A/N: Yes, I know. I haven't updated in a month. I didn't abandon the story. I'm very much inspired to write this thing, but sometimes life gets in the way. I'm currently trying to settle in at university and it takes some time to learn where I can find my spare time to write. I'm a very busy girl! But, perhaps to cheer you up, NaNoWriMo is coming up in november and I'm planning to participate: while I'm at it, I might as while write some more for The Man Who Can't Be Moved.

Thanks for your patience!

Southern Man

Edward had no clue what was next to do. Self-reflection seemed appropriate for a self-inflicted chastisement. He felt like a modern-day flagellant, apart from the fact that nobody knew he was punishing himself for the despicable acts he dared pull with Bella. Secretly, he allowed himself to bask a bit in the pride he felt for doing this, for the determination that he so rarely showed. But then, he immediately felt guilty and scowled at no one in particular.

He had been sitting here now for all of twenty minutes and he was thoroughly convinced that whatever difficulties he may encounter, he would face them, chin held high. Like a martyr, holding fast to his beliefs and suffering so that he may be rewarded. Be it with Bella returning to him or finding some much needed peace of minded.

Of course, thinking of martyrs brought him back to thinking about Bella. She had always been the selfless woman who went out of her way for others, who always managed to make others smile when she felt like crying, who deserved a little love but never stopped giving it herself. Edward frowned again as he realized once again how he had trampled on her. The one time she asked for anyone to reciprocate the love she always poured out freely, she got burnt badly. And he was completely to blame for it.

It felt nothing sort of justified that he was sitting here.

Now that he took the time to look back on it all, he couldn't say he had ever given Bella what she deserved. The times she cooked dinner, he never showed his gratitude. When she supported him through his writer's blocks, she would be rewarded with snippy comments and snarls. When she had bought him a present for his birthday, a big board decorated with things that he had said were an inspiration to him, he took a glance at it, kissed her on the mouth and took her to bed, not once commenting on the effort she had put into putting it together.

Never once had she complained about his snippy behaviour or about his ungrateful ways. Not once! It amazed Edward that she hadn't given up on him long ago. He often found himself wondering why she stayed with him, put up with all his crap.

He even wrote himself a letter, trying to put himself in her position, to see what it was that bound her to him.

All that came out was a lengthy declaration, marking him a selfish, confused bastard with serious issues.

He still had the inspirational board, deliberately positioned centrally in his apartment. It was covered with pictures of her, of them. Her deep, expressive eyes and mahogany hair... The strawberries nearly wafted around him if he stared long enough at one particular photo of her tresses falling over her shoulder while she looked back, over that shoulder, into the camera. Edward knew that beneath the frame, she was naked. There was one other photo up from that particular shoot, and it displayed Bella's divine body, splayed out on the crisp white sheets she liked sleeping in. It was hardly pornographic; Bella, self-conscious little woman, had even commented that it was tasteful nude.

Edward remembered taking the picture, trying to capture her post-coital glow. To describe how beautiful a woman looked after a man had slept with her was a feat and a wish he still found unfulfilled. He remembered thinking how the curve of her body invited him to draw her closer to him, to circle his arms around her waist, nuzzle her neck and inhale that glorious smell of post-coital woman. And then, after he had snapped the picture, she looked at him from underneath her dark lashes and he had dropped the camera, scooping her into his arms and claiming her for the second time.

In the middle of the board, he remembered with a wry smile, was a picture of the little café he sat in front of right now, all other pictures arranged around it as if it was the sun around which the other pictures revolved. And frankly, it was. Edward was grateful for the mere existence of this little café because it was where he had met Isabella Marie Swan.

The sun was mild today, but the sun stood low in the skies and blinded him as he paced down the street. It started to rain. At first it was a light drizzle, but as soon as the wind picked up, it turned into an earnest downpour. He ran into the first store that offered him shelter. It turned out to be a little café.

He sat down at the bar and ordered himself a coffee, taking out his notepad from out of his pocket and jotted down ideas to elaborate on an idea he'd had for a new novel, but found he was lacking inspiration.

Edward Anthony Cullen was known for writing two little books that were read widely by a varied audience. The first he ever published was about a young man as he struggled to reach the top in an advertising company. No shit, no dabbling. Just an honest story, served straight up and on the rocks. It was meant to be realistic. After the release, the press hailed him as a promising new author and he was pressured by his agent to write a new novel.

Edward was not at all as satisfied with his second completed work as he had been with the first one, but he never thought much of it. This time, it had been the story of two women, meeting weekly at a quaint little tea house. At each meeting, the reader learned a little more about the situation the two women were in and it turned out that their lives were far more intertwined that was initially implied.

It was his authentic approach that charmed the readers, his agent told him. No mindfucking plots, no elaborate descriptions. Honest writing that described things as they were. Nothing more and nothing less.

He left the café that day with an irrational desire to visit again some time, although he rarely stopped by this part of town. Yet, he promised himself that he would, for once, indulge and swing by whenever he was in the area. He had somehow grown fond of the little café, even though he could not find his inspiration here.

Little did he know, his inspiration stepped out the door the second he wanted to walk in a month later.

He bumped right into her and her take away coffee spilled over her crisp white blouse.

"Ow! Shit, shit, shit.." she cursed. Edward involuntarily smirked, because he would never imagine a voice so sensual and sweet as this one to be utilized for such cussing. When he took a step back to apologize and properly see who the voice belonged to, he saw the prettiest pair of chocolate brown eyes glaring furiously at him.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, glancing swiftly up and down her form. White blouse, gray pencil skirt, fuck-me-heels. And a red little belt. Damn.

She grumbled a little, closed her eyes in irritation and glanced down again. "Yeah, whatever. It's not like it matters now."

Edward felt an immediate desire to please her. "Please," he said, "let me at least replace that coffee for you. I should've been looking out for any pretty women I might bump into." He flashed a smile that other women deemed attractive. Sure enough, he saw her gaze soften, and her look turned almost apologetic.

"Uh... okay," she said, and fumbled with her now empty coffee cup. He reached over, smile firmly in place, took the cup out of her hands, allowing his finger to brush over hers and he threw it in the trash bin next to the door. He opened the door for her and held out his other hand.

"Edward Cullen," he introduced himself.

She stepped up, tucked a bit of hair that had sprang free from the loose bun at the back of her head behind her ear and flashed him a smile that made his waver. "Bella Swan."

Two months later, he'd cranked out his new novel. About what happened after a chance meeting between a man and a woman. Just something that could have happened to anyone.

Edward smiled at the memory. Bella had always been an inspiration to him. He had never told her, though, and that may have been one of his biggest mistakes to date.

Bella didn't know how much she actually meant to him.

After a while, however, things changed. Shortly after his book was published, they grew more snippy with each other. Or rather, he grew more snippy with her. Thinking back, he couldn't recall how it had happened, but he had started to take Bella for granted and as a result, she wilted away every time he did not acknowledge her for who she was: a wonderful woman that had a power over him no other woman could possess.

It was partly his fear that she could control him that made him push her away, subconsciously. He liked having control of his own life and the things that happened, and Bella proved to be to big of an influence to not at least take consideration of. Edward didn't want to take consideration of anything. He'd preferably breeze through life now that he could, now that all the shit from his past was behind him. He should've known that it was going to catch up with him eventually. Bella wanted to know about his past.

Edward was too afraid that if he bared himself before her in such a way, nothing would stop her from assuming control. That night he told her everything about his family and how he had been neglected, it was his fear that had driven him to tears more than the memories.

There were a lot of unresolved feelings that Edward stashed away in the back of his mind. Bella had a knack for resurfacing them. More often than not, she ended up as the victim when they did. He frequently lashed out at her. Perhaps not physically, but he had hurt her many times. Not once did he touch her, not once did he call her names, but the look in his eyes when she would uncover yet something else that would grant her more power over him, had sent her cowering more than once.

In his fear, he was slowly alienating her from himself, and ultimately, scared her. Fear caused by fear. Edward huffed. Misery likes company, and Edward made sure that Bella became just as miserable as he was.

He had wronged her so many times, and he knew of no appropriate way to apologize to her. Then again, he thought as he stared at the cars passing by, he had three weeks time to think about that.

His phone ringed in front of him. He glanced at it. It was Emmett. He chose to ignore it.

He hoped that she would somehow learn of his presence here. There was so much that he wanted to say and yet he didn't know quite where to begin. A simple apology hardly covered it. But he'd redeem himself in whatever way possible, in whatever way Bella would accept, for he was certain of one thing although he was confused about so many other things. He had been an idiot and he wanted Bella back, if she still wanted him.

He figured that he had enough time to think about his mistakes while he was here. In fact, he might want to jot them down, he thought as he reached for the notebook in his pocket. He stiffened. He left his notebook at home. He looked down the street in the direction of his house despairingly. Three weeks without his notebook? He seriously reconsidered his predicament. It only took seconds for him to remind himself ruthlessly that he was here for a reason and that if he got up now, only to start again an hour later with notebook in hand, he would be cheating.

Edward wanted to do this right, for once. After all the mistakes he made, he would not waver now. His jaw clenched in determination and he crossed his arms like a little child.

His phone distracted him. It ringed again. He chose to ignore it again. He wanted to spend at least the night alone. He needed to get his mind in order and he had to decide what exactly it was that he was going to achieve in three weeks, sitting here alone. He was particularly unprepared, had made his decision on a whim, but he was going to hold on. Come rain, come wind, come snow, come what may, he was going to hold a promise to himself for once. Because if he couldn't promise himself to stay seated for three weeks, and stick to his promise, he reasoned, he could not promise Bella to love her either.

He wanted to write this minor epiphany down, but was once again reminded that he had no notebook on him. He growled in frustration.

"Sir?" a voice to his right said softly. He turned his head and looked up. There was a tall, blond man standing next to him, his eyes trained on Edward's angry form. "Are you alright?"

Edward glanced up at the man. He had a southern drawl to his voice. Probably grew up there. There was a sincerity about his gray eyes that struck a chord in him, and he felt that he would spill the story of his life to this man if he came and sat down with him for a little while. He looked trustworthy, kind, and authentic. Edward liked authentic people. People who dared to be themselves and were true to themselves.

"Yeah," he said, bringing his eyes down again at the pavement in front of him. "Why do you ask?""You looked so bitter," the Southern Man said after a moment of hesitation.

"Well, I'll be stuck here for three weeks without my notebook to jot things down in," Edward spat. "I can't think properly without jotting things down." Not even two hours and he was already complaining, Edward realized, and it did nothing to soothe his annoyance. Some martyr he was going to be.

"Excuse me?" Southern Man spoke. "Why will you be stuck here?"

Edward ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. "Voluntary punishment," he offered. The man sounded too kind to be snarky at. And he had attempted earlier to be honest, too, with the elderly man. Why not now? Continue down the right path.

"For what?" Southern Man crouched down, seemingly genuinely interested in what was going on. Edward looked at the man incredulously, but he just raised an eyebrow in return.

"A girl," Edward started slowly. Southern Man gave an encouraging nod. "I hurt the woman I love, basically."

"So why not apologize?"

"A simple apology won't do. I told her I didn't love her back when she told me she loved me and I walked out on her." Southern Man whistled slowly. "Besides, I'm note sure she'd even want me back if I just showed up at her doorstep. I want to make an effort, you know."

"So you punish yourself in the ultimate ascetic feat. Being confined to one place in stead of going to her because you confined your heart to your body when it belongs to her." Edward raised his eyebrows. "Impressive, man. You don't do things half way. I wouldn't like to be in your shoes right now, but if you can pull it off... It takes some determination."

Edward was quiet for a moment. "You know you're a smart man?"

Southern Man smiled. "No, just perceptive."

Edward smiled in return. He was liking this stranger. "What's your name, Southern Man?"

"Jasper Whitlock," the blond southern answered. Holding out his hand for Edward to shake. "And you are?"

"Edward Cullen."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Edward Cullen," Jasper said as he sat down next to Edward. "So what's your plan?"

Edward shrugged. "I don't know. I'm basically winging it. I brought some food, a sleeping bag and some other things, but I don't think I prepared it all too well." He sighed. "But I'm here now, and I don't want to move. I have to do this."

Jasper nodded, his lips slightly pursed. He looked at Edward's installations and picked up the photo he had displayed. "This is her?" Edward nodded. Jasper fixed his eyes on the photograph. "She's a pretty one. Worth fighting for." He propped the picture back up against the cardboard sign.

"I know," Edward grinned.

"So why here, man?" Jasper motioned at the sidewalk. "What's so special about this place?"

Edward now grinned sheepishly as he motioned to the café behind him. "We met here." Jasper laughed good-heartedly and Edward found himself laughing along. Of course he'd pick the place where it all started, hoping for a full circle. Edward didn't know if Jasper laughed for the same reason, but the act alone lifted his spirits somewhat. The Southern Man was a pleasure to talk to.

"What will you do when she finds you?"

"Apologize, I guess. That's why I want my notebook, I want to write things down."

"I was more talking about what you'll do after that. You said three weeks, right? Will you stick to three weeks, even when she finds you before your time's up?"

Edward shook his head. "I don't know yet."

"Hmm," Jasper hummed, pursing his lips slightly. Then he stood up suddenly and looked down the street. "You said you wanted a notebook, right?" He glanced down to see Edward nod and strode away before he could say anything. Edward sat open-mouthed and tried to make sense of this encounter. Why did Southern Man come talk to him when everyone else rushed by? The older man, he had seen him sink down and had been concerned, the rest of the world just passed him without so much as a second glance. Southern Man had no reason to be concerned for the man sitting on the streets.

Jasper returned quickly, a notebook and pen in his hands. He thrust them both in Edward's hands. "I really hope you get your girl back, Edward," he said. "I have a feeling you deserve it."

Edward shook his head. "I don't deserve her."

"But you're changing that, aren't you?" Jasper looked at Edward pointedly. Edward looked up in surprise. This man seemed to know his motives when he did not.

"You're really smart, you know that?"

"No, just perceptive." Jasper smiled.

"Thank you," Edward said, raising the notebook and pen shortly. He hunched over it to scribble down his thoughts about the encounter with Southern Man just now and what his plans were going to be for the next three weeks. Already his mind stormed with things he wanted to think about, things he needed to apologize for, things about himself that he wanted to change. But before he could jot down more than two words, Jasper spoke.

"I have to go now, Edward. I'm glad I met you." His smile grew significantly. "You're very inspiring." Edward beamed with this compliment. He had never hoped to be anyone's inspiration, in fact, didn't think he deserved it, considering what he did to get himself here. "Come see me in three weeks," Jasper continued, pulling out a business card out of his pocket and handing it to Edward, "and come visit my gallery some time."

Edward glanced down at the business card. "You're an artist?"

"Yep," Jasper responded and stood up straight, stretching himself before turning around and walking away, calling over his shoulder. "And you just gave me a lot of material to work with!"

"See you in three weeks, Southern Man!" Edward called after him, fully intending to visit the gallery when he got away from here. Hopefully it would be with Bella.

That's it! Leave a review and tell me what you think! Yes, you lurking readers, that includes you!