(no subject)
"No matter what it is....or who it is...that is haunting you. You'll face it head on. You're the type."
Tanya had said those words (among many other grumbling words and thoughts) and Edward had raced home. Somewhere between his surprise at her admissions and his slowly chipped away doubts of Alice's vision never changing they had tipped the ice burg of his fight to stay away.
He'd managed two instances in her (Bella) presence in that bar and he'd managed through that entire first class. He could survive through three one hours periods of torture in a week.
No other place in the world held an interest to him because he would be, as he was now, looking back toward where he was running from and never toward what he was going. He didn't want to uproot his family, though they would go if asked, and neither did he want to abandon his life with them without making the attempt.
Her (Bella) eyes, chocolate brown and questioning, followed him as he flew toward the last place he called home.
He hoped that Tanya and Alice were right.
He hoped he could be the person they saw when they looked at him.
Alice had been waiting on the porch, grinning her know it all smile, the others not too far behind.
There had been a dinning room meeting to follow.
They wanted to know from him what he was going to do.
Across their thoughts he could sense the meeting that had taken place previous to this one, based on Alice's foresight. How they would guard him the next day, for himself and for themselves all together.
They knew he would be able to sense their thoughts about it.
And it relieved him not to hear them discussing his, and their, possible demise only moments after his return to them. Not to have to defend passionately, or miserably, his ability to hold himself together. Getting to know, without being told, there was a back up plan to the one he gave them.
The classes before lunch (CalculusGovernmentEnglishGym) flew by as if nonexistent.
Nothing mattered but facing that small, fragile woman-child (Bella) again.
~*~
Her (Bella) appearance in the lunch room had kept his every sense at the alert.
He had been poised to run, yet forcing himself to stay, to smile. To not hit kick his siblings for every codependent twitchy look between themselves or thought about his condition once she'd entered the room. As he realized she still had not revealed his horrid manners to anyone, nor did she seem to be about to.
The silence of her mind plagued him.
The confusion and worry and focus he placed on her did, too.
~*~
Edward's gratitude, as was most often, belonged to Alice and her precise planning of the entire situation. A snowball thrown at Emmet at just the right moment so they all looked entirely careless when Bella had seen them.
How Alice hid it from him to make it come off perfectly he didn't question.
Her forethought was enough for then, for them.
Biology, sitting less than a foot from her (Bella), had been hell.
Her (Bella) scent tantalizing him wherever he was forced to breathe to talk.
Then, worse, she had stumped him three different times, unraveling his attempt to be smooth and cool.
(The electric, burning feeling of their skin touching. His like ice and hers like fire.
No, I like Bella. But I think Charlie-I mean my dad-must call me Isabella behind my back. That what everyone here seems to know me as.
Did you get contacts? Oh. I thought there was something different about your eyes.)
He did find useful things in their, if strained by his attempting not to kill her, conversation.
She was selfless and suffering in her relationship toward her parents, to extent of self sacrifice.
He couldn't kill someone like that. At least he told himself that a dozen times.
Nobody died? Emmett asked.
"Not this time."
Tanya had said those words (among many other grumbling words and thoughts) and Edward had raced home. Somewhere between his surprise at her admissions and his slowly chipped away doubts of Alice's vision never changing they had tipped the ice burg of his fight to stay away.
He'd managed two instances in her (Bella) presence in that bar and he'd managed through that entire first class. He could survive through three one hours periods of torture in a week.
No other place in the world held an interest to him because he would be, as he was now, looking back toward where he was running from and never toward what he was going. He didn't want to uproot his family, though they would go if asked, and neither did he want to abandon his life with them without making the attempt.
Her (Bella) eyes, chocolate brown and questioning, followed him as he flew toward the last place he called home.
He hoped that Tanya and Alice were right.
He hoped he could be the person they saw when they looked at him.
Alice had been waiting on the porch, grinning her know it all smile, the others not too far behind.
There had been a dinning room meeting to follow.
They wanted to know from him what he was going to do.
Across their thoughts he could sense the meeting that had taken place previous to this one, based on Alice's foresight. How they would guard him the next day, for himself and for themselves all together.
They knew he would be able to sense their thoughts about it.
And it relieved him not to hear them discussing his, and their, possible demise only moments after his return to them. Not to have to defend passionately, or miserably, his ability to hold himself together. Getting to know, without being told, there was a back up plan to the one he gave them.
The classes before lunch (CalculusGovernmentEnglishGym) flew by as if nonexistent.
Nothing mattered but facing that small, fragile woman-child (Bella) again.
~*~
Her (Bella) appearance in the lunch room had kept his every sense at the alert.
He had been poised to run, yet forcing himself to stay, to smile. To not hit kick his siblings for every codependent twitchy look between themselves or thought about his condition once she'd entered the room. As he realized she still had not revealed his horrid manners to anyone, nor did she seem to be about to.
The silence of her mind plagued him.
The confusion and worry and focus he placed on her did, too.
~*~
Edward's gratitude, as was most often, belonged to Alice and her precise planning of the entire situation. A snowball thrown at Emmet at just the right moment so they all looked entirely careless when Bella had seen them.
How Alice hid it from him to make it come off perfectly he didn't question.
Her forethought was enough for then, for them.
Biology, sitting less than a foot from her (Bella), had been hell.
Her (Bella) scent tantalizing him wherever he was forced to breathe to talk.
Then, worse, she had stumped him three different times, unraveling his attempt to be smooth and cool.
(The electric, burning feeling of their skin touching. His like ice and hers like fire.
No, I like Bella. But I think Charlie-I mean my dad-must call me Isabella behind my back. That what everyone here seems to know me as.
Did you get contacts? Oh. I thought there was something different about your eyes.)
He did find useful things in their, if strained by his attempting not to kill her, conversation.
She was selfless and suffering in her relationship toward her parents, to extent of self sacrifice.
He couldn't kill someone like that. At least he told himself that a dozen times.
Nobody died? Emmett asked.
"Not this time."