This is a drabble I wrote for the compilation some wonderful ladies organized for Fandom Against Domestic Violence. You can still donate if you'd like, just visit www . fandomagainstdomesticviolence . blogspot . com.
Thanks to askthemagic8ball and sncmom for beta'ing and prereading.
SM owns all.
"What are you?"
"What do you think I am?"
"Your eyes… they change. They're forever changing."
He nods, but his ever-changing eyes don't break the hold they have on hers. He's close to her, closer than he's ever been. He's still, though, so very still.
The small space between them is thick; she dares not to move for fear her skin may set aflame. There's a heat – they both feel it – yet she's covered in goose flesh, and he… well, he's not visibly affected.
Perception is simply a matter of… nothing.
"Edward?" she says, leaning forward, an infinitesimal movement; she does this subconsciously – her movements are never premeditated around him, she can't help it. A winter leaf crunches beneath her foot, and the spell she's under almost breaks. Almost.
"Yes, Bella."
"You don't touch me," she says. She's angry; she wants to know what it feels like.
"I don't know you."
"Yes, you do."
"Not enough." He's both bitter and excited. Edward's face shows little expression, but his brow lifts slightly. He toys with her, yet he tortures himself.
They've danced like this for months.
"People talk," she goads.
"Who? What people?" Edward doesn't really care.
"Others."
"What do they say?" He wants to laugh. "Have they warned you about me?" They should.
"Does it matter?"
"Only if it matters to you."
"It doesn't." Bella looks down at the ground between them; she's so tired of this game. He's always there – wherever she is, and the way he looks at her, it's intense and frightening and thrilling. She knows he's dangerous, but he's done nothing to prove this theory. There's an air about him - one that screams for her to run, but at the same time it keeps her rooted in place, craving to know more.
Bella steps back, and Edward steps forward; their dance begins again, and the space between them lessens. He wants to reach out to her, feel her cheek against his palm. Edward wonders if her skin is as warm as she smells, if it's silk to the touch. They are a contradictory; the quintessence of fire and ice. Would he melt if her lips touched his? It's something he thinks about endlessly – if he slept, surely, she'd penetrate his dreams. Alas, he does not, and Bella is in his every waking moment. He can't help it.
She's bolder now, her heart beats in staccato rhythm, and she looks directly into his eyes. A small puff of steam billows from her mouth before she speaks – her sweet breath drives him insane. He's stronger than he thought.
"Sometimes I think I see you outside my bedroom window." Bella tests his honesty. Edward stiffens, he wasn't expecting this. "Is it you or am I just crazy?"
He elicits a calm façade. "I'm there… sometimes." Edward gauges her reaction before he continues. He has so much to say, and his cavalier mood shifts. Bella swallows; he knows she's nervous, but she doesn't move. "I think about you – what you do. I wonder what type of music you listen to, how you spend your evenings. I wonder what you look like when you sleep – if you're peaceful or if you're restless." He pauses for a moment. A small part of Edward wants her to stop him because if she doesn't, he never will. Bella says nothing; she's unreadable, and he hates this, yet he continues. "When I think about you it's as if nothing else exists. Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm standing in your yard, waiting for any sign of you. Does that scare you?"
Bella knows this is wrong. How she was raised, the things her parents taught her, she knows none of this is right, safe.
She shakes her head. "No." Despite all reasoning, she also knows what she feels. There's an energy she cannot deny, will not deny, when she's near Edward. Bella watches him, too. Few moments pass when she's aware of his absence, and in those moments, there's an emptiness that consumes her. Bella doesn't have to see Edward to know he's there; she senses him. She moves closer.
"Tell me what you are," she quietly demands.
They each struggle to keep their hands to their sides – the need to touch the other is becoming unbearable.
"A monster… a man. The mere fact I stand here is inconceivable."
"Human?" she asks. The question rolling from her tongue is ridiculous at best.
"Once."
"Would you ever hurt me?"
"Never."
"Could you?"
"Yes."
Bella nods in understanding.
Edward's steel demeanor falters, his lips part slightly. He's convinced she's going to end this, whatever this is.
But he's wrong.
Bella slowly reaches out to touch his hand – he doesn't move – and, daringly, inexplicably, she places it onto her waist. Her skin tingles, the sensation creeps up her spine, settling on the back of her neck. His touch is cold, yet it burns. A myriad of descriptions go through her mind as she holds his hand in place, but nothing seems appropriate - this is unlike anything she's ever experienced before.
"I think about you, too," she admits. Edward is staring at their hands, but his eyes flicker toward hers. "I wonder how you spend your nights, too." She threads her other hand in his, guiding it toward her neck. "I don't care what you are."
Slowly, cautiously, he leans in. It's as though they're caught in an infinite continuum of time, but it's the sweetest torture. Edward's lips are merely a fraction of an inch from hers, he can almost taste them. He chances a brush of his nose along her cheek; she feels a thousand times better than he imagined. He grins.
She breathes him in, becoming entranced all over again. Bella wants this moment to linger, however, her body moves without regard, and she lifts her chin, her mouth finally connecting with his. Their kiss starts slow, hesitant; both have their eyes closed, and they only feel – her fire encompassing his ice.
Bella fists his shirt, pulling him closer, and Edward is so very careful to hold her face in his hands. Their tongues touch, swirl. He moans, the sound is low, satisfying. He'd gladly spend the rest of his existence kissing her, and he imagines as though he is, in fact, melting.
Her hands travel up his chest, and she grips the back of his neck, she rubs her thumbs along the lobes of his ears. It's her first kiss, at least the only one she'll ever remember. Bella allows Edward to lead her; he's still cautious, gentle. Her lungs are tight, and the pounding of her heart is even more present – she's forgotten to breathe.
Edward pulls back, just barely. "Are you all right?" he whispers. She nods, her body shivers. "It's late." Only now does he notice they're surrounded by darkness, and the temperature has dropped as well.
"You have to go." She assumes. Her disappointment doesn't go unnoticed.
"It's late and you're cold… Bella, I don't want this to end either."
"What will you do tonight?" Bella asks as Edward strokes her cheek with his thumb.
He smiles. "What I do every night – wonder what you're doing."
Bella tilts her head to kiss his palm. "I don't think you should wonder what I do."
"No?"
"No. My window will be unlocked."
Edward grins widely. Their dance has changed.
Thank you for reading.