there is something so genuinely heartbreaking about the very last line of midnight sun... the total opposite of twilight...
'And he leaned down to press his cold lips once more to my throat.' / 'As the night finally overcame the end of the day, I leaned forward again and kissed the warm skin of her throat.'
there's... hope in twilight. hope during the last chapters, hope in the very last scene. to me, this very last sentence was always a door, the door to something more -- or less: had twilight been a single book rather than a series, this sentence (ignoring all the other things happening in the scene, the loose ends that would have not been tied had edward turned bella right there and then) was the perfect way to end it; hinting at more, but leaving it up to the reader to Assume. even now, as i reread twilight, and i reach this very moment, and i close my book, i'm always left with a feeling of hope. i know three books come after, but this sentence carries so much hope. so much things we could just imagine and be left forever unanswered. does edward turn her? he must, and they live happily ever-after -- they find a compromise, surely, and they get a fairytale ending that allows readers to sleep soundly, that heals the heart that broke as james and his two partners ruined everything. edward presses his lips on bella's neck, and life -- death -- happens.
but on edward's side, it's so... heart-crushing. the chapters that precede it, filled with self-hatred, lies, broken promises. the realisation that the point of view bella has at the end of twilight, at the beginning of new moon, is nothing but a lie, and what she thought was lasting, was only fleeting.
bella says 'press' -- leaves it up to the reader to imagine what comes next. edward says 'kiss' -- does not imply anything and hands us his thought, his act -- his decision -- on a silver platter. he goes one step further than bella, one second later than her ending. he ties it up, neatly, and at the same time, if i may, crushes it. there it is, bella tells us, figure it out on your own. there it is, edward whispers as we close her side of the story, i've taken my decision and it's only a matter of time.
and it's not a fairytale ending, it's not the happiness we wish for them throughout the entire book. it's the breach of a promise, a crack on something that seemed perfect for a long time. it's, funnily enough, not at all like hades and persephone, but more like orpheus and euridyce, if in a twisted way, life was death and vice versa. an orpheus who's been dead for years, and is midway through accepting eurydice as a partner -- who realises, as they head to the underworld, and penniless souls reach for his soulmate, that he cannot do this, and willingly turn around -- curses eurydice into a life (life itself,) something she does not yearn for.
for a man who talks so much about pomegranate seeds and how he's cursing bella to hell -- edward sounds a lot more like the half of a soul that cannot live on his own -- one who cannot stop from turning around. he sure sounds like the king of the underworld, too, sensible and devoted to his other half, crying as he hears about a touching love story -- but he is also the one who tells the story, and who begs for another chance. he's the man who dies without his other half, and yet curses himself to his fate.
mourning forever, enchanting others with his voice. this orpheus cherished life dearly, and lost his lover to it. a self-fulfilling prophecy, cutting threads of hope on his own. a tragedy.
a midnight sun, peeking at exactly twelve, like the day would -- and then heading back to the shadows.
