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Jun. 14th, 2009 11:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themidnightsonImpossible.
It was the only world.
Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.
Bella Swan sat next to him, while he lay in the grass of the meadow, watching him with her absolute silence of thought and then reached out to trace shapes with her finger against his skin. Impossible was the only word for it. There were words he almost started a dozen times, finding himself writing music notes in the wake of her scent and the golden light and sheer impossibility of her still being there.
Whispered song so far beneath her hearing that tripped almost like prayer from a man who neither prayed nor believe that anyone was there listening to anyone who did. And still his voice formed the slightest, softest sounds in the lower ranges. He didn't move for fear of shattering the moment he least understood and most wished never to end.
And then just as suddenly as impossible serenity had come it vanished when Bella had leaned in close to him when he'd asked what she feared that wasn't him -- it was gone. Gone with the way she had leaned in toward his face, and the way the air had suddenly so much less of anything that was not Bella's scent, crowding his throat and lungs and mouth and thoughts and all of his want to press his mouth into hers, her skin, and pull everything she was out of her.
Alice's pristine first visions here, of her body lying broken in his hands, sent him running, as fast as he could twenty feet away.
Gasping with a want he knew and another he spent so long not listening to because of her, gasping for any air that was not the air of her scent even as it was her taste which stuck to the inside of him. While he wanted it gone, it was all of her he was allowed to have, and he wanted to grasp it tighter. To strangle its ability to do anything else -- to make him act on his worse impulses, the images that flooded his mind so deliciously, or even leave him entirely when it was hers.
Her face was flushed and shocked and confused until it found him, back in the shadows.
Edward came back, making himself breathe in more of the air saturated with her scent. How could he do anything else? How was he supposed to walk Occamโs Razor of not killing her and having no ability to leave her? Especially in the wake of almost killing her again? How bitterly wrong was it? That the predator danced around the power of the prey?
Then his bitterness sarcasm at that had gotten the better of him.
And had come the tantrum of displaying it; but leading to something he had not expected.
He couldn't. Physically it was possible, but nothing in him could. Bella, in her naive unknowing, could have commanded him to anything and he would have done it. She was the brighter and more directing of his world than the sun, than his thirst for her death. Her brown eyes and fidgeting hands, the dimples and smile, and the way she was taking all of this far too easily. The one in control even as he managed the show for her.
And so it began --
The trading of secrets neither of them should have said and which could not be silenced once they were started. Of the fact neither of them should be there, of the fact neither of them could stay with the other, of the wanting to be there, and the selfishness that was giving into it above all else. Especially in the wake of the biggest underlying truth of it all.
Edward explained her appeal, and the only comparisons he had.
Even those to his only family members.
To the first day in Biology.
To the accident.
They were idiots.
They were both idiots.
But they were idiots together.
Edward laid his head at the base of her throat listening to her heart beat mere inches from his ear, forcing himself to breathe the whole time. He could turn his head too fast and her neck would snap. His forehead pressed against the delicate skin of her neck and shoulder, willing himself peace that alluded him. Unable to miss the softness in her fragility. His hands moved down her throat, across her shoulders, and his breathe caught, hunger surging, when she shivered against him and her heart beat raced.
He held his breath only to make himself breathe again. To keep breathing in this madness, this sheer impossible closeness, the fine line of how easy it would be to kill her, to drink all of her blood....and want to die at her loss. His head moved, nose skimming her collar bone, until his ear could be pressed against her heart. He couldn't even tighten his hands as they were around her shoulders.
There is was. Mere centimeters of flesh and bone, muscles all that he could name, each one precious and necessary, and wholly as durable as tissue paper were he to rip them apart from each other to reach the throbbing organ which sounded in his ear. The thirst was intense as her heart beat sang to him and her scent scorched through his body. But he stayed there, listening to her heart, to the piece which dictated everything -- his hunger; her willingness to be here with him; his entire world.
"This is enough."
It was the only world.
Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.
Bella Swan sat next to him, while he lay in the grass of the meadow, watching him with her absolute silence of thought and then reached out to trace shapes with her finger against his skin. Impossible was the only word for it. There were words he almost started a dozen times, finding himself writing music notes in the wake of her scent and the golden light and sheer impossibility of her still being there.
Whispered song so far beneath her hearing that tripped almost like prayer from a man who neither prayed nor believe that anyone was there listening to anyone who did. And still his voice formed the slightest, softest sounds in the lower ranges. He didn't move for fear of shattering the moment he least understood and most wished never to end.
"It's too easy to be myself near you."
And then just as suddenly as impossible serenity had come it vanished when Bella had leaned in close to him when he'd asked what she feared that wasn't him -- it was gone. Gone with the way she had leaned in toward his face, and the way the air had suddenly so much less of anything that was not Bella's scent, crowding his throat and lungs and mouth and thoughts and all of his want to press his mouth into hers, her skin, and pull everything she was out of her.
Alice's pristine first visions here, of her body lying broken in his hands, sent him running, as fast as he could twenty feet away.
Gasping with a want he knew and another he spent so long not listening to because of her, gasping for any air that was not the air of her scent even as it was her taste which stuck to the inside of him. While he wanted it gone, it was all of her he was allowed to have, and he wanted to grasp it tighter. To strangle its ability to do anything else -- to make him act on his worse impulses, the images that flooded his mind so deliciously, or even leave him entirely when it was hers.
Her face was flushed and shocked and confused until it found him, back in the shadows.
"I'm...sorry...Edward.""Give me a moment."
"I am so very sorry.
Would you understand what I
meant if I said I was only human?"
Edward came back, making himself breathe in more of the air saturated with her scent. How could he do anything else? How was he supposed to walk Occamโs Razor of not killing her and having no ability to leave her? Especially in the wake of almost killing her again? How bitterly wrong was it? That the predator danced around the power of the prey?
Then his bitterness sarcasm at that had gotten the better of him.
And had come the tantrum of displaying it; but leading to something he had not expected.
"I promise...I swear not to hurt you."
He couldn't. Physically it was possible, but nothing in him could. Bella, in her naive unknowing, could have commanded him to anything and he would have done it. She was the brighter and more directing of his world than the sun, than his thirst for her death. Her brown eyes and fidgeting hands, the dimples and smile, and the way she was taking all of this far too easily. The one in control even as he managed the show for her.
And so it began --
The trading of secrets neither of them should have said and which could not be silenced once they were started. Of the fact neither of them should be there, of the fact neither of them could stay with the other, of the wanting to be there, and the selfishness that was giving into it above all else. Especially in the wake of the biggest underlying truth of it all.
Edward explained her appeal, and the only comparisons he had.
Even those to his only family members.
To the first day in Biology.
To the accident.
Every truth spilled from his lips.
"You are the most important thing to me now.
The most important thing to me ever."
The most important thing to me ever."
They were idiots.
They were both idiots.
But they were idiots together.
Edward laid his head at the base of her throat listening to her heart beat mere inches from his ear, forcing himself to breathe the whole time. He could turn his head too fast and her neck would snap. His forehead pressed against the delicate skin of her neck and shoulder, willing himself peace that alluded him. Unable to miss the softness in her fragility. His hands moved down her throat, across her shoulders, and his breathe caught, hunger surging, when she shivered against him and her heart beat raced.
He held his breath only to make himself breathe again. To keep breathing in this madness, this sheer impossible closeness, the fine line of how easy it would be to kill her, to drink all of her blood....and want to die at her loss. His head moved, nose skimming her collar bone, until his ear could be pressed against her heart. He couldn't even tighten his hands as they were around her shoulders.
There is was. Mere centimeters of flesh and bone, muscles all that he could name, each one precious and necessary, and wholly as durable as tissue paper were he to rip them apart from each other to reach the throbbing organ which sounded in his ear. The thirst was intense as her heart beat sang to him and her scent scorched through his body. But he stayed there, listening to her heart, to the piece which dictated everything -- his hunger; her willingness to be here with him; his entire world.
"I wish...I wish you could feel theโฆ complexityโฆ the
confusionโฆ I feel. That you could understand."
"I don't know how to be close to you.
I don't know if I can."
confusionโฆ I feel. That you could understand."
"I don't know how to be close to you.
I don't know if I can."
"This is enough."
