Disclaimer: I own random scenes in my head, SMeyer owns Twilight, and my cat owns me.


"I just want someone to care!" She throws her hands up with the words, her wine glass forgotten in one of them. Her face is upset, lined with weariness, her eyes dark, shadowed and brimming.

He watches silently from the couch, listens. Lets her go on.

"I want someone to hear me when I talk. I want someone to listen."

He almost snorts, because isn't that exactly what he's doing right now? Isn't that exactly what he's done for all this time? Listened, waited.

And hoped.

"I want them to be interested in what I'm saying."

He's interested. He always has been. In more ways than just what she has to say.

How can she not see that? How can she not see him?

"I want..." Her voice breaks, her hands drop, she blinks repeatedly as if to hold back tears. All the fire seems to have burned out, left nothing in its wake. "I want to matter. To someone. I want to matter to someone like that."

You matter to me, he wants to say. But would she even hear him?

"I just want someone to care." But it's quieter now, desperate. Desolate.

Lonely, like him.

"I care, Bella."