Entry for The Second Season of Our Discontent Anonymous Angst Contest

Title: Your House

Pairing: Edward & Jasper

Rating: M

Word Count 8547

Summary: Edward has loved Jasper since the day they met. His every waking thoughts are about him, but something is not right, something has changed.

Warnings and Disclaimer: I own nothing but plot; the rest belongs to SM.

Thanks so very much to my pre readers, Nmydreamz, BregoMellonNin and my beta for this project harrytwifan. I really hope you all like this story that is inspired by the great Alanis Morrissette song of the same name.

Am I the only person who does this? That sits and calculates the number of days my heart has been locked with another? Inhaling deeply, I close my eyes and re-live those sweet moments of how he helped me live so much more than the half-life I existed in, before he said those words... those sweet, tender I love you's.

Five hundred days, seven hours and fifty nine minutes. That is how long I have loved Jasper Whitlock, feeling it from the moment our paths crossed so many moons ago. I never thought I could make room in my life for someone else, yet I have somehow evolved from being just Edward Cullen, into Edward and Jasper. The morning sun became something I could awaken to with a smile, knowing how blessed my life was; how complete it made me feel.

More importantly, my heart actually felt like it was beating; finally pumping my blood with emotions never before felt. Something so much more than my mediocre existence had ever experienced.

With a love so strong, how has it all come to this? How has it only taken seven days, three hours, and thirty minutes for fear to begin eating away at me from within, as thoughts that he may be leaving me start to fill my mind? Such a short amount of time in comparison to the years I assume have passed; so much time spent agonising over the fact that my whole world is about to shatter, that fragments of my happiness are about to be left in a heap at my feet. All this because of the distance I feel growing between us, a gap that no bridge big enough can be built.

I am fucked!

Ever since the darkness started to consume me, I have spent every waking hour pacing the floor of my bedroom at my parent's house, a black hole growing inside me and drawing in pain, misery, and thoughts of impending loss. My feet create trails, forming a path as I walk my lonely journey over the expensive rug, each step filling my head with more and more woe. The worst thing I can do is over-think the cold shoulder that I feel is being directed my way, yet all I can hear in my head is him laughing at me when he says he doesn't love me anymore.

Can words hold such power that hearing them will have my heart beating its last?

My chest tightens and I struggle to breathe, to calm the crashing waves inside me as every inch of my body starts to feel betrayal, echoes of his laughter bouncing from organ to organ as it spreads its emotional decay.

Doubt is like a disease that gets under my skin, infects me to the core, merging with every cell in my body so much it has me doing stupid things; acting so out of character. I am not this person; the one who left his house without really thinking, only to now be standing under a tree outside the home of the man I love...someone I think may no longer love me. Thousands of leaves shield me from the rain that is creating the perfect setting for how I feel, colouring everything in the greys and black that emit from my heart. I have become an artist;s palette, and my tears are the moisture he is using to spread the shades of my sorrow.

Small droplets seep through nature's umbrella, and even though I know I should move and go back to the warmth of my home, I continue to stand there shivering, while looking up at his window. There isn't a single part of me that wants to be this person, falling victim to a breaking heart, when all I really want to do is just see my lover's smile directed my way. I want to confidently feel his love for me again, to feed off of what our hearts have built together for so long. All I want is to hear him say I love you again. Is that really so weak of me?

I guess weak is just who I am.

Has it really been so long since my eyes have had the delight to gaze upon his, relish in the mix of browns and burnt umber that look out through his honey coloured locks? I bite my lip at the memory of his smile, his sparkling white teeth crowned inside the perfection of his face, the man I used to joke was my addiction. Maybe I should call him my obsession...isn't standing in the shadows and looking into someone's house what an obsessive person would do?

My eyes never falter as I watch his silhouette move behind his closed curtains, but I just don't know what to do...stay where I am, or leave, walk away, and fight off gravity that wants nothing more than to pull me to my knees? Or maybe I should go to his door and ask him face to face what is going on, why he has turned his back upon me, the man he said he couldn't live without.

Jasper loves me, I know he does. I can still sense it somewhere within me, lost inside all of my self-doubt. I need to stop feeling like this and give him the space he says he needs. Time is a killer though, sand dripping through the hourglass as it counts down the imploding doom that is the shake of his head when I ask if he still feels the same.

It's hard to stand here and swallow the urge to call to him through the rain, plead with him to come to me, to take me back into his arms and kiss my fears away. Does he even know I hide only a few feet from him, suffering in my silence as my head and heart do battle within me while I die a little more every day?

On each shoulder is perched a version of myself, the hope and doubt of my subconscious, both arguing amongst themselves as they tell me different things. My mind is their battlefield, pulled in two directions as I become the wasteland of their war.

Relax, Edward, Jasper is just busy with work, like he said...nothing unfavorable is going on! My angelic side speaks for my heart on my left shoulder, whispering into my ear what I yearn to hear. What I hope to be true.

The thumping within me settles a little, the throbbing that has plagued my chest this past week easing, and a smile I thought would never return creeps onto my face. That happy thought remains with me for mere seconds, only to be stopped in its tracks by the devil on my right, pulling me from hopes of a happily ever after and into the cold, harsh reality of life. Pah! Believe that and you will believe anything! You know he is using you. Just admit it and move on!

Shaking myself angrily, I throw them both away and try to not overthink Jasper's silence; to build a mountain out of a molehill that is the root of my anxiety. I pull my arms around my body, to feel a hug and ease the darkness that festers inside my soul, lingering there like a bad smell. His love that ran through me and filled me with life is now starting to rot away, leaving me to the unwelcomed hello of a broken heart.

In hopes of distracting myself, I think back to when we first met over a year ago; the moment my eyes were finally opened and the beating in my chest actually made me feel alive. Back then, we were equally addicted to each other; we talked every day, texted almost every second. We have never gone this long without speaking or seeing one another, never fobbed the other off with feeble excuses like he has done. Yes, he says he is working, that his student base has increased, but I can't help thinking that it is all a lie; something has changed beyond my control. Should I hate myself for thinking so ill of him, or do I really need to listen to the dark choir within my heart, singing songs of betrayal?

Holding my palm out to catch some falling rain, I watch as it lingers a moment before slipping through my fingers, just like I feel Jasper's love is doing. I want to stop the water from falling through the gaps in my hand, but all I do is watch the pathetic metaphor.

Just how many people in Leeds need a private music teacher, exactly? I ask myself, eyes again locked on his house as I stifle a groan that wants to escape my throat. I swallow it down before it can leave me and infest the air around me.

That disgusting noise will be so overplayed if my fears are correct, if what my family and friends have been telling me since we met, comes to fruition. Since day one they have told me we would never work, that he was only after the money my family has. I won't believe that, not of my Jasper! They all looked down their long noses, seeing only what they wanted. They never knew my heart sang his name and that all of the so-called wealth I had just melted away for me the moment I saw him smile, heard him laugh.

Leaning against the trunk of the tree for support, I look back through burning eyes at the building that holds so many happy memories, as the rain eases a little. My nearest and dearest never bothered to ask if Jasper had his own money. They had no interest in the fact that he has built up a business that affords him to live a life that makes him truly happy. Like the spoiled person I once was, they focused only on the fact that he is just a music teacher, and assumed that he was only after my 'millions'.

Millions. What millions, exactly? All I have is just a sum in an account, something I won't get until I am twenty-one, when my trust fund will be released to me. Even then, I am sure it's not as much as my mother boasts to her friends, showering them in her own self-importance. Everything I have I will inherit, just like my father did. I won't have to lift a finger to make a single penny, not like Jasper has. He is really the rich person in our relationship; the one who has lived beyond the mansion walls, the security of the Cullen name...he has actually walked his own path in life and not followed in his father's footsteps.

I would give it all up in a second if he asked me to, if an ultimatum was put my way and I had to choose to follow my heart or live as a rich man. With all the money in the world, I know it won't make me an ounce of happy, as I am when I wake in the night and hear him snoozing at my side, his arm forever draped across my body. For Jasper, I would just be as normal as he wanted.

A small laugh leaves me as the memory of Jasper introducing me to public transport flashes before my eyes. Me, the boy who was driven or drove, was sitting in what we joked was a peasant wagon. Even with all those strangers coughing and sneezing around me, I cared not, because in my mind they were not there; the bus was only filled with him and I, the way it should be.

Out of nowhere a small beam of sunlight breaks through the afternoon clouds and I pull myself back behind the tree, hoping the rays haven't given away my location that is no longer shielded in the downpour of rain; my eyes still fixed in his direction. Even his shadow against the closed curtain has my heart skipping a beat, every molecule within me longing for him, even if only for an instant. My memory fills in the blackness and reforms the exquisite image of Jasper and his sun-coloured skin.

Please don't leave me, baby. Please just...just love me. I don't need to see my face to know I am pouting, my brows pulling into the centre of my face as I allow a droplet of rain to fall from my head and mix into a single, descending tear. So many have left my eyes already, poured from me like a dam that has been breached. Who knew I could cry this much and always have room for more? I guess this is how a breaking heart reacts.

If my friends could see me now; those people who said I could have any man and woman alike eating out of my palm, willingly following me to my bed when offered only a simple smile. No longer am I the one night stand addict, waking in the bed of strangers each morning, fucking many while feeling nothing more than the pleasure you get when you finally get to scratch that itch. All I want now is to open my eyes in his arms, smile as morning's light creeps over us; always, and forever.

My life has changed so much since I was blessed with the image of him, my heart opening up like a flower that grew from a single bud. Back then I was just Edward, son of the wealthy Carlisle Cullen, the boy who had everything and wanted for nothing. I was never someone who believed in love at first sight...that was something they didn't sell in shops, so I assumed it didn't exist. Love was something lost in a world of wealth, when the only thing that could really make someone smile was purchasing anything and everything. Then my whole world stopped moving when I saw his face. My life finally became something I wanted to live each day and not chase to the bitter end as I swiped plastic after plastic. A materialistic existence, but it was all I really knew.

While trying to max out my credit card and feel the buzz I heard people talk about getting from spending money, I came upon him in a music shop. I contemplated buying a guitar I knew I would never even need or bother learning to play; just another purchase to fill a void deep within. Sparks ran throughout my body when I first saw him. He wasn't just another person rummaging through piano music, another faceless member of the crowd. Jasper was someone that had my mouth watering, my jeans tightening, and time slowing to a stop. All I knew at that moment was I only ever wanted to look into those brown eyes of his, forever holding him in my arms until we knocked on heaven's door and stepped into our afterlife.

The confident Edward ran away from me, leaving a small, bashful boy that just followed him like a shadow that was too afraid to even say hello. Whenever I heard him speak to a shop assistant, or answer his phone, sonnets danced into my ears and waltzed around my body as I became filled with bliss. So suddenly I had become a child again, chasing a butterfly through a meadow, wanting to catch it in a jar and keep its beauty sealed close to me forever.

I would hide when he turned to look back, or stop to admire something in a shop window. I never knew he saw me tailing him the instant we left the music shop, that he was loving the attention of the newly-turned nineteen year old that chased after him, hormones raging. If only we could return to that moment, that time when our love was just beginning, our hearts coming together to beat in unison.

My body tingles the way it did when he turned towards me and asked if I was ever going to say hello, my hands moving to cup my groin and keep my erection at bay. Of course, back then I wasn't so lucky. I even had to lean my arse back slightly to hide the throbbing of the half-built tent in my jeans. Happy memories fill me as I remember how I lied about being able to play the piano, and told him things I hoped would get him to like me, anything that would have him wanting to see me again. As expected he found out a week later that I had fibbed, when he played for me and asked that I do the same. But by then, he was already as lost in me as I was in him.

Strangers we were, yet each had the attention of the other locked in place. Jasper knew nothing about the rich boy who couldn't pull his gaze away from him; he just saw another person in old jeans with an interest in music. He saw something within me that I never even knew existed...he saw love, and taught me how to love in return.

That was how we have been ever since, both equally as addicted. So what has changed? What is it that has me crying into my pillow at night, losing my taste for all of my favourite meals? There is something deep inside telling me all is not right, that he is moving further and further away from me, the man he said he loves. Could all that he felt, all that he said, just have been infatuation that was now coming to an end, the final pages of our love story closing forever?

A harsh wind envelopes me and I pull my arms around my body, cursing the fact I didn't think to bring a jacket when the forecast was as bleak as my life felt. The instant I told myself that I just had to see him, even if only from afar, I found myself leaving my parent's house and walking into the dark morning. The thought of having to stay home and stare at my phone a second longer was just so unbearable! I guess love really does make you do crazy things.

His shadow moves behind the silk, pastel blue curtains I helped him pick, and I can tell he is still talking on his mobile, his body making the familiar movements of laughter that always used to make me smile. I pull out my own phone, wistfully hoping that his call went to my voicemail while I reminisce and fret over the prospect of him leaving, hoping that I am still the person that can make him the way he is now. Nothing! A sadness mixes into my blood and runs through my heart at the thought that he is conversing with someone else, offering them more than a few, brief seconds of his time. It feels like an age has passed since he last texted me a morning I love you, like he always used to do.

Thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes, three, five, ten...spending so much time on a call with someone other than me. I actually called my own mobile over this past week to check that it is still working, which has me starting to feel like an idiot. Our calls have become small moments of hellos before he makes an excuse and hangs up, disconnecting me so easily, like I am nothing more than a wrong number. What happened to the hours we could spend chatting about nothing while watching the same TV show? What has drawn him so easily away from me?

He will get bored of you; people like him only want you for your wealth and nothing more! My mother's voice enters my head, plaguing my mind with more woe.

Maybe she is right, speaking the truth that I am blinded from. My mother, the woman who used to serve coffee until she met my father. The person who now sleeps in separate room and is only happy when she comes home with endless bags full of material happiness. Maybe I should be happy that Jasper is turning away from me; that he will never lead me into a loveless life.

Has he become bored with me? Is wealth my only attractive element?

No! I can't believe it of him. Not my Jasper, the man who never once asked me to buy him anything, not even coffee when we would meet at Starbucks. Maybe that is why he has turned away from me now; because I never showered him in riches, or dressed him in Versace, Westwood.

My attention is caught again when the lights in his house go out, and I see him running down his small driveway to his car. My breath catches in my throat as I jealously watch the now slowly falling rain settle upon him, touching him in places my hands have missed for far too long. As he pulls out of the drive, I look at my watch, only then noticing that it's already gone midday on a Saturday. I skulk further behind the tree and watch his car disappear into the distance, wondering where he is heading.

Jasper never teaches on a weekend; says that it's our time. But I am not with him now, sitting beside him and smiling like I should be, so where is he going? A date, maybe? Is the man I spend almost every second thinking about running into the arms of another?

No! I can't allow those thoughts to enter my mind, not when I am already starting to crack, the tears in my eyes burning to be set free again. As I start to walk, I notice that my feet are not going in the direction they should, that I am making my way across the road and up his familiar driveway, my hands digging into the potted plant where he keeps his spare key. All control escapes me until the door closes behind me with a click, and I am lost in the darkness of his hallway.

"Forgive me, love." My words enter the silence of his house, seconds before I inhale the riches that float in the air around me.

Every house has it's own scent, and Jasper's is of him; honey and cinnamon, something that has delighted my senses since the first night I came here. Shamefully, it was the same night as our first date, lust drawing us both to his place so we could release the desire we felt over dinner. I am overcome with dizziness as I remember how dark the hall was then, how his hands trailed up my body while his lips passionately kissed my neck. Words escaped us as we gave in to our urges, both turned into sexual beasts as we almost tore the other's clothes off.

We never made it to his bedroom. Our first time was on the stairs that now rise in front of me. My body fills with electricity at the memory of the journey his hands made, of how he forced me against the stairs before entering me with a delicate touch. I gasp as I feel him again, as if he was here now, his long fingers back inside my body as he stretched me, massaging my prostate while his lips still worshiped my neck.

It's like it all happened only yesterday. Everything is still so fresh in my head, as I leaned against the banister of his stairs for support while his large cock settled against my entrance and waited for me to give him the OK. No words left me; my actions spoke out as I reached back to take hold of his sheath-protected cock and guided him forward to penetrate me. I wasn't even aware he had dressed his cock in a condom and had no idea where he had gotten it; I assumed he had one in his pocket. I was just too eager to feel him within me.

My screams were the only sound that night, and even now I can hear echoes of them around me, those moans of pleasure that left me while Jasper forced every single inch into my body. My breaths counted each one as I gasped the further he moved in, stopping for a moment when all eight were housed inside. I pulled my head back as I screamed for more, drew his lips back into my neck and begged him to fuck me, to have me as hard as he wanted to. With his hands exploring every inch of my skin, I held onto his arse with each of mine, helping him journey in and out of me while I gave in to him.

His throbbing cock seemed to attack me for hours before we crumbled to the floor, both of our loads well and truly shot. He held me there all night, our bodies covered in glorious afterglow. We stayed there until morning, neither of us wanting to move until we had to, until the call of hunger pulled us to the kitchen.

I want to go back to that time, though my heart fears I will never have the pleasure of feeling him inside me again, that soon he will call and tell me that he loves another.

You shouldn't be here, not without his permission! my head tells me. But if what my heart is feeling is correct? Maybe this will be the last time, and I will never again be in the place that houses all my happy memories.

My feet are already moving further into the darkness, and even though I am trying not to let them, I have tears falling down my cheeks. Each step I take could be the last. Although I don't know why he has turned away from me, I want to savour each and every small stride like it will be my final.

When I reach the door to his basement, my hand hovers over the handle, my fingers afraid to touch the cold metal, to turn the knob and enter his den; the place we spent many a night. I turn my head to look back up the hall, my brain telling me exactly which door I should be going through, yet my heart takes control and pulls open the door I stand in front of.

I remain clouded in darkness as I descend the steps to his music room, his scent overpowering and pulling me ever closer towards my destination, like a moth to a flame blinded by desire. As I reach the bottom, I pause for a moment, inhaling deeply before I turn on his small, vintage lamp, the one I bought for him in London when we visited his parents for the weekend. It brightens the room, the place he came to relax with me, to play his piano for someone who knew nothing of the beauty of classical music.

My idea of playing music was to press play on my IPod, listening only to mainstream dribble that polluted the airwaves everywhere we went. It was only when he opened my ears to the delight of the classics that I actually learned to love and truly feel music. Jasper was able to move his fingers over the keys of his piano and have tears falling down my face from the mere beauty of the tones.

Like a magnet, I feel the pull of his instrument, his most treasured possession.

"It was my grandmother's. She taught me to play when I was five," his voice echoes in my head, as the memory of the first time he played comes back to me. "She left it to me when she died."

His story had me sobbing, that a man-made object could have such a beautiful history, bringing pleasure to another generation in his family. A single tear would trail down his face as he told me why he played, how much enjoyment it brought to his late grandmother. My own grandparents had little time for me. Like my parents, they left me to my own devices, as alone as I became accustomed; until I met him.

Lifting the small lid, I press down on one of the keys and listen as it's music springs to life from a single note, before fading away into the lonely silence. I had never even touched a piano before that night, cared nothing for them. Yet, as I watched his fingers make love to the rectangles of black and white, I was as much in love with it as I was him. My family had one of these instruments in our house, yet ours was used to stand photoframes upon. It's music never once blessed our house; not like it always did his.

Pulling out the small stool before closing the lid and taking my seat, I fold my arms over the polished wood and rest my head upon them. I will miss this as much as I will miss my Jasper, the man driving off to an unknown destination, leaving my mind to think the worst. Can he really expect me to live without him, to go back to the frost that was inside my soul before he came along and melted it?

What did I do that was so wrong, to cause him to turn from me like I am a stranger?

Can the only person who finally made me feel something, feel nothing for me at all?

Is all love such an obsession, more addictive than the most potent drugs or alcohol?

Pulling myself back up to sitting, I hesitate for a moment before getting to my feet and exiting the room...closing the door on the four walls where I have laughed, cried, made love, and fallen asleep. Such a small room that means more to me than my whole house!

I should leave, I should go before he comes back! I tell myself, as I leave the den and make my way further into his home, up the stairs and towards his bathroom.

Would Jasper be angry if he knew I was here, walking uninvited through his house, reliving the memories we shared, the hours we may never have again?

Even though that thought is in my head, I still find myself opening the door and stepping inside, feeling a grin form on my face as I look at his still-full bathtub. I lean against the door frame, thinking how Jasper always did forget to empty the water, leaving it there until hours later when it was as cold as ice itself. A few bubbles remain floating on the surface, hovering there and calling to me like sirens to a ship on the waves.

No!

I should leave now, before it's too difficult to move again and I become the statue of a broken man!

My fingers are already touching the water's surface, feeling the still-warm temperature of where he bathed. Before I can stop myself, my clothes are on the floor and I am lowering my body into the huge tub. I am enveloped in his dirty water, feeling strangely close to the love that isn't here, love that has driven itself so far away.

What am I doing? What kind of person have I become that I will lay in my lover's bath water while my head fills with images of his betrayal? Closing my eyes, I push the thought away, allowing the water that cleansed him to bathe me in his essence, to cover me in what he tried to scrub away.

The water helps me feel closer to him, my mind visualising him laying here after burning the incense that still lingers in the air long after the flame was extinguished. Was he thinking of me as I do him? Did his heart beat my name also? I look over at the closed door and will it with everything I have for him to open it, smile behind his honey-coloured curls as he sees me laying here naked for him, but nothing happens. No matter how long I lay here and how much I want it, he still doesn't come.

To wash away the new tears falling from me, I lower my body below the waterline, praying, wanting and wishing all at once for Jasper to be here now, to pull me into his arms and chase away my fears. I never wanted to be in love, to feel like this, with anyone...that was something that was so far from my mind as I partied through my life. Born with a silver spoon shoved down my throat, I never wanted for anything because everything was handed to me on a platter. I didn't even know what love was before I met him, until I lay in still water, agonising over why he has turned from me without a single word spoken.

Money can buy me anything I want and my parents will give it all to me in a second, but my wealth won't help me now, won't keep his attention turned my way. I would give it all up in a second for him to just hold me close to his body, to tell me everything will be OK. All that I have I will give up...for him.

Staring up at the wall-mounted clock, I know I have been here for too long already, that he could be back at any second. I unwillingly rise from the water, the room filling with the sound of the liquid dripping down my naked body as I step onto the small rug.

Instead of reaching for a towel to dry myself off and get dressed again, I reach out for what my eyes have settled upon; his robe, an item of clothing that has housed his nakedness so many times after he bathed. I drape myself in the fabric, feel the cheap cloth against my body, and inhale the richness of him again. He isn't a lover of the silk robes I wear, the overpriced fabric that he tells me doesn't keep the heat in. As I lose myself in the thick, soft fibres, I can see why he loves it so.

I feel the warmth that Jasper always gave me.

Pulling the blue material tightly around my body, I pretend it's his hug, that he is here beside me, keeping me warm. The thought has the desired effect and pulls a smile to my lips, a heat baking through my body as all thoughts are of him. This is what I want, all I want; to have that closeness with him again.

With a happy glow shining from me, I exit the bathroom and walk towards his bedroom, the place we have made love so many times, moved our bodies against each other in the throes of passion. Stepping into the large room, I turn on the light and close the door behind me. This is the place he helped me find religion...well, he had me screaming for God as he forced me against the wall and gave all he had inside me. Until then, I had never even said the G word.

Everything about his bedroom is so inviting, and I almost float within, stopping only when I reach his bedside table with all his scents upon it. Picking up his Jean Paul Gaultier, I spray myself with the aftershave he loves so much, remembering the traces the fragrance would leave on me when we left for work in the morning, after exchanging kisses. He never looked more attractive than when he was wearing only this; his naked body walking around the house with the sun's rays bouncing off it. I used to hide his clothing so all he could wear was what he was born in, and laugh as he would wrestle me to the ground in a bid to make me confess to where I hid them; something that always ended in him pulling me willingly towards his erection.

I move over to his unmade king-sized bed and find my usual position on the left-hand side, pulling the duvet into my face and drinking in everything I can smell. My mouth waters as I remember the taste of his flesh, his smooth skin as I would glide my tongue up his back. My hunger for him has my cock hardening, forcing me onto my back, the way he would do if he was here now...if he still loved me.

His fingers and lips would investigate every inch of me, while I buckled below him, my body arching further than it ever could. Jasper Whitlock could possess me with just one touch, one slip of his warm tongue against my most intimate places.

With my hand wrapped around my erection, I thrust as I think of him, as I make love to the version of him my mind has created. He isn't as perfect as the man who would hold my hand regardless of the looks from other people. Nothing I dream up can do him justice, but it's enough for me to start moaning his name. I unfasten the robe while lifting my back off the bed, hovering there while I stroke myself, drawing forth my ejaculation.

My orgasm feels counterfeit, a cheap imitation of how he could make me feel, how he could drive me to the edge of human combustion. His laugh ghosts through the room and I jump slightly, thinking he is here; watching me, like I hope he would before joining me on his bed. He isn't here, though. He is still out in the rain that is pouring again; out with another.

Jasper would always chuckle at how fast he could lead me to my climax. His best time was literally thirty seconds before I lost my load down his throat. I just can never help it. Not with him, not when I am always undressing him with my eyes long before he is pulling me out of my clothes.

Sitting up, I remove the robe completely and get to me feet, walking over the thick rug towards his desk to the tissues I intend to clean myself with. I need to get back into my wet clothes and leave. Go back to my house and wait until he calls me, and finally have it out with him; finally know once and for all if our love is lost. Maybe I should just sit on his step and wait for him to get home. Could he really lie to me in person?

A ray of hope eases me a little at the photo he has of us from a few weekends ago, a picture I have never seen before, framed in silver with our smiling faces looking out. For the first time this week, I feel a happiness rising within me, feeling a little silly for not trusting him like I know I should. I grab a tissue and clean the cum off my chest and cock, never taking my eyes off our faces in the picture.

Pulling his chair out, I take my seat, keeping my eyes on that photo as a small laugh escapes me for my stupidity. What will Jasper think when I tell him what I thought, what I assumed? I pull my knees into my chest and smile at us again, my heart rejoicing as I start to giggle.

I regret what I do next the instant I do it. When my hands pick up his diary from the desk and my fingers flick through the pages to today's date; one I know will remain burned in my memory forever and a day.

The small page is full of his exquisite hand writing, his perfect scroll that all the private schools I was educated in could never get me to master, but my interest is held on a few simple words. These words are like a thousand knives all darting my way, each taking a turn to stab me straight into the heart that wants to break again.

1PM - Meet A for lunch.

They are not even a sentence, yet the simplicity of the words have my tears falling; more so when I see the small heart he has drawn in his ink. It may as well be written in blood, my blood, from the man who can take this no longer, not when this one page holds more than a thousand words. The sobs that escape me cause my chest to ache, screaming from the agony of his disloyalty. How could he do this to me, to us?

I try to get to my feet, only to crumble to the floor and use my legs to push away from the desk until my back meets with his bed. I remain there, just staring in disbelief at the place I just sat, my heart and head still trying to process what just happened; what black orchestra just played out.

Who is A?

Jasper no longer loves me. Has he ever really loved me? I repeat this over and over in my head like a mantra, rocking my body back and forth while my sobs rage from me.

I know I should leave, that I have more than overstayed my welcome. I should get out before he finds me still sitting naked by his bed, but I can do nothing more than pull my body under his covers as I hold onto my chest to settle my breaking heart.

Forgive me, love. I repeat the three words around my head as I pull the blankets into my tummy, my whole body shaking from the raging sobs. How could he do this to me, fall into the arms of another without telling me a single word?

Forgive me, love.

My eyes fall heavy as all energy leaves through my tears, the pull of sleep consuming every part of me. All I want is for all the hurting to stop.

Jasper

Fingers cover my eyes only seconds before lips bless my cheek, instantly pulling my thoughts to him, to the man that brought me here today. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but they lied. Staying away from him has killed me each and every day.

"Hey beautiful," the owner of the fingers says before I can see again, and arms are wrapped around my neck. "I missed you."

Smiling, I turn in my chair and look at Alice, my university friend, the girl that is about to make me one very happy man. "About time you showed up. You know I hate this place."

I look around the bar, the faces of men all staring my way with lust in their eyes, all wanting to pounce on the single blond like he is just a piece of meat. Thank heavens she arrived when she did!

"Awww, doesn't Jasper like men anymore?" Alice teases, as she sits in the vacant chair at my side. "I thought you were strickly dickly?"

"Yes," I say, a little too abruptly. "But only for one man!" I smile as she rolls her eyes.

"Yes, yes, you love this Edward Cullen. When do I get to meet him, exactly?" She folds her arms in frustration. "You don't have time for me anymore."

She fakes a pout on her face and I proceed to tease her back, the way we used to do when we shared a house as students. "Says the girl who has forgotten what a social life is since she lost her face between Bella Swan's legs."

We both laugh as I pour her a glass of wine from the bottle I bought as a thank you for what she has done, my own glass still half full.

"This is the best place to meet. I hate it too, but as my studio is around the corner it seemed like the best choice," Alice says, grinning at me sweetly.

I ignore everything else she says as I focus on the one thing I came here for, the item I have longed to hold in my hands. "You have it, then?"

She sighs before rummaging in her bag. "Hi Alice, how are you, Alice? Oh fine, Jasper, thanks so much for asking!" she says, failing miserably to hide the smile on her lips. "After I slaved over this for the past week too, never even left my lonely studio!"

Rolling my eyes, I pander to her needs. "Alice, oh beautiful lady, how are you? Would you like another drink, or how about I ask that cute blonde to come over here and sit on your face?"

She groans before handing me what I came here for. "You know I hate blondes, Jasper!"

Whatever she started to say next is lost on me as I open the small box that houses the small ring she made as per my instructions. The silver band with a sapphire stone is beyond what I imagined, and I am breathless as I gaze upon it. It will look even more perfect on his finger, sparkling there for all to see that my love is claimed as his.

She only allows me a few seconds before demanding my response. "Well? Was it worth avoiding him all week?"

I am speechless, and just find myself nodding my approval. This is it, the reason I have had to climb the walls at home rather than call him, knowing all too well how I would never have been able to keep this from him when my mind was so set on the proposal I intend.

I shock my friend by pulling her into my hug, still remaining silent as happy tears fall from my eyes. She only allows me a short embrace before pulling back and adjusting her short, spiky hair.

"Gay boy!" she teases, before winking and sipping her wine.

"Hag," I respond, pocketing the small item with pleasure.

"So, when are you going to ask him?" she asks behind her glass of rosé wine.

Smiling, I empty my own drink down my throat. "Tomorrow! I am going to call him first thing and take him to breakfast."

Just like in the movies, I will get down on one knee and say, Edward Cullen, my heart is now and forever only yours, please do me the honour of saying yes. I sing in my head to a tune that words cannot express, that even a piano will fail to play.

We chat for a bit longer, catching up on the past year, before the call to sleep pulls me back to my car...that, and the fact I am at the limit of the amount of alcohol I can legally consume before I can't drive. I don't want to stay anywhere except my own bed; without him there for the last night of my life. My happiness fills me with adrenalin, but I have to stop myself from going to his parent's house and rousing him from sleep. I have hated the week apart, the small conversations I could give him before I had to hang up to stop myself blurting out that I wanted to marry him.

As I pull my car into my drive, I smile at the fact that I left my bedroom light on. Nice one, Jasper, guess excitement got the better of you.

I put my key in the door and shudder at the thought I left it unlocked when I am so sure I locked it! Wearily, I step into my house and make sure I lock it behind me this time. My first plan is to get upstairs and into my bed, to catch a few z's before I can see him again, the face of love smiling back at me.

As I open the door to my room, I am filled with joy followed instantly by horror as my eyes fall onto Edward, my beautiful man whose eyes are closed as he lays slumped near my bed.

Standing in shock, I just look at him, frozen by the terror at the sight of my empty sleeping pill bottle still in his hand. I get a hold of myself and run over to him, falling to my knees at his side and pulling him into my body.

"Edward...Edward!" I cry out to him as I gasp and start shaking his shoulders, tears flooding my eyes. His skin feels so cold. I fear I am just too late.

All colour has left his cheeks, the sweet blush of reds and pinks that always lit up his smiling face so perfectly; gone forever. I can do nothing but hold him in my arms as my own body shuts down, willing for some higher power to strike me dead, to replace my life with his. He, that looks so at peace as he remains unmoving in my embrace, should not be lying here with his soul lost forever, his breath no longer journeying from his lips.

"W...why?" I sob as I kiss his forehead, willing for this to all be a terrible dream, some nightmare sent to plague me.

Please be a joke, a silly game to punish my silence this past week...please! I silently beg as my throat becomes dry with burning breaths.

Closing my eyes, I cling onto his body, pulling him tightly into me and silently ask for a miracle; for anything. Unwillingly, I look back at him, knowing no joke has been played upon me, that this is all a truth my heart cannot bear. Just looking at him rips me apart, yet all I can do is move his hair from his perfect face, before kissing those lips that are no longer filled with warmth.

All traces of my baby have gone, leaving me alone forever!

With my gaze still upon him, I take out the small box, crying as I place the band on the third finger of his left hand. "It does look b...beautiful, baby. The way it sh...should look." My words are broken as I gently touch his cheek, cursing myself for bringing him to this.

I should have told him I loved him, called him everyday and told him those words, a simple phrase that would have him still alive, smiling back at me like he never will again.

Kissing his lips again, I wish that some of what took him from me will enter my own mouth, to take me with him on a journey into the unknown. He can't leave me here, to go alone to life beyond while my body screams the loss of him.

There I remain, holding onto the body that was the vessel of my love, crying with him in my arms for the afternoon; a crack entering my heart that is about to shatter.

Forgive me, my love.

My whole world has gone black, as dead as the man I hold in my arms.