A/N - Okay, so this is my very first attempt at an Edward/Jasper slash fic. Trying my hand at it, but I'm not sure how it's going to turn out. I fancied the challenge, though, and it is one of my favorite non-canon ships.

This story is rated M, because it does contain strong language, sexual scenes, and yada yada yada.

So... AH boy meets boy.

(Insert usual disclaimer here)


Prologue

March

I'm such a fuckin' asshole.

I sit there. Play with the fries on my plate. Try to ignore his eyes burning a hole in my head.

Those green eyes that see everything.

And they're watching me now, and I don't know what they're seeing.

I open my mouth. Search for words.

I'm sorry.

I can feel them, sitting there on my tongue. Willing me to say them.

I don't.

Nervously, I glance up. I don't meet his eyes.

He's got his arms crossed over his chest, and I can see the bottom edge of his tattoo where the short sleeve of his t-shirt has ridden up.

He's clicking the ball of his tongue piercing against his teeth. I can hear the tap, tap, tapping sound every time the metal hits the enamel.

Fuckin' say somethin', I chide myself. Don't be such a pussy.

But I carry right on being a pussy, because I drop my gaze back to my plate without meeting his eyes.

Then, out of nowhere, he's speaking, in that Yankee accent of his that somehow makes even the most accusatory words sound smooth and unruffled. "Are you really just gonna sit there and not say anything?"

I open my mouth. Search for words.

"I don't know what to say," I mumble.

Except that's a fucking lie.

I know exactly what to say, but I can't say it.

He knows it, too.

"That's never stopped you before."

I'm sorry. That's what he wants to hear. That's what I want to say.

But somehow, I still don't.

"You know," he continues. "I thought you were actually different from all the other cretins in this fucking town. I guess I was wrong."

The words pierce me like knives. I am different. I'm not like the others. I'm more different than even he has given me credit for in the past.

But I still don't say anything.

He exhales, loudly, through his nose. "Fucking say something, Jasper."

I'm such a fuckin' asshole. I'm so sorry. The words are right there. All I have to do is spit them out, and everything will go back to the way it should be. He won't be cutting me with his gaze. He'll grin. I'll grin. We'll be normal.

I don't say it.

He stands up. Scrapes back his chair. Braces his hands on the table and leans down.

I look at him, then, and I wish I hadn't. The clean lines of his face are set into a rigid expression. Impassive, almost.

But those green eyes blaze with fury when they stare into mine. We're having another one of our conversations where we don't actually speak out loud.

He doesn't say; I can't believe you'd do this.

And I don't say back; please understand.

And he doesn't say; why can't you just apologize?

And I don't say; I don't know.

"Fine, then." He's quiet now. Scary-calm. I hate it when he goes scary-calm. It's like standing in the eye of a storm, just waiting for it to finally come crashing down around you.

It's never been directed at me, before. It fucking hurts that it is right now.

"Fine, then," he repeats. "I thought we were friends, but clearly, I was wrong. Friends don't do what you did. And, even if they do, then they at least have the fucking balls to apologize for it."

Finally, finally, I get some words out, but they aren't the ones I was hoping for. "You're right."

His eyes are green fire. "I'm right? That's it? That's all you've got to say for yourself?"

Apparently, it is, because I still can't speak.

"You know what? Fuck you, Jasper. Fuck you. You're a fucking coward."

And he leaves. He doesn't look back as the door clangs behind him. I don't run after him and try to stop him, like I want to.

Because he's right.

I am a fucking coward.

And I wish it was for the reasons he thinks it is.

He thinks I hate him. He thinks I'm disgusted by him. He thinks I've been pretending to be his friend this whole time.

He's almost right about the last one. I've been pretending, lying to myself for so fucking long that I almost started to believe it.

Except even that's a fucking lie.

I want to go after him. I want to tell him the truth. But I can't, and I won't.

I'm scared of the truth.

I don't want to admit it to him. I don't even want to admit it to myself.

I open my mouth. Search for words.

"I'm sorry." There. They finally come out.

Only problem is, I'm apologizing to an empty chair.