The Journal Chapter 2: I Don't Believe You, a twilight fanfic

The Journal

Queen of Swing

12/5/08

Disclaimer: All characters appearing herein are property of Stephenie Meyer. The lyrics you see in this chapter are from P!nk's new album, Funhouse, track 3, and they, too, do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I struggled with this one a little bit, hopefully things came out okay! I highly recommend going out and picking up P!nk's album, Funhouse, as it is one of my Top 10 ever. I literally love every song on it! Sorry about the late update…I got so involved reading Twilight fanfic (I'm looking at you, Innocent, Vigilant, Ordinary and Wide Awake) that I forgot I was writing one!

Edited to add: I'm having some trouble with the formatting of this chapter, and am working on the issue. I hope I've corrected the problem, but if not, please feel free to refer to a song lyric site to differentiate what is being sung/said!

Chapter Two

I Don't Believe You

Edward's patience was unfailing, even now as I sat next to him, clutching the album, biding my time. He waited quietly, patiently—never forcing or demanding to see it—despite the curiosity I could feel radiating off of him.

I turned, facing him, and took a deep breath. "Before we look at this, I need you to promise me one more thing," I started tentatively. His liquid-gold eyes penetrated my own chocolate brown, a question lingering in their depths, as he waited for me to continue. "I need you to promise that there won't be any blame. Not on you, not on me, not on Jacob. What happened in here was a series of unfortunate events, and I wasn't exactly the most stable of people when I was making it."

His brow furrowed, showing more anguish than and angel's face should ever be allowed to show. "Bella, I will try my best, but no matter what is in here," he passed the book, "I will never stop blaming myself. I owe the dog," his voice acerbic when using his favorite nickname for Jacob, "for saving your life, and despite the danger he let you get into, I won't be angry with him." I reached up to stroke his forehead, smoothing away the lines that formed there.

"It's not your fault, and it never was. You had no idea what kind of fallout would happen from that—you were just trying to protect me," my hand drifted down to his cheek, my thumb tracing his jaw. "I love you, and I forgive you for anything you're holding yourself responsible for."

He turned and pressed a kiss into my palm, his cool lips causing a tremble to go up my arm. "You're far too good to me," he said quietly, his mouth still pressed into my hand.

"Ditto," I quickly agreed with a smile, before leaning over to give him a feather light kiss. He was satisfied with the pressure at first, but as I pulled away, surprise registered on his features. I never pulled away first. Before he could question me, I reassured him, "I don't think my courage will last much longer. It's time to look."

He nodded, and pulled his legs up on my bed, mirroring my position. We were sitting up, legs extended, leaning against the pillows, and I resting my head on his shoulder. Without further ado, I put the light blue album between us, the generic picture of the happy couple still on the cover. I opened it, the cardboard cover resting gently against my knees.

The first page hadn't changed at all. The four corners to hold the photo were still there, as were my words scrawled messily beneath it.

Edward Cullen, Charlie's kitchen, Sept. 13th.

I couldn't bring myself to put the picture back, even after he'd returned it. It was where it belonged now, on my nightstand, right where I could see him anytime I woke up and he wasn't there. I took a furtive glance at his face, hoping to gauge if he'd had any sort of reaction, but his countenance was the picture of calm. I turned the page, opening to the first page I actually made. The book had generic, white paper in it, but I couldn't stand the thought of anything relating to him being on a plain page. I had taken anything I could find—pens, markers, chalk, oil pastels, and paint— to try and create the colors that I had seen when we were together. Swirls of blue curled around bright flashes of green and yellow, a haphazard pattern going along the page, uncaring if it flew off the edge. Despite its wide assortment of colors, it was never quite vivid enough, never quite like how much my eyes were opened to new things when I was with him.

Among the scrolling patterns and swirls of color, there were blocks of text, written in my sloppy hand. After he had left, I had constantly hummed my lullaby to myself, scared that I would forget it without hearing it every night, either sung or from my CD player. Gradually, it morphed into something different, something more, and the words followed. I looked over at him, only to find him reading the words intensely, his eyes scanning the page at their super-human pace. I began to hum the melody softly, and he turned to look at me.

His gaze was absolutely unreadable. If I had to guess, I'd very nearly say he was in shock, as though the sound of my humming was literally grating on my nerves. I stopped mid tune, waiting for a verbal response.

"I had no idea you were this artistic," he finally said. Relief coursed through me, fear of his disapproval quickly fading. "And musical?" he asked, indicating towards the lyrics.

"No, not at all," I replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "It kind of evolved out of my lullaby, and the words just came. I even plunked out a few notes on the piano in the chorus room at school, trying to figure out the tune," I explained.

"Will you sing it for me?" his voice was so low, so scant, I could hardly be sure he spoke, and I was almost temped to ignore his request. Me? Sing? Was he asking to go deaf? "Please?" he asked again, his face pleading.

I sighed. I could never refuse him, no matter what the request. I'd always end up giving in. I cleared my throat, preparing to do the impossible. "No running away, no matter how bad it is," I teased, poking him in the ribs. There was no noticeable sign of amusement coming from him, so I decided to begin. I was thankfully a better singer than I was a dancer, and considering my remarkable lack of grace, we all knew just how talented I was in that department. I could carry a tune well enough, and since it would make Edward happy, I'd do it.

I closed my eyes and started out hesitantly, my voice wavering, but not faltering.

"I don't mind it, I don't mind at all
It's like you're the swing set, and I'm the kid that falls
It's like the way we fight, the times I cry
We come to blows, and every night
The passion's there so it's gotta be right
Right?"

As I finished the first, I gained some strength from the rush of emotion I felt inside, reflecting on the past

"No I don't believe you
When you say don't come around here no more
I won't remind you
You said we wouldn't be apart
No I don't believe you
When you say you don't need me anymore
So don't pretend to
Not love me at all

"I don't mind it, I still don't mind at all
It's like one of those bad dreams, when you can't wake up
It's like you've given up, you've had enough
But I want more, no I won't stop
'Cause I just know, you'll come around
Right?"

I was surprised to feel his marble arm snake around my shoulders, his hand reaching for mine, pulling me up. I opened my eyes sand glanced at him, following his lead and stood, realizing the book was no longer on my lap. He lifted me into our now-traditional dancing position, my slipper-covered feet standing atop his, and began to turn, slowly stepping to the rhythm of the song.

I looked in his eyes, confused, but he only smiled gently. "Keep going," he coaxed.

I did as he asked, my eyes sliding closed again, remembering the words I had written so long ago.

I took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, preparing for the bridge, the hardest part to both sing and hear. I tensed, and forced myself to continue, as we kept moving in our slow circles, his hand gripping my waist tightly.

"Just don't…"

I couldn't do it. I couldn't push out the words I knew would hurt him. I ducked my head down, avoiding his level gaze. His hand left my waist and touched my chin, urging me to look up at him.

"Please?" he whispered, his cool breath only a cool caress in my ear.

I sighed, unable to refuse, and resumed the song.

"Just don't stand there and watch me fall
'Cause I, 'cause I still don't mind at all,"

I finished the bridge, and felt his arms tense around me, slightly. I looked into his eyes, the emotion there so fierce and passionate it brought tears to my eyes. They gathered on my lashed, and began streaming down my cheeks. His hands came to my face wiping away their trails away. I clung to his shoulders, as though my life depended on it, as he continued to sway me gently. The next chorus came as a whisper.

"It's like the way we fight, the times I cry
We come to blows and every night
The passion's there, so it's gotta be right,
Right?

"'Cause I don't believe you," I finished, just as his lips came crushing down on mine, his hand reaching up and tangling in my hair. He pressed himself against me, making as much contact as physically possible, almost as if he was trying to crawl inside of me. Our lips stopped moving, though they still touched, as I held on to him for dear life. He pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes searching, looking for something in my own.

"If only," he started. A pause came, that was longer than I liked, and I began feeling a natural sense of panic rise in my throat. I took a deep breath, awaiting his next words.

"If only there were some way, any way, for me to take your pain away," he whispered, his lips grazing mine in a soft, chaste kiss.

I smiled, relief flooding through my veins. I lifted my arms, which had been wrapped tightly around his back, to hold both sides of his face in my hands. My fingers slid their way into his hair, my thumbs lingering on his face, stroking his cheekbones slowly, softly, as I gently pushed his face back from mine. His intense topaz eyes met mine, guilt radiating out from them, tainting the perfection and love that was otherwise shining there.

"Shhh…" I whispered, wanting to ease his conscience of any burden it felt. "There is no pain, not a single bit. The second I saw you in Italy…even though we were both a single step from death the entire time we were there, any pain I ever felt over any of this was gone. I am whole again, Edward. As long as you're here with me, by my side, I will never feel pain again. I love you," I promised him, my voice nearly as warm and musical as his. And it was true, I really was happy beyond belief and I was certain I'd never feel pain again. As long as he was there, I would be just fine.

He scooped me up in his arms, lifting me off his shoes, and spun me around, holding me to his rock-hard chest so tightly I could hardly breathe. "I don't deserve you, not at all," he said into my hair.

I pulled away from him, and he put me down. My face twisted into a look of mock exasperation, as my arms tightened around his neck. "That is just enough of that, Edward. I refuse to spend the rest of my life as Mrs. Edward Cullen if you're going to be this big of a mope as my husband," I teased, using the one thing he wanted most from me as leverage in my quest to make him stop blaming himself.

His eyes lit up, and my favorite smile made its way to his face, expanding until it was a full fledged grin. "Does that mean you're officially consenting to being my wife?" he asked, his voice so full of hope it made my heart rattle into a rhythm so fast it closely resembled a samba.

"I love you so, so, so much. I would do anything to see you this happy, even if it meant surrendering myself completely to Alice and letting my every decision relating to beauty, clothes, and style be made at her sole discretion. And you know just how big of a sacrifice that would be...it makes being your wife look like a cake walk," I joked, biting my lip to contain my ridiculous smile. "So yes, Edward, I will gladly be your wife." He just beamed at me, any traces of the earlier guilt he felt completely eradicated by my promise of matrimony.

The look of sheer joy that came over his countenance nearly took my breath away, as he lifted me again, encouraging my legs around his hips. I obliged, as our lips met, my hands sifting into his hair while his arms shifted, one moving to encircle my waist, the other sliding under me, holding my weight up against him, making my head higher than his. I leaned down, trying to compensate for the sudden height difference, while simultaneously trying not to break the kiss. I could only resist for so long, before we both pulled away, panting.

He placed a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, trailing down to my jaw line, and down to my neck, his lips lingering on the strongest part of the pulse point of my coronary artery.

"I swear," he murmured against the skin, my pulse quickening in response, "I swear I will spend every second of every minute of every single day of the rest of our lives making you the happiest woman in the whole world. No one will ever love another as much as I love every single part of you. Stories will pale in comparison to us; everyone will wonder how it's possible everywhere we go. I love you more than the sun loves the moon, the ocean loves the shore, and the night loves the day," he lifted his chin to press his lips against mine once more. "Forever," he promised into my mouth.

The End

Author's Notes: As of right now, I'm marking this story complete. I have some other ideas tickling my brain, but I really like how this ended. I might one day expound upon what else I imagined in the album, but for now, let's just assume that the sun and moon, ocean and shore, as well as the night and day are done for ;)

Thanks for reading!