The Twilight Twenty-Five


Prompt: 15 (I'm Sorry photo)

Pen Name: bmango

Pairing/Main Character(s): Edward and Jasper (AH)

Rating: M

Photo prompts can be viewed here:




A/N: And this is the last of my entries, back to my favorite pairing. Big thanks to LyricalKris and theladyingrey42 for helping me with all of these. Thank you for reading and I hope you have enjoyed them!


I leave work as soon as I get the call. Jasper is having one of his bad days.

When I arrive, I find him huddled in the corner of his white room, rocking slightly, knees drawn up and back bent as he furiously writes on a scrap of paper on his leg. His left arm is bent over his head as if trying to fend off a blow.

I step to him quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder, and he flinches away and whimpers, pressing himself further into the corner.

"Jasper, it's me," I whisper.

He pauses for only a moment in his scribbling, but then continues as if I'm not there.

"Please, talk to me, love. What can I do?"

He shakes his head furiously, and I lean forward to get a better look at what he's writing this time.

The repeated apologies, the obvious self-torture, break my heart, and I ignore his protests as I sit next to him on the floor and pull him into my arms. "Never, my darling. You are the only reason I have for happiness. Do not be sorry for that." I murmur into his hair and hold him close. Soon his shaking stops, and he calms in my arms.

"Jasper, you are my everything."

He looks up at me then, his eyes wild and his cheeks wet.

"I'm not enough, though."

"Enough for what?"

"Enough to keep you from being sad."

I look into his clear, blue eyes and I cannot lie. "No. But everyone gets sad sometimes."

"Not like you though. Your sadness is like a weight in my chest, and I want it to go away." He presses himself to my body and abandons his paper to wrap his arms around me, clinging to my shirt.

"I know, my love. I know."

But how much can we change things when he's here in this hospital, in this place that is supposed to make him better, and I sit at home hoping he will be. The doctors have labelled him bipolar, but to me it is almost as if he is a sponge for everything around him, absorbing the good and the bad into himself until he short circuits.

And collapses.

Or, worse, explodes.

"I want to go home, Edward."

I sigh, knowing that each time he asks I have a little less willpower to say no. That each time I do deny him, I can't stand myself. I hold him tighter to myself, willing him to understand, willing him to break through his illness and not be dependent on drugs and therapy, not have to live here separated from me.

"Soon," I say, because I can't say anything else. I'm tired of living without him. And he's right, I'm sad. No, that doesn't even cover it, not even close.

He moves against me, squirms closer, putting his face directly in front of mine. "Do you mean that?"

I smile, brushing his long hair from his face, feeling the odd, stringy, greasiness of what used to be so clean and soft. "Yeah."

"Edward," he says, leaning closer. "I need you. I can't live here like this."

"I know, love. I need you too."

And then I realize why the treatments haven't been working, why his bad days are getting worse the longer he stays here, why they can do nothing for him but he still listens to me.

Together we are whole. Perhaps not perfect, perhaps not completely well, but better than when we're apart.

"Let me talk to the doctors."

I move to stand up, but he holds me even tighter. "Please don't leave me."

"Just for a moment, darling. I promise I'll be right back." I squeeze him to me, placing a soft kiss on his temple. "Promise."

He nods his head against me, not looking up, and I manage to regain my feet. I hear his soft murmurs behind me as I approach the door, and I hope, I pray that he is not sinking into his fears.

In the hallway, I find his doctor leaning against the wall outside the door, intently reading through a file. "Dr. Johnson?"

He looks up, startled. "Ahh, Mr. Masen. Have we gotten the patient back under control again?"

I never liked this doctor. "Yes, in fact, I think I'd like to take him home with me."

"I don't think that would be wise. Mr. Whitlock has not improved as much as we'd like." He shrugs, as if he's had nothing to do with the apparent lack of improvement.

"No, I can see that. But I think he's actually getting worse."

"Well, maybe transfer to another facility is a possibility. There's a nice hosp-"

I put my hand up to stop him. "No, no more hospitals. I want to take him home."


"Now." I growl and step close, my patience wearing dangerously thin.

"Again, I don't think this is a wise decision."

"You've made your opinion known, doctor. Now get us out of here."

I leave him in the hallway and return to Jasper's room, only to find him in a ball on the floor where I left him, his whole body shaking. I rush to his side and wrap my body around his, hoping to calm him again. As soon as I touch him, his shaking eases and he unfolds enough to grab onto my shirt and pull me closer.

"I could hear your anger," he mumbles into my chest.

I run my fingers over his back, feeling his muscles relax under my touch. "I was angry, but not with you. We're leaving here today, now."

He lifts his head then, his hopeful eyes searching mine for the truth. "Leaving?"



There is so much hope and sadness in that one word that I wonder how I ever left him here in this place. "Together."

"Edward, don't ever leave me like this again."

"Never, my love. Never." I pull him into me, holding his body close and vowing silently that I will be the one to protect, to help heal him. To keep him and love him no matter what.