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i. Time will decide
Isabella Swan’s eyes are brown. Before she ducks her head, you notice they are deep, wide, and curious. Perhaps she is embarrassed at being caught staring, because she doesn’t look up again. Strange; humans get so flustered about the most trivial things. Since when was fascination a sin?
Perhaps it is vain to think that she’s fascinated by you and your family, but it is the general response to your pale skin and usually golden (today coal black) eyes. Most frustratingly, though, there is no way of knowing what she feels. You can’t hear what she’s thinking; about you, about anything.
How strange. She is the first true stranger you’ve encountered for decades. It’s refreshing, and it’s infuriating. In seconds, the new girl goes from being boring to intriguing. How cliché.
Without warning, her head snaps up and her eyes lock with yours. Her cheeks colour, and your throat burns with thirst. You usually roll your eyes at descriptions of characters with chocolate brown eyes, but suddenly it doesn’t seem so inappropriate. So stupid, so cliché, you think. Girl captivates boy with a single look across the cafeteria. Ice meets fire.
You don’t know it yet, but someday, you will tuck her hair behind her ear and say, you’re right. Brown is warm.
How ironic.
-~
You soon learn that she prefers to be called Bella.
In the thoughts of other students, you hear her correct several people, always kindly. Vaguely, you remember her doing this on her first day. You aren’t too hard on yourself for forgetting, as it’s been a week since that disgustingly fateful hour. And since then, you’ve been quite busy battling your own demons. Your problems are a bit more complex than a misnomer.
But who was Bella Swan, really, but an oblivious little girl? Who was she to tempt you? She doesn’t have any power over you, at least not knowingly. And yet, you find yourself staring at her over the sea of students. Your memory isn’t faulty enough to betray the fact that this isn’t the first time.
Her body language is very restrained as she looks down at her table, as if she’s forcing herself to fix her gaze there. Guilt washes over you. You didn’t exactly roll out the welcome wagon. Mysterious boy is nasty to the quiet girl. If it weren’t for the part where the mysterious boy wants to drink her blood, you’d think this story was getting more cliché by the hour.
“Edward Cullen is staring at you.” Like a speeding car, Jessica Stanley’s words hit you hard and bring you back to reality. Thoughts hum around you in a strange buzz. You used to think of that hum as the most inconsistent, abnormal song in the world, because everyone’s voices were at a different level. Funnily enough, it is the silence from Bella’s mind that attracts you most to the music, like a broken piano key, making everything more out of tune than usual.
To your unexpected despair, you hear her say, “I don’t think he likes me.” She raises her head bravely then, but not in your direction; still, you quickly duck your head, feeling very much like the nervous humans you mocked not eight days ago.
Not sure of how much more of this you can take, you think it’s time to get to know Bella past brief glances in the lunchroom. Without thinking about it, you have already begun blocking the bloodlust incident from your mind. Hopefully she can do the same.
-~
ii. And by time I’m melting into many forms
Interrogating Bella Swan has quite possibly become your favourite hobby of all time, and if anyone understands the concept of that phrase, it would absolutely be you. I’m immortal, after all, you think, smiling goofily. You have to revel at the way you can now lightly think of your (simultaneously) blessed and cursed condition. Before Bella, night and day were one and the same, but after Bella, twilight suddenly became more prominent, that middle ground between hope and unrequited longing.
You drive into Chief Swan’s driveway, tapping your fingertips on the steering wheel to the beat of the song on the radio. The artist is soulful, his voice strangled with passion, and it suddenly strikes you that you haven’t talked to Bella about her favourite music yet. That would be on today’s interrogation list. You had to admit it to yourself - you were pretty shameless about the whole thing. It was too fun, and too long since you’d been able to get to know someone like this. You weren’t about to stop now.
Bella then exits the house, locking the door behind her, and you laugh quietly as she carefully walks across the asphalt. The ground was smooth, but knowing Bella, she probably had more difficulties walking across a flat surface than a bumpy one. Maybe that was why she wasn’t afraid of you.
“Good morning.” You smile at her as she opens the door, and she offers a little wave before settling into her seat. She places her backpack on her lap and hugs it to her chest. You notice that she’s wearing a brown sweater, and you grin. Everything about her radiated warmth.
She looks at you thoughtfully for a moment, and then, seeming reassured by your smile, she says, “fire away.”
You begin immediately. “What is your favourite song?”
“Oh!” She looks startled by the question at first, and then her face lights up. “Music, wow - I’m surprised this one didn’t come out sooner, Mr. Debussy.”
“Shush and answer.” You say firmly, but you know you’re smiling like an idiot. To give her time to think, you turn your eyes to the road so as not to distract her.
But she’s quiet for several moments, the song on the radio filling the silence between them, and you notice that the singer’s emotions become more heightened as he reaches the final chorus. Explosions of fear, anticipation, and love burst from the lyrics, until the melody slows down, and the song fades away into a gentle strumming of guitar strings. You tremble slightly, suddenly longing to play your piano. Bella’s voice replaces the need, though, as she softly says, “I liked that song.”
“Me too.” You smile. “I don’t know what it was called, though.”
“We’ll know when we hear it again.” She says confidently. “Until then, it’s my favourite.”
“Absolutely.” You swallow, reaching forward to turn up the volume as a contemporary folk song you enjoy comes on next, just as Bella does the same. Your fingers brush lightly, and electricity passes through your body.
“Um.” She blushes, pulling back her small hand and fiddling with her zipper instead. “Next question?”
-~
Despite laying on it several times before, Bella’s bed still manages to be just as warm and inviting as the first night. You could be a total liar and blame its appeal on the soft covers, or the fluffy pillows, and not for some mushy reason like her scent or her body heat, but you’re past discomfort now. You can tell her anything, really.
You’re pretty silent this evening, though, as Bella lays flat on her stomach, reading a novel, and your eyes shift from watching her, to her belongings around the room. Your eyes rest on her blue prom dress and you smile at the memory of her soft curls and clumsy dancing, wondering if she’d let you take her again.
Gently, you tug a strand of hair falling out of her bun to get her attention. She’s poured over Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time, or at least, that’s what she tells you. Before tonight, you’ve actually never seen her read it, but through endless literature based conversations, you know by now that it’s her favourite summer read. She flinches only slightly at your touch, and yes, you’re feeling kind of shunted to the side at the moment. In favour of a book.
“Am I going to have to compete with the charms of Mr. Darcy for the rest of the night?” You ask her, smiling crookedly. She’s never said it outright, but you’ve grown to learn that Bella has the tendency to become enamoured with the characters in books she reads. Confirming this, she blushes when she looks up from her page.
“There’s no competition.” She mumbles distractedly, her eyes flickering back and forth from yours and the paperback.
Chuckling, you say, “I won’t make you put it away. But could I at least read some for you?”
“Oh, God, I haven’t had someone do that for me since…well, ever.” She giggles, but she throws the book at your chest and snuggles deeper underneath the blankets. Triumphant, you pick up the book and look at her curiously. This was a new piece of information.
“Your mom never read to you?”
“Nope, and neither did Charlie. I never minded, though. I liked reading on my own.” She sighs, and you feel rather than see her arm brush against yours. “But I’m actually kind of sleepy now. You can read to me.”
Finding her bookmark, you place it on her pillow and scan the page for a passage you like. Grinning, you think you find the perfect quote, but she mistakes your smile to be teasing.
“I know I’m not very far in. I’m not usually this slow of a reader, but having you here distracts me, and -what?” She looks adorably confused when you clear your throat, attempting to sound disapproving of her chatter (and that was a lie if you ever knew one).
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to start reading now.” You say in as stern as a voice you can muster, and she snorts, but looks back at you respectfully. Smiling, you begin to cite the words you relate to so well.
Hoping to God that your Mr. Darcy voice isn’t completely ridiculous, you say slowly and clearly, “I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.” Sadly, your voice sounds more like Edward Cullen’s than any romantic hero’s, but Bella doesn’t seem to care. She beams, gazing up at you fondly, almost tauntingly, and you can’t look away.
“Is that all you’re going to read to me?” She asks, and all you can manage is a nod. Maybe that wasn’t the best excerpt to read, because it was too close to home. Your voice is nonexistent at this point. Bella and her warm eyes have that effect on you; they were more than just “fine”, so Mr. Darcy could take that.
“That’s too bad.” Bella’s hand rests on your elbow. “Don’t tell anybody or anything, but it was dancing with you at the prom that made me want to read the book again. You know, because of all the balls they have.”
You can’t help but chuckle now, amused enough to regain your voice, because seriously, Bella was such a great ballroom dancer. “We can go to prom again next year?” You propose, tickling her in the stomach. “I can absolutely teach you the Jane Austen dance -”
“Oh my God, I hate you.” She juts out her leg in an attempt to kick you, but you lift her quickly to save her the toe pains, your hands settling on her hips. Carefully, you press her firmly against your chest. Her breathing turns into panting from being tickled, from being touched, and the book falls to the floor. Grinning, you know that not much more reading will be done tonight. And what’s better, you think you’ve found another one of Bella’s weak spots.
“My only love sprung from my only hate, right?” You whisper into her ear, and she shudders. “Watch, next you’ll be telling me that you have a crush on Romeo, too.”
“Shut up,” she mumbles, burying her head into your neck, and you spend the rest of the night altering between laughing and kissing her.
iii. Something between the burning shade and the faded light
The reflection in the mirror above her dresser is a stranger to you. There is little familiarity in the man’s face. You deem him as the shell of the man you once were. You had nothing, you found everything, and now you were back to drifting in the middle of nowhere.
Your hair still drips with water from the rain outside. It splashes against her floor, and the liquid almost feels like tears as you stuff pictures, CD’s, and memories, beneath it. Shaking, you lift yourself from the ground and stare out the window. You’ve crawled through it so many times to meet her. You’ll never pass through it again.
Running a hand over your face, you close your eyes and then launch yourself outside. Your feet are faster than they’ve ever been as they push against the muddy ground. All that you see is the darkness inside your eyelids, and all that you feel is the rain washing over your entire body. For a moment, you can believe that you never really existed. And you know that you never will again. Not without her.
Boy leaves girl in a flight of terror.
What a coward you are.
-~
After that, you never look at anything that will reflect your broken body back at you. Mirrors, glass, and windows become forbidden evils. If you ever feel the need to leave your spot on the floor, you refuse to drive. Your car contains too many opportunities for your reflection to destroy you. Still, you’re not sure if the empty passenger seat, or the absence of her weight on your back, is more painful to your senses. What was left of them, anyway?
If you were human, you surely would have died by now. You would have lost weight, colour, and strength. You might as well be human, you think. Your hands are cold, white, and dead. You are void of any heartbeat. You’ve abandoned love. Boy wallows in his own misery as girl moves on. Just like the boy hopes, just like the boy fears. It’s like every sad movie you’ve ever hated.
You’re pathetic, you tell yourself, waiting for the pain to come. But even your mental voice is cracked and emotionless. No, you don’t feel anything anymore. Curling into a ball, you close your eyes and wait for the peaceful slumber that you’ll never get.
That’s right, you remind yourself. You aren’t so human after all.
-~
There is no other word for the sun but blinding. You stare up at it, feeling numb as it moves in all of its warmth across the sky, too slow to be noticed by human sight. As each ray of sunlight beams down at you, mocking you, tempting you, you see flashes of her warm body falling from the cliff and into the frozen water. You can almost hear her scream your name, a distant echo of fear and panic. Your knees give out underneath you, and you grip the wall for support. You are not invincible. You are weaker than you thought. You feel as destructible as the rest of the people beyond the alleyway. Maybe this is what a vampire feels before death: shreds of humanity, returning at long last.
An indescribable pain flows through you as you hear her cries again, repeating your name over and over. You wait for the air in her lungs to run out, for the sound of rushing death to crush her, kill her, and end your entire reason for living. But the noise of destruction never comes. She continues to cry.
“Edward!”
Stop, you think desperately.
“Edward!”
You press your back against the wall, fighting to keep your eyes open. The clock ticks loudly.
Please end this.
But her voice only becomes clearer, stronger, and more hysterical. You can’t look away from the sun, but some unstoppable force is pulling at your strength. Somebody up there doesn’t want you to burn. Somebody believes you can make it. I can’t, you assure them. It’s over.
Your body begins to feel unlike your own as her voice echoes louder. Most cruelly, you think you hear water splashing. Somebody up there is hurting you. Somewhere close to where you stand, hurried footsteps fly across the road. You hope whoever is searching finds what they’re looking for. Maybe they lost someone too.
At least they’ll be able to find them again, you think bitterly, struggling to keep your gaze fixed on the sun. Her voice still screams inside your head.
Except…no. Wait.
She isn’t screaming; puzzled, you listen closer. Her voice is a whisper now, as if her mouth is close enough to brush against your ear.
A scent so beautiful, so warm, so ethereal, suddenly clouds your senses, and the sun can no longer hold your interest. Captivated, you turn to see a small vision of light and air in front of you. Her clothes drip with water and her face glows with sweat and tears. A ghost, you think faintly, and then correct yourself as you take in her sparkling eyes and breathtaking beauty.
An angel.
Your entire body trembles. She can’t speak anymore, as if her voice is hoarse from crying, and slowly she reaches out her hand to find yours.
Bella.
Her touch is too real to be imaginary. Your body crumbles and you pull her, in all of her warmth, against you. It’s the only way you can stay on your feet.
You are home.
iv. And I was broken for a long time
You might as well be strangers.
Clutching the motorcycle helmet in your hand, you stare out at the deserted road. It’s not been five minutes since Jacob took her to the campfire, and yet you miss her unbearably. You sit in the driver’s seat, but you’ve never felt less control in your entire existence. Your renewed existence, that is. You’re grateful to be back, and yet it’s becoming too hard to watch the new bonds that formed in your absence. Bonds without you.
There is something new in Bella’s face. Her brown eyes no longer swim with devotion only for you, and you know you deserve every bit of it. Without question, you know this is something you will have to live through, perhaps forever. You know this, but it doesn’t make it less painful. In fact, it only makes it worse.
But it’s you, only you are to blame. You doubted, you feared, and you left. She fought, she mourned, and unlike you, she made an effort to live. And unlike you, she was successful.
Boy leaves girl. Girl finds comfort in male best friend.
You always hated that story.
Angrily, you jam the helmet on your head. You know it’s stupid. You don’t need it, and you’re not even riding the motorcycle. No, she rejected that proposal. Again, you don’t blame her. Riding is not something she shares with you. Stupid.
You had snuck the helmet into the car when she wasn’t looking, although your speed would have made it impossible for her to notice anyway. You still don’t know why you did it. Perhaps it was for some sentimental reason that you don’t care to analyze right now.
How are you going to get through this? You knock against the helmet’s hard exterior, as if it will give you the answers you need. Nothing comes, and you smack it again. It doesn’t even hurt.
You push the helmet off and begin driving, fast, just as you like it. Maybe you’ll drive all night to pass the time. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you contemplate riding the motorcycle alone. Wildly, you hope she’d somehow see you.
You wonder if she’d feel guilty.
It alarms you that you’re not even sure anymore.
-~
Her eyes are closed, her eyelashes long and dark against her cheeks as she lies in the arms of another man. She doesn’t shiver in the cold like she would if it were you. She’s safe with Jacob Black. You like him and hate him at the same time.
You told him as much before he fell asleep. And in his thoughts, you saw that all he felt was loathing for you. You don’t know if that makes you sad or relieved. You wonder why you even care. He doesn’t love her like you do, but he wants to. Of course he hates you for that. All of Jacob’s spite had kept his gaze on your face, in some manly battle for intimidation and power, but your eyes had always flickered to Bella’s sleeping form, illuminated by the firelight. Sometimes you thought you saw her stir, or her eyes flicker open, but it might have been a trick of the light. It scares you when you can’t see her face.
She wants you, you tell yourself. She kisses you like a woman who needs you. You hope that you will someday be able to kiss her back with the passion she craves. To touch her, to complete her, to - well - you’re not exactly sure of what comes next. That is something you’ll have to learn together. If the dog doesn’t take her away from you, a voice in your head says harshly.
Watching him hold her close to his heated skin, you think you hate him more than you like him right now. You want to cause him as much pain as possible. But that, of course, would hurt Bella, so you convince yourself not to. Not tonight.
You’ve watched her sleep many times before. And yet, looking down at her now, her warm brown eyes out of your sight until morning, you’ve never felt father from her.
-~
She cries for hours, but reassures you that she’s fine. You hold her as gently as you can while she tells you you’re the man she can’t live without. When she finally falls asleep, all of the distraught in her face is replaced with a calm expression, and you suddenly feel very sorry for Jacob Black.
Girl realizes that she’s meant to be with her first love. Boy finds hope again.
Suddenly, the fairytale ending belongs to you. You have more compassion for the werewolf than you thought. He’s a part of Bella now, and that makes him important to you, too.
This strong, growing Bella isn’t a stranger to you anymore. She’s only human. You lean down and kiss her eyelids. They are still wet with tears, but instead of remorse, you feel only rejuvenation.
We made it.
v. But it’s over now
Your knees buckle as Bella kisses you hungrily, both of your bodies wet from the warm ocean water. You’ve never felt your skin so alight with fire. She presses her exposed chest against yours, and you feel everything, without limits like fabric separating you now. Gently, you wrap your arms around her waist to keep her upright, because she’s succumbing, too. The water makes you lighter, powerful in an almost otherworldly way. The waves are soft and silent, the water rushing past your entangled bodies, and it’s as if time has stopped only for you, for the new husband and wife. The summer wind tickles your face, as if it too thrills from the moment. You’ve never felt so alive.
But still, you’re not sure how to do this. Right now you’re just kissing, perhaps differently than you have before, but what you crave to do is still so foreign. You’ve read about it, you’ve heard people talk about it, unfortunately you’ve heard people doing it, but you’ve never experienced it for yourself. And suddenly she’s as close as she can get, and you’re going to get there very soon.
Instinct guides you, and still kissing her, you release your arms from around her. They float in midair for a moment, longing to touching her again, and she expresses much of the same need, locking her arms tighter around your neck. A groan escapes your lips and your hands suddenly find their place, cupping her breasts. You both cry out, then, her from pleasure, you from the newfound sensation. She’s so soft, so warm, and so delicate.
She’s yours, tonight and for forever.
-~
Her eyes are burgundy instead of brown, but somehow they are still warm. You have a new brown-eyed girl, and she’s small and she’s beautiful, fragile but stronger than any child. You didn’t see her coming. Who could have seen her coming? How were you to know that you could create something so amazing, so impossible? You have a daughter, sleeping soundly downstairs as her mother wakes up. And Bella stands before you, born again.
No, her eyes aren’t brown anymore, but she isn’t a different person. Your family crowds around you, peering at her, mouths open, but you’re not surprised by her beauty. She always has been beautiful. Everyone was just blind. You were too, once, in the brief seconds when you were bored by her, just another girl across the room.
And here she was again, looking at you from the other side, waiting, watching. And it’s a mark of how far you’ve come since first sight that you can now walk towards her, and hear her laugh, and rush to meet you in the middle. She throws her arms around you and you kiss her violently, fiercely in a way that no longer has to be careful, or guarded. The freedom is new and it’s perfect and yet, the need is the same. All you want in your life is her, and most remarkably, she wants to stay with you too. In this moment, your happiness is impenetrable.
-~
Bella traces her fingers over your bare chest, her soft hair fanning out over your skin, and your stroke her curls absently as you read out loud to her. The cottage is quiet and bathed in sunlight as twilight settles in the sky, and the peace is comforting.
You pause for a moment, and it’s not the first time in your life that you’ve had to stop and take in your surroundings. You wonder if they’ll ever stop feeling so surreal. You rather hope they don’t. As if to reinforce this desire, Bella showers your chest with kisses to bring you back to earth. You oblige, of course.
“I’m sorry, where was I?”
Bella rolls her eyes, but she smiles as she points to the spot on the page. Her paperback is so worn out at this point, you wonder how you don’t break it with your strong grasp, but there’s something about Bella and everything she owns that has the ability to endure time.
Her human impatience, especially, is just as strong. “Edward, are you listening to me? Elizabeth was telling Mr. Darcy how much her feelings have changed.” Bella says, raising her voice now, and you can’t help but grin. She gets so frustrated by your moments of silence. It was a little quirk she’d have to deal with for eternity, but deciding not to drive her crazy any further today, you resume reading.
“The happiness which this reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do.” You whisper, twirling a lock of brown hair around your fingers, and she giggles.
“I love that line.” She smiles, and then stretches her legs. “Let’s end it there.”
“All that eye-rolling and exasperated sighing for nothing.” You chuckle, and put her bookmark in place. It’s the same bookmark she’s had since you met her. It’s bright yellow. Faintly, you remember a time when she desperately missed the sun. She didn’t have to miss it anymore, though. It was everywhere.
“Sometimes you just go off into your own little world.” Bella sighs, but you can tell she’s smiling as she rolls of the bed and puts on her nightgown. Renesmee was doing the same in her room. You feel pride wash over you as your girls get ready for nighttime. You and Bella don’t sleep, but it feels right to get ready to lie down together. It’s your routine.
Every so often, you will listen to music as you lie awake, and you can tell by the way that Bella shakes her hips as she dances from one room to the next, that tonight will be another one of those nights. Music is something that will always be apart of you.
Sure enough, Bella turns on the radio when she bounces back into your bedroom. Renesmee usually likes to listen to music too, but Bella says she’s too tired tonight. She smiles almost girlishly at the fact, and you wonder if you’re missing out on some mother-daughter secret. Renesmee, a teenager herself, spends a lot of time with Jacob lately, but you try to block that from your mind as you lie in bed with your wife. You could save that interrogation for another day. Or forever.
To your delight, both because it distracts you and mesmerizes you, a song you’re familiar with sounds softly from the stereo. Bella says “oh, yay!” and rests her head on your shoulder. You both listen to the soulful singer in silence. Neither of you know the name of the song, but you both love it obsessively. It plays only every so often. It’s amazing how it’s transcended so many years. The passionate singer with nothing but a guitar and a strong voice, a worldwide hit. You don’t know his name, or if he found his girl, or why he was so in love with her in the first place, but it doesn’t really matter. You understand the feeling.
And sometimes, questions are better left with unpredictable answers. That’s the beauty of discovering something new about the person you’re violently in love with. Every quirk, every sensitive body part, every favourite song or favourite book, will be a stranger for some time before you find it. And quite honestly, you find that very warm and satisfying.
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