(no subject)
Jun. 14th, 2009 12:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themidnightsonAnd in the insanity of it all -- freedom.
Edward laughed and surprised himself with offering to run her back to the truck. Having started to share everything with Bella, and having her not run screaming (even as he waited for the signs of it still), he wanted to share everything else. To share all the things he loved about the life behind their lies and shadows. And what better place to start with that outrunning the wind and making it back to the car in mere minutes instead of hours?
Which had been wonderful. At least until Bella tried to pass out, and he had to remonstrate himself while taking care of her. But even then he couldn't help from smiling and laughing, poking gently at her inability as a human and her completely-Bella-only tendency to not be able to manage much of anything, all the while being too stubborn to want help or admit to weakness. Everything, even this, especially this, normality, was beautiful and perfect.
Which lead to the most beautiful of sheer stupidities in the day yet.
Edward tried to prepare himself -- any and every of the ways he managed to prepare himself for her presence, as though they were all in place and engaged at this very second with managing normal -- when he leaned in and kissed Bella, his hands cradling the fragile bones of her jaw. Soft, ever so soft, trying to think of the pressure that could be placed on a bubble without popping even as the edges of his will burned with conflicting wants. Still. Still. Soft. Don't brea---
And then Bella gasped, pulling air fast between them their lips, and her hands raised, fingers knotting into his hair with such sudden forceful movement and everything inside of him shifted colors. Everything was red, hot. Her heart beat was a raging staccato in his ears and under his finger tips and lips. His teeth were so close and her blood was even closer. He would only need to --
Her scent slammed through his body, directed straight through his mouth, in his throat and chest, and he trembled with the effort it took not to crush her face in his hands, not to tear into her skin, straight through her lips or her throat as her pounding blood and wild heart beat were the only things that he could feel and see and nearly taste.
Then he gently, as gently and firmly as he could mange without throwing her into a tree to run away, unable to let go and incapable of maintaining his will if she stayed as close as that, pulled her face away from his.
"Oops."
It passed, and in it Edward found himself even more light.
Everything that for months had been inescapably serious turned -- not less serious but -- able to filter through with some light. The way she smiled and groused when he refused to let her drive from still being dizzy from the run, and teasing her it was because of being kissed. Going out of his way at the end of their talk, to brush his lips along her cheek and jaw, just because he wanted to touch her, because he was finding ways where he could manage such an impossible feat.
Such a way to make things possible.
The drive back to her house he made slow, both to keep her happy and the make the most of the time he had left in this remarkable day. The setting sun and the coming of twilight could not even dampen his spirit now. While he was slightly reluctant, he found himself telling her about his age and past and family. The details both inconsequential and consequential that matched to so many questions he'd asked of her the days previous and denied her any knowledge of for months.
At least he gave the most of it -- not all of it information that was his to give.
That the night didn't end at her door was a welcome surprise. They continued to talk while she made food. Even as it turned into another reveal: this time about the fact he had been watching her sleep. If he didn't quite manage to explain it had started with the trying to inoculate himself against trying to kill her; and missed the part where that was where he'd admitted he'd fallen in love with her first. It was easier to say what she'd spoken of in her sleep than what her sleep had done to his thoughts and his whole life.
It was startlingly ache-worthy when her father came home and he had to vanish instantly.
He retreated to her room, waiting out the conversation she had with her father and tried hard not to laugh, even as he smiled wide and crooked, when she ran for the window and called out his name through her window, missing him entirely as he lay there on her bed. The look of awe and surprise on her face when she whirled around at his response. She was so beautiful. How did he even contemplate this day had been a real one? It would have been so much easier to think himself insane now.
And how if he was, he didn't want to go back to sanity.
He sat thinking about it as she went about her nightly routine after ordering him to stay put.
It was easier to hush the voices that said not to touch her when she came back. Today -- today was changing everything. She spoke about how it was easier and he wanted to laugh. It wasn't easier to be near her. It was more torment to be in her room than it had been in her truck, or in the meadow. The one with an enclosed space and the other with the closest he'd come to killing her again. And still, with his lips against the hollow under her ear -- he could not disagree that one part was easier.
And that was the part where he wasn't stopping himself.
Where if this was hell, he was consigning himself over freely now.
Less breathing near her skin and more freedom to actually touch it.
Edward laughed and surprised himself with offering to run her back to the truck. Having started to share everything with Bella, and having her not run screaming (even as he waited for the signs of it still), he wanted to share everything else. To share all the things he loved about the life behind their lies and shadows. And what better place to start with that outrunning the wind and making it back to the car in mere minutes instead of hours?
Which had been wonderful. At least until Bella tried to pass out, and he had to remonstrate himself while taking care of her. But even then he couldn't help from smiling and laughing, poking gently at her inability as a human and her completely-Bella-only tendency to not be able to manage much of anything, all the while being too stubborn to want help or admit to weakness. Everything, even this, especially this, normality, was beautiful and perfect.
Which lead to the most beautiful of sheer stupidities in the day yet.
"I was thinking there was something I wanted to try."
Edward tried to prepare himself -- any and every of the ways he managed to prepare himself for her presence, as though they were all in place and engaged at this very second with managing normal -- when he leaned in and kissed Bella, his hands cradling the fragile bones of her jaw. Soft, ever so soft, trying to think of the pressure that could be placed on a bubble without popping even as the edges of his will burned with conflicting wants. Still. Still. Soft. Don't brea---
And then Bella gasped, pulling air fast between them their lips, and her hands raised, fingers knotting into his hair with such sudden forceful movement and everything inside of him shifted colors. Everything was red, hot. Her heart beat was a raging staccato in his ears and under his finger tips and lips. His teeth were so close and her blood was even closer. He would only need to --
Her scent slammed through his body, directed straight through his mouth, in his throat and chest, and he trembled with the effort it took not to crush her face in his hands, not to tear into her skin, straight through her lips or her throat as her pounding blood and wild heart beat were the only things that he could feel and see and nearly taste.
Then he gently, as gently and firmly as he could mange without throwing her into a tree to run away, unable to let go and incapable of maintaining his will if she stayed as close as that, pulled her face away from his.
"Oops."
"That's an understatement."
It passed, and in it Edward found himself even more light.
Everything that for months had been inescapably serious turned -- not less serious but -- able to filter through with some light. The way she smiled and groused when he refused to let her drive from still being dizzy from the run, and teasing her it was because of being kissed. Going out of his way at the end of their talk, to brush his lips along her cheek and jaw, just because he wanted to touch her, because he was finding ways where he could manage such an impossible feat.
Such a way to make things possible.
The drive back to her house he made slow, both to keep her happy and the make the most of the time he had left in this remarkable day. The setting sun and the coming of twilight could not even dampen his spirit now. While he was slightly reluctant, he found himself telling her about his age and past and family. The details both inconsequential and consequential that matched to so many questions he'd asked of her the days previous and denied her any knowledge of for months.
At least he gave the most of it -- not all of it information that was his to give.
That the night didn't end at her door was a welcome surprise. They continued to talk while she made food. Even as it turned into another reveal: this time about the fact he had been watching her sleep. If he didn't quite manage to explain it had started with the trying to inoculate himself against trying to kill her; and missed the part where that was where he'd admitted he'd fallen in love with her first. It was easier to say what she'd spoken of in her sleep than what her sleep had done to his thoughts and his whole life.
It was startlingly ache-worthy when her father came home and he had to vanish instantly.
He retreated to her room, waiting out the conversation she had with her father and tried hard not to laugh, even as he smiled wide and crooked, when she ran for the window and called out his name through her window, missing him entirely as he lay there on her bed. The look of awe and surprise on her face when she whirled around at his response. She was so beautiful. How did he even contemplate this day had been a real one? It would have been so much easier to think himself insane now.
And how if he was, he didn't want to go back to sanity.
He sat thinking about it as she went about her nightly routine after ordering him to stay put.
It was easier to hush the voices that said not to touch her when she came back. Today -- today was changing everything. She spoke about how it was easier and he wanted to laugh. It wasn't easier to be near her. It was more torment to be in her room than it had been in her truck, or in the meadow. The one with an enclosed space and the other with the closest he'd come to killing her again. And still, with his lips against the hollow under her ear -- he could not disagree that one part was easier.
And that was the part where he wasn't stopping himself.
Where if this was hell, he was consigning himself over freely now.
Less breathing near her skin and more freedom to actually touch it.
"I'm trying. If it gets to be… too much, I'm fairly sure I'll be able to leave."
"And it will be harder tomorrow. I've had the scent of you in my head all day,
and I've grown amazingly desensitized. If I'm away from you for any length
of time, I'll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though, I think."
"And it will be harder tomorrow. I've had the scent of you in my head all day,
and I've grown amazingly desensitized. If I'm away from you for any length
of time, I'll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though, I think."
"Don't go away, then."
