Twin Skeletons ↠ Rosalie Hale [1] ✓

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Rosalie looked at him.

His raven colored hair and hunched back, that were both cast underneath the shadow of his quiet and sleeping bedroom. The shadows that covered him, were the shadows that his desk lamp couldn't even scatter.

In this lighting, normal humans wouldn't be able to see his facial features, but Rosalie saw them. Knew them to a point so minuscule, it as almost like she'd created him herself.

But often, Rosalie thought he was made by the stars - she he shined so brightly in her dense night-like soul.

Rosalie saw how his eyes were centered around the nucleus of the painting he was creating. His fingers were covered in many different colors of acrylic paint and soft chalk. His white shirt matched his hands to a degree.

Along his desk, were a series of random drawings of the moon, or tables, or coffee cups, or some of them were of her; but those were a secret and she wasn't allowed to look at them when he wasn't in the room with her.

She saw his hand reach up and wipe at his forehead, leaving a smear of grey charcoal behind. It only seemed to make him more dazzling.

Her breathe caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of him picking up a pencil and lazily placing strokes of lead on the paper.

Opening her eyes a second later, Rosalie scanned the football and baseball trophies lining his many shelves. Amongst them were drawing novels that he'd had once read when he wasn't as skilled in drawing as he was now. It seemed that they'd done their job in teaching him his true passion.

Her eyes faded back to him, and found that he was already looking at her. His dark hair was pressing against his forehead in loose tendrils and his mouth was slightly open as if he wanted to say something.

Rosalie scanned his face, and stopped at his amber colored eyes and how they were the only things exactly alike between the two of them. A thought, quick and precious, made Rosalie ponder if she'd finally found someone who could beat her in a beauty contest.

And she knew that he could - that he'd always be too stunning.

He smiled lightly. "Rosalie,"

"Beau." Rosalie spoke his name like a prayer. Lip curling into a pleased manner.

His golden eyes flared slightly as her voice went over his name. She never understood why that got to him so much, but then she understood a second later.

She wondered if her eyes did the same thing whenever he called her name, because she knew it was the best sound she'd heard in a long time. When he'd say her name every time the sun rose in the sky and kiss her cheek lightly before going to his art studio.

No one has ever said her name as delicately as he says her's.

She loves him more than herself. More than the moon, more than the air, more than beauty, more than anything she's ever been foolish enough to cherish before him.

Rosalie stared into his golden eyes and smiled.

It had taken her a while to find peace with herself about changing him, about taking away his choice. But now, she was beginning to forgive herself for that, slowly and surely.

And that was enough, that'd always be enough.

He'd always be enough.