four
title: i've dreamt my life in dreams
summary: Edward is consumed by his own dreams; Bella is haunted by other people's. Together they try to find a way out of their waking nightmare.
warning: rated R for scenes containing physical and sexual abuse. Read with CAUTION. Also strong language.
a oneshot, separated into parts.
one two three four five
---------
Bella was, for once, actually asleep. She awoke to the sound of a light tapping. She looked around in the darkness, bleary eyed, confused and more than a little bit pissed off. She had been sleeping. Uninterrupted, private sleep -gold dust. And something (or someone?) had woken her up.
She scrambled to her feet and rubbed her eyes, looking around the room for a possible source of the tapping. It wasn’t coming from outside the door. It wasn’t her clock - that was digital. It wasn’t raining, was it? The thought of a rainstorm in Arizona in April, although not unheard of, was almost interesting enough to warrant her having been woken up in the middle of the night. Bella crossed to the window and drew back the curtains. She scanned the sky. No, no rain. So why the tapping?
Then she heard it again, only this time it was much louder and accompanied by a small yet definitely noticeable vibration at the bottom of the window pane. Bella looked down, more confused than ever.
What she saw almost gave her the shock of her life.
Edward Cullen was standing on the front lawn of her house, staring up at her. His car was parked haphazardly on the front of the drive, its rear end sticking out blocking the sidewalk. It looked like he had swung in from the road on a hurry. Bella couldn’t really make out his expression from this point and darkness, but his hair seemed to be sticking out in all angles and from the way he was standing he looked stressed.
Bella had no idea what could possibly have prompted Edward Cullen to come visiting hours before the crack of dawn, but she didn’t hesitate in spinning around and moving as quietly and swiftly as she could out of her room, across the landing, down the stairs and to the front door.
When it came to actually opening the door, however, she did so with caution. It might have looked like Edward standing outside, but it could just have easily have been a random psychopath burglar. In fact, that was probably more likely than it being Edward. He hadn’t spoken to her once since the ‘incident’ in the mall, despite the fact she’d been at his house twice to do his mom’s gardening.
Bella pulled the door towards her, peering uncertainly underneath the latch. Standing there on the path just below the front steps was Edward. It really was him, right from his crazily dishevelled bronze hair to pale, drawn out skin and tense demeanour. Both reassured and slightly alarmed, Bella undid the latch and opened the door fully.
She stared at Edward. He stared back. His eyes were wild and red-rimmed.
“Hi,” she said.
------
She looked totally freaked out. Edward didn’t blame her; any normal person would be. Someone they barely know, who practically screamed at them the last time they spoke, randomly turns up on their doorstep in the middle of the night looking like he’s been dragged through hell and back. She probably thought he’d been drinking, or worse.
And he had no idea in hell what to say to her. Tell her why he was here? He didn’t even know himself.
“Uh, hi,” he finally managed to say back. Bella was still staring at him, the surprise and unease clear on her face. There was something else there too, Edward thought. It was a bit like... concern? Although why would she be concerned about him? It was probably more anxiety that he was gonna try and attack her or something.
She looked a little bit scared, too. With a pang of guilt Edward thought again of that time at the mall and wondered if she’s thinking about it too. He felt bad for the way he had shouted at her, but at the time he’d been so shocked by her words, sound terrified at what she was suggesting - that she actually knew and had seen what he’d gone through - that he hadn’t been able to control his anger. He wished he hadn’t done it, not least because he was suddenly realising that he really didn’t like seeing Bella Swan upset.
Then he remembered that he still hadn’t said anything or offered any kind of explanation as to why he was here on Bella’s doorstep in the middle of the night.
“Look I’m... I’m really sorry about this.” he said, running a hand through his already terrible hair and glancing around awkwardly, looking everywhere but at Bella. “I don’t usually do this kind of psycho stalker shit, but I... I had to talk to someone and you said you... you said you could... you said you’d seen...” he trailed off, before finally forcing himself to meet Bella’s eyes. “The dream. The same one I always have. I had it again. It was worse than it’s been for years. And it was awful and I didn’t know what to do so I came here, okay? And now I don’t even know why and I guess I’d better just turn around and pretend this never happened. I won’t harass you when you come to do the plants on Sunday, if you still want to come, that is, and don’t think I’m crazy.” Edward finished in a almost incomprehensible spew of words, his face hot as he waited for Bella to laugh. He felt more embarrassed than he’d ever been in his life and, with a rush of horror, realised he was close to tears. He clenched his fists as a way of fighting them back.
Then he realised that Bella wasn’t laughing. She was watching him with that same look of quiet, selfless, heart-breaking concern. Then, finally she spoke:
“Do you want to come inside?”
“What?”
“Do you want to come inside?” She repeated. “Just to... you know, cool down for a while. Have a cup of tea, or something. We don’t have to talk about it or anything,” she said hurriedly, “not if you don’t want to. It’s just... well, you probably shouldn’t drive back home just yet.”
She finished and looked at Edward tentatively, waiting for his response. He gaped back at her.
Tea. His entire world was falling apart and she’d just offered to make it better with a cup of tea.
“Uh, yeah,” he finally said. “That’d be good.”
------
They did talk about it, as a matter of fact. Over sweet southern tea and a couple of untouched rock solid cookies Bella had found at the back of the pantry, Edward told Bella some more things about his dream. Not all the details, not by a long shot. Just the basics. Just what was needed to help him calm down and relax - the conversation acting as a form of healing catharsis, like poison being drawn from a wound. They also talked about other things. Bella told Edward a bit about her ability - when she’d first discovered it, what it felt like, how she dealt with it. She explained about the day they had met and the reason she had crashed into his yard. She didn’t, of course, say that his dream was the worst she’d ever experienced. She didn’t want to push him back to the edge.
They also sat in silence for a long time. There was, surprisingly, a lot less awkwardness than either of them had expected. By the end, the atmosphere could even be called easy, companionable. Several hours later, when the sky was just beginning to grow light, the hint of dawn pressing at the horizon, Edward said, with some regret, that he’d better be leaving.
Bella nodded. She showed him to the door. He stood on the threshold, looking at her with a torn, undecided expression. Finally he said:
“Thank you. Thanks for letting me in and... listening. It would have been totally reasonable for you to make me go home.”
“Any time.”
And they both knew she meant it.
“So... I guess I’ll see you on Sunday, then? Doing the garden?” Bella nodded. “Oh, cool. See you, then.”
And then he left, getting into his car and driving away down the silent street.
Bella watched him go. Then she turned around and closed the door behind her.
Outside, the dawn broke.
------
From then on, things changed between Bella and Edward. It was as though their dispute in the mall and all that had followed had cleared the tension between them, to be replaced by a respectful understanding. It’s almost impossible to sit up all night with a person and hear about some of their deepest darkest secrets, albeit in little detail, and not form some kind of bond. Yet this swiftly grew into something more. Edward and Bella’s relationship might have formed because of their dreams, but the tentative friendship that developed between them came completely of its own accord.
Neither of them really noticed it happening, it was so gradual. They began to find excuses to spend time together and in doing so discovered that they had a surprising amount in common.
“You’ve seen La Haine?” It was a Sunday afternoon and Bella had just finished her work in Esme’s garden for the day. She’d come inside the house to wash the soil off of her hands, and was passing the open door into the living room when she stopped, overtaken by surprise.
On the couch, with his back to the door, Edward started slightly. He twisted away from the TV set to look at Bella, and it was obvious by his expression that he hadn’t heard her come in. Without looking, he pressed pause on the remote and the movie he’d been watching froze, the black and white images suddenly suspended like a newspaper photograph.
“What was that?” he asked, his eyes on Bella. She blushed slightly at suddenly having his undivided attention.
“I said, I didn’t know you’ve seen La Haine,” Bella motioned at the frozen screen. Edward’s incredible green eyes were still trained upon her and she could feel her cheeks getting hotter by the second. She started to wish she had just quietly let herself out of the house.
Edward looked adorably confused. “Why would you know?” he said, his brow furrowed slightly.
He had a point. Because there’s this weird connection between us and somehow, I feel like I should know everything about you? No, that wasn’t exactly an acceptable response.
“It’s just, I really like French films,” Bella said. This was true, albeit not the right answer. “I’m a bit of a Francophile, actually. La Haine’s my favourite. I love the realism of it. It’s so gritty.”
Edward was looking at her with an unreadable expression. Bella felt nervous, like she’d shared too much. Like maybe she’d misinterpreted his signals - as though they weren’t ready for exchanging this kind of personal information just yet. Then Edward spoke, breaking her from her insecurities.
“Do you want to watch the rest with me?”
Hell yes.
“Yeah.”
And so Bella found herself spending the rest of her Sunday afternoon on the Cullens’ couch, the foreign language washing pleasantly over her as she pretended not to notice the fact that Edward was barely a person width’s away from her. Despite the inevitable shades of awkwardness, it was one of the best hours in Bella’s memory.
That day was the first of many similar conversations in which they learnt each other’s likes and dislikes. They differed as much as they agreed, but somehow that didn’t matter; it was the discussion itself which brought them closer:
“McEwan, is a genius.”
“McEwan is an arrogant asshole, disgustingly smug about his own talent.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I’ve read his novels.”
or:
“That’s your most played song? Really?”
“What’s wrong with Motion City Soundtrack?”
“Oh, come on.”
“What?”
“Do you try to be pretentiously hipster, or does it come naturally?”
They found stolen moments in which to talk - before or after Bella’s hour of gardening, ‘coincidental’ meetings at the mall and half hour detours on the way home from their respective schools - and before long, neither Bella nor Edward could imagine a time before they had been in each other’s lives.
Which was how, one Saturday afternoon in April, Edward found himself doing something he’d never done before. He took Bella to the spot.
It was a quiet, secluded place, hidden from the road by the river bank. Edward had discovered it a couple of weeks after arriving in the town, but today was the first time he had ever brought Bella here. The expression on her face when he told her she was the only person he had ever told about the place had lifted his heart.
They were sat on the ground, gazing quietly out over the river in comfortable silence. The sun was low in the sky, and the clouds were tinged with pink. Edward had wondered ruefully whether he should have thought to bring a blanket before he picked Bella up from work, but she didn’t seem to mind sitting on the ground. Edward was relieved; he hadn’t pegged her as one of those high maintenance girls.
Since they got there they’d talked a lot, from Bella’s day at the garden centre - uneventful - to the latest plant Bella had salvaged for Esme’s garden. Now they’d moved on to discussing the play Edward was reading for his English class.
“Oh come on, you don’t feel even slightly sorry for him?” Bella asked, her expression incredulous.
Edward shook his head. “No, not at all. Macbeth chooses to murder Duncan to steal his crown, he’s the bad guy.”
“But Lady Macbeth totally talks him into it!”
“So? He’s a grown man; he’s responsible for his own actions. You can’t blame stuff like that on another person. It’s like saying that it’s okay to hit a child just because you were hit as a kid. It’s not okay, in fact; it’s worse.” The grin that had crept on to his face as they debated had begun to slip away, as the conversation took a more sobering turn. Bella looked slightly stricken; she clearly hadn’t meant him to interpret her comments like that.
Edward kicked himself inwardly for being unable to have a totally normal conversation without somehow relating it back to stuff best left forgotten. He searched for something to say to salvage the situation.
“I do sympathise with Macbeth in some ways, though,” he said quickly. Bella smiled faintly, unsure.
“How?”
“You know how after he kills Duncan, he can’t sleep anymore? ‘Sleep no more! -’
“‘Macbeth doth murder sleep’”, Bella interrupted, nodding. The expression on her face was unreadable. “Yeah, I know. What about it?”
“Well, I feel sorry for him,” Edward replied, “It must be awful, not being able to sleep. Even when... even when the dreams are really bad, I still welcome the ability to sleep. It’s the only time you get to be truly alone, you know? It’s like a chance to confront your self conscious or whatever - just focus on you, instead of other people.” He stopped, and looked up, suddenly feeling uncertain. He hadn’t meant it to come across as that deep, and he was worried that Bella might mock him or think he was pretentious.
What he had not expected was to find that her eyes were filled with tears. He stared at her in shock. “What’s wrong?” She just shook her head, and attempted to brush away the tears, her eyes dropping to stare at the ground.
It suddenly struck Edward that he wasn’t the only person who might find the topic of sleep affecting. He thought wryly about how misguided his attempt at lightening the tone had been. He looked back at Bella. There were no more tears, but she was staring pointedly at the ground, fixedly nudging the dirt with a twig in her right hand.
Edward wanted to breach the gap between them. He wanted to take them back to where they’d just been - easily discussing books without the reminder of their problems dividing them and making everything sour. Automatically, instinctively, he reached out and put his hand on hers. Bella froze, the twig slipping from her fingers. Her eyes met his.
And slowly, hesitantly, she turned her palm to meet his. Their fingers interlocked and Edward felt a slow-burning warmth spreading up inside him. Bella was blushing, and Edward had a feeling that his cheeks might have started to colour too.
Later in their lives, Bella and Edward might have looked back at this moment and decided that it was the turning point which had marked the beginning of their collective future. That tentative brush of skin on skin, barely perceptible but as electric as lightning, the quickening of pulses and the pink blush of anticipation as they both realised what had been resolutely there the whole time - these were the components of an instant that would come to define their entire lives.
Maybe it was just the natural progression from that fateful day when Bella crashed her car into Edward’s yard. Or maybe it was destined. Perhaps Edward and Bellas’ lives had always been leading up to this moment, all the pain that had confronted them along the way simply obstacles on a route to absolution - a path to this moment of epiphany in the middle of a desolate wasteland under a coral twilight.
That touch and all that it conceived could have happened for any number of reasons. But in that precise moment, Edward cared nothing for theories. All that mattered to him was the present; for possibly the first time in his nearly adult life, his thoughts were free from the legacy of the past. He did what felt right. He leaned towards Bella, brushing her hair away from her face with their intertwined hands.
And then he kissed her.
------
summary: Edward is consumed by his own dreams; Bella is haunted by other people's. Together they try to find a way out of their waking nightmare.
warning: rated R for scenes containing physical and sexual abuse. Read with CAUTION. Also strong language.
a oneshot, separated into parts.
one two three four five
---------
Bella was, for once, actually asleep. She awoke to the sound of a light tapping. She looked around in the darkness, bleary eyed, confused and more than a little bit pissed off. She had been sleeping. Uninterrupted, private sleep -gold dust. And something (or someone?) had woken her up.
She scrambled to her feet and rubbed her eyes, looking around the room for a possible source of the tapping. It wasn’t coming from outside the door. It wasn’t her clock - that was digital. It wasn’t raining, was it? The thought of a rainstorm in Arizona in April, although not unheard of, was almost interesting enough to warrant her having been woken up in the middle of the night. Bella crossed to the window and drew back the curtains. She scanned the sky. No, no rain. So why the tapping?
Then she heard it again, only this time it was much louder and accompanied by a small yet definitely noticeable vibration at the bottom of the window pane. Bella looked down, more confused than ever.
What she saw almost gave her the shock of her life.
Edward Cullen was standing on the front lawn of her house, staring up at her. His car was parked haphazardly on the front of the drive, its rear end sticking out blocking the sidewalk. It looked like he had swung in from the road on a hurry. Bella couldn’t really make out his expression from this point and darkness, but his hair seemed to be sticking out in all angles and from the way he was standing he looked stressed.
Bella had no idea what could possibly have prompted Edward Cullen to come visiting hours before the crack of dawn, but she didn’t hesitate in spinning around and moving as quietly and swiftly as she could out of her room, across the landing, down the stairs and to the front door.
When it came to actually opening the door, however, she did so with caution. It might have looked like Edward standing outside, but it could just have easily have been a random psychopath burglar. In fact, that was probably more likely than it being Edward. He hadn’t spoken to her once since the ‘incident’ in the mall, despite the fact she’d been at his house twice to do his mom’s gardening.
Bella pulled the door towards her, peering uncertainly underneath the latch. Standing there on the path just below the front steps was Edward. It really was him, right from his crazily dishevelled bronze hair to pale, drawn out skin and tense demeanour. Both reassured and slightly alarmed, Bella undid the latch and opened the door fully.
She stared at Edward. He stared back. His eyes were wild and red-rimmed.
“Hi,” she said.
------
She looked totally freaked out. Edward didn’t blame her; any normal person would be. Someone they barely know, who practically screamed at them the last time they spoke, randomly turns up on their doorstep in the middle of the night looking like he’s been dragged through hell and back. She probably thought he’d been drinking, or worse.
And he had no idea in hell what to say to her. Tell her why he was here? He didn’t even know himself.
“Uh, hi,” he finally managed to say back. Bella was still staring at him, the surprise and unease clear on her face. There was something else there too, Edward thought. It was a bit like... concern? Although why would she be concerned about him? It was probably more anxiety that he was gonna try and attack her or something.
She looked a little bit scared, too. With a pang of guilt Edward thought again of that time at the mall and wondered if she’s thinking about it too. He felt bad for the way he had shouted at her, but at the time he’d been so shocked by her words, sound terrified at what she was suggesting - that she actually knew and had seen what he’d gone through - that he hadn’t been able to control his anger. He wished he hadn’t done it, not least because he was suddenly realising that he really didn’t like seeing Bella Swan upset.
Then he remembered that he still hadn’t said anything or offered any kind of explanation as to why he was here on Bella’s doorstep in the middle of the night.
“Look I’m... I’m really sorry about this.” he said, running a hand through his already terrible hair and glancing around awkwardly, looking everywhere but at Bella. “I don’t usually do this kind of psycho stalker shit, but I... I had to talk to someone and you said you... you said you could... you said you’d seen...” he trailed off, before finally forcing himself to meet Bella’s eyes. “The dream. The same one I always have. I had it again. It was worse than it’s been for years. And it was awful and I didn’t know what to do so I came here, okay? And now I don’t even know why and I guess I’d better just turn around and pretend this never happened. I won’t harass you when you come to do the plants on Sunday, if you still want to come, that is, and don’t think I’m crazy.” Edward finished in a almost incomprehensible spew of words, his face hot as he waited for Bella to laugh. He felt more embarrassed than he’d ever been in his life and, with a rush of horror, realised he was close to tears. He clenched his fists as a way of fighting them back.
Then he realised that Bella wasn’t laughing. She was watching him with that same look of quiet, selfless, heart-breaking concern. Then, finally she spoke:
“Do you want to come inside?”
“What?”
“Do you want to come inside?” She repeated. “Just to... you know, cool down for a while. Have a cup of tea, or something. We don’t have to talk about it or anything,” she said hurriedly, “not if you don’t want to. It’s just... well, you probably shouldn’t drive back home just yet.”
She finished and looked at Edward tentatively, waiting for his response. He gaped back at her.
Tea. His entire world was falling apart and she’d just offered to make it better with a cup of tea.
“Uh, yeah,” he finally said. “That’d be good.”
------
They did talk about it, as a matter of fact. Over sweet southern tea and a couple of untouched rock solid cookies Bella had found at the back of the pantry, Edward told Bella some more things about his dream. Not all the details, not by a long shot. Just the basics. Just what was needed to help him calm down and relax - the conversation acting as a form of healing catharsis, like poison being drawn from a wound. They also talked about other things. Bella told Edward a bit about her ability - when she’d first discovered it, what it felt like, how she dealt with it. She explained about the day they had met and the reason she had crashed into his yard. She didn’t, of course, say that his dream was the worst she’d ever experienced. She didn’t want to push him back to the edge.
They also sat in silence for a long time. There was, surprisingly, a lot less awkwardness than either of them had expected. By the end, the atmosphere could even be called easy, companionable. Several hours later, when the sky was just beginning to grow light, the hint of dawn pressing at the horizon, Edward said, with some regret, that he’d better be leaving.
Bella nodded. She showed him to the door. He stood on the threshold, looking at her with a torn, undecided expression. Finally he said:
“Thank you. Thanks for letting me in and... listening. It would have been totally reasonable for you to make me go home.”
“Any time.”
And they both knew she meant it.
“So... I guess I’ll see you on Sunday, then? Doing the garden?” Bella nodded. “Oh, cool. See you, then.”
And then he left, getting into his car and driving away down the silent street.
Bella watched him go. Then she turned around and closed the door behind her.
Outside, the dawn broke.
------
From then on, things changed between Bella and Edward. It was as though their dispute in the mall and all that had followed had cleared the tension between them, to be replaced by a respectful understanding. It’s almost impossible to sit up all night with a person and hear about some of their deepest darkest secrets, albeit in little detail, and not form some kind of bond. Yet this swiftly grew into something more. Edward and Bella’s relationship might have formed because of their dreams, but the tentative friendship that developed between them came completely of its own accord.
Neither of them really noticed it happening, it was so gradual. They began to find excuses to spend time together and in doing so discovered that they had a surprising amount in common.
“You’ve seen La Haine?” It was a Sunday afternoon and Bella had just finished her work in Esme’s garden for the day. She’d come inside the house to wash the soil off of her hands, and was passing the open door into the living room when she stopped, overtaken by surprise.
On the couch, with his back to the door, Edward started slightly. He twisted away from the TV set to look at Bella, and it was obvious by his expression that he hadn’t heard her come in. Without looking, he pressed pause on the remote and the movie he’d been watching froze, the black and white images suddenly suspended like a newspaper photograph.
“What was that?” he asked, his eyes on Bella. She blushed slightly at suddenly having his undivided attention.
“I said, I didn’t know you’ve seen La Haine,” Bella motioned at the frozen screen. Edward’s incredible green eyes were still trained upon her and she could feel her cheeks getting hotter by the second. She started to wish she had just quietly let herself out of the house.
Edward looked adorably confused. “Why would you know?” he said, his brow furrowed slightly.
He had a point. Because there’s this weird connection between us and somehow, I feel like I should know everything about you? No, that wasn’t exactly an acceptable response.
“It’s just, I really like French films,” Bella said. This was true, albeit not the right answer. “I’m a bit of a Francophile, actually. La Haine’s my favourite. I love the realism of it. It’s so gritty.”
Edward was looking at her with an unreadable expression. Bella felt nervous, like she’d shared too much. Like maybe she’d misinterpreted his signals - as though they weren’t ready for exchanging this kind of personal information just yet. Then Edward spoke, breaking her from her insecurities.
“Do you want to watch the rest with me?”
Hell yes.
“Yeah.”
And so Bella found herself spending the rest of her Sunday afternoon on the Cullens’ couch, the foreign language washing pleasantly over her as she pretended not to notice the fact that Edward was barely a person width’s away from her. Despite the inevitable shades of awkwardness, it was one of the best hours in Bella’s memory.
That day was the first of many similar conversations in which they learnt each other’s likes and dislikes. They differed as much as they agreed, but somehow that didn’t matter; it was the discussion itself which brought them closer:
“McEwan, is a genius.”
“McEwan is an arrogant asshole, disgustingly smug about his own talent.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I’ve read his novels.”
or:
“That’s your most played song? Really?”
“What’s wrong with Motion City Soundtrack?”
“Oh, come on.”
“What?”
“Do you try to be pretentiously hipster, or does it come naturally?”
They found stolen moments in which to talk - before or after Bella’s hour of gardening, ‘coincidental’ meetings at the mall and half hour detours on the way home from their respective schools - and before long, neither Bella nor Edward could imagine a time before they had been in each other’s lives.
Which was how, one Saturday afternoon in April, Edward found himself doing something he’d never done before. He took Bella to the spot.
It was a quiet, secluded place, hidden from the road by the river bank. Edward had discovered it a couple of weeks after arriving in the town, but today was the first time he had ever brought Bella here. The expression on her face when he told her she was the only person he had ever told about the place had lifted his heart.
They were sat on the ground, gazing quietly out over the river in comfortable silence. The sun was low in the sky, and the clouds were tinged with pink. Edward had wondered ruefully whether he should have thought to bring a blanket before he picked Bella up from work, but she didn’t seem to mind sitting on the ground. Edward was relieved; he hadn’t pegged her as one of those high maintenance girls.
Since they got there they’d talked a lot, from Bella’s day at the garden centre - uneventful - to the latest plant Bella had salvaged for Esme’s garden. Now they’d moved on to discussing the play Edward was reading for his English class.
“Oh come on, you don’t feel even slightly sorry for him?” Bella asked, her expression incredulous.
Edward shook his head. “No, not at all. Macbeth chooses to murder Duncan to steal his crown, he’s the bad guy.”
“But Lady Macbeth totally talks him into it!”
“So? He’s a grown man; he’s responsible for his own actions. You can’t blame stuff like that on another person. It’s like saying that it’s okay to hit a child just because you were hit as a kid. It’s not okay, in fact; it’s worse.” The grin that had crept on to his face as they debated had begun to slip away, as the conversation took a more sobering turn. Bella looked slightly stricken; she clearly hadn’t meant him to interpret her comments like that.
Edward kicked himself inwardly for being unable to have a totally normal conversation without somehow relating it back to stuff best left forgotten. He searched for something to say to salvage the situation.
“I do sympathise with Macbeth in some ways, though,” he said quickly. Bella smiled faintly, unsure.
“How?”
“You know how after he kills Duncan, he can’t sleep anymore? ‘Sleep no more! -’
“‘Macbeth doth murder sleep’”, Bella interrupted, nodding. The expression on her face was unreadable. “Yeah, I know. What about it?”
“Well, I feel sorry for him,” Edward replied, “It must be awful, not being able to sleep. Even when... even when the dreams are really bad, I still welcome the ability to sleep. It’s the only time you get to be truly alone, you know? It’s like a chance to confront your self conscious or whatever - just focus on you, instead of other people.” He stopped, and looked up, suddenly feeling uncertain. He hadn’t meant it to come across as that deep, and he was worried that Bella might mock him or think he was pretentious.
What he had not expected was to find that her eyes were filled with tears. He stared at her in shock. “What’s wrong?” She just shook her head, and attempted to brush away the tears, her eyes dropping to stare at the ground.
It suddenly struck Edward that he wasn’t the only person who might find the topic of sleep affecting. He thought wryly about how misguided his attempt at lightening the tone had been. He looked back at Bella. There were no more tears, but she was staring pointedly at the ground, fixedly nudging the dirt with a twig in her right hand.
Edward wanted to breach the gap between them. He wanted to take them back to where they’d just been - easily discussing books without the reminder of their problems dividing them and making everything sour. Automatically, instinctively, he reached out and put his hand on hers. Bella froze, the twig slipping from her fingers. Her eyes met his.
And slowly, hesitantly, she turned her palm to meet his. Their fingers interlocked and Edward felt a slow-burning warmth spreading up inside him. Bella was blushing, and Edward had a feeling that his cheeks might have started to colour too.
Later in their lives, Bella and Edward might have looked back at this moment and decided that it was the turning point which had marked the beginning of their collective future. That tentative brush of skin on skin, barely perceptible but as electric as lightning, the quickening of pulses and the pink blush of anticipation as they both realised what had been resolutely there the whole time - these were the components of an instant that would come to define their entire lives.
Maybe it was just the natural progression from that fateful day when Bella crashed her car into Edward’s yard. Or maybe it was destined. Perhaps Edward and Bellas’ lives had always been leading up to this moment, all the pain that had confronted them along the way simply obstacles on a route to absolution - a path to this moment of epiphany in the middle of a desolate wasteland under a coral twilight.
That touch and all that it conceived could have happened for any number of reasons. But in that precise moment, Edward cared nothing for theories. All that mattered to him was the present; for possibly the first time in his nearly adult life, his thoughts were free from the legacy of the past. He did what felt right. He leaned towards Bella, brushing her hair away from her face with their intertwined hands.
And then he kissed her.
------