Part 7

[iwouldfollowyou]

It's stranger coming home now than it had been.

Before Carlisle had existed in his world at all, and before Carlisle knew what he'd meant. Any meaning he'd once upon a time been trying to ascribe to things is faded even further before a not-quite-promise. As though he's looking at them, any relevance they should have, down a long hall.

He'd let

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[teachyouwhoiam]

Going back to his apartment sucked.

(He's spending a lot of time around Edward. And the TV.)

A text message later:

How's work?

[iwouldfollowyou]

He finished the etude he was playing first.

His first word is predictable. Tedious.

It's only a minute hesitation before he writes after it. I assume.

At least it's all in one message.

[teachyouwhoiam]

"Edward."

Out loud to nobody in particular.

Want to come over? Too bright out for me.

[iwouldfollowyou]

Edward stared at the words, only aimlessly trilling notes with his left hands while he was typing. In an hour or so?