Warnings are fslash and language.
This is dedicated to my husband, hogwartshoodlum. We were just sitting in the living room a few days ago, and I wasn't getting anywhere on any of my other fics, but I knew I wanted to write something, so I said "Pick a female character, from any fandom we like. Doesn't matter which fandom, just pick one." And he said "Ginny." So, I tried for a minute, then I said "Nope. Pick another." And he said "Bella." So, there you have it.
Thanks for your help, baby.
She's good at lying, good at acting like her heart isn't bleeding and screaming and ripped to shreds. She has to be; otherwise, she wouldn't have come this far, she wouldn't have survived this long. That's it, then--survival. That's what she's good at, what she excels at. Of course it has nothing to do with her present or her future and everything to do with her past. It isn't as though she's begging for sympathy, weren't you listening? She's lying, daily, hourly, to them. Them being everybody else, of course. Them being her father, her mother, Phil, her teachers, her friends, and most especially, herself. If she just wanted attention, to be that girl--you know the type of girl I mean, ever dramatic, truly believing that she feels everything a thousand times more than anybody else--she would let them see her misery.
She misses her. She won't say it, won't hardly think it, but it's something that's lodged inside of her--in the pit of her stomach, maybe, or jammed under (or into, straight through it and into and serrating as it goes) her heart. It's something that goes beyond actually feeling, and more into the realm of hurting. But Bella knows about hurt. She almost knows it as well as lying, or perhaps she knows it better than lying, and the lying is because of the hurt, or perhaps the hurt is because of the lying. It's the whole chicken and egg theory, and Bella just doesn't care anymore. She's so fucking tired, so worn, so beaten. She'd like to think that she is strong, that she is doing okay, living without Al--Edward.
Well, that's the biggest lie, you see.
It is perhaps what bothers her (or frightens her; she just doesn't know anymore and isn't sure about anything) the most, that Edward, tall and strong and really just the embodiment of male perfection, just isn't who or what she needs, she misses, the most. She tries to tell herself that it lessens the ache of living without him, to think more and wish for Alice, that wasn't Alice her best friend? So then, she would miss her, and to direct the abandonment and everything else that came when the Cullens left at the said girl is just easier than admitting how much she really needs Edward.
Well, that's the biggest lie, you see.
Bella knows, somewhere inside of her, the truth lingers. That it is Alice Cullen she loves more than anything, more than living and more than her truck and more than anything else she has ever owned and anybody else she has ever known. It's the pixie-like vampire, with a voice as sweet and soft as chimes, lips pink and full and cheekbones high, black hair splayed all over the place, it's her that truly means everything to Bella.
Well of course she doesn't say it, and she would never dream of admitting it, at least not outright. She dreams often of the nights that Edward used to stay in her room with her, and she pictures Alice instead of Edward next to her, their bodies pressed so tightly to each other, gentle kisses hurried but savored, hands traveling over hips and stomachs and throats.
She smells her all the time, and she wonders if she is truly going mad. Alice, she smells wondrous, like cedar and fresh Floridian oranges, or maybe she smells like the ocean, like salt and longing and freedom and escape, or maybe like the forest behind Charlie's after a rain, all juniper and pine and clean and new. It comes down to this, to Alice being everywhere and soon, Bella knows, she will not be able to lie to herself, much less to them.
Not that it matters, anyway, because Alice Cullen is never coming back. Because of Edward (his name twists in her mouth, and she swallows it like it's something molten, something hot and unpleasant) Alice, and everybody else, has left and they will never be here again.
She is able to hate him, now. Hate him for not trusting his family more, hate him for treating her like he owned her. What right did Edward, fucking Edward, have over her life? Didn't he know that she viewed the Cullens as her family? They were a part of her, in her blood and her soul, and he took them away from her because he thought he was king of the whole world and could do whatever he damn well pleased.
She's furious now, her mind white-hot and her tongue lashing, and she is raging in her room, demanding that the Edward show himself and that he fix what he's broken, and that is her heart and her mind and almost her entire life.
"Real cute, Bells."
She stops, because she is sure that yes, this is it, this is finally cracking and insanity, but it sounds so nice, that voice, that familiar and longed for voice...
"This isn't real." Bella says, because Alice, Alice Cullen, is standing against the doorway, looking as exquisite as always, her lips pulled up over her white teeth into Bella's most favorite smile.
"It feels real." Alice shrugs, and she steps into the room, and Bella can smell her, and she truly does smell like oranges and the sea and ancient trees, and then Alice is inches from her, now centimeters, and Bella is almost dizzy. "You feel real." Alice whispers, and the words wash over Bella, hypnotizing her, and Alice's arms are around her, and before Bella can catch up with what is going on Alice's lips--icy at first--are against her own.
"That was real." Alice says, as she pulls away from Bella.
Bella's mouth is burning, but she has never felt anything so incredible in her entire life. To think that she'd never really been kissed until now! Edward's kisses are laughable, compared to this, and she wants more, needs more. She steps toward Alice, who laughs and raises a hand.
"I promise you Bella, there will be plenty of time for that--forever, in fact, if that's what you want. But I have to go now. I just wanted you to know that I'm back. That we're back. Hey, do you wanna come and say hi to everybody?"
She can't believe this, won't let herself, but if Alice is a hallucination, well, then this was pretty fucking good, as they went, so why not play along? "Everybody?"
"Well, not Edward...or Jasper."
It is now that Bella remembers Jasper, blond and eternally thirsty and Alice's mate. How could she have forgotten? Why wasn't he here, why wasn't he back?
Alice sighs, and takes Bella's hand, pulling her to the bed. "It's a long story, Bells. But, to sum it up, Jasper and Edward realized what they meant to each other. And so, they're gone now. They don't need to be, of course, without Jasper in the picture, I could see things clearly, see you clearly. I loved you then, and I love you now."
Bella's eyes flutter shut. "This isn't real." She says again, but Alice just tips her head back and laughs.
"I can show you it is real, if you like." Alice's voice has a smirk in it, as she pushes Bella gently back on the bed, and begins (expertly, Bella notes) undoing the button of Bella's jeans.
Bella is in ecstasy. Her jeans are on the floor now, and Alice's cold hands are skimming their way along her calves, up her thighs, across her hips. It is pleasure as she has never known before, and Alice seems to know that.
"Perhaps this is a bit fast." Alice says, removing her hands from Bella's body.
"You've got to be kidding me." Bella groans, though with a hint of a smile. She is throbbing now, but Alice just being here is enough.
Alice laughs, all bells and wind chimes, and wraps Bella in the quilt on her bed. "Closeness is enough for now, I think. I've missed you, Bella."
And if it is real, or isn't, Bella doesn't really care (or notice) at the moment. She has gotten what she wanted, which is Alice Cullen back. Her heart takes a full beat, and her lungs are expanding like they haven't for months.
She is complete, in this moment, and doesn't have to lie about it, not to them, and not to herself.