AN: First fic, slightly scared :)
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all characters etcetera etcetera. plot is all that is mine. Any similarities to other sotries/author works is by complete accident.
Mad props to my beautiful beta and trustworth friend, the wonderful xkissfromarosex. Couldn't have done it without you!
Full Summary: Edward, a jaded but ingenious artist, leaves his prosperous life on the Upper East Side to travel the world on a yacht with his oil tycoon best friend Jasper and regain inspiration for his arts. Little does he know, inspiration will strike in the form of a beautiful boulangerie owning American brunette, who is eager to take St Tropez by storm with her sugary pastry goodness. Will Edward fall as hard for her as the other locals have, and can it last?
The studio. My studio. My sanctuary. 500 square feet of marble floors and white ceilings that only intensified the solitude that occurred once I successfully locked myself away in here. The doors to the balcony were open, the white curtain billowing, the only movement in the room. The lights from the skyline outside cast light in through the doors, sending the curtains billowing ominously, and illuminating the room in an eerie light. I could hear the incessant whir of traffic, far below, 74 floors down to be exact. The noise was aggravating, and rapidly distracting me from the arcs of colour splashed upon the canvas on my easel that were soon to become my latest project. I willed myself to get up and close the doors in an attempt to block out the exterior blare and leave me in peace, but I knew my melancholic state of mind would not allow me peace. Instead, with the constant hum of noise gone, the quiet would give me time to think, something I knew I certainly didn't want to do. To think was to contemplate my life, to play the whole of my sad existence over and over, slide after slide clicking into place and burning themselves into my retina permanently, so that next time I wouldn't even need to take my mind back to what happened, it would just automatically appear for me to sample and immediately connect with the same anguish and regret.
A dramatic analogy, perhaps, and one probably not fitting for my state of affairs, but it felt this way to me.
Fuck that. It was in no way a too dramatic analogy, just slightly false. Because it wasn't 'my whole life flashing before my eyes', as clichéd as that is. No, it was more specifically just a three week time period that my brain insisted on torturing me with at every chance. And not even the full three weeks. No, just the precious moments spent with her. My angel, my demon, my love, my beauty, my everything.
She had changed everything, and yet nothing at all at the same time. The rope binding me to her might as well have been an umbilical chord for the need that I associated with her. But still, it wasn't enough to put myself before my ego. Because they operated under completely different pretences. In the end, nothing was enough to make me stay, and sate both her and I. Maybe I'm a sucker for punishment. Maybe my head being in the right place caused me to react in such a way, even if my heart was a bit preoccupied trying not to fail due to the all encompassing pain ripping through it. But the fact remains, I left.
My Bella.
I know it's short! But it's just a taster of whats to come so I can get a feel for the story :)