Rain for the Roses (coughPUNcough) (1:07am)
He left me early that morning. It was a lost cause, trying to get him to listen to me. He knew full well I was right, it would start raining, but that didn't stop him from wandering off over the hills.
Sure enough, the dark clouds filled the sky around 3. Just as I'd told him they would. It was pouring rain. I waited patiently, sitting at my window, watching it come down, looking for a white shadow in the fog and the darkness.
He had been out of it, for a while now. He'd never been a talker, but he didn't keep this kind of thing from me. When he was having problems… especially with his control… I always knew. Even before Edward, usually.
I saw the signs; the lack of excitement, the uncharacteristic frown, the awkwardness between us. I'd never thought he would try to keep something like this from me, but it seemed obvious to me now that he had.
After a half hour of rain, I set out for him. He shouldn't be out so long in the rain, even if he couldn't get sick. I'd always found it ironic I looked after him, even though it would seem he should look after me.
He'd simply been wandering, and with his scent so close to my own, it wouldn't be hard to find him. And in the rain like this, I could run without being seen.
I ran quickly, sprinting over hill side and meadow alike, knowing I was catching him. I finally saw him, after almost twenty minutes of running.
He was on his knees; an usual stance for him. I saw now he was hunched over; had he been able to cry, I should say he would've been. It was a tortured expression that he wore on his face; a mix of fear and shame.
I made eye contact; that alone was all I'd needed to understand. Something between us always clicked at times like this, when it was important. Holding hands, eye contact, kissing; they had always been a form of unspoken communication, from the moment we met. But, even without something spiritual and blessed, his glowing, crimson pupils told there own story.
"Alice," he whispered quietly. "Alice…" He was struggling to remain composed even now. I saw that, too, in his eyes.
I curled up behind him, brushing his hair in the rain. I knew he was barely in control of himself, though even if he went off on me, he couldn't hurt me. "Shh…" I soothed him, like a baby.
He calmed dramatically. His shoulders no longer wracked, his hands were still again. I could tell now he was more embarrassed than anything else. This was a dreadful feeling for him; feeling weak in ways no one else ever did.
He wrapped his arms around me gently, pulling my small frame inside his much larger one, and kissed me. For one second, it was only me and him and the world beneath us seemed to simply stop.
"Thanks," he said in his low, alluring bass. I stood up.
"Let's get on inside, Jazzie. It's still raining." I was shocked; up until I had said that, I myself was unaware it was still pouring rain. Hand in hand, we continued back toward the house, toward our own place to belong, and left the rain for the roses. (1:32am)