Title: The Dreamer
Rating: PG because Edward says a worty-dird. :p
Short summary: I was terribly bored and in the mood to write something, and this is the result. Basically Edward's musings while sitting in the hospital with Bella at the end of "Twilight". (And, also, redheadrampant, I never would have posted this if it weren't for you and your excellent beta-ness!)
Disclaimer: All belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Bow in reverence, bitches.
"Cause in the end, the dreams you dream are all you ever were." - Flickerstick "Coke"
I haven't slept in over a hundred years. But now that I've found her, now that her blood has called me to her side, I feel as if I'm dreaming.
James is dead. Torn limb from limb, I might add. And I must confess that I took entirely too much pleasure in the act. But there was no other way. From the moment he laid eyes on her, that primal beast I thought to be long since under control reawakened with a vengeance. All that's mattered since that moment has been keeping her safe.
Though I don't know how well I've done. She is laying here with a broken leg, after all. But she's sleeping now, the steady beeping of monitors acting as a lullaby. For the moment, she is safe.
I should leave. Let her rest while I hunt so this hunger doesn't overwhelm me. But I can't seem to move. Can't seem to force my hand away from the warmth of hers. I hate to admit it, but she has somehow consumed me. Somehow become my life. Every second away from her is more torturous than the last, and without her, I feel like I can't breathe. Like I don't even want to.
Which is rather ironic when you consider that I don't need air. But I need her, and that's the whole point. I need the heat of her touch and her sweet scent. I need the flush of her cheeks and the way her heart seems to burst when I kiss her. I need her stubborn will and her biting sarcasm and the way she curls against me and moans my name while she sleeps. I need her and all of her because now that I've found her, now that she's turned night into day and breathed new life into these dead veins, I don't want this world - can't even bear the thought of it - unless she is in it.
And I shouldn't. Shouldn't want her or hunger for her like I do. Every touch and every delicious kiss passed between us has the power to kill her, but I can't do it. I can't stay away. I've tried, and I've failed, but she makes it so damned impossible to refuse her. It's as if she knows the right way to make her voice break with her cries, to turn her dark eyes wide and bloodshot as her tears begin to fall. I can't refuse her when she gasps for air and begs me to stay. I can't leave when she needs me just as badly, just as strongly as I need her. She is my heroin, and even if I were to go, I'd eventually come back for one last fix.
She's beginning to stir, her fingers curling tightly with mine as if she senses my thoughts. As if she wants to hold me down. Anchor me by her side.
And in the end, what choice do I have but to stay? Why fall back into the darkness when she gives my life so much light? I haven't had a dream in over a century - why should I wake from this one?