How Soon Is Now?

"I like my coffee black."

A flash of teeth in a grin as she snuggled into his couch. His couch where she looked like she belonged. "I like mine just a little too sweet."

"Fitting. I like dark beer."

"I already know this about you. Sometimes you tell me things without speaking."

Hands pressed, fingers twined. His heart swelled and nearly broke. Surely one person shouldn't feel so much.

"What else have I told you?"

A sly glance from the corner of her eye was accompanied by a soft smirk. "I know so much it will scare you, but I won't stop asking questions. I have to know if I'm right."

"I'm open."

"That's the first thing I learned without asking. There was this need for connection but fear at the same time. So much strength…and character. You cherish things. When I saw you studying that album, my first thought was that you didn't know what you held. That maybe you didn't know the band and were curious. But then I really saw. Saw the respect in your eyes, the awe in your grip. I realized they were a favorite, yes, but I also saw how you'd treat anything else important in your life."

Edward tilted her wrist, brushed careful touches over her palm. Cradled that connection and cherished, just as she'd known he would.

"There are two of you in some ways," she continued. "But they're both fully, beautifully you."

"That's accurate. At least, it used to be."

Her inquiring eyebrow begged another answer, but her mouth didn't ask. He smiled, twirled a free finger in her silky curls.

"I'll tell you, but I have a question of my own first. Why did you leave?"

Shock first, but then pride filled her eyes. Pride, perhaps, that he'd spoken first?

"I want to say it was the women—"

A low note of protest in his throat stopped her, but she pressed a hand to his thigh, silently asking for her turn.

"I want to say that, but I can't. You looked right past them; I saw. You didn't feel them touching, grasping. And it wasn't just that you didn't have your glasses on. They were nothing to you, and I know deep down that I'm not. When you walked on that stage without your glasses, I knew I was seeing the other you. I knew you'd left them behind so you didn't have to see, but it was also a disguise. A way to be you without being you."

For a moment, she let the words float, settle.

"But even that's not why. I knew who you were—both of you. Really, it was that, sometimes, things are just too bright to look at. You were so much bigger, more beautiful, and still the same shy guy who caressed the things he loved. I saw you, both of you, together at once, and the knowledge that some day I'm going to love you the way you love your music—it was just too much."

His world opened in a blaze of light, his heart exploded in something greater than joy ever hoped to be. Burning, burning so hot he could barely breathe, he wrapped fingers in silky strands and coaxed parted lips to his.

She needed no encouragement. Warm breath, smooth tongue, nipping, stroking. He gave her his whole self, pulled more of her into him, and she gave. She gave.

"I'm not two anymore," he whispered on another kiss. "When I was on that stage, I wanted to be seen. I wished I hadn't taken my glasses off so I could see you. You're the reason I'm able to be both at once—to love who I am and what I do at the same time. I need to be both so I can receive that love when you're ready to give it, and also be able to return it."

So, there's one left. I warned you it would be short and sweet. Your reaction has been overwhelming and heartwarming. I'm so happy to share this with you, and that you're willing to share your thoughts with me.