A/N: It's quick, short and put a bullet in my writer's block.

This is something small in memory of Peter Steele. He died on April 14th around 6PM from heart failure. He was the lead singer of Type O negative. Right now, in my mourning phase, I'm tempted to go get their symbol tattooed on me. But one is more than enough.

(Summer Breeze)

Summer breeze makes me feel fine.
Blowin' through the jasmine in my mind.

Sweet days of summer - the jasmine's in bloom.
July is dressed up and playing her tune.

When I come home from a hard day's work.
And you're waiting there.
I don't have a care
Not a care in the world.

-Type O Negative; Summer Breeze

The breathing on the other end of the phone felt hot on my ear. It was like he was right there, hovering over me while I fumbled through papers trying to find his account information. I wasn't increasing customer service but at least I was putting in a couple dollars from this half hour phone call.

"I can't be burdened with your incompetence. Give me someone else to speak with."

"Please, sir. Just a moment longer—I swear your information is—" The file was smacked in front of me and a figure ducked behind the wall of my cubicle. I breathed a sigh of relief. "It's right here. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. So you, uh, wanted to return something?"

"Edward." I whirled around in my swivel chair, pressing my palm to the receiver of the phone. My boss was leaning against the wall to my cubicle, a stack of papers in his hand. "When you finish go to my office."

I stifled a groan and turned back. After ransacking my file cabinet its contents were spilled across my desk and some folders were pinned to the wall for later meetings. The ten dollar raise wasn't worth all of this stress. It was the dark side of customer service. When someone was unruly or impatient the salesperson would ship them down to me and I'd have to lick my wounds on the ride home.

The fact that James wanted some personal time didn't bode well. On more than one occasion people had run out from there, screaming that all their years of service got them nowhere. I swallowed hard. Surely they wouldn't fire me after moving up the ladder.

"I thought after using the XO1 printing system that I'd be all set. But it doesn't do the right kind of texturing—"

"I've been informed that you were told it didn't do texturing. That's a separate function and—"

"Don't tell me what I was told," he interrupted. "I wouldn't have bought the damn thing if I didn't think it textured. I want my money back and don't tell me no."

I sighed and leaned my elbows forward. Why did I do this to myself? What could have possibly goaded me into working in customer hell?

"Hey." I looked up and found eyes peering down at me.

"Hey," I whispered back. "When I'm done with this guy James wants to see me."

Bella grimaced. "He's been doing that a lot lately. Do you think it's bad?"

I shook my head and held the phone away. Mr. Callery was a frequent flyer down here. I'd taken him in order to lighten Bella's load. His misogyny and name calling had her crying and on the edge of shouting back. God knew that was the thing she needed.

I rolled my eyes and documented a new encounter in Callery's file. Seventh since the beginning of the year and he still kept coming back.

I knocked on James's doorway and at his grunt, stepped in. Two large stacks of paper on either side of his desk towered over his sitting form. He shot an arm out, pen pointing to a crooked wicker chair. The florescent lights made me itch at my skin and the dim lighting took its toll on my eyes.

Finally, he looked up from his furious writing and leaned back. "Edward. How are you?"

I fidgeted a little. "I'm alright."

"Good, good." He played with the ends of his long hair and soon enough brought his feet up to rest on his desk. That had to be a good omen. "How do you like the new placement?"

My foot tapped restlessly against the grey and brown carpet. "It's good. I like it. Did you need me for something? I've got a bunch—a bunch of paperwork, and I should get home soon—"

James leaned back and held up a hand. I hated this guy. He was cocky, arrogant and thought he was the king of regional customer service at a mediocre printer company. Once a month he'd pull me in here and get me nerved up, think my job was on shaky ground and then leave me hanging without a word until our next meeting.

He tilted his head until I could see the underside of his chin. I'd have given anything to punch him right there. Ever since I came down to the third floor he'd been on my ass.

I tugged at my black slacks as I stood up, trying to stop the back of my knees from sweating. As I exited James's office Bella was standing outside, pretending to be busy. She peeked up from a folder and snapped it closed.

"Good?" she asked. Her fingers played with the collar of her shirt and her left leg moved back and forth, flexing the pencil skirt so with every backwards kick I got a shapely outline of her hip. "He didn't fire you or anything, right?"

Running a hand over my face I sighed. "No. Just trying to drive me crazy with nervousness."

Bella smiled at me and glanced at the clock. She already had my things ready and waiting in a neat pile on the floor. I grabbed her hand and left the too-small, too-hot floor into the even tighter elevator.

Once outside the building I tore off my light blue button down shirt and stuffed it into my bag. The summer sun tickled the freckles on my shoulder and I sucked in a deep breath. Bella and I made our way down the sidewalk, opting to skip the bus and take a walk.

"Thanks for Callery's file," I mumbled, closing my eyes and tilting my head up to the sun. "He seems more impatient than usual."

I looked down at Bella and found that her special Evening Smile had disappeared. A creaseformed between her eyebrows. Two kids cracked open a fire hydrant in front of us and I barely pushed her over in time to save her dress clothes.

I snapped my fingers in front of her face. "Huh?" she muttered.

"A little distracted?"

"Just thinking."

"A penny for your thoughts?" The first time she got into her deeply contemplative mood we'd started working together, and the last time we'd moved in together. I was suddenly concerned. "Is everything okay?"

She shook her head, the bun at the back of her head came undone and the clip fell to the cracked concrete. I stopped, looking down the road and squinting at the orange sky and bright sun. The ground shimmered from the heat and cars shook out of my sight. Further back more kids joined into the fire hydrant sprinkler. I smiled a girl no older than five who ran by with a snorkeler mask.

Bella fixed her hair up away from her neck. "I need to do laundry before seven, let's walk and talk."

I nodded. "Is laundry filling your expression with worry?"

She grimaced. "Kind of. It's been like a week since we last did it. I realized this morning that I had no underwear and opted for granny panties. If you expect something fancy I'm sorry to disappoint."

I smiled. "No, no. I'll take what I can get."

Her light mood shifted and she was back to frowning and the little furrow returned. I stopped her until we faced each other and ran my thumb between her eyebrows. She looked up at me, wide brown eyes confused and innocent. I kissed her nose.

"I'm not happy," she whispered.

I took a step back, my eyes going wide and I was sure my jaw hung slack. Sure, we didn't have all the luxuries life had to offer, but we had each other, I had her and she had me—

"Oh no, no!" she shouted, hands flailing. "I didn't mean it to come out like that. I'm happy with you. I love you and you make me happy. I promise I didn't mean it that way." She closed her eyes tightly and ran two fingers over her temple. "I mean at work. I'm not happy at work."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "I told you that you wouldn't like it there."

"I know, I know," she murmured. "In the beginning it was so good, though! We had lunch together and sat one row away from each other. It's just…" she took in a deep breath and I watched a light breeze shifted her hair. "I like being with you, that makes it bearable. But I hate the people I have to deal with and the constant insults and James—"

"James," I hissed.

"See? You get it." She grasped my hand with both of hers. Wide eyes begged me to understand. "I made a big fuss about working with you, I know, and I don't want to complain or sound ungrateful because you worked so hard on getting me the job. Maybe it was just a bad day." She forced a laugh. "Tomorrow I won't even know what I'm talking about."

She started to move forward and I pulled her back. "No, Bella, this isn't just going to disappear. If you're unhappy and bottling it up then we'll both suffer."

Bella pulled me forward, keeping up our path towards home. She led the way and watched the red tint from the sun brighten her hair. My brain flashed to last weekend when we'd spent all day in bed and by the time sunset rolled around she'd fallen back asleep. The sun through our dirty apartment window made the most amazing shapes on her bare skin and strange colors swirl through her hair.

We didn't have a lot. The two of us separated from our families and were on our own—no turning back. While things had been difficult I thought we'd gotten over the worst of it. We didn't have to move from place to place and worry about where we were going to live at the end of the month anymore. We had stable jobs, saw each other every day and knew the other was safe. And yet… we weren't living in paradise.

By the time we made it home I felt tense with unwarranted thoughts and I knew Bella was the same. The furrow became more pronounced and her expression was distant on our way up the stairwell to the fifth floor.

At the door I unlocked the latch and stuck my hand in, knocking the chair away. The door opened wide and I let it sit there to air out the musky smell. I had to get a new deadbolt. Someday when we had the savings for it.

Bella darted into the bedroom, yanking off clothes as she went. I ducked into the kitchen and set the oven, pulling whatever my fingers found out of the freezer. Lasagna it was.

I pulled off my undershirt and threw it over the back of the couch before sweat stains started. Half the windows didn't open and the only that did was in our small bathroom. The stifling heat was only rivaled by the frigid temperatures of winter. The radiator—conveniently located under a stubborn cracked window—it usually had icicles hanging off it by the time I got home.

Bella came out in shorts and a t-shirt. Her hair was slung back and swayed when she walked. I watched like a fool for a few moments as she walked around and picked up piles of laundry. Eventually I straightened up and helped her.

The silence stretched on even while we walked down to the basement. The humid atmosphere had my back sweating and I was glad I hadn't put a shirt back on.

"I could go back to work at the library," Bella said quietly. "We'll have completely opposite schedules but it's two dollars more an hour. We could make it work, Edward."

I popped two quarters into a washing machine and started loading whites. "Do you want to go back?"

"It isn't really about what I want anymore," she sighed, gathering my dress shirts. "I quit to work with you because I thought it would be better. But look at… everything."

"We could always ask my parents for some help."

Bella paled. She ran her fingers through hair and tugged on the ends of her hair. "No. They'll hold it over our heads until they're on their deathbeds."

It stung. Thinking that the one good thing I had at work would be taken away was a soul crusher. I sucked up my wounded feelings. "Whatever makes you happy makes me happy, Bella. You know that."

She picked up a pile of jeans. "I'm happy with you!" she exclaimed. "I just don't know what to do. Everything seems so complicated and unreal right now."

Bella threw down the pile and something fell out from it. I watched in horror as a box tumbled to the floor. My hands patted down my pockets futilely. Bella stared at it and her eyes widened as she bent down to pick it up.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," I said quickly. "I don't know, um, how it was supposed to. Definitely not like this."

She looked up at me and popped open the red velvet lid. "It's pretty," she murmured.

"And little, I—I know. It's just, I've been covering other people's work for some extra cash. It's not like I'm pulling this from our savings. And we're not exactly at the place where we could get married unless it was with a JoP. I know you'd want to be with your mom and dad, even if you're not on the best of terms with them—"

She lunged forward and kissed me. My hip bashed into the washing machine and I went down onto my back with little grace. When I narrowly missed hitting my head and opened my eyes, Bella was on top of me, fist tucked to her lips and a shiny little diamond ring on her finger. It didn't sparkle quite like the tears in her eyes.

"We don't have to get married right now," she whispered. "But it makes me happy to think about."

I twisted a piece of hair behind her ear. "If you're happy I'm happy."

A/N: Rust in pieces, Mr. Steele. I hope you find your answers.