au_muses Memories of you by Ryan Adams
Edward Cullen is a hypocrite. Before he left Forks he promised Bella that it would be like he didn't even exist. He left her in the woods outside her house, and hid all of the pictures and reminders of him and his family. Then he left town without a look back.
Everywhere he went there was a photo of her in his wallet. He didn't need to sleep, but he had to stay indoors during the day. For hours he would lay on a bed and stare at the picture of her. He pictured what she was doing now that he was gone. He pictured her smiling. Laughing. Living.
The ache he felt when he would stroke her face with the tip of his fingertip was subdued by those made of memories of how happy she would be without him. He was biding his time until she died peacefully of old age surrounded by children and grandchildren. Then he would meet his own end. Because for him it was her. Only her. His Isabella with the inability to walk without tripping, and the ability to heal hearts with just a smile.
He kept the photo with him on his flight to Seattle. He kept it when he got behind the wheel in Emmett's jeep so he could take Rosalie and Emmett back to Forks. Alice and Jasper would ride back with Esme and Carlisle.
Even in the jeep he drove faster than Carlisle did in the Mercedes. He flew through Forks and nearly crashed when he saw her on a motorcycle with Jacob black. She spotted him despite Edward's best attempt to make a sharp turn down the closest road.
He was a hypocrite. He'd wanted her happy. He didn't want to exist for her.
He did not expect her to be happy with Jacob Black. Seeing it made it real. He ignored the chuckling from Emmett and the glare from Rosalie. At least with her on the back of the bike she couldn't come after him right away.
He had no idea how to handle seeing her again. The photo was easier.
Everywhere he went there was a photo of her in his wallet. He didn't need to sleep, but he had to stay indoors during the day. For hours he would lay on a bed and stare at the picture of her. He pictured what she was doing now that he was gone. He pictured her smiling. Laughing. Living.
The ache he felt when he would stroke her face with the tip of his fingertip was subdued by those made of memories of how happy she would be without him. He was biding his time until she died peacefully of old age surrounded by children and grandchildren. Then he would meet his own end. Because for him it was her. Only her. His Isabella with the inability to walk without tripping, and the ability to heal hearts with just a smile.
He kept the photo with him on his flight to Seattle. He kept it when he got behind the wheel in Emmett's jeep so he could take Rosalie and Emmett back to Forks. Alice and Jasper would ride back with Esme and Carlisle.
Even in the jeep he drove faster than Carlisle did in the Mercedes. He flew through Forks and nearly crashed when he saw her on a motorcycle with Jacob black. She spotted him despite Edward's best attempt to make a sharp turn down the closest road.
He was a hypocrite. He'd wanted her happy. He didn't want to exist for her.
He did not expect her to be happy with Jacob Black. Seeing it made it real. He ignored the chuckling from Emmett and the glare from Rosalie. At least with her on the back of the bike she couldn't come after him right away.
He had no idea how to handle seeing her again. The photo was easier.