Meaningful Artifacts [Edward/Jacob]

nineteen.

Jacob's not quite sure what makes him open his eyes. It takes him a minute to even understand that he's awake and even longer to comprehend what's happening as he slowly takes in the dim room around him. 

Eventually, his gaze lands on Edward. Edward, who is sitting up in bed, concerningly still, head turned towards the window. He's rigidly towering over Jacob, arms flanking either side of his body, wordlessly watching Jacob's curtains. 

Jacob's about to peel his chapped lips apart, maybe ask what the fuck is going on, but he's stopped in his tracks as a voice rings out in the room. 

"Jacob!" 

It sounds like Edward, from the pitch to the accent, it's spot on. However, the Edward in front of him isn't talking. In fact, even if he was, the voice sounds distant, like it's traveling through a wall. 

Jacob's head turns toward the window. 

"Jacob!"

It's a good imitation, like a well done fake handbag. If it's done right, it'll take most connoisseurs a minute or two of examination to decide that it's not real. Even with how similar it sounds, certain elements are missing, particular parts of Edward's voice that a complete stranger wouldn't pick up. The thing outside sounds cold and monotone. Even with the way it's yelling, it sounds hollow and flat.

The Edward that's becoming more and more ingrained in Jacob's life over the past couple of months has a subtle warmth to his voice. He smirks a little when he speaks. He's quiet and calm and a little goofy. He rambles and he's deathly afraid of making the wrong move, saying the wrong words. 

He wouldn't stand outside Jacob's house at 8:30 PM screaming his name at the top of his lungs like a bland serenade. 

It mimics the tone Edward reserves for when he doesn't particularly care about someone or something. A tone he uses with some of the staff members at the museum. He's never used that tone with Jacob. Even back in the day, he'd sounded irritated, angry, smug, but never genuinely disinterested. 

"What the fuck?" He sleepily slurs, words muffled by Edward's shoulder as he pulls Jacob closer, like he's going to suddenly disappear.

"I don't know," Edward whispers. 

The wind is howling and rain is still hammering against the roof, but it's still loud and clear, piercing even through the roll of thunder.

"Jacob!" 

Jacob hasn't felt genuine fear in a very long time. His life had been pretty chill up until about a month ago. He'd spent his weekends fixing his motorcycle or going out to the lake with the boys. Maybe he'd take a detour into the forest where he'd sit in a tree and try to remember what it felt like to shift, stretch his legs. 

There wasn't a lot to worry about. It seemed like all of the excitement had left with the Cullens. So, it feels foreign the way his heart drops to his stomach. 

Edward's hunched shoulders and scrunched brow aren't helping. He's worried, which makes Jacob think that it's an actual threat. Though, the numbers didn't lie. They could bum rush the thing before it even realized what hit it. That may be their best option. 

He goes to stand, only to be pulled back down to the bed. 

"No." Edward hisses, grip tightening on Jacob's sweatpants. 

"No?" 

"That thing is strong. Remember?" He pointedly reminds Jacob.

"Okay, so we'll all go. It can't take all of us." He hisses back.

"It doesn't just mimic voices, it mimics people," Edward elaborates.

"I can hear their thoughts if we're in wolf form." He reminds him.