A/N: Oh my. I’ve been… I’ve been corrupted. [still do not own Twilight] [or the namesake, a song by Eagle Eye Cherry]
Wars. What do I know of them? I have seen many battles throughout my life. Bloodstained lands, pains beyond numbering. And death. Always death. But what I have found is that in this life, the worst battles, the ones that do the most damage, are the ones waged between what we know and what we feel.
The house is still, silent, dark. For now, everything is at peace. While my family rests, so do I try to find peace. My golden eyes are fixated on the ceiling, but I’m not really seeing it. My vision is blurred with images and agonizingly painful memories. I am alive with the anguish, every nerve ending on high alert.
My walls come crumbling downdowndown, shattering, leaving me exposed. I bolt up into a sitting position and turn my gaze towards the doorway.
Something in me slows, bringing me down into reality. I’d been up so high nothing could touch me, but now I was crashing downdowndown too, because I know that I am safe here. There are no monsters. I am hiding all for nothing.
[She] is standing there, a shining grin upon her perfect face. [She] fills the room with light instantly, chasing all shadows away. With a small giggle, [she] takes a step towards me. “I knew I was going to startle you.”
“You did,” I murmur, willing my muscles to relax a little. There is no need for this. Safe. We are safe.
What does that even mean? I have never been protected for a day in my life.
[She] comes into the room further, until [she] is right beside the bed, staring down at me. I am lost in [her] eyes, as golden as my own, but so much brighter. [She] has hope in this world bred of hate and anger, and I do not. I cannot believe that it will get better. These people that surround us… they do not care for the world. I have watched for many years as they throw it all out the window, pulling their own foundations downdowndown. And for what? In the end, what do they hope to accomplish? Destruction may be a form of creation, but creation must be worked at. Idle hands cannot move mountains.
“Stop thinking so much,” [she] tells me, plopping down atop the comforter. I straighten up, leaning towards [her] as though I will somehow absorb [her] magic into myself. Resurrect myself. Redeem myself.
“Jasper,” [she] whispers again, my name tumbling off [her] plush lips like a million sunrises breaking through the darkest night. [Her] hand extends towards me, tentatively tracing my jawbone. I let the ghost of a smile creep onto my own mouth, turning my head so that my lips brush [her] palm gently. Somehow, somehow, [she] will take this pain. [She] will end this battle.
I reach out and pull [her] to my chest, tilting [her] face up towards mine. Our lips meet in the first delicate kiss. Love is a funny thing, I think to myself. Nothing else is strong enough to push out the bad things inside our hearts. [Her] small hands are moving over me, healing me with their mere touch.
Perhaps I don’t know a whole lot of anything, but I do know what I feel. I do know that I feel [her]. And that’s enough. That will always be enough.
Together we fall, downdowndown. But we will not crash. Will we fall forever in this single moment, and [she] will be the one to hold us up.