Author's note: Thanks to ms. ambrosia! If I ever win a year's supply of nutella, I'm giving half to her. Sorry for the delay. I had issues with my computer, but the good news is I continued writing on paper and the next chap should be done very soon! Thanks for reading. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I make absolutely no profit from this. Blah.
For godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted; but the sorrow of the world produces death. The Bible, 2 Corinthians 7:10
Edward wanted to hate Esme.
In the beginning, it was simple. The pain of her transformation, the leftover thoughts from her human life made his brain feel as though it might collapse upon itself. And then, when she awoke, her immediate remembrance of Carlisle made him ill. The way she looked at him -and he at her- had Edward fleeing the house, running until he no longer recognized his surroundings.
That was the first of many times he contemplated leaving and never returning. Once, he flew away for two and a half days until the ache in his chest grew into a hopeless lacuna, impassable and unmendable until he saw Carlisle again.
But seeing him meant seeing her, and Edward was unsure which was worse - the heartache or the emptiness. He walked softly around the couple, each step he took seeming as though it might break him. He was a house of cards, the petals of a wilted flower, old and brittle bones. He would endure it as long as possible.
Edward would endure because there were days Carlisle was so happy, his laughter drifting under the crack of Edward's closed door. Edward felt such a strange contrast of emotions in those moments, a circle of light in an otherwise dark room. Without the blackness, the light would never be as bright, or as needed.
Once Esme had awakened to this new life, the trio made their way to a small, remote cabin in upstate Michigan. It was far enough away from civilization to keep Esme contained, yet close enough Edward could pick up his studies, although he did not return until a new semester started. Those few months before school were the worst.
Carlisle and Esme. Esme and Carlisle. Each day brought new revelations. Esme had thought of Carlisle often. Carlisle had been fond of Esme from the moment he saw her. They both had issues with their fathers. Carlisle's favorite color was green; so was Esme's. They both were enraged at Esme's (death did part them) ex-husband, who beat her mercilessly (this was a hatred eventually shared by Edward). The couple loved Schubert and asked Edward to play him often.
At times, Edward felt like a performing dog, Carlisle always asking things of him. "Play that piece for Esme, Edward" or "Recite for Esme some poems from the book you read" or "Show Esme how fast you can run." He resented it and loved it, Carlisle's thoughts prideful of his would-be son. Edward wanted the affection without taking on the role of Carlisle's child. How could he ever? Not when he continued to long for Carlisle so.
Edward kept his thoughts to himself, his fingers aching to move across Carlisle's body, palms itching to be filled with the smoothness of his hair. He held out hope; constantly, he hoped Carlisle would come to his senses. He tried not to think of Esme, her broken heart, her kindness or looks of concern. She was a manipulator, a usurper of his proper place.
Carlisle's thoughts, he could never tune out. Each time thoughts of Edward would swell and threaten to overtake Carlisle's mind, he used Esme as a way to tamp them down. He would think of her hair, her lips, her sweet womanly voice, and be calmed. Edward resented her more for it.
Esme had left her husband in Columbus upon discovering she was pregnant. Her family had encouraged her to suffer the beatings in silence, and she had been reluctantly willing to do this, until she realized what grew in her womb. A child, she would protect at all costs. A child, she would flee for. The rest goes without saying; her child died a few days after birth and so did Esme.
The first day Edward went to school was freezing. It was January of 1922, and Edward pondered why he even bothered returning to his studies. Because he wanted to please Carlisle. Still, even though he had been rejected time and time again, the gratification in Carlisle's words and thoughts brought Edward solace. Those moments, when Carlisle patted him on the back, smiled at him, were enough to keep him existing, so he would continue to do things to please Carlisle.
These were the thoughts in his head as he got ready, nothing of Esme or the weather. He was securing his satchel, making sure it deemed suitable for the high speed at which he would run, when Esme approached him from behind, touched his shoulder. They had not spoken to each other outside of necessity in the months since her change, and Edward turned, glancing at her with a quizzical expression.
Under her arm, she clutched Edward's jacket, her fingers twisting in the fabric with worry. "You forgot your coat," Esme whispered, a frail smile curling the corners of her mouth. Her eyes glowed red and Edward noted how even with the devil's eyes, Esme's expression was sweet and earnest, as were her thoughts.
Part of him thought of jerking it away; he hated her, did he not? Instead he took it gently. "I don't really get cold, but thank you. People might notice were I not wearing one," he said, forcing a smile and nodding. He slid his arms into the sleeves and began to bend over to retrieve his belongings. Esme stopped him again. Again he gave her an odd look.
Coming closer, Esme straightened Edward's collar and smoothed it out. She smartly tugged on the bottom, ridding the garment of excess wrinkles. Then, she looked at Edward's face. Tentatively, she reached out her hand and tamed some of Edward's wild hair. A genuine grin spread apart her lips, leaving her a wide mouthed smile.
A warming entered Edward's heart, a tug on its strings. It seemed to have been centuries since someone had done these simple things for him.
You look handsome, Esme thought.
Edward returned her smile.
~oOo~
Edward knew Carlisle was there before he saw him. He found him soon thereafter.
"You left Esme on her own?"
"It has been eight months now, and she promised not to leave home," Carlisle replied, smiling.
Edward adjusted his bag on his shoulder, shuffled his feet. The two had no time without Esme since her changing. He looked over his shoulder as some of his classmates shuffled by, nodded his head in their direction.
"Friends?"
"You're my only friend, Carlisle." Edward began walking, Carlisle hurried to follow.
"You should try to make some. Friends, I mean." He had fallen in stride with Edward, looking in his direction, but Edward was unwilling to meet his glance.
"What good would it do?" Edward asked, not unkindly. Carlisle hummed in response and Edward continued. "Look, did you need something?"
The older man frowned. "I simply thought... You see it has been a long while since we... Was there anything you wanted... Well, I have yet to see your campus."
Edward laughed at Carlisle's bumbling. "Let me show you around then."
"Esme is doing rather well, don't you think?" Carlisle asked, following Edward as he led Carlisle around the old buildings.
Edward turned his face to hide his scowl. "Yes," he replied.
"I think I'll begin looking for work soon."
The scowl turned into a smile; Carlisle had been much more reluctant to leave Edward, had been willing to stay with him even longer than a year if Edward had wished it. Edward took this as a private triumph, however small. He finally looked at Carlisle, full in the face. "I think that is an excellent idea."
~oOo~
Summer brought extreme humidity and Edward had to tune his piano often. He had just begun playing after a recent tuning when Esme entered his room.
"That one is my favorite," she said, sitting silently on Edward's bed.
"Really?" Edward asked. "I wrote it myself."
"No? That's amazing, Edward. You are so bright. I could never imagine writing something brilliant." She stood and walked behind Edward, put her hands on his shoulders. The added weight was comforting, which Edward hated to admit. Touches were so rare in those days.
"You are simply trying to flatter me," Edward replied, picking up where he left off.
"Of course, I am. Flattery you deserve."
Searching her thoughts, Edward tried to find the lie, tried to find a reason to scorn her for such a compliment. There was only sincerity and openness, warmth and fondness. How could she be fond of him?
"Maybe I should refer to it as Esme's Favorite, from now on then," Edward answered.
Esme patted his shoulder and laughed. "I would be honored."
~oOo~
Edward's textbooks were in Carlisle's study. Classes would not start for another month, but he wanted to look them over. The problem was, Carlisle and Esme were in there, and their joy in each other generally shoved Edward from a room.
The resentment and vehemence began to bubble up again; all he wanted were his books. Why did they have to occupy a space so thoroughly? Edward stood at the door for near an hour, each laugh, whisper and thought searing him, branding him with unwanted scars. But then there was also the beautiful sound of Carlisle's laugh, the lovely shade of green in his mind when he smiled. That, too, kept Edward rooted in the spot.
He could not withstand the push and pull, the light and dark anymore so he kicked the door instead of knocking.
"Come in," Esme said, her voice breathy in mid-laugh.
When Edward walked through the door, he was unprepared for what he saw. Esme's feet in Carlisle's lap as he happily tickled her toes. Both so happy and in love Edward almost turned around. But they were his books, and he was going to get them. He was not there to break up a loving moment, to break the duo apart, he simply wanted his books. At least that is what he told himself, over and over. Edward wondered if vampires were even ticklish.
Finding his books, he impolitely shoved behind Esme and Carlisle to reach them. "Could you move?" he hissed, and they quickly got out of his way.
"Are you all right?" Carlisle asked, brow furrowed in question.
"That's a stupid question," Edward replied. "I only wanted my books. I didn't come in here to see you two."
"Nobody asked why you-" Esme started.
"I'm going now," Edward interrupted. "Here are my books." He held them high, waved one around in the air. "The reason I came in here."
Carlisle frowned and covered his face, Edward suddenly feeling like the child they would have him be. He saw the worried expression on Esme's face and brought the books to his chest, willing them to hold together the pieces of his heart.
Lips in a straight line, he apologized and left the room.
~oOo~
"Edward, are you horribly unhappy?" Carlisle asked. He and Edward were out hunting, alone for a change.
Edward thought it over, bathing in the worrisome thoughts from Carlisle. Yes, he was horribly unhappy, but the desire to be with Carlisle, even in a limited way, kept him tied to wherever the older man was. And, if Edward himself could not be happy, he wanted Carlisle to be, and he wanted to be witness to it. So he lied and answered, "No."
"I took Esme to town while you were at school," he said.
"And how did that go? I'm assuming well, since we're still here."
"Very well. We did not linger long, as she was getting uncomfortable, but we bought her a new dress."
Edward's head snapped in Carlisle's direction. "What for?"
Carlisle laughed. "Nothing special, Edward. All the clothes she has have been chosen by either me or you, and I hate to say it, but we do not have the best sense of lady's fashion."
Breathing out slowly, Edward nodded. For a moment, a dreadful moment, he feared a dress made of white had been purchased. Although he expected it, he was no eager for the expectation to be brought into reality.
They hunted, Edward taking much aggression out on his prey. By the time they finished, his clothes were in tatters, Edward having taken much relief in an altercation with a mountain lion. There were several quiet moments as the two made their way back home, a few among many awkward silences they would share.
"Do you still love me?" Edward asked. Over a year had passed since Esme's transition, since those words were spoken by Carlisle, since Edward last knew Carlisle's lips.
Carlisle sighed. "Did I not tell you how proud I was of your perfect scores last semester?"
"Yes, you did," Edward answered.
"And did I not ask you to play all those compositions for Esme?"
"You did."
"And did I not ask you to show Esme how fast you could run? How well you could recite words from books you read ages before? Did I not comment on how smart you looked in a white coat?"
The confusion grew in Edward. What did those things have to do with the question he had asked Carlisle. "I don't understand."
"Esme loves you, you know. She speaks of you often. You probably know that," Carlisle replied, skirting the original question easily, as though his answers were prepared.
"But I did not ask if Esme loved me." Edward thought it a simple question. A yes or no answer. It would change nothing, regardless.
I'm convinced everyone who has ever known you, Edward, has loved you. I am no different.
Edward took Carlisle's thought as the most direct answer he would receive.
~oOo~
The eve of a new year was upon them, and Edward came home to whispered words, hampered thoughts. Esme embraced him as soon as he came in the door. She gave Carlisle a long look, touched his face and left, her thoughts full of adoration and love. The door closed behind her with an ominous click. The silence following it was thick.
"We need to talk, Edward." Carlisle paused, his lips moving as he counted. He was waiting on Esme to be out of hearing range.
"What is it?" The world seemed to blur around the edges; Edward expected his traitorous heart to strangle him as it worked its way into his throat. He waited on the quickening pulse which would never come.
This was the moment then. The day his hopes were to be dashed as a rowboat in a sea of boulders.
Carlisle swallowed, shifted to the right. He ran a hand through his hair, put it in his pocket.
Come sit down, he thought.
"Just say it already," Edward said. The words were not angry, no intensity behind them. Defeat was the only inflection resonating about the room.
"I have asked Esme to marry me," Carlisle said, a sidelong glance in Edward's direction, waiting on him to crumble.
"Did she say yes?" Edward asked.
"She wanted me to think it over." Carlisle snorted. "And it was I who asked her."
"Does she know?"
"Know what, Edward?" Carlisle asked, taking a seat in the living room, Edward following but staying on his feet.
"About us? The way you feel, or felt, about me?"
"Yes. I told her months ago." Edward came closer and rifled through Carlisle's mind, searched his golden eyes and knew what he said was truth.
"And she is fine with that?" Eerily calm, Edward continued holding the gaze with Carlisle, realizing this was the longest they had maintained eye contact in well over a year.
"Not fine with it, Edward. She loves me despite it. And you."
The scoff threatening to escape Edward was forgotten when Carlisle's thoughts turned to regret. Regret at how he had handled things. Regret over his faith, his decision. Edward wanted Carlisle to regret nothing. He needed Carlisle to be satisfied, content with the path he had chosen, and he knew Carlisle would never be content with him.
Carlisle's elbows were on his knees, his face resting in his cupped hands. Edward pulled the tie in Carlisle's hair, letting it fall around his face, across his shoulders. He ran his fingers through the loose strands, pulled them out long until they fell away from his hand, his hope let loose with them. The moment was agonizing, because when would Edward be allowed to feel this again? Carlisle's love, his skin, his hair? Again, he ran the tips of his fingers across Carlisle's scalp, ran his hand through the honey-gold strands, watching as it smoothed across his flawless palm.
Edward decided to give Carlisle what he craved from Edward in that moment: his blessing.
"Are you really going to attend your own wedding with this out-of-date hairstyle?"