empathy

THIRTY-FIVE

His nose buried in a book, feet steady on the ground and his eyes flying to Anastasia's sleeping form every now and then, he can't help but adore her. She looks so peaceful like this, so innocent and he wishes for nothing more than to be able to bring this peacefulness back into her life. Back for when she's actually awake. 

Her hair is tied in four french braids, her pillow moist from the wetness of her hair. A few strands are falling out, splits spread all around the braid and yet she manages to make it look beautiful despite everything. It amazes him, she amazes him.

Or maybe it's her humanity that fascinates him, little moments, aspects and perks he is given the privilege of experiencing in a slightly different way once more. One last time. Not many vampires can say they did do that and Jasper is proud to call himself one of the few. 

He finds amusement in the little snacks she gets herself every hour or two or so, out of habit rather than hunger. He adores the way she scratches her nose just to do it again just seconds after because the first attempt was unsuccessful. He admires her determination and strength when she wants to get things done. And he absolutely loves when she takes little naps throughout the day, sometimes right after she got up, sometimes during the day or sometimes when shortly before she goes to bed. 

His lips curl upwards when her arm reaches for the stuffed animal of her sister laying next to her pillow to pull it towards her just to fall into a slumber too deep to remember what she was doing. 

No book could ever make him feel half as much as she does just by allowing him to stay. No poet has ever quite grasped the actual meaning behind the four letters building the simple word of love or maybe he'd just never understood it until it was too late, until he fell too hard to think those words over. 

And man has he fallen, fallen into an endless pool of comfort he never wishes to leave. 

For if people asked him to describe heaven, he would paint them a picture of words describing her. He'd talk about her eyes the colour of an endless forest inviting one in. A forest so dangerous and yet so beautiful one could compare it with a siren leading you to your death. He'd say the sky would be the deepest of black it has ever been for her hair is the colour of the night. He'd describe the scent as made by a fundament of wood and the salty sea, covered up by a faint smell of pineapples, lemon, oranges, jasmine and violets for those are the things he deciphered out of her perfume but he'd also add the smell of hot chocolate and avocados for it's the smell usually lingering in her kitchen and clothes. He'd describe the atmosphere as cold with a warm breeze lingering in the air and wrapping around you like a soft blanket. He'd say the songs of birds would fly with the wind and a childlike laugh would echo through your ears, quietly and barely noticeable. 

Anastasia is his hell, heaven and paradise in one and he is slowly losing himself in the maze she has built around herself. He just hopes she will be there to lead him back out. He hopes she will be there to catch him before he reaches the bottom of her comfort. 

He hopes she will be there. 

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A very short chapter and I am sorry for that.

But oh my god, you guys are amazing, absolutely fabulous. We've reached 100K. Thank you all for reading this story. 

And feel free to comment on what you think of it so far. And how you liked how Anastasia developed or if you think it was too rushed and sudden. 

Also, what do you think of Rosalie and Emmett as parents? Because my heart broke for her when she told her story and again when I saw and read about her with Renesmee.

Anyways, have a great day and week and I will try to update a longer chapter as soon as I can.