this is being rewritten

For the LJ community un_love_you. The challenge is essentially no "I love you's". Re: Show it, don't tell it. There are 30 prompts, 30 chapters. Link to the prompts on the profile.

The title of the story is from the Arcade Fire's song, Crown of Love.

Warnings: language, underage drinking, minor substance abuse, sexual situations, and Roseward.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, because if I did, Edward and Rosalie clearly would have had a torrid love affair. Clearly.



this cancels out the hurt

I'd like to say that I could pinpoint exactly the beginning of the end. There have been so many times that at this point, it's nearly impossible.

This would just be one of many.

But the day that I sat on the dark hardwood floors of Edward Cullen's bedroom, tangled up in my coat, feet bare, with my hair in my face, is always the time that first comes to mind.

Being a dishevelled mess isn't my standard, but throwing yourself through an open window tends to do that to you. More specifically, landing unceremoniously while the asshole watches on and does nothing to prevent the fall from happening, does that to you. I'd looked up just to see him standing just a few feet away, staring down at me in both anger and amusement. All the while looking like God's gift to women.


It's not that I make a habit of climbing through windows. Ideally, entering through his front door would have suited me fine but I'd spent twenty minutes yelling at the Cullens' new maid to let me inside even though she'd been specifically instructed by Senor Eduard himself that under no circumstances was I allowed to enter.


He would try to make my life hell by telling the new hire to keep me out. Considering how often my mother and I had frequented the place, he undoubtedly got an extra kick of amusement from this.

Bored, little rich kid at heart.

Edward made some quip about my little drop-in being unexpected. He's always trying to sound witty and I'm convinced he has a book he keeps for reference, along the lines of: Quick wit – the fundamentals!

"You could always offer to help me up," I pointed out.

I was untangling myself from my coat and moved to get up just as he leaned down, arms outstretched towards me. He held me at my sides, pulling me up onto my feet, that ridiculous half-smirk of his plastered on his face the entire time. He started to brush my hair back and away from my face but I knocked his hand away and smoothed it down myself.

His other hand was still on my side and it didn't help that I was very much aware of it.

"Your new housekeeper seems fond of you." I brushed off the stray twigs that had snagged onto my coat during my climb. The entire side of the Cullen's house was covered in green vines. "Finally living out your old boyhood fantasy with the maid? She was very diligent on keeping your orders to make sure I couldn't enter by any conventional means."

"And yet, you're still here." He made a point of giving me a once over and I rolled my eyes at his obvious disdain. "She obviously wasn't effective enough. I should fire her," he said, picking off a leaf that I had apparently missed from my coat. "What the hell is that? And how many animals did you kill for it?"

I motioned towards my gray and white fur coat. My most recent and prized purchase to date. "This is Fendi. And you would do well to treat it with more respect."

Edward shook his head. "Because that's not ostentatious at all."

I shrugged and flipped him off.

Edward always ragged on me whenever I purchased anything remotely expensive – trying to teach me the importance of 'less being more'. I failed to see what his point was. I had money. I flaunted it.


It was a lot more honest than what Edward was doing. Driving around a car inspired by soccer moms, of all things, wasn't modesty.

It was stupidity.

And rather unattractive.

It's like he has this goal in life to do the most unattractive things.

I'd moved over to the window to glance down at the yard. Nothing but my shoes laid there.



"Why are you here Rosalie?"

He had spoken in an almost whisper.

I hated that.

I stayed with my back facing him, and continued to stare out the window. Moments later, his hand was upon my shoulder though I shrugged him off quickly before closing my eyes. I heard him sigh behind me, but I couldn't bring myself to care about his frustration.

When I reopened my eyes, there was a fresh sting of tears threatening to spill over.

I blinked them back, composing myself before telling him the reason.

Separately, they were three simple words.

Together, it felt like my entire world was falling apart.

"We broke up."

Turning around slowly, I realized the two of us were standing only a foot apart.

I searched his face, watching him intently. Ready to catch any semblance of a reaction.

His expression was blank.

"That's unfortunate," he stated.

"Unfortunate?" I bristled, "He broke up with me!"

My face began to heat in anger and I immediately regretted blurting that out.

Edward ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends. It was getting too long and he needed a cut.

"Well what were you expecting me to say?"

"I don't know."

I really didn't. I didn't know what I had been expecting but I did know that it hadn't been that. And as he stood there, staring at me with an eyebrow raised and expecting…God only knows what from me, I snapped.

"Something! Anything. A reaction maybe? Even if this doesn't interest you, I would have thought you'd at least pretend to care since we're supposed to be friends."

"I care," he huffed while taking a step back. "I'm just…I'm tired, Rosalie. I'm tired of reacting."

"Tired of reacting? Really? I didn't realize my friendship has been so trying for you over the years. What the fuck is that? Are the fights not doing it for you anymore? Because you used to love it when we'd be at each others' throats one minute and then - "

"Stop. Just stop. You're here to fight and I get it, but don't try to make this about something it's not."

I stood there. Speechless. Maybe it was his calling me out. Maybe it was because he had hit the mark. But his words had really stung this time. My arms were wrapped around my middle, my breathing was heavy and I was looking anywhere but at him.

"Look, it was nothing. It doesn't mean anything," he said, almost as though in defeat.

I glanced at him.

There was an odd look upon his face, but just as quickly, whatever it had been was gone, and his expression had smoothed out into the same blank indifference as before.

He let out a low, humorless laugh, "we haven't exactly been friends, Rose. Not for a long time now."

It was the truth.

Except, were we ever really friends?

Because for as long as I can remember, Edward Cullen and Rosalie Hale had always been at odds with each other.


But, when you stripped away the bickering, and the clashing, and the hatred – he had always been my safety net, and I had always been his.

And even now, it didn't matter that we had barely spoken 5 words to each other in the last few months.

And it didn't matter that three years ago, we could barely keep our hands off each other, though now, we wouldn't so much as shake hands.

We were all kinds of fucked up, but it never stopped us from carrying on the way we did.

Because that's how we were.

It didn't matter.

I felt the tears begin to roll down my face.

"He left me."

I didn't realize that I had been frantically wiping at my tears until Edward's hands were covering my own.

"Hey, you're okay. Do you," he hesitated, "do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really," I said, pulling my hands away from his and crossing my arms.

Edward didn't say anything and we stood there in silence until I started to feel really frustrated at myself and this entire situation.

"I mean, he fucking left me! Left. Me. And I – I'm angry."

My voice faltered. Edward, having known me for most of our lives had noticed.

I started to turn around again to face the window, but his hand shot out as I began to move, grabbing hold of my arm and stopping me.

"It's not you."

He was staring at me, his gaze softer than it had been a minute ago and I nodded slightly, acknowledging what he said and wanting to accept it. Wanting to believe his words but all I could feel was the emptiness and the sadness and the hurt. It all just hurt.

I needed it to go away.

When I looked at Edward again, his eyebrows were furrowed together, his face, a canvas of twisted emotions, and I felt a pang of guilt for having done that to him because we both knew what I had been trying to say all along.

He knew why I was here.

He understood.

"I don't think I can help you. I- not with this," he said, while gripping at his hair.

I should have agreed, I should have gone home and sat in the dark with my playlist of the most depressing songs playing at full volume and I probably shouldn't have come here in the first place. So many things I probably should have done. Instead, I took a step towards him.

"Please," I whispered. "Just…make me forget?"

He was shaking his head. "Emmett. I don't know if I…he's like a brother to me, now."

I felt a stab of pain at the mention of his name, but I pushed it aside, wanting – no, needing the sharp pains to dull into numbness.

"I know."

I took another step.

We were an inch apart, and I wrapped both my hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his hair and down to our sides. "But it was just the two of us first."

"We stopped this," he breathed.

But he didn't move away.

I was tall, but Edward was still taller. The top of my head just reached the bottom of his mouth. I let go of his wrists, placing my left hand on his shoulder, the tips of my fingers on my right hand barely grazing the side of his neck. I tilted my head up and began kissing along his jaw line.

He remained standing rigidly before me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he made no effort to move away or stop me.

I knew there wasn't much fight left. And even though I knew that this could end very badly, I couldn't bring myself to care.

Or stop.

It was frantic. Frantic kissing against his jaw. Frantic kissing down his neck and back up again until I reached the barely there dimple in his chin. And when I ran my tongue along the groove, like I used to, his arms were around me, pulling me flush against him, his fingers tangling with my hair at the back of my neck.

I sighed and buried my face in the spot between where his neck and shoulder meet, breathing him in.

We stood like that, motionless, for what seemed like an eternity, together and closer than we had been in years.

Then Edward was walking us backwards, until the back of my knees hit the edge of his bed.

And when I was laying on my back, my legs bent and hanging off the side, all I cared about was the feeling of the stubble on his chin on my thighs, and the way his tongue and lips would be on every part of me that I needed them to be on.

I gripped onto the bed sheets at my sides when Edward slipped two fingers inside me, his other hand resting on my hip, holding me steady as I rocked against him. And when my breathing hitched, my back arched and my muscles tightened around him...

I was able to forget.