A/N: This is yet another drabble gone awry and so it has been posted as a one-shot. As such, it has been written in drabble style. Pairing: Edward x Bella. What is true luxury? As usual, the characters of the Twilight series do not belong to me but to their esteemed creator. ENJOY!
Luxury
Expensive cars, rare gems, humongous mansions with rolling lawns – the symbols of luxury.
Or so Bella had thought.
But watching him now, she couldn't help but wonder. What was true luxury? The storm had past and the rain now flickered to a mere drizzle, a gentle breeze of the rainfall caressing her warm skin, a relief to the young woman who had been stricken by a severe bout of fever. For days she had been delirious, lost in the world of deadly slumber, haunted by the nightmares that wrung from her weakened body harsh cries. She had wandered, her demons leading her astray and never would she have been found if it weren't for him.
Edward Cullen, the one she loved, the one who had proven worthy of her love now stood in the silky curtain of raindrops, his head tilted to the heavens. Charlie had watched Bella struggle, fight, scream and he had cried, cried in fear for her, terror that she would never awake. But Edward never shed a tear. As her father choked on desperate sobs, his pain escaping him, washing over him, leaving him in those crystal drops, Edward had had no such luxury. The vampire had watched his eyes wells of desolation, of anguish that tore him to the core of his being. Yet, he could not escape his pain. Crying eased suffering. Edward couldn't cry.
Now the rain spilled down his cheeks, substituting the tears that he would never shed. Yet, they were but faint shadows, completely inadequate. As Bella walked over to him, for once abandoning her senses and heedless to the rain, he never turned to her, never reacted, so lost he was in his inner world, in trying to soothe is own wounds from his own battles with the demons that stalked him. Even her gentle touch did not draw a reaction but Bella didn't mind. She understood. He had always been there for her. Now, she would be there for him.
His skin was cold, not the usual comforting coolness that soothed her as fire burnt within her body, a fiery inferno flaring in her veins. It was a frosty, icy cold, remnants of drops of rain that clung stubbornly to his skin. It was the chill of pain, anguish, terror and despair so soul-wrenching that it raced through his entire being, seizing him in its deadly artic grip. It was a cold that she herself felt, shivering in its wake as he averted his eyes to gaze at her, his liquid molten gold eyes filled with such turmoil, such disturbance, tumultuous emotions that threatened to rip him apart.
Most would stroke his hair, gentle and soothing. Most would cup his cheek, fingers dancing over his handsome features as they strove to erase the dark expression that clouded his features, the disturbing darkness that tainted his eyes. Most would embrace him, hold him, comfort him.
But, Bella knew. It wasn't comfort that he needed. She leant against him, her still slightly feverish skin a stark contrast to his glacial arm. Comfort was inadequate. What Edward needed wasn't comfort. He needed understanding, empathy. He needed relief.
And so, she cried.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as her soul touched his, sharing his pain, shouldering his heavy burden of guilt. She cried for the restless days he spent by her bedside, anxious and completely drained by his emotional battles. She cried for herself, for her weakness, for her humanity that had brought him such anguish, self-loathing and guilt. Edward needed relief. He needed escape. And, Bella could give him that. She cried because he couldn't.
Pain was unwanted.
Sadness was unwelcome.
But, tears were a luxury.