Hot and Cold in a Lonely Hotel Room
your arms around me come undone / makes my heart beat like a drum
see the panic in my eyes / kiss me, hold me when I cry
Ellie Goulding, "Bittersweet"
"The clouds I can handle. But I can't fight with an eclipse."
You tell me this again as we sit here. You don't say it verbally. Your full, warm lips don't move a millimeter. You don't utter a single sound. You don't bat a single eyelash.
The words are in your eyes. You're giving up again. You're letting me go. Only it's too late; I don't want you to let me go again. I don't want you to admit to losing the fight again.
You don't have to fight anymore.
I can't allow it.
We finally left together. A little too late, though. Crazy, huh? You finally responded to my request that I'd asked so long ago, but so recently at the same time. We used to be just kids. It feels like decades have passed. Like we've broken up and gotten back together only a thousand times. But in the end, we're still just kids.
We're not here, though, because of Sam, or because I need to figure you out.
We're here because we need each other.
I want to fly off into space with you. I want to take us to an entirely different world. That's the least I could do. Instead, we're in a cramped hotel room. This is better than being home, though. Our emotions would have drilled through the roof. I don't need this—we both need this.
It's a little too late to think about the both of us instead of myself.
You tell me with your eyes that you can't fight an eclipse, that you lost, and that you'll always be waiting for me, but you can't keep your hands off me. I can't keep my hands off you. It's like you never gave up in the first place. Your touch is so bittersweet I want to cry. All of them are, from my cheeks to my lips to my heart to my hips. Every touch means something. Every touch makes me feel guilty and poignant about this entire mess. I mostly just want to crumble to my knees and apologize.
I'm stronger, though. I am still guilty, but I am stronger.
I know I am.
You made me stronger, too.
I know you did.
This is my apology, and you're taking it well… I hope. It feels like you're accepting me as if nothing happened. That's what I love about you Jake. You're quick to forgive me. If I twist that around, then a different side could show. It has before. The side that makes me hate you, I mean. You're so aware and so sure of yourself, and of us, and how I respond to things. You can forgive me easily, but you can also make me feel guilty. I've experienced it. I'm experiencing it now, as I still feel acceptance.
I don't know what you're doing now. I don't know what I'm doing now.
We sit in a bed of a hotel room that couldn't feel less lonely, and we are so confused. We can't make up our damn minds. We're hot, we're cold, we're somewhere in the middle. We're kissing, we're sitting on opposite sides of the room, just staring at each other. We are so wrong.
But we are also so, so right.
I wouldn't be here in this random hotel room on the eve of my wedding if this wasn't, would I?
I try not to think of Edward, but I can't help it. Wouldn't Alice tell him that my future blacked out? Wouldn't he care?
Maybe he knows. Maybe he doesn't care.
Fine by me.
I try to find the right words to say to you, but they're lost in a jumble of mismatched, wild thoughts. I wait for you to say something first. You've never been out of words, Jacob. Don't fail me now. You know this is more than I can take.
You don't say anything.
Those dark brown pools get me every time, though.
"I missed you," I whisper.
Words are always unpredictable. They can be cruel, or they can mean the wrong thing. Sometimes they even say too much.
Actions are just right.
You hold my hand in yours, and press your forehead to mine. You cry and whimper and sniffle like a child. I remember when you were my shoulder to cry on. It may be too late to pick us over me, but it's not too late to be the shoulder to cry on. It's never too late.
All I can do is be sorry. I know I hurt you. I know you're still in pain. Believe me. I am, too. I've been hurting everyday.
Your pain is worse than anything I could ever feel, though. And you know why?
Your pain is my pain.
You can kiss me like you've forgiven me a thousand times. You can caress me and embrace me like nothing has ever been wrong. I know that this pain is real, though. You're broken.
We are both broken.
We sit in this hotel room—hot and cold, black and white, lost and found, together and apart—and even as we share the pain, I know I am still home. No matter where we are, as long as I'm with you, I'm home.
I read a phrase somewhere before. "Home is where the heart is." I still believe it to this day.
With you, I am home.
With you, I am no longer heartless.