All the usual disclaimers apply. I own nothing, blah, blah, blah.
I'm back! So this was originally written as a contest entry. Then I got busy and missed the contest deadline. Then, because I missed the deadline, it got sorted into my 'disregard' pile for a little bit. Then I started working on it again. And so here you have it.
Dedicated to my love trixietraci for obvious reasons, most of all her absolute and love of all things John Mayer that could possibly rival mine. Every incarnation of MayerWard I write is to be blamed on her and her alone. Also dedicated to the most loveliest of lovelies PAWsPeaches because she wanted I'll Stay Instead - Edward and Bella Style. So, M, my love, here it is, as promised: drama, angst, hurt, lyrical inspiration with our favourite coppertop and brunette beauty.
PS - this is going out unbeta'd (I think I caught most it... o.0;;). I wanted it to be a surprise for Traci. :)
Going Down
How had we gotten here, to this place, this moment in time where one single action could possibly dictate whether one of us stayed or the other left?
We're sitting at Murphy's Law, the place where this – us – started and it hits me that, no matter what happens, we are embarking on a whole new thing here but it is yet to be determined whether it will be together or alone.
"Bella…" Your face is pained and it breaks my heart a little more and I'm surprised that that's even possible. "Bella."
I just nod at you and take a sip of the Strongbow sitting in front of me. In the corner is a guy fiddling on an amped acoustic guitar, trying and failing to add some sort of ambiance to the air in the Irish pub.
Sitting here like this reminds me of the night we met, even though the mood between us then was to the opposite extreme. It's fitting somehow, like we're come full circle or something.
:: :: ::
It's Thursday night and the cover band is pretty fucking good. Or maybe it's all the Jagerbombs Emmett and Alice have convinced me to do. Whatever it is, I'm feeling great, all the stress of the week melted away as the kilted waitress replaces the glasses in front of me.
"We're gonna slow things down a bit," the band leader calls out over the mic, the guitarist to his left having put down his acoustic and now playing slow chords on the keyboard in front of him. "Grab a warm body and come on out to the dace floor."
They launch into a beautifully haunting piano version of John Mayer's 'Slow Dancing In A Burning Room' and I kind of want to squee because I love me some Mayer hardcore. Just as I'm about to turn around and gush to Alice about the greatness that is John Mayer, two hands are on my hips and pulling me away from the bar. I curse and blame the Jagermeister – I should honestly know better than to drink that shit, seriously – as I stumble backwards and into the arms of whoever has the absolute balls to touch me like they know me.
I'm about to yell and rant and rave about stranger danger and personal space when I am turned upright and I am faced with the hand-to-God-greenest eyes I've ever encountered in my entire life.
"Dance with me?" the owner of the green eyes asks, already swaying to the beat with me in his arms. Part of me wants to step on his foot but it is beat out by the shyly intrigued female within me so I nod at him instead. Green eyes crinkle and I look down to find a stunningly crooked smile. I feel his arms tighten around me and, of their own volition, my arms crawl up his back and rest against his spine.
"We're going down and you can see it, too," he croons quietly in my ear and holy shitballs, I think I've found my own personal Mayer. "We're going down and you know that we're doomed. My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room."
I melt in his arms and let him serenade me for the four minutes that the song runs. My eyes close and my cheek finds the perfect rest against him in the no man's land between the chest and shoulder. As weird as it sounds, I can smell him and he actually smells good – like Irish Spring soap and sun and just something plainly boy.
The two-man band soon segues into something else that runs along the same tempo and I find myself supremely disappointed that I have to move away now from this beautifully green-eyed, intoxicating stranger. To my surprise, though, he doesn't let me go, instead squeezing me just a little bit tighter to signify that this dance is not yet over.
"I'm Edward," he tells me, his breath warming me even though I'm not even cold. His fingers play along my hips as if I'm the most prized piano and I feel as if this is what I've been looking for my entire life.
"Bella," I reply, tilting up to look at him. "I'm Bella."
:: :: ::
"Don't you think we should've learned somehow?"
"Learned what?"
"I don't know," I say after a sip of my beer. "There's so much we ignored, though."
"Like?"
I can't help but get annoyed at the one and two word answers you're giving me, have given me all day, all week, all month, all year.
"Like that!" I say, slamming my glass down on the wooden table, purposefully missing the cardboard coaster. "Like the way I have to pull teeth to get you to answer me properly! Like the way you just stare at me as if you're trying to read my mind! Well, news flash, Edward: you can't! You're not psychic and I'm not as simple as I seem."
It's awkward now, and not just between us. The whole bar has gone silent, the guitar player blatantly staring at us and the bartender wiping the same spot on the bar as he waits for another outburst.
"You know, I've been trying to make the most of… Of this," you tell me, pushing away your Red Stripe, still in the bottle as always, and leaning your elbows on the tabletop. "I can't… It's like nothing I do lately is right and every single move I make just pisses you off even more."
"It's not…" I can't even finish my thought because looking at you, with your shoulders slumped and your brow furrowed in confusion…
:: :: ::
"It's not fair," you whisper and I can't do anything but hold you tighter. "It's not fair, Bella."
"Nothing's ever really fair, though, Edward," I tell you gently. I know better than to try and just lie outright with platitudes and pretty words. Instead, I tell you what I can and run my fingers through your hair.
"She… She's the strongest woman I know and it's all just fucked! It's not fair, she did everything right! And for the cancer to come back…"
I let you cry it out, I listen to you scream and plead with God or whoever it is you think is up there fucking with your life at the moment. All I can do is be here for you when you can't hold yourself up any longer.
"I don't want her to die, Bella. That's my mom. She can't die, not yet." It's been hours of just you and me locked in this bedroom and you've finally broken, curled around me as we lie on top of the sheets.
"I can't promise you anything, Edward," I say, hugging you tighter to me because maybe if I do, I can protect you from some of the horrible things that are left in this world. "But no matter what, I love you. I'll always love you."
:: :: ::
"I still love you, Edward."
"I know," you reply sadly after a moment of silence. "And I still love you. But where does that take us now?"
The pained look on your face is back when I don't answer and I can't help but feel the tears well up in my eyes. Why is this so hard?
"Why is this so hard?" I repeat out loud. I focus on the wood grain just in front of you because I won't be able to get this out if I'm looking at you. "Do you think that maybe we're a lost cause? That our run is over? I love you and you love me but that isn't enough anymore. I want what you can't give me and you want the time that I don't have."
"Bella—"
"No, Edward, let me finish. I know you've made the most of all… all this… this sadness and hurt but it kills me inside when I see that look on your face. You said I was the one you always dreamed of, the light you ever saw in a world of darkness and regret but—"
"You still are, Bella," you plead softly.
:: :: ::
"It's true, you know," you whisper in my ear as we slow dance around your living room in our socks while our song, the song from that first night and first dance at Murphy's Law, plays softly in the background.
"What is?" I ask, looking up into those honeyed green eyes that I'm already beginning to fall in love with.
"You're the one I've tried to draw."
I can't help the gasp that leaves me. I know you are an artist by trade so to hear those words come out of your mouth… I'm honoured beyond belief.
"You came into my life—"
"More like stumbled," I giggle and you playfully pinch my ass for interrupting you.
"You stumbled into my life and you were this light, this perfection in a world that's just too… too dark and too desperate to even comprehend sometimes."
I want to say something sarcastic but I know that this moment is one of the few in my life that will ever mean something to me. Instead, I pull you down for a kiss, the only thing I can think to give you that means anything remotely as beautiful as your words.
Your lips mould so easily to mine and I'm amazed that whatever this is between us is so easy. It's never been easy for me, to just simply be with someone, so this is completely new and, if I were to admit it, completely unnerving to me.
There are no words between us as you lead me blindly through your apartment. I don't even register that we've entered your bedroom because I'm too preoccupied with your lips on my neck and your hands on my ass to even realize what's about to happen. But soon my top is somewhere decorating your floor and my back is meeting your billion-and-six thread count sheets and I'm panicking slightly at about what is about to happen.
"Bella?" You pull away from me and stare at me worriedly, stroking my arm with one hand and my jaw with your other.
"Uhmm… Hi…" I'm such a fucking moron. Just spread your legs, Bella! I tell myself. Like Nike says, JUST DO IT!
"We don't have to do this, you know," you say gently but the monster erection you've got going on is telling me differently.
"I, I want to," I say, breathing out shakily as my hands find purchase against your biceps. You seem to sense whatever trepidation is plaguing me and you strip me slowly out of my clothes, each kiss you place on my newly exposed skin exposing my soul to you as well.
"I love you, Bella," you say reverently as your fingers discover all my secrets, how I like being touched there, how that spot makes me moan in want for you, which is the most sensitive area on that plane of skin.
"I love you, Edward," I moan out in a sigh as I crest the wave of my orgasm at your fingertips. I find myself surprised and yet not surprised that I mean those words coming out of my mouth. I don't ever think I've ever meant them before.
Placing gentle kisses along my neck and chest, you settle against me but I want more. I want you, all of you, all that you're willing to give me and, yet again a surprise to myself, I want to give you just as much, if not more.
"Edward…"
:: :: ::
The feeling of dread that rises up through me makes me want to throw up. I'm losing you, or maybe I've already lost you, and there's nothing I can possibly do to salvage what we used to have.
"I don't… Bella, I don't know any more." I can see in your eyes. Like John Mayer said, this is the deep and dying breath of this love that we're been working on.
Maybe the fact that that particular song was 'our song' should've been a sign.
"So… What?" I can't help but cringe at the gut wrenching sob forming inside of me as I ask you that question.
"God, Bella." You can see my tears and I can hear how torn you are. But I guess you decide to stay where you are because I don't feel the heavy warmth of your arms around me.
"So I guess this is it, then."
"Bella…"
:: :: ::
"What the fuck is it you want from me, Edward?" I've been screaming and crying for hours, my voice is hoarse and I taste blood every time I try to swallow.
"You!" you roar back, grabbing me by my shoulders. "Can't you see it? All I want – all I ever fucking wanted – was you!"
"I don't fucking believe you," I whisper, trying to shake off your hands but you're stronger than I am.
"Then believe this."
Your mouth is on mine instantly and I can't say that I resist for very long. I want to melt into you, make this easy on me, but I can't, I'm too stubborn for that. So instead I bite at your lips, at your tongue, at your jaw, wherever I can reach. I need you to feel just how frustrated I am with this, with us, at this very point in time.
We're too preoccupied with trying to feel each other to really care where we are, so when the rough friction burn of my skin against carpet registers in my head, our clothes are already scattered around the living room and you're hands are moving across my body like you want to meld your skin with mine. Though your touch is hard and bruising, it's not violent; it is more akin to a possessive caress, and I relish it because it's the only real thing I seem to know about you.
I feel your hands first on my breasts then my ribs then my hips. One hand passes through the heat between my legs and then you are all over me, inside of me, claiming and possessing me. It's had, it's carnal, it's almost feral but then your lips, even in their inflexible strength, soften the thrusting blows to something that makes me want to cry.
"Come." I expect it to be a demand but it's actually a plea. I don't want to, because we're fighting, but I do because I never could control myself when it came to you.
And, sometimes, I don't think I want to.
:: :: ::
I reach into my pocket and my fingers immediately feel the jagged metal digging beneath the edge of my fingernails. It's cool to the touch, much like you, despite it's close proximity to my body. Again, much like you.
I pull out the key – I removed it from my key ring earlier today when I made up my mind – and place it on the table. It might just be my imagination but I don't think such a small piece of metal should make such a significant sound.
The pain in your eyes is too much to bear so after an initial glance up at you, I keep my eye trained on my hand as it slides the last knot tying us together across the table to you. When I reach the halfway point where the salt, pepper, and ketchup dispensers sit, I lift my hand.
"Bella…" The anguish in your tone mirrors what I feel, what I've been feeling for a long time.
I still can't look up. I finish my Strongbow in two gulps, throw a twenty on the table and walk out of that burning room on my own.
So, the cover I based the first flashback on is this: (youtube)/watch?v=99dIJiamkBU. I love the beginning and the end of the video where they (Michael Henry and Justin Robinett) just stare at you. Heeheehee And the guy in the background obviously playing Wii bowling? Fucking priceless (wanna see the best victory dance ever? Fast forward to 0:24, to 1:57, and to 3:29 and watch the dude. Well, watch him throughout the whole vid, really. Trust me, you will pee yourself laughing. I ended up watching this vid a second time just to watch him!). Love these guys. They do such awesome covers, they're so uber talented and they're such hams in their vids sometimes. Check them out.
Love, Lulu
