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justhowitgoesblog · 26 days ago

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The Weight of Goodbyes – Part 2

Emmett Cullen x Reader

Song Inspo: Purple Rain by Prince (a/n: My mum’s current obsession rn that she managed to get me hooked on too)

Summary: Third part of The Weight of Goodbyes, reader is determined to find closer, even if that means crossing mountains to find it…

Warnings: Angst. Heartbreak. Self-doubt. References to Depression. Heartbreak. A swear word or two. Edward getting bullied...

Rating: General Audience

Word Count: 3834 [Super long, sorry!]

Requested by: @sytarg

<- Part 1

______________________________________________________________

You deserved a choice.

That much was clear after your conversation with Jacob at First Beach. A flame had entered your body, igniting every fibre in your body with a new fight. You were determined to fight.

After Bella and Jacob had dropped you off at home, you headed straight for your room and shut the door behind you, locking out the world. A blast of cold air greeted you the moment you stepped inside. You flipped the heater on without a second thought and made your way to your desk. Parking yourself in front of your computer, the screen’s glow cast a soft light over your bundled form.

Despite the mid-winter chill and your frozen fingers, you wrote to him again, after weeks of silence. Stagnation that was forged and crafted slowly, deliberately, in the months following the Cullens’ departure from Forks. At first, you had let anger boil—let it smoulder into betrayal and abandonment. And despite the heartbreak, you allowed yourself to try to forget Emmett Cullen.

Until now.

This was an attempt, because the last time you’d checked, Emmett had blocked your number, your social media accounts, and even your email. Typing in his email address, you wrote—

_____________________________________________

Email 1 — 3:59 pm

To: [email protected]

Cc:

Subject: I Don’t Know What This Is… But I’m Willing To Try… To Fight… for us

From: [Your Email Address]

Emmett,

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this or if you'll even receive it, but I need to try. I still don’t completely understand why you did this. I, honestly, thought we were good. But, I deserve at least this much—an explanation.

Is this about Edward? What he thinks is best for Bella?…for me?

Screw that!

I make my own choices, and I choose you.

Please, just call me.

[Your Name]

______________________________________________________________

You quickly found yourself surprised—the email had been delivered. No bounce-back, no error. He’d unblocked your email. A flicker of something you didn’t dare name lit in your chest. You turned from the computer screen to your phone, which lay beside it. You tapped Emmett’s name and pressed “Call.”

It rang once. Then again.

He didn’t answer.

But you didn’t hang up.

Not right away. You let it ring out, let the silence fill your ears like static, holding onto the line as if the connection alone might reach him. As if he might feel it—somewhere. When the voicemail clicked in, you stayed silent. Listening.

And then, without thinking, you began to speak.

______________________________________________________________

Voicemail — 4:12 pm

“Hey…Emmett. It’s me.” A deep breath. “Look, I wrote to you…I want you to know, I don’t care what kind of noble, self-sacrificing act you think you’re pulling here—but it’s bullshit.” You exhaled, eyes closing as the dam you were holding broke; you let truth flow. “I tried…I really tried to move on, to forget you, to find someone, anyone, who could make me feel something else. Something that wasn’t…you. But guess what, I failed. I failed because I still find myself choosing you... I. Choose. You, Emmett…” Tears began to well up in your eyes as you forced your voice not to stammer. “So, if you think I’m just going to forget you, about us, and move on like none of this ever happened, then you don’t know me at all. Call me back.”

______________________________________________________________

Four days passed. Emmett hadn’t called. And he hadn’t replied to the email, either.

But that didn’t deter you—didn’t temper the fire. If anything, you forced it to burn brighter, hotter. Stubborn resolve had taken the place of waiting.

Now, you sat alone in a booth at the local diner, the one you and Emmett used to frequent. It was quiet, as always. The only sounds came from the soft scrape of cutlery two tables down, a low-spoken exchange between a waitress and an older couple, and the faint sizzle of something cooking behind the swinging kitchen doors. The scent of fried onions and something meat-heavy hung thick in the air, mouthwatering.

You wrapped your hands around the warm mug in front of you, enjoying its heat. The glow of your phone screen lit up your face as you reread the email. Then, you tapped “Send”.

“Delivered.”

The word glared back at you like a challenge sent.

______________________________________________________________

Email 2 — 12:51 pm

To: [email protected]

Cc:

Subject: Do I Even Matter To You?

From: [Your Email Address]

You said you loved me. You said it. You said I was your life now, when James and Victoria threatened to take mine and Bella’s. Was it all a lie?

Because if it wasn’t, if you ever meant a single word you told me, then why are you punishing me like this? Why did you leave me to deal with this alone?

Just tell me why, Emmett.

I don’t care where you are. I’ll come to you.

Just talk to me.

______________________________________________________________

Again, he never replied. But he never blocked you either. And that was enough to know; he was still reading them, still listening. From every email you sent, every voicemail you left, landed somewhere on the receiving end. Unanswered, yes—but not unheard.

Later that same day, back home and curled up in your bed, you held your phone with your thumb hovering over his name in your call history before finally tapping it.

It rang.

Once.

Twice.

A third time before—someone on the other side answered.

For a moment, you couldn’t believe it. But then came the soft click, followed by the faint hiss of static on the other end. He was there. Listening.

“Emmett…” You breathed out, your fingers brushed against your mouth, grounding you as hot tears rose behind your eyes. Threatening to spill, you blinked hard and forced them back, as you listened. He didn’t say a word, but you knew he was there. “You don’t have to speak. But I—I need you to know that I love you.” You heard a sharp exhale from the other side. “You’re so strong, baby. Just…please. Please, come home.” For a moment, you paused. He was still there. “I’m not giving up. You don’t get to disappear and leave me with nothing.” Pausing again, you waited. And before you knew it, he hung up.

But the message was clear; you weren’t going to stop.

______________________________________________________________

From that day on, you began to expand contact, not just to Emmett, but to the rest of the Cullen family as well. You wrote. You called. You left voicemails that no one returned. But still, you persisted. Because you knew, they were reading and listening.

Edward quickly became the focal point of your onslaught of anger. Emmett’s abandonment, the guilt, the silence, the decision he made to leave you—it all traced back to Edward. He was the one who set the ball into motion. He’d chosen for all of them, and they followed. Edward will feel your wrath. So, you made sure he heard it. Every bitter word. Every accusation you hadn’t had the chance to scream when they disappeared. ______________________________________________________________

To: [email protected] Cc: Subject: Who the hell do you think you are? From: [Your Email Address]

You had no right, Edward Cullen.

I don’t care what self-righteous, omniscient nonsense you convinced yourself of: you don’t get the luxury of deciding my future for me. You don’t get to take him away from me.

You probably told yourself this was for the best. That you were protecting Bella; and, by extension, me as well. But you never stopped to think about what losing you would do to her. Or what losing Emmett would do to me.

Newsflash: YOU FAILED.

Bella is now a shell of herself. A depressed, emotionless ghost of who she used to be. She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t go out. She doesn’t talk to her friends. Hell, I had to force her to shower because she was bedrotting.

I know you think you’re always right, you egotistical prick. I know you believe you can see every outcome like some sparkly-immortal-chess-master. But guess what? You didn’t see this one, did you, asshole? You didn’t see Bella breaking apart. You didn’t see me spiralling. You didn’t see the damage you actually caused.

So congratulations, Edward. You got your way. And now we’re all paying for it.

You. Me. Bella. Emmett.

All suffering because you decided to run away instead of facing the issue—or your own damn insecurity.

But here’s the thing: you don’t control me. You never did. And I swear, if you don’t fix this, I’ll find him myself.

[Your Name]

______________________________________________________________

Of course, Edward never responded to your email, but that didn’t stop you from continuing your abuse. And, if we’re being honest, this was starting to become fun.

There was something strangely satisfying about it: hitting send on another scathing message, knowing he was reading every word with that tortured, self-loathing expression of his. You pictured him pacing, brooding, probably composing a dozen replies he’d never dare send.

Good. Let him rot in it.

After everything he put you through, it was the least he could do.

______________________________________________________________

Voicemail to Edward

“You are a coward.” Releasing a bitter laugh, you glared at nothing in particular, imagining that he was standing in front of you. “Are you proud of yourself? Have you convinced yourself you did the right thing? I’m still here. Still fighting. And I will never forgive you for this. You don’t get to play God with my life, Edward.”

______________________________________________________________

The other Cullens’ weren’t safe from you either. You haunted them. Emails. Voicemails. Leaving behind words sharp enough to do damage, weaponising memories and twisting them enough to sting. Reminding them of time spent together, every laugh, every promise made before they vanished like darkness at dawn.

You didn’t hold back. Not anymore. You had no reason to.

Alice got heartbreak. Jasper received the guilt. Even Carlisle and Esme weren’t safe; your messages were quieter, but still, cut them nonetheless.

And Rosalie? She received the fire.

______________________________________________________________

Rosalie POV

She was bored, exhausted from your constant bombardment and harassment, to be perfectly honest with you.

She didn’t want to listen. She really didn’t.

Sitting with her back against the wall, legs crossed, the latest release of Race Engine Technology magazine resting limp in her lap, Rosalie’s golden eyes flicked across the room—watching her family crumble in silence and guilt.

Edward, pacing like the self-loathing idiot he was, rubbing his temples because he knew he had screwed up. And erasing the mess he made would be nearly impossible. Alice, suddenly so quiet, was avoiding eye contact because she did see this happening, and now she felt torn. Esme, her expression etched into grief, as her hands hovered over the flowers she was arranging. Carlisle had paused from the novel he was reading and hadn’t flipped a page since your voice filled the room. And Jasper? Poor, miserable Jasper was feeling it all. Yeah, he’s feeling every bit of devastation as the family listened to the latest voicemail Edward received from you. He looked ready to implode.

Rosalie leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. She could still see your name flashing across her screen. The emails. The voicemails. At first, she’d scoffed. Deleted them without reading.

Pathetic mortal. Clinging to a fantasy that would ruin you in the end. Didn’t you get it? You weren’t meant for this life. For Emmett. For any of them.

But you kept writing and calling. And somewhere between fury and fire, something had changed. Your words were beginning to get under her skin. The way you fought. The way you refused to be silenced or erased. And now, hearing your voice tremble through the speaker, thick with heartbreak and rage and impossible devotion, Rosalie felt something familiar press against her chest.

Jealousy.

You still had something to fight for.

Emmett hadn’t been able to let go. And watching him spiral? That broke her. He’s not the same and it was because of you. He’s quiet, and that’s unnatural for him, not cracking jokes, not wrestling bears. He went off on his own, needing space even from the Cullens, which broke Esme’s heart that she was not losing only one son, but two. And Rosalie hated that you and Bella were the cause of this. She doesn’t like you, but she realised that keeping you two apart isn’t saving anyone; it’s killing both of you in different ways.

And that meant something.

More than Rosalie wanted to admit.

She opened her eyes again and glanced at Edward, still pacing like a ghost of himself.

“Good,” she muttered under her breath, too low for the others to hear. “You deserve this.”

Then she picked up her magazine again, flipping the page. But her mind wasn’t on the specs of the new engine.

It was on you.

And the war you’d just started.

***

Later that night, when the sun had long since settled behind the trees and the sky turned the colour of ink, the house settled into its usual ambience, the kind that only came when the world belonged to creatures like them.

It was their hour. The vampire’s time.

And then, Rosalie heard her phone begin to ring. The sound sliced through the quiet like a rooster crowing at dawn. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even look, as a slow, knowing smirk curled across her lips. Rosalie knew who it was. You.

Poor, miserable, human. She thought. You’re still running away from reality. Still clinging to the lie that love could conquer immortality.

Rosalie allowed the phone to ring.

And for a moment, she decided to let it go to voicemail again—just to hear how far you’d unravel tonight. But her fingers moved before her mind could stop them, lifting the phone lazily with an almost amused expression, as she flicked her blonde hair over one shoulder.

She didn’t speak right away. She just answered. Let the silence stretch before she decided to fill it.

“Why are you still calling?” she asked in a bored tone, flicking imaginary dirt from beneath her nails as she checked for any chips in her red gel polish. “We told you to move on.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line as you gathered your breath. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can—” Rosalie replied with syrupy sarcasm, but you cut her off.

“You win,” you snapped, spit hitting the receiver like venom from a cobra. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Rosalie?”

Rosalie arched a brow, her smirk curving into a full, satisfied smile.

Now, this was becoming enjoyable.

“You got what you wanted. I’m out of his life. He’s out of mine. And I’m out of yours and the Cullens. Are you finally happy?”

“Quite,” was her wicked answer, as she crossed her legs and settled onto the sofa in her room.

A sarcastic laugh came from the other side. Something dangerous. But Rosalie was danger herself, so she wasn’t intimidated. In fact, this just strengthened her own amusement.

“I never expected you to like me,” you snear, your tone steady. “Never expected you to be on my side either. But I did think you loved Emmett enough not to let this happen to him. To not let Edward decide his future. But, I guess I was wrong. You’d always spoken about how your choices were stolen from you. How you never got to live the life you wanted. So tell me, Rosalie…why did you help steal mine?”

A sharp exhale slipped through Rosalie’s nose, she clenched her teeth so tightly together that her marble jaw cracked ever so slightly. Her pleased smile turned dangerous, but Rosalie didn’t hang up... So, you push forward.

“I tried…” A tear slips, as your voice cracks. “I really tried. But you don’t just ‘move on’ from something like this. From someone like him. How is this fair?”

“Fair?” came Rosalie’s tempered hiss. “You think life is fair?”

“No,” came your honest answer. “I don’t. But I thought you, of all people, would understand about being able to make your own decisions.”

“I love him, Rosalie.” Your voice drops, turning soft and pleading. “I love him. And I know he loves me. And deep down…you know this too. Just tell me where I can find him. That’s all I’m asking. Let us have a choice. Please, Rosalie.”

Rosalie didn’t say anything for a long time. Because for months, she’d been trying to justify this decision, trying to turn herself cold and uncaring. Telling herself that this is for the best, that Emmett would get over it, that you would move on as mortals often do.

But you haven’t. And neither has he. This was different; this was real.

And deep down, Rosalie knows this too.

And after spending an immortal life of having someone else dictate your future, knowing what it’s like to have no say in the life you should have had. And despite Rosalie not liking you, she would not forsake you to the same fate she had suffered—is suffering.

You wait. You wait, because you know this is it.

Finally, she sighs. It’s quiet, almost defeated sounding. And when she speaks again, her voice has lost its edge.

“You’re an idiot.”

But she doesn’t hang up. Instead, she gives you a name. A location.

“Thank you, Rosalie,” she heard you whisper on the other end, the gratitude unmistakable.

She huffed, “Don’t think this means we’re friends or anything. I still don’t like you.”

______________________________________________________________

It didn’t shock you when Rosalie admitted that Emmett had left the Cullen family. What did surprise you, though, was learning that he hadn’t gone far at all.

Early next morning, before the sun had even begun to rise, you jumped in your car and drove out of town, heading into the mountains that surrounded Forks. Rosalie had told you that he was somewhere remote; hidden in cabin he had built. Close enough to keep watch, but still at a safe-distance from you.

The car radio was tuned to a random local station—Purple Rain by Prince played softly in the background. You were only half-listening. It wasn’t the music you wanted, it was the noise. Anything to keep the silence from swallowing you whole as you braced yourself to see Emmett for the first time in months.

It was raining—of course it was. It wouldn’t be Forks without it. The mountain road twisted upward, becoming too steep, too narrow, and far too slick for your tires to keep driving safely. Rosalie had warned you this might happen. So, taking her advice, you pulled over and left the car behind.

After adjusting your jacket, you started walking, following the directions she'd given. What surprised you most wasn’t the rain, or even the climb, it was how precise Rosalie’s instructions were. She hadn’t guessed. She knew. Maybe she’d come here before. Maybe she’d tried to bring Emmett back and failed.

After what felt like ages of walking, through the rain, past countless turns, and one moment where you were convinced Rosalie had lied just to see you lost and starving in the woods—the forest finally began to thin. Then, just ahead, the trees broke apart. A clearing opened on the mountainside, and sitting right at its center, facing the town below, was a log cabin.

Simple. Sturdy. Completely alone.

Emmett’s.

A flicker, something dangerously close to joy, rushes through you as ran towards the cabin. He doesn’t answer the door right away. But you’re not leaving. You pound on the door. Nothing. So you started shouting, through the door, through the wind, through the storm that had gathered.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Emmett!” your fist was on fire, but you continue to pound on the door. “You don’t get to just pack up and fucking leave! And expect me to be okay with it! What type of person does that? I don’t care what Edward said! I don’t care what any of them think! I know what I want. I. Want. YOU.”

And then? The door rips open.

And there he is, standing before you, shirtless, like he’s long since stopped caring about appearances. But what truly hits you isn’t the state of his clothes or the mess of his hair—it’s his face.He looks wrecked. Not just tired, unravelled, like seeing you is both salvation and torment. Like you’re the very thing he’s been waiting for and the very thing he’s been trying so damn hard to forget.

He just stares, barely blinking, as he attempts to convince himself if you’re actually here or not. And then he smiles, somewhat disturbed, before he laughs.

“Oh, this is just cruel…” he mutters, shaking his head. “I’m seeing things…”

You couldn’t help yourself, you deadpan. Himbo.

“Say you don’t love me, and I’ll leave.” you spoke, ice-cold challenge in your tone. “Say you don’t want me, and I swear to God, I’ll walk away from you, forever.”

He blinks slowly, as his dazed expression disappears. He looks at you, truly seeing you now. His body tenses, his hands slowly clurring into fists like his beginning to war with himself.

He opened his mouth, “You shouldn’t—” but he stopped himself. His voice was rough, deeper than usual, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time.

You don’t hesitate. You push him, hard, in the chest. Challenging him.

He doesn’t budge, of course, he wouldn't. He stares down at you with black eyes from a lack of feeding. His jaw clenches, and that’s when it erupts out him…

He crashes into you, kissing you like he’s been starving for you, because he has. Leaving you had been the biggest mistake of his life. Living an immortal life without you in it would be impossible and the closest thing to Hell on Earth. His thick arms wrap around you, caging you, and holding you so tightly that it almost hurts, but you don’t care because this is where you belonged.

With him.

He pulls away, kissing your forehead. “I tried.” he says into your hair. “I tried so fucking hard to stay away.”

He cringes slightly as his voice cracks, and he hates to admit it. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought— That I was protecting you. But I wasn’t. And the worst part? They almost made me believe it. I told myself I could live without you. That it’d get easier.”

He pulls away, looking down at you, as his fingers gently trace your jaw. “But it didn’t.”

Tears fell from your eyes, which he gently wiped away. You reach up, and cradle his face in your hands like you were holding a small beating heart. “Then let’s stop trying,” you whispered. “Just be with me.”

He nods, just once, before kissing you again. This time softer, slower. No desperation, no guilt. Just love.

The kind that doesn't let go. The kind that never really did.

And would never...

#twilight fanfiction #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #the cullens #twilight renaissance #emmett x reader #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #cullen family #twilight series

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justhowitgoesblog · 6 months ago

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The Weight of Goodbyes – Part 0

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Emmett Cullen x Reader

- > Part 1

A/N: Should’ve written and posted this first before Part 1… oh, well, it’s here now!

Song Inspo: Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine

Background Info: Following the plot of New Moon, after Bella is attacked by Jasper. Edward and Rosalie convince Emmett to break up with y/n and leave Forks with the rest of the Cullens. Emmett breaks up with the reader and it is just full of angst and heartbreak, guys😭

Warnings: Tears, abandonment, heartbreak and angst.

Rating: General

“Ceilings, Plaster, Can’t you just make it move faster? Lovely to be sitting here with you you’re kinda cute”

Your laughter rings through the forest.

"Emmett, where are you taking us?" You laugh, clueless and unaware, as you let him lead you into the woods behind Forks High.

He doesn’t answer. His grip on your hand is firm—too firm—and his mood has shifted, unusual for him. Gone is the teasing grin, the easy warmth, he who could turn anything into a joke. And a pit forms in your stomach.

Something is wrong.

“Raining, Harder, My shoes are now full of water”

The lyrics hum in the back of your mind, some distant memory of a song you once sang along to in the car with him. Where you’d traced shapes on his arm while he drove, your head resting against his shoulder, the world outside blurring into nothing.

But this moment is nothing like that.

The trees around you feel taller, pressing in, swallowing the sky. The wind rustles through the branches, sweeping the leaves in a whisper you can’t quite understand. Emmett finally stops walking, dropping your hand as he does, and he turns to face you.

And then you see it. The thing you didn’t want to.

His golden eyes are empty. Distant.

And somehow, you already know—before he even says it—this is the last time you’ll ever stand here with him. You can see it in the way Emmett stands before you, stiff and unyielding, his golden eyes are clouded with something unreadable. The easy smirk, the teasing glint—the things that made him—are gone. In their place stood a person you didn’t recognise. Someone distant. Cold.

"We’re leaving."

The words slam into you like a wrecking ball. You stumble over your breath. “W-what?”

"We’re leaving Forks." His voice is flat—so unlike him. He delivers it like a fact, like something you’re just supposed to accept. “And you can’t come.”

You flinch, recoiling from the rejection. He may as well have driven a stake through your heart.

This doesn’t feel real. This can’t be possible. This is Emmett–who made you laugh until your stomach became sore, who lifted you onto his shoulders without struggle, who kissed you until you couldn’t breathe and made you feel loved.

But now, he’s standing there, acting like you never meant a thing.

A bitter laugh escapes you—its emptiness surprising even yourself. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” You snap, stepping closer. Your eyes flicker over his face; searching. “You love me, Emmett. I know you do. Tell me, you still love me.”

Emotions flash over him–pain, guilt, regret–but it's gone almost immediately. His throat bobbles as he tries to find his next words.

“It doesn’t matter,”

And that did it. It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter.

Your breath turns shallow. You don’t even realise your retreating footsteps until a twig snaps under your foot.

He moves forward. “Wait,”

But you don’t. Spinning around to escape, desperate to get away from him, and from the unbearable ache cracking beneath your ribs.

Only you don’t get far.

A gust of wind passed you, and before you could retreat further, strong arms wrapped around your waist preventing you from taking another step.

“Let me go!” you shout, thrashing wildly, but it’s Emmett. You didn’t stand a chance.

He doesn’t say anything, just moves, and you are carried through the woods to his Jeep like a ragdoll.

Rage feels you, hot and wild. “Why bother!” You scream, your fist beating against his chest. But it makes no difference, he barely feels it, and you’re hurting yourself more. “I’m not your problem anymore!”

He grits his teeth but doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let go.

"You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to live this life." His voice wavers, just for a second, before he steels himself. "You deserve a human life—a life I can’t give you. One day, when you find a good man, you’ll thank me. And then…you’ll forget about me."

You look behind you, seeing the Jeep, digging your heels into the dirt you attempt to make it as difficult as possible for him. But Emmett Cullen is a brick wall, and you are a human girl.

It isn’t enough.

The next thing you know, the passenger door is flung open, and you’re being placed—gently, carefully—inside. The door slams shut before you can scramble out. You glare at him through the glass, chest heaving. Emmett doesn’t look at you as he rounds the front of the car, but his jaw is clenched, his hands trembling at his sides.

And when he finally gets in and starts the engine, you realise something. If he didn’t care anymore—if you weren’t his problem—He wouldn’t have made sure you got home safe.

****

“So short, Then you’re driving me home, And I don’t want to leave but I have to go”

The drive is silent.

Except for the sound of the tyres rolling over wet pavement, carrying you further away from the life you thought you had. Emmett’s hands grip the wheel, his knuckles white as a bone. His jaw is locked tight, his gaze fixed straight ahead. He hasn’t looked at you once since he forced you into the car. But you can’t take it. The silence is suffocating. Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the thick air between you like a knife.

"Don't do this."

His fingers twitch around the leather.

"Please, Em."

Nothing.

"Don’t. Do. This."

His breath stutters, just for a second. His grip on the wheel tightens so much you hear the leather groan under his strength. Still, he doesn’t answer.

You turn to him, eyes searching, desperate. “Look at me,” you plead.

He doesn’t.

Your throat tightens. Your chest aches. It feels like you’re being dragged under, drowning in a current you can’t fight. Your voice cracks. “You don’t have to do this.”

At that, his jaw clenches so hard you think his marble skin will crack. His breath comes out sharp, and ragged, but still, he doesn’t speak. He just keeps driving.

And you don’t know what hurts more—his silence or the fact that no matter how much you beg, it won’t change anything.

****

‘But it's over, Then you're drivin' me home, And it kinda comes out as I get up to go’

You wanted to say something. But your throat had constricted upon itself, rendering it useless. Your heart is wild, beating painfully in its cage. You yearn to reach for his hand, tell him that he’s wrong, that you don’t care if your life is shorter, messier, human compared to his immortal one. But it was futile, he had already made up his mind.

And you know Emmett–once he had made up his mind; there was no stopping him.

‘You’re the only person that I want.’

You almost say it. It sits on the tip of the tongue, burning its venomous hole straight through you. It won’t change anything, you know this. It hits you, that this drive will be the last time you’ll ever be this close to him. So, you do something reckless, you brush your fingers against his arm. His jaw tenses.

“Emmett,” You whisper, barely audible over the sound of the tyres on the wet pavement. But he heard, you know that.

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze still fixed on the road. But slowly, inching and hesitant, his hand moves. He laces his fingers with yours–just for a second–before he pulls away like it physically hurts him.

Too soon. Your house comes into view.

He pulls up in the driveway. He flexes his grip on the stirring wheel, you can hear the leather crunch beneath his fingers some more. His shoulders shake with a breath he doesn’t need. Then, finally, he turns to face you for the first time–and you see it, the cracks, he was fighting himself.

“If I stay…” his voice soft, hoarse, pain-filled. “I won’t ever let you go.”

And you know what he means. If he stays, this won’t be the last time he touches you. If he stays, you’ll never have a normal human life. He’ll never let you have one if he stays.

You barely recognise yourself as your voice trembles and the words slip out.

“Then don’t.”

Emmett’s hands clench the stirring wheel tighter, and you hear the metal within the wheel protest quietly under his grip. His jaw clenches so tightly that you can see the marbled muscle twitch as he turns away from your gaze. But his golden eyes flicker to yours again for a moment–long enough for you to see the war battling inside him.

“Don’t go.”

For a second, you think he might listen, he might stay.

But then, his expression hardens. His eyes dim, and he retreats behind something that is cold and distant as he makes his decision.

"I have to."

Your breathing slows. ‘Please,’ you beg internally, as your damp eyes fill with tears. ‘Don’t do this.’

Your breath hitches. And then, he moves. Not away, but towards you. Before you can process it, his hands are cupping your face, and his lips crash against yours. Desperate. Bruising. The last goodbye.

Your tears slipped between you, mixing with the taste of him. You feel his hands tremble against your skin like he doesn’t want to let go. But he does. He pulls away, though it nearly destroys him. Then, before he can stop himself, he rests his forehead against yours. His breath is uneven, his body shaking—he would be crying if he could. He presses one last kiss to your temple, softer than the many times before. Because Emmett knew he’d never get to do this again.

‘You kiss me in your car, And it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before’

You're sobbing now, shaking uncontrollably. Words—pleas—you try desperately to find abandon you as your breath hitches, broken and uneven.

And then he does something.

Reaching for the Jeep’s console, he presses a button. A sharp click. The doors unlock.

"Go..."

You don’t move.

Neither does he.

And then, because there is no other choice, you force yourself to pull away. To step out of the car. To walk away from him. But the second the door closes behind you, the engine revs, and when you turn around—

He's gone.

And you’re left standing there, staring at the empty road watching the love of your life leave you behind, breathless and hollow, and tasting his last kiss on your lips.

‘But it's not real, And you don't exist, And I can't recall the last time I was kissed, It hits me in the car. And it feels like the end of a movie I've seen before

Before’

#emmett cullen x reader #emmett cullen #the twilight saga #twilight #angst #new moon #twilight headcanon #twilight imagine #Youtube

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justhowitgoesblog · 6 months ago

Text

The Weight of Goodbyes - Part 1

youtube

Emmett Cullen x Reader

<- Part 0 — Part 2 ->

Song : I hate it here by Taylor Swift

(a/n: after hearing this song for the first time, i literally got kicked with inspiration for this fic)

Summary: (a/n: Sorry, I’m terrible with summaries🥺) At La Push Beach, the reader wrestles with the grief of Emmett and the Cullen’s leaving, while Bella's own grief mirrors their own. Standing amidst the crashing waves, they grapple with memories of love lost and the weight of unspoken questions—Did they deserve better? Jacob, ever loyal little cutie approaches, offering comfort, but the reader is hesitant to accept. As the storm rages both outside and within, the struggle to find peace is palpable.

Warnings: Angst. Heartbreak. Self-doubt. References to Depression. Heartbreak.

Rating: General Audience

“Quick, quick tell me something awful like you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy”

Each step through the wet sand felt like punishment.

But perhaps, that was fitting? You thought.

The cold, wet sand clung to your skin, heavy and unwelcome—just like memories. The beach of La Push was the only place that wasn’t tainted with memories of him.

The mind was an awful thing. Full of tricks. Full of reminders. Nostalgia—the worst of them all—a self-deprecating enemy, leading you down dark roads to escape the truth: you’ve been left behind in the waves of the forgotten and unwanted. Standing on the shore of the omitted, you watch as the waves crash against the shoreline of La Push.

Smash. Smash. Smash.

The cold spray stings your skin, but you barely notice. The pain is familiar. The constriction of your throat, the weight of knowing you and he were just a grain of sand in this place. A sea of people. Millions of years. Sextillions of grains of sand. But somehow, you both met. And for once, amid juggling an avalanche of textbooks, deadlines, and the ever-present hum of who’s dating who and who’s popular this week, the world felt still. At peace. Because you had him. And you loved him. Only for him to leave so unceremoniously…

“I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind, People need a key to get to, The only one is mine”

You exhale sharply, the words lingering in your head like an echo, unwanted but persistent. The wind swallows the sound of your breath, but the truth of it clings to you just like the dampness in the air.

“Grief,” you mutter to yourself, tasting the bitter word on your tongue. “Is also a crippling thing.”

You thought of Bella Swan, standing a little ways from you, staring absentmindedly into the crashing waves. She was absorbed in her own mental strife, much like you, but in a different way—lost, maybe even more so. You thought of finding her months ago, sitting in her chair, tucked away in the darkness of her bedroom, staring out her window in a comatose state, drowning in her own grief.

“I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child, No mid-sized city hopes and small town fears, I'm there most of the year, Cause I hate it here, I hate it here”

"You see," Charlie’s pained voice flooded your mind. "You’re my only hope."

Charlie’s only hope—the phrase stung now, reminding you that no one had ever called you anyone’s hope.

Bella sat, hidden away in her darkness, trapped in grief so much deeper than your own. Could she not see? Could she not understand? You had moved forward, or at least you had to—but her grief, it was a prison of its own. A coma.

“This place made me feel worthless, Lucid dreams like electricity, the current flies through me”

And for a fleeting moment, you wondered: Did she deserve this? Did she deserve to linger, locked in agony, while you fought to escape yours? To escape him? To escape the memories? Why couldn’t she just... move on? Why couldn’t she claw her way out?

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat reminding you that, perhaps, it was you who was running. Running from him. Running from the past.

But maybe Bella’s love for Edward was stronger than yours for him.

Jacob was with her now. You’d recruited him, hoping he could cheer her up, give her some reason to smile again. And to your surprise, he had. In a matter of minutes, he had managed to pull a small, but noticeable smile from her—something that felt like a victory, if only for a second.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed Jacob’s approach until you heard his voice, warm and familiar, cut through the air.

"Y/N."

You don’t turn to him, keeping your gaze fixed on the crashing waves, trying to drown out the noise inside your head.

"Jacob."

Your voice is colder than you intend, though you’re sure he doesn’t mind. You don’t bother turning to him. Not yet.

You feel him shuffle closer, his presence palpable even from a distance. The heat of him radiates toward you, filling the space between the two of you. His warmth contrasts with the chill in your bones, but you don’t let yourself indulge in it.

Breaking the silence between you, you mutter, “Still chasing after Bella now that Eddy is out of the picture?”

You feel Jacob stiffen next to you, the heat that he radiates faltering for just a moment as your words hit the air. The words sting, but he doesn’t show it—not fully. Instead, he lets out a long, controlled breath, trying to mask the hurt he feels, though it’s evident in the tension of his jaw.

“I’m not chasing anyone,” he says, moving next to you. You feel his stare, but still, you keep your eyes locked on the stormy seas in front of you. “Just trying to make sure she’s okay.”

Silence takes over the two of you.

“How are you?” he asks, breaking the quiet.

You smile, despite the frown that has become a permanent accessory of yours lately.

“What a stupid question,” you chuckle with light warmth.

Jacob watches you with a quiet intensity. “I gotta ask. I’m worried about you too, Y/N.”

Your gaze drifts briefly to him, the faintest crack in your otherwise stoic expression. “Guess I’m fine,” you say, but the word feels wrong in your mouth—too thin, too weak for everything you’ve been carrying. You’re anything but fine. But you don’t have to say that. Not to him.

The wind picks up, rustling your hair, as he steps closer—his presence a quiet weight beside you.

"Yeah? You sure?" His voice softens like he’s not ready to push, but he’s waiting.

Waiting for you to say it.

“What do you think?” you finally confess, as waves crash loudly before the two of you.

Smash.

“I'm lonely but I'm good, I'm bitter but I swear I'm fine, I'll save all my romanticism for my inner life and I'll get lost on, Purpose”

“It’s funny, ya know,” you pause, letting the words come to you, as your memories of him return, like a haunting dream. “To let someone in and let them become so important to you, only for them to decide to leave and say, 'You’ll thank me one day. You deserve better. A human life that I can't give you.'”

“You do,” Jacob immediately replies, his voice firm, wanting to validate your pain.

Scoffing, you finally turn to him, your eyes bloodshot as you desperately try to fend off the tears threatening to fall.

“What do I deserve? I deserved him, and now he’s gone. And now, I'm forced to move on. When all I wanted was him.”

Jacob is quiet. His reply takes time as he adjusts his choice of wording. His next words are careful, almost soft, but trying to be the strength you’re looking for without pity. "What do you deserve? I don’t know... but, I know you don’t deserve that."

“I deserved a choice…”

“No mid-sized city hopes and small town fears, I'm there most of the year, Cause I hate it here.

I hate it here…”

#twilight #emmett cullen x reader #emmett cullen #angst #twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #the twilight saga #twilight x y/n #twilight x oc #Youtube

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