Letting Go, Moving On

An extension of one of my one-shots over at FanFiction. Set during the time that Stephenie Meyer skyps over, right around the epilogue.1

A Twilight FanFiction and thus, a Twilight parody.2

3

Letting Go, Moving On
Bella4

 The overcast had grown part of the scenery, always visible, yet comforting. It was now a part of life, and after time, you grew used to all things. Only the things that weren't the convention became new, and after time, they too would become old.5

Gold, black, and marble flickered against the lights of the house, breaking through and piercing the cold. The room seemed warm despite its temperature. It didn't intimidate as most did.6

 “Edward, let go of it. Please. I hate seeing you like this,” I murmured, hugging Edward tightly towards me. "I'm so sorry she's gone," I whispered, hoping to comfort. It seemed hopeless, regardless.7

“Sorry Bella,” came the whisper, same as the last hour or so.8

The couch was warm, comforting, as we lay under the blankets, his head on the couch with mine, pressing gently onto my stomach. The weight seemed light there, the sense of belonging great as he pressed against my body. I shivered once from the temperature.9

He was so cold.10

His legs were curled around the blanket, I could tell, as the sheets were wrinkled, and crushed to the man reduced to a lump of flesh and with the strength of a little boy, barely hanging onto the threads of happiness, or even life perhaps. His hands were clutched tightly together, turning whiter than before with the pressure.11

How did his hands turn so white? I wondered to myself. Perhaps the time was inappropriate, while in the midst of mourning, but the event, the crash, had been so instantaneous, so quick and snap, that it was pointless. That had been my rationale.12

“Are you all right?” I asked, watching as he suddenly clenched his eyes shut, his hands turning white once more. 13

He shook his head no, eyes shimmering in their amber glory before they shut. I could not recall a time he allowed his emotions to run free without growing defensive, men and their ‘tough act’ adding to their pride. The moment passed as his face returned to the pained state, better than seeing the pure agony.14

Seeing his agony made me feel the same pain, wondering how anyone would have been able to endure seeing an angel in agony. It was not right. 15

“I’m fine,” he choked, his voice thick. Honestly, men cried over the most trivial things, yet they refused to cry. It was the ultimate mystery of genders.16

Still, I knew that if he were truly upset, he would come to me.17

Our love was special. I knew what he was thinking by physiognomy, and he knew me all the same without the need to read my thoughts.18

Well, he couldn't. But that was besides the point...19

Our thoughts and mannerisms could tell an entire story. If I were home late, Charlie would throw a fit... or perhaps he'd be in denial all together, much like Edward.20

I threw away the nurturing side of me, anxious and wary of the darkness soon settling peacefully.21

"Edward, let it go. You're being a baby. Honey, your new Volvo is getting here tomorrow."22

“I love you too Bella,” he mumbled sarcastic, sighing in defeat.23

Well, good luck with that Edward with the totaled car--hopefully, Bella's truck won't crash. Unless I write a sequel, and then make the car crash... Thoughts?24

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