Your Touch, So Bittersweet
'cause you always want what you're running from / and you know this is more than you can take
Ellie Goulding, "Bittersweet"
"The clouds I can handle. But I can't fight with an eclipse."
That's what you told me.
The image of you in bed, hurt because of me, is burned into my memory. Sometimes I want it to leave. Other times I don't.
Were you letting me go? Were you giving up on me?
Do I want you to give up on me?
I'm not sure.
I went into town today. It's like I've been missing. Like I've been absent from the place where I belong. We both know that this is about you, though.
You're missing. You've been gone for a while now. Nobody's seen you all summer. The summer isn't hot or sunny or even worth it without you.
I miss you.
Every poster that I drive by—every image of you that I see—hurts. Every reminder of you hurts me, because I had hurt you. I know, I know. I'm selfish. I'm running away from these reminders, trying to ignore the fact that I hurt you, because I want you back.
I want you, Jacob.
I know you're hurt. I know you're upset. I am, too. Trust me.
I know what you would tell me: don't cry. You hate seeing me upset. That's the main difference between you and Edward. He doesn't care when I'm hurt. He lets me be hurt. He doesn't try to fix the pain. It wouldn't help, but at least you gave some kind of effort. You're determined and unwavering.
As I drive home and get out of my new, fast car (too cold, not real), I think of you. That's all I can do these days.
I remember when I told you to kiss me.
In a different universe, it would have been perfect. A kiss on the mountaintop. Hot and cold at the same time.
The real event—in this universe—was like that, too. Of course it was. Who would you be if you weren't the dedicated Jacob Black I know and love? You make me love you and hate you at the same time.
As I stand frozen in the rain, too wrapped up in my own thoughts to go inside my house, I continue to think of you. You kissing me. Here I feel the warmth within your touch at my waist, where you held me as you kissed me. Your touch is bittersweet. Exhilarating at the same time. And it can't be any more natural.
My heart beats like a drum, thinking of you. Tears flood my eyes. This is more than I can possibly take. And you know why?
I am guilty.
I am never going to stop missing you.
Maybe you being gone is good for you, like an escape from the pain. I've hurt you more than enough times. But I need you.
I need you, Jake. I'm getting married tomorrow and I need you now, more than ever. The pain is worse this time. Way worse.
Sam could take you away from me a thousand times, over and over and over again. I could have you pried from my grip every waking moment.
I still wouldn't feel half the sense of need for you than I do now.
I can't sleep tonight.
For August, it's surprisingly cold. I need warmth.
I need you.
I remember a time when I could depend on you. Why can't you be here now?
I end up crying myself to sleep. Well, almost. I'm drifting when a quick noise alerts me. I sit up in bed. My heart is beating like a drum again.
I hear the noise a second time. It sounds like a pebble or something hitting my window.
Can it be…?
I slide open my window, and it's not Edward standing in my yard, staring up at me with such an expression of pain that makes tears run down my face instantly. It's not Edward that is nearly on the verge of tears.
You climb into my window easily, and I don't have to use words to express how I feel. Words are too predictable. Too limited. Actions tell more.
Your nostalgic touch is back again as I put my lips to yours shamelessly. You hold me in your arms, as hot and vibrant as a flame, peppering your sweet kisses all over me. You missed me. I missed you.
But you are here with me.
And I am home.