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ghostsighstitle. but don't give up, these storms are passing
rating. pg
fandom/pairing. twilight / edward/jacob with mentions of jacob/bella
summary. He didn’t know if he could ever trust something that seemed so fragile. And he and Jacob would always be an expensive porcelain plate sitting at the edge of a shelf.
notes. Title from The Submarine's Peace and Hate. Originally here.
Edward never felt like anyone loved him in the same way that he loved others. He doubted every act of compassion, ever shared I love you, every kiss or touch. It seemed like it was all in vain.
Jacob loved him, he never doubted this. But, part of him always wondered just how much of Jacob was devoted to him. How much still belonged to Bella? He’d look into Jacob’s eyes and swore he saw her face looking back at him beginning for absolution.
And god, there were other times when Jacob would look at him, and he knew that every part of Jacob — every part he could manage — belonged to him. It was these times when Edward wanted to put an invisible mark on him, screaming mine, mine, mine.
He’d sit in thought, letting Jacob’s memories melt into his own. Jacob had to know, had to of guessed that Edward couldn’t keep out of his head. He tried, but some part of him needed to be hurt, needed to know what really went on. And when he’d do this, Jacob would lean over and kiss him hard on the mouth. He’d drift off from his thoughts and get lost in his lips. Jacob always pulled away first, gasping for air and looking at Edward, pleading with his eyes. He never knew if he was asking him to please believe in him, in their love, or to please stop torturing himself. The more he thought on it, Jacob would ask surely both of him.
It was late at night when Edward wished he could sleep the most. Jacob would be sleeping peacefully in his arms and a book that wouldn’t hold his attention lying at his side. He’d run his fingers through Jacob’s hair, smiling at each violent snore that would nearly break him from slumber. Edward’s every thought focused on how this beautiful boy could fall in love with him.
He knew how he’d fallen for him: all sex and rough kisses at first then later the compassion and the longing. But, Jacob’s mind was something so foreign to Edward. It was unlike anyone else, it was like a whole separate entity from his spoken self. So much more tortured, and much more self-doubting. Edward saw a lot of himself in this part of Jacob, but he never felt like this was the Jacob he fell in love with. His Jacob smiled to make him smile, kissed the corner of his mouth when he was upset, held his hands during intimate moments.
Even with all of this, Edward just didn’t fucking know. There were times that Jacob would look off in the distance, searching for something that wasn’t there. Others where he’d get especially quiet during movies, more engrossed in thought than the plot lines. And then those rare occasions where his sleep was rough and Edward would wonder if he was dreaming about Bella.
He wanted to believe Jacob and believe in their love, but his self-loathing ways always seemed to trump anything else. He didn’t know if he could ever trust something that seemed so fragile. And he and Jacob would always be an expensive porcelain plate sitting at the edge of a shelf.
rating. pg
fandom/pairing. twilight / edward/jacob with mentions of jacob/bella
summary. He didn’t know if he could ever trust something that seemed so fragile. And he and Jacob would always be an expensive porcelain plate sitting at the edge of a shelf.
notes. Title from The Submarine's Peace and Hate. Originally here.
Edward never felt like anyone loved him in the same way that he loved others. He doubted every act of compassion, ever shared I love you, every kiss or touch. It seemed like it was all in vain.
Jacob loved him, he never doubted this. But, part of him always wondered just how much of Jacob was devoted to him. How much still belonged to Bella? He’d look into Jacob’s eyes and swore he saw her face looking back at him beginning for absolution.
And god, there were other times when Jacob would look at him, and he knew that every part of Jacob — every part he could manage — belonged to him. It was these times when Edward wanted to put an invisible mark on him, screaming mine, mine, mine.
He’d sit in thought, letting Jacob’s memories melt into his own. Jacob had to know, had to of guessed that Edward couldn’t keep out of his head. He tried, but some part of him needed to be hurt, needed to know what really went on. And when he’d do this, Jacob would lean over and kiss him hard on the mouth. He’d drift off from his thoughts and get lost in his lips. Jacob always pulled away first, gasping for air and looking at Edward, pleading with his eyes. He never knew if he was asking him to please believe in him, in their love, or to please stop torturing himself. The more he thought on it, Jacob would ask surely both of him.
It was late at night when Edward wished he could sleep the most. Jacob would be sleeping peacefully in his arms and a book that wouldn’t hold his attention lying at his side. He’d run his fingers through Jacob’s hair, smiling at each violent snore that would nearly break him from slumber. Edward’s every thought focused on how this beautiful boy could fall in love with him.
He knew how he’d fallen for him: all sex and rough kisses at first then later the compassion and the longing. But, Jacob’s mind was something so foreign to Edward. It was unlike anyone else, it was like a whole separate entity from his spoken self. So much more tortured, and much more self-doubting. Edward saw a lot of himself in this part of Jacob, but he never felt like this was the Jacob he fell in love with. His Jacob smiled to make him smile, kissed the corner of his mouth when he was upset, held his hands during intimate moments.
Even with all of this, Edward just didn’t fucking know. There were times that Jacob would look off in the distance, searching for something that wasn’t there. Others where he’d get especially quiet during movies, more engrossed in thought than the plot lines. And then those rare occasions where his sleep was rough and Edward would wonder if he was dreaming about Bella.
He wanted to believe Jacob and believe in their love, but his self-loathing ways always seemed to trump anything else. He didn’t know if he could ever trust something that seemed so fragile. And he and Jacob would always be an expensive porcelain plate sitting at the edge of a shelf.
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