The Swing
These days, the only place you could find Edward Cullen was in his bedroom, sitting on a wooden chair by his window. Day in, day out, he would simply sit there, staring outside at his backyard and watching the things that went on there. He liked to gaze at the trees, watch them lose their leaves, see them bloom with colour, observe the sky as it changed from a conventional blue into a magnificent pink, see proud birds take flight in that sky…
But most of all, he liked to stare at the hand crafted swing that sat innocently under the wilting maple tree in the corner of his vast backyard.
It was their swing.
Theirs.
He smiled a little as he thought of her.
It was her soft touch which helped attach the twine to the piece of wood he'd bought, it was her constant motivation which convinced him to sacrifice his dignity and build the swing and it was her sweet laughter as she swung to and fro on it, that made him realise how much he loved the idea of it all.
She was the movement behind everything he did.
Without her, the world was bleak and unendurable.
She was his sunshine.
Often he liked to tell her this.
Whenever he did, she just blushed and looked away, but the slight lift of her lips gave her happiness away.
They built their swing when they were seventeen, in a time when mobile phones didn't exist, when the Internet didn't dominate everybody's world, and when simply talking to a friend in person was the most efficient way to defeat boredom.
Their swing eventually became their 'hang-out' spot and there was not one day when the two of them would talk by it, laugh by it, kiss by it.
He sighed.
Her kisses had been his favourite thing in the world ever since the very first one they'd shared when they were both sixteen. Whenever he kissed her, he not only tasted her lips, but also her every thought, her every emotion, every facet of love she had for him.
The love they'd shared rivalled every other on this earth – real and fictional.
There was no denying it.
The story of how they'd met, however, was ordinary, almost boring.
Edward had gotten his first glimpse of her during a monotonous period of Geography, at Forks High School when he was fifteen years old.
Like most teenagers, he'd been content to lose himself in a daydream rather than listen to the bored drone of the teacher, so it was quite a shock when he heard a soft cough beside him. Everybody was too intimidated by Edward to sit next to him – the loss of his father had left him irritable and antisocial – so to discover that someone was brave enough to sit beside to him and endure his harsh glares was rather surprising.
He'd then inclined his head slightly to the left, wanting to know the identity of the person, and had almost fallen off his chair when he realised that it was a girl.
A girl he'd never seen before.
A pretty girl, the most attractive he'd seen by far.
He was mesmerised by her striking features.
Her sparkling brown eyes pulled him right in.
Before he'd realised what he was saying, he'd asked for her name.
She gave it, smiling shyly at him, not perceiving how dumbstruck he was.
Bella.
She was perfect from the very start.
Although their meeting was conventional, it was the tale of how their relationship had progressed after this that bordered on extraordinary.
No one, not even Edward knew the exact day when they'd gone from being best friends to being lovers.
It simply worked like this; one day they'd been giving platonic hugs, teasing each-other and giving high fives and the next he had kissed her.
They'd never defined what they were, not even in the beginning.
There had been no talk of girlfriends and boyfriends or of love or of labels.
They just knew.
Others might have criticised them for it, but they didn't care.
Their relationship was theirs, no one else could touch it.
Their swing was the only tangible piece of evidence regarding this.
So many moments had been created around it.
The span of so many years connected to it.
When they were thirty-seven, it was still theirs.
Only theirs.
Their lives were filled with responsibility and time was short but they still made time for each other and for their swing.
Even when they both wore platinum rings and their features grew more mature, the swing was never forgotten.
When times got difficult, when it felt like the entire world was against them, Edward and Bella's bond still never severed.
The only moment Bella had ever doubted their connection was when she and Edward found out that she wasn't able to carry a child for medical reasons.
Bella knew Edward had always wanted children, he'd mentioned them many times to her, so she'd mistakenly thought his love would fade when she couldn't provide him with what he most wanted.
But when she told him that night, he'd simply held her tightly on their swing as she'd cried, holding back his own tears as he told her softly that as much as he wanted to father her children, it didn't matter as long as he had his sunshine.
He didn't know why, but Bella's sobs doubled at his words and she'd clutched at his shirt even more tightly. Edward didn't realise how touched she was by what he'd said.
His only concern was making her smile.
It was a few weeks before she did.
The pain didn't subside, simply dulled for the both of them.
He loved her smiles.
He cherished them even more so than usual after those horrifying weeks.
They were what kept him going.
They still did today.
Edward's throat tightened as he noticed his younger sister, Alice, comforting his bawling nephew on the steps by the house outside.
Edward hadn't meant to snap at him.
But the four year old had jumped carelessly onto their swing.
He'd almost broken it, the twine was old, the wood, fragile.
He'd almost severed the last link Edward had to her.
His nephew just didn't understand.
Alice did, however.
He could imagine what she was saying to her son right now, could envision her explaining to him why his uncle was so irritable, so broken.
His family all knew why…
They'd all seen what he was like before the accident.
They all knew her.
Even strangers who didn't know about what had occurred those few months ago, could still figure out why he was so damaged just from one glance at him.
Some may think the photograph of the pretty young woman that he held delicately in his hands wherever he went was indication enough of what had happened, but it was his silence, his constant vigilance of their swing that told the true story.
Until he was reunited with her, he would remain like this, frozen…dead.
Until he got his sunshine back, the sinister darkness of his world would continue to suffocate him.
All he had to do now was wait.
He was only two steps behind her.
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