeral and Jake chose now to get his rocks off instead of being a sane human being and mourning. Then again, this was Jake she was talking about and she didn't put much past him. If it was any other time, Leah would rip him a new one like she'd done many times before but right now, she wasn't in the mood for a screaming match. Especially since Sam wasn't there to calm her down.

"Please leave," she struggled to say.

Jake stared at her for a while before raising an eyebrow. "Wow… no smart ass remark?"

"Sorry, I'm a little too busy mourning my dead fiancé to tell you what a waste of space you are," she said, not bothering to look at him.

She was thankful when he walked out of the room without another word and she kicked the door shut, locking it and inhaling deeply.

Don't Cry. Don't Cry. Don't Cry.

She walked over to the sink and eyed herself in the mirror. Her eyes were sunken thanks to the lack of sleep she'd gotten in the last two weeks. Ever since she got that stupid phone call it was like she wasnt getting any real rest. Her bed was wrong, her apartment felt wrong. Everything just felt off. She reached a shaky hand to her face and grimaced at the feel of her makeup melting from the humidity. She didn't look like herself and she wiped at the nude lipstick her mother insisted on her wearing. Her hand shook, her eyes stinging at the onslaught of tears that attempted to escape without permission.

"Leah?" She heard a knock at the door. "Honey, are you okay?"

She blinked away the tears and sighed at her mother's voice. "I'm fine Mom… I'll be out in a minute okay?"

"Okay," she said, sounding unsure.

Leah reached for the faucet and washed the remnant of lipstick from her hands before dabbing her cool hands on her overheated neck. She could hear Sam's voice in her head telling her that constantly forcing emotions down was going to make her burst one day.

But she swore that today was not that day. She imagined herself as an impenetrable wall, braving the elements as they flew at her. Today she was steel and she would not crack.