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themidnightsonThere's a Star on his window, shuffling.
And the phone in his pocket keeps vibrating. Twenty five times in twenty-four hours now. He considered moving to open it, to at least see who was being so insistent. It might be Carlisle. He might be needed. What was today? Was it important?
He thought about it but didn't move. Listened to the rats and spiders that gave him wide berth in the dark attic space he'd ended up in not too long ago. The rancid, rickety tenement for stories creeks and screams below him. Refuse and pollution so thick it's almost solid in the air. But the sounds and the sights and the thoughts bounced off of him.
Meaningless. None of it meant anything. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered.
Even as it made him dig his forehead hard into his knees.
Flip, flip, flip, went the cards in hands off to his side. How much longer would he be able to stand this. Hopelessness. Torture. And the near dizzying sensation that flooded him at the simple consideration of going to check on her. The idea of her, more than the her behind his eye lids, always either smiling, how she would be in the life where she could be hurt, wasn't in danger, or at the edge of danger, pushing toward it.
He'd promised he wouldn't go back, wouldn't bring his black demons into her life again.
She deserved better. In this life. In the places she would go after it.
But to see her, the thought was like lightening through him. To see her move, breathe, laugh, with her friends or her father. Not in his head. Not memories or phantoms. It opened up his chest as though he actually could breathe, even when he clutched his legs tighter. No. Damn it. No. He swore he would not give in. He had to do this right by her at least. No matter how hard it was.
The phone vibrated again. Twenty-six. And Edward yanked it out, swearing at the all but empty attic as he did so, desperately needing the distraction from the sudden flight of insane fancy his mind was fighting against him to give into. He flipped the phone open, and even with perfect vision he'd had to focus confusedly. Feel a twinge of the kind of shock he hadn't felt in over six months now.
Why would Rosalie be calling him?
She was the one person he was sure enjoyed his absence.
Twenty-six calls. Maybe something was wrong. If Esme or Carlisle --
Suddenly worried, he hit the send button and managed tersely, "What?"
And the phone in his pocket keeps vibrating. Twenty five times in twenty-four hours now. He considered moving to open it, to at least see who was being so insistent. It might be Carlisle. He might be needed. What was today? Was it important?
He thought about it but didn't move. Listened to the rats and spiders that gave him wide berth in the dark attic space he'd ended up in not too long ago. The rancid, rickety tenement for stories creeks and screams below him. Refuse and pollution so thick it's almost solid in the air. But the sounds and the sights and the thoughts bounced off of him.
Meaningless. None of it meant anything. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered.
Even as it made him dig his forehead hard into his knees.
Flip, flip, flip, went the cards in hands off to his side. How much longer would he be able to stand this. Hopelessness. Torture. And the near dizzying sensation that flooded him at the simple consideration of going to check on her. The idea of her, more than the her behind his eye lids, always either smiling, how she would be in the life where she could be hurt, wasn't in danger, or at the edge of danger, pushing toward it.
He'd promised he wouldn't go back, wouldn't bring his black demons into her life again.
She deserved better. In this life. In the places she would go after it.
But to see her, the thought was like lightening through him. To see her move, breathe, laugh, with her friends or her father. Not in his head. Not memories or phantoms. It opened up his chest as though he actually could breathe, even when he clutched his legs tighter. No. Damn it. No. He swore he would not give in. He had to do this right by her at least. No matter how hard it was.
The phone vibrated again. Twenty-six. And Edward yanked it out, swearing at the all but empty attic as he did so, desperately needing the distraction from the sudden flight of insane fancy his mind was fighting against him to give into. He flipped the phone open, and even with perfect vision he'd had to focus confusedly. Feel a twinge of the kind of shock he hadn't felt in over six months now.
Why would Rosalie be calling him?
She was the one person he was sure enjoyed his absence.
Twenty-six calls. Maybe something was wrong. If Esme or Carlisle --
Suddenly worried, he hit the send button and managed tersely, "What?"
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no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 02:36 am (UTC)She takes a deep breath. She has to tell him. He deserves to know, no matter how much of a child he's been during this whole thing. And he's going to find out eventually... He deserves to know now.
"...well, I didn't say that Bella moved."
Rosalie feels a strange sort of softness towards Edward suddenly. This is horrible, yes, but if it was her, she'd at least want to be told. She'd be angry if no one told her right away.
Besides, maybe, just maybe, he'll come home...
She tries to picture how it would be-- Edward returning home, running straight into the waiting arms of Carlisle and Esme. Letting them do what they do best, offering love, and offering healing. They would be sad for their son, but they would have him home...
"They didn't want to tell you, but I think that's stupid. The quicker you get over this, the sooner things can go back to normal. Why let you mope around in dark corners of the world when there's no need for it? You can come home now. We can be a family again. It's over."
Another outpour of honesty she hadn't quite intended. But it was how she felt, and she's not sorry.
She's surprised by the silence again on the other end.
"Edward?"
no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 02:59 pm (UTC)Nothing she was saying made any sense. Not that this was news by any stretch of the imagination. But it made absolutely no sense at all now. And she'd said sixty-seven words. It was a feat even for Rosalie.
She'd said -- but she'd had to have meant. Why would Alice be there? And if Bella wasn't there, so Alice wasn't in trouble because she hadn't gone there for Bella....and yet Bella hadn't moved?
It felt like he was missing something painfully obvious and he stared hard at the beam over his head. He turned over every single sentence she'd said so far, making strange patterns. Trying to factor in how she spoke to how she thought. What would have been important.
Nonsensical. All of it was nonsensical.
"I don't understand what you're saying, Rosalie."
no subject
Date: 2010-11-08 02:14 am (UTC)"She's dead, Edward."
She's not surpised by the silence on the other end this time.
"I'm... sorry.
"You have a right to know, I think. Bella... threw herself off a cliff two days ago. Alice saw it, but it was too late to do anything. I think she would have helped, though, broken her word, if there had been time. She went back to do what she could for Charlie. You know how she's always cared for him, and she thought..."
Rosalie pauses. There was a click, a moment ago.
"Edward?"
There's no answer.
Rosalie swallows as she hangs up the phone, waiting for her heart to start beating again, until she remembers that it can't anymore. She takes a deep breath. It's out of her hands now. She tries to be at peace with her decisions, with what she's done, but she has a sinking feeling that this could end badly.
Very badly.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-10 12:12 am (UTC)He doesn't know how many seconds passed before he realized.
The silence isn't that Rosalie broke off speaking.
That he'd hung up on her rambling.
That he was sitting up.
He sat there. In the dusty, darkness. The silence. That long, large, frozen space. It was like time had ended. As thought the entire universe had come to a complete stop.
Slowly. Moving like an old man. Edward looked back down at the phone in his hand. He turned it on, with the press of a fingertip. He dialed the one number he'd sworn never to use again. One too loud beep at a time.
When she answered, he'd hang up. If it was Charlie, he'd find out what he had to. He was only indulging this insanity to prove Rosalie's sick little joke wrong. It would be wrong. And then he could back to his nothingness.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-10 03:17 pm (UTC)"Swan residence." Jacob speaks through gritted teeth.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-10 11:08 pm (UTC)Deep, but still incredibly young.
Edward dug his fingers into his knee, pulling on memories so well known and so pivotal, they seared through him as though cutting him from the inside. He canted his voice, imitating Carlisle's voice near perfectly, clam and polite and measured, the way he had been able to for more than half his second life now.
"This is Dr. Carlisle Cullen. May I please speak to Chief Swan?"
It would fool a human. But it would never be close enough for Edward.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-11 10:31 am (UTC)"He's not here." The words come out a snarl, partly because ignoring Bella's frantic hand gestures feels a little underhanded.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-11 12:21 pm (UTC)He didn't know why. Didn't care to ask.
It simply served to form his own impatience.
The first edge of a demand, "Well, where is he then?"
no subject
Date: 2010-11-14 03:40 pm (UTC)I think I know enough of hate
"He's at the funeral."
no subject
Date: 2010-11-14 10:26 pm (UTC)He closed the phone. Without looking at it.
The way the whole world was closing around him.
Shards of clarity, sharper and brighter, and unconnected.
The last guttering burst of emotion flattening through him, reminding him of his own torments, somehow more real than fake, his attempts to help more futile, made his future so clear finally. He looked to the one side, with a harsh, hard, "Where's your fucking hope now?"
no subject
Date: 2010-11-14 10:29 pm (UTC)But the window was empty.