The Fairytale
I despise getting dressed for a special occasion. I stood in the bathroom fiddling with my hair. I had already washed, conditioned, and dried it twice but the accursed dark jumble refused to bow down to me. Edward abandoned me just over an hour ago and ever since then the horror was very real. It was the day; Friday. He'd be back to pick me up in less than forty-five minutes which would then commence the pending cataclysm.
The past three days cruised by briskly. Edward waited every morning, leaning up against the Volvo with the passenger side door open, and smiling courteously. I felt lousy that my truck had become such a Lazarus but the warmth emitted from inside Edward's snug car, and his knurly grin was too magnetizing to forgo.
On Wednesday morning the array of bewildered eyes focused their attention on me once again when Edward and I arrived at school together. Daringly he threw his arm around my shoulders as we headed for class. I ignored them. During lunch that day Edward and I sat alone, at the table by the dumpster, which proofed comical to say the least.
I challenged his insight regarding a vampire's need for subterfuge when prompted so by human society. He had selected a sloppy piece of pepperoni pizza as a prop to fool people into thinking he ate solids, and since I always firmly believed that food shouldn't go to waste…
"You're actually going to make me do this?" He scrutinized the greasy pie in front of him. I repressed a smile over seeing his nose scrunch, and his lips crinkle with dismay.
"No… but food shouldn't fritter." The dark eyebrow hushed me as it rose, a glare reflected off of the panorama of sunflowers swaying in his eyes, and he shook his head. Edward hunched over the tray, inclining on his elbows, and sighed.
"One bite," I snorted but quickly covered my mouth. "Little Devil," he indicted. "You only want to see me do it."
I bit my lip and acted as innocent as I could. He was right; indubitably so, I just wanted to see it. Edward lifted the dingy slab of junk but paused before taking a bite, grimacing positively disgusted.
"Just one more thing Edward?" My voice vibrated on a higher frequency than normal which was overt whenever I tried not to laughter. His eyes dashed to me, already posing a grudge.
"Would you mind taking off the pepperoni? You are a vegetarian, right?"
Picking off the crispy circles of meat he chucked them at my tray. My queasy reaction and gagging sound reinvigorated a smirk on his bronze face that portended vengeance. I had already finished eating, thankfully, if I hadn't I'd be done now.
I angled towards him, and bowed my head to get a better view. After taking the initial bite I watched him chew, slowly, and finally gulping it down. He snatched up a napkin and wiped his pillowy lips. Edward smacked them and scrubbed some more, exhibiting an appalled expression for me.
"Happy?"
"Never been gayer," a short rumble of laughs spilled out of his mouth, and he dropped the paper cloth.
He pushed the tray aside and crouched back over the table, sneering. With his index finger he motioned for me to draw closer to him. I let him reel me in though I was suspicious. We sat in silence transitorily and opposed each other. I thought his glare was funny so I felt just a little guilty over grinning directly into his face.
"You will pay for that," he whispered dangerously.
"I don't have a lot of money," I joked.
Edward winked, "Sums mean nothing to me. But there are other things I want, and you've just guaranteed me a service." The lavender finally reached my nose. I felt the aroma drifting up like vapor, and ensnaring my senses.
"What kind of service?" His taunt was flirtatious.
"You'll see," I imbibed the spit that assembled inside my mouth. Edward's purr was seductive somehow, and made me regret the prank I pulled.
That's how the schedule for the rest of the week was set. Every morning he picked me up, and we sat together during lunch. After school he'd drive me back home, leave me to my chores, and at night after Charlie had gone to bed there would always be a knock on my window.
Politely he would take off his shoes and sit on the bed crossing his legs beneath him. Edward was still very inquisitive. Thursday night was dedicated to Malta again and what little I knew of my relatives there. I didn't mention the token Uncle Luca sent me or the video made by Avicus and Dexio. I heeded Uncle Luca's cryptic appeal to be clandestine concerning the contact but it didn't hinder Edward from noticing the sterling string around my neck.
"Do you appreciate trinkets like that?" He pointed at the necklace with his chin. I grasped my chest and felt the tear-shaped crest beneath my shirt. I shrugged, aloof, and distant.
"Not really but this one I liked," I smiled at him, bashfully.
I reached inside my shirt to retrieve it but Edward had different agendas. The Tiger startled me by reaching out and gently tugging on either side of my waist, and sliding me across the comforter into his biding arms.
Edward lifted my legs by curving his hands around them, and softly digging into my naked thighs. His cool touch ignited the surges I felt whenever his smooth skin grazed mine. He folded me around his waist crossing my ankles, my heels bumped into the leather cloth of his jeans, and the intimacy of this quandary seared the tip of my ears.
A sly grin contorted his otherwise virtuous face as it drew close. Instinctively I gripped the spheres of his arms – the wiry but salient biceps that adorned it and which applied pressure to the bones of my pelvis.
"I can get it myself," he murmured into my face, and nudged our noses together briefly. The nail of his frosty index finger pulled down the fabric of my v-neck exposing my bare chest, and hooked the pendant. My breaths were terse, and scarce. Trembling, I managed the exciting heat throbbing inside my limbs resting on his hard femurs, the sparse room between our groins below, and the stigma I felt seeing my underpants strained up so high.
Edward disregarded or purposely avoided the humid radiation of my core as he torched it. He held the crest between his long fingers whose knuckles caressed the dimples of my cheeks. I observed him, although burning with sudden fever, gyrating my gift on its axis and stopping to read the engraving on the back.
One pleasant laugh shot from Cupid's bow, and he tenderly reached inside my shirt pressing it back into the cleave of my chest. "Where did you get it?"
"It's a souvenir," I exhaled heavily, "My Uncle from Valletta sent it to me." Edward nodded, approvingly.
His hands tickled my ribs as they swept over them. I etched across both his arms, further memorizing the wonderful creamy texture of his skin. I brushed past his muscular appendage supporting his biceps and brought my palms to the cusps of his rounded shoulders. I squashed them, reimagining that magical day spent at the pool. Mimicking my actions then, I stroked the back of his neck and felt the stubs of his spine. I ventured back into the strange concoction of henna – knotting and tangling my fingers within its thickness.
"I want to go back to the pool," I griped, sheepishly.
Edward encircled me completely. My shirt lightly pulled, I felt his chilly bite just above the brink of my thin drawers and deepening, massaging my sweaty skin. I felt the salty liquid gushing forth, and spilling down the trench of my vertebrae. He elevated his rub, washing and smearing my unclad backbone with the steam of my body. I faintly moaned as he ascended, beneath my shirt, and dove into the mahogany mayhem while affectionately clutching the base of my neck.
Less hesitant than before but shuddering nonetheless I expelled a fiery pant across his face when his free hand returned to the bottom of my bum, and raised me to his level. Reenacting a spectacle previously practiced, I nestled the belt of his shoulder, and burrowed my talon around one of its mighty blades.
Intentionally poking my cheek with his nose he broke through the odyssey of ecstasy he created once again, "We are there," his lips glided over my face.
I captured his mouth within the furious blast of my kiss. I felt more tenacious than last time. Effectively I groped a chunky wad of his lavishing hair; I disembarked on a quest downwards clawing the intermediate S-shape of his back, and madly devoured the satin pillows that were Edward's lips.
Elysium was real, and not a just a myth. The potency of his dire clamp compressing me to his pulsating chest, and my legs fastening around him, and riotously pressing him against me unleashed a carnal side I never knew I had. The simple oscillation of our noses intermingling like two lovers secretively meeting late at night, his locks scratching my forehead as if they were my own or the more severe and thriving exaction of Edward knocking, and asking permission to enter my mouth was overwhelming.
I whimpered when the soggy vertex of his tongue prodded mine. I encased the source of his bell like voice within my fleshy gate, and sampled the syrupy spittle of its belly. A jitter struck me when Edward groaned and a puff of his breath sweetened my palate.
I landed on my butt, bewildered. I was free of his grip and sat there dazed. Blinking and searching the shadows of my room I recognized his silhouette in the corner with his back facing me. I scrambled on the bed supporting my weight on my elbows,
"I-I'm sorry," I was confounded. He looked over his shoulder at me, and even within the demure light of the lamp on the nightstand I noticed the dark dusty circles beneath his eyes.
"I've adapted to the arioso scent that once lured me but never overestimate my capacities. I told you, the Tiger hasn't been tamed yet."
I remained frozen on the bed. Had my teenage passions taking me too far? Edward though physically resembling a young adult was a fully grown man after all.
"Don't do that."
I bit my lip, "Do what?"
"Consorting with guilt," his tone sympathetic. Edward closed the distance between us and retook his place next to me. Looking down my body with a smug smirk he domed his brow, and batted an eyelash. Promptly I looked down as well. My legs were naked, and my shorts pushed up all the way over my thighs strapping my pelvis. The shirt he had elevated fondling my back also exposed my hairless stomach.
Embarrassed I covered my abdomen back up and readjusted the trousers.
"Why do you doubt what I said?"
I think he was deriding me, "That would be?"
"You have beautiful limbs." I rolled my eyes. "Which is also what I saw when you quieted my hellions and I first perceived you fully."
My curiosity was peaked, "What did you see?"
Edward respired, contently, "I witnessed a human of perfect limbs, tastefully constructed with the finest of geometry and shielded by a sheath of porcelain." He touched my inner thigh, just above the knee. "The remarkable cocktail of masculinity softened by smooth feminine hallmark's waxed your frail form and pronounced a paragon of the mortal shell. The supple muscles ripened through recreation hewed a portrait worth my literature. A sylph made visible, a being of boundless glamor."
His hand flew over my stomach, and with his fingers he levitated the shirt drawing circles around my bare belly button.
"I have never met eyes like yours – pure emerald. A lustrous light patinaed by unsullied innocence which my sacrilege mind isn't allowed to view. You carry your heart within the model of your face. A narrow nose, puerile cheeks, symmetric dimples, and swirly strands of mahogany complete my masterpiece."
Edward bowed and kissed my sensitive navel. He hoisted himself above me like a gorilla with both fists clenched on either side of me, and blessed my forehead with a peck. Lowering his head the golden honey cemented in his eyes demanded my attention.
"I was wired and excited learning this ethereal sprite's mind resounded with tales of verses, philosophy, artistry, and history." Edward brought half of his chest down on me, and I cradled his back supporting his bulk.
"All I wished from that point on was to speak with you, and spent as much time as you allowed by your side. You have bewitched me. Already, I feel… that I would do anything you ask."
Our lips united. He knead mine, nibbled on them, and pushed his hand through my hair. I clasped down on him, and furbished his robust back. This time he didn't knock, and breached my mouth with his slippery tongue. He loaded his fist with my wool and maneuvered my head however he wanted. Drawing back his tongue I immediately crowded his cushions again.
I crushed them, and he crushed back forcing my head back down onto the pillow.
We parted. I brought my hand to his face, tunneling beneath his armpit that imprisoned me below him and caressed his components. I elicited the contour of his perfect nose, and the closed eyelids that hid the sunflower gold. I moved on to the refined eyebrows that tickled my finger. Then I kissed the nose, and the closed eyelids, and both of the refined brows.
Edward smiled down at me. He stilt and secured me in his arm, and turned me on my side. The blanket appeared coating me in warmth all the way to the neck. He returned his arm to its favorite position – circled around and beneath my waist. The pillow rumbled but I already knew it was his other arm dredging its way beneath it.
There was sudden pressure between my legs. I willingly parted them under the covers and felt one of Edward's moving in. He kissed the back of my head, and whispered in my ear,
"Sleep Little Devil, tomorrow is your big showdown."
I gawked at myself in the mirror replaying our secret embrace. Absentmindedly I took a glance at my watch, "Damn," I cursed. Spending so much energy drifting through memories had cost me too much time. I straightened out my hair one last time and sprinted back to my closet quickly throwing on a pair of dark jeans, and a green dress shirt. It wasn't getting any better than that.
On the way down I heard the faithful thud on the door. Scurrying and jumping over the last few steps I greeted Edward in the doorway. Charlie, who surprised me by being home early today, headed over to see who our visitor was. Edward had asked if he could formally meet Charlie so I was keen to see how it would go.
As always Edward was a vision. His trademark color I noticed was a deep wine like red which he demonstrated again by wearing a protracted maroon shirt over light bluish pants. I waved him in and he delivered me an entertained eye – no doubt regarding the first contact with my father.
As far as Charlie was concerned Edward was an angel. Having saved my life undoubtedly secured him a spot in Charlie's last will and testament.
"Hi there Edward," Charlie offered him his hand.
"Chief Swan, it's good to finally meet you in person." We both noticed Charlie's odd reaction when he touched Edward's skin.
"So what's the plan for tonight?"
Edward shrugged, "Ah you know, just some guy stuff. Probably hanging out with my siblings, playing a few games, and munching on some junk."
Slowly my head tilted towards him, and I squinched my eyes with incredulity, "Seriously?"
"Sounds good to me, I'm glad Luca made a friend in you." Edward laughed.
"Yeah, he's easy to get along with," Edward punched my arm. "Ready to go dude?"
I cleared my throat, and laughed humorlessly. "Ah, yeah, sure dude."
"Go on ahead," Edward saluted Charlie and strolled on along to his car. I licked my teeth behind closed lips, glaring after him.
"So," Charlie took a sip from his bottle of beer, "You want some pepper spray?"
I snorted, "For what?" Charlie blinked at me lazily, and deliberately. He took another peek out the door at Edward who stood waiting by the car, and then back at me.
"Never mind then," he smiled and turned around heading back into the living room.
Was it that obvious? Scratching my cheek I snatched the leather jacket and closed the door behind me. Completely befuddled about all that happened within the span of two minutes I marched towards Edward who grinningly opened the passenger side door. I didn't say anything but instead flashed him a deprecating look while taking my seat.
"What was that?" I asked once he had gotten in himself.
"What was what?"
"I mean I understand the ruse but even altering your dialect?"
"You don't like it lover? I think it's cool."
"Stop it," I complained as Edward floored it. He laughed derisively. "I mean it."
"What's the problem?"
I was instantaneously uncomfortable. The pattern of his speech had shifted so dramatically that I didn't even know if I was speaking to the same person anymore.
"You sound like all of them…" I looked at my fingers resting in my lap, anxiously scuffling with one another.
"You sound like all of those buttheads that made my life miserable back home," I mumbled – saddened by the memory. "Call me a brat if you want but I just don't want to hear you speaking like that. The uncanny pattern of your language was what first drew me to you. I heard you speak and I thought it was charming, intellectual, and gentlemanly. It made you fascinating to me. It made you Edward.
But hearing you dialoguing like that? It's like I don't know you." I felt naïve. I really had no right to criticize.
I looked up and over at him expecting either anger or even more ridicule. Edward didn't promote either. He leaned against the frame of the door and sluggishly hung on to the steering wheel while seemingly submerged in thought.
"My terminology drew you to me," he said. I consented and continued.
"And your eyes…" Edward quelled a laugh.
"Gold, topaz, honey, sunset, acorn, beryl, corn, which is it?"
"Sunflowers," I whispered, "Sunflowers swaying in the wind that beam beneath a lambent sun on a wide and open field – your pupils tethered by amber."
Edward was analytical when he finally looked at me, his brows strung together, and confused. I shrugged at him. I couldn't help but to express the truth. I only hoped he wouldn't ask how I defined his mouth. "Cupid's bow... yeah..."
"You are so odd," he blamed. "I could have conjectured for hours before ever prevailing over those interpretations."
I giggled, "That's what I like to hear."
I smirked having made him glow and react with his crooked grin. "So it weren't my transcendent looks that arrested you in my web?"
"No," I said dryly. I was happy to see this frisky side of him emerging.
"Nothing at all?" I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips, feigning to think.
"Well…"
"I'm listening," he interrupted.
"You have a good butt."
Edward grabbed the steering wheel with both hands while rocking with cackles. "It's your own fault for storming out that first day and giving me a front row seat," I added. He shook his head, purged himself of those last few chuckles and whipped his tongue across his lower lip.
His hand climbed on top of mine, and squeezed it. I bent it over so that our palms met – his hand was larger and more virile than mine. Edward's fingers slithered in-between my own and secured a tight grasp on the tendons that lay atop. I wiggled the bones of his knuckles soothingly and grew comfortable again.
He stretched my arm and brought my fist to his lips. Edward kissed each one of my fingers and sideswiped his face with my heat while cosseting the curve of my thumb with his. "More and more I applaud the ineptitude to apprehend your mind."
"You like surprises don't you?"
"Not really. It's the constant sphinx that casts its veil around you I find so tempting."
I leaned back on the headrest and closed my eyes. Edward kept our hands connected; our fingers looped, and rested them on the surface of his leg. I watched the incessant rows of trees flying by as he raced down the street and felt a stab of anxiety again. I tried being optimistic at the prospect of meeting the Cullen's in their natural habitat. Edward specifically constructed me before leaving today to please abstain from eating much of anything. I didn't drink anything either...
I dragged his hand into my lap and massaged his wrist, "I'm shaky but still excited."
"Good," he smiled at me. "You know I almost called with instructions for you to carry yourself over."
"Why?"
"There was something about seeing Emmett chopping vegetables and Carlisle kneading dough I found absolutely hysterical."
"I hope they aren't overdoing it," I fretted. Edward coddled my cheek with his index finger.
"They're having fun, and are delighted to finally meet you."
Talking to Edward disoriented me and left me clueless as to our exact location. There weren't any houses as far as I could tell. The dissolution from society and quarantine they practiced seemed palpable when trying to avoid suspicion. I made a previous attempt to picture Edward fenced in by his preferred environment, and though my imagination was certainly great it lacked the aptitude for that scenario.
I spotted it from a distance. I hadn't the faintest idea how far outside of town we were but I hadn't seen a neighbor for miles which meant the gargantuan palace of glass boosting above the crown of the trees must be theirs. I was sure of it. Somehow its elegant architecture suited the preternatural constitution that governed them.
Edward pulled into the driveway, and with an open mouth my eyes soared up the structure. There was a polished veranda of maple encrusted with stone and metal that molded into stares scaling to a set of double doors. There were ample amounts of brass flower pots that were home to pearly lilies and pink petunias. The main body of the house was constructed of glass though there were several ligneous walls I detected within that assembled it further.
The door opened and Edward offered me his hand – I hadn't even seen nor heard him exit the cab of the Volvo. I stepped out into the cool and misting atmosphere, and continued idolizing the house. He led me on and up the stairs towards the entrance. I felt my knees tingling with the jitters and a sudden cramp in my legs.
Edward patted my back, "C'mon now, the Devil has no fear." I snorted and blew him off.
Courteously Edward opened the door for me. I took a reluctant step inside listening to the echo of my feet as they scraped across the white tiles. The walls were opaque and adorned with diverse specimen of art. There were a few I recognized like replica of Monet and Pissarro. Beneath and next to the railing of a staircase stood a small bookshelf including texts from Albert Camus, Simone de Beauvoir, and Arthur Rimbaud – and on top of the shelf stood an oval crystal vase containing a violet-colored iris.
My face lit up, "France, huh?"
"What are you thinking?" Edward whispered close to my ear, making it flame.
I twisted my lips around one another but smirked, "I definitely understand this place."
"Explain that please," he implored and placed his hand on my lower back.
"I don't want to sound frivolous but even judging by the exterior of the house I think it's sardonic how you flaunt what you are without anyone realizing it." I laughed.
"This place is so open and free. There's no reason for duplicity here is there? It's a real home."
I caught Edward's grin when I looked up and over my shoulder at him. "What were you expecting other than a home?"
"I don't know, some dark castle maybe."
Humored, Edward took my hand and guided me up the stairs. There was a delectable odor drifting on the wind – scents of spice, tomatoes, wine, basil, cheese, and bread. He pulled me along towards it. En route I marveled at the antiquities I saw like African tribal masks, Greek urns, Da Vinci's Last Supper, an oil painting of Romeo and Juliet, books by Goethe, Frost, Dickinson, Mann, Boccaccio, and Orwell. I could totally live here.
I kept count of the stairs and figured the house had three or four stories in total. We passed down a corridor from which I could see the vastness of the Olympic peninsula through the thick glass. The illustrations like wallpaper embellished the opposite wall with Oriental art demonstrating red dragons, and Geisha's. The shelves that hung there supported thin ewers with petite branches of cherry blossoms.
I heard voices ringing from the end of the hall. Timidly I took a deep breath but of course Edward heard, and squeezed my hand again.
The kitchen sat on a rectangular platform hoisting it up a few centimeters. There was just about any appliance a good chef would ever need; toaster, baking oven, blender, pressure cooker, sauté pans, microwave, double door fridge, and some gizmos I hadn't ever seen before. The stainless steel cabinets ran along the glass wall surrounding a humble island which sat at its kernel, and where Esme stood.
When Edward and I passed around the corner her eyes were waiting for us. Judging by the cheese grater I suppose she was… well… grating cheese. Next to Esme stood the goliath that was Emmett, tossing salad leaves inside a silver bowl. I had never been this close to him before other than that day in the parking lot – he certainly was intimidating. Leaning in the lateral direction up against the wall was Rosalie, staring at me. Carlisle wiped his hands clean with a dishcloth after just having shoved a baking pan inside the oven.
They all smiled at me except for Rosalie.
"Luca," Esme cheered. I put on my best mask which wasn't very difficult. Esme pretended to jog around the island and offered me her hand. I took it.
"It's good to see you again Esme." Esme encircled my hand with her other and gently gripped it.
"I may say the same thing to you. I was after all the first of us to formerly meet you," a naughty smile lightened her face and she looked at Edward. He rolled his eyes and broke the gaze.
"I'm so excited to see you again. Thank you for accepting my invitation. I hope you haven't eaten." Esme was easy to love, I knew. I listened to her, and heard my own mother.
"No, I followed Edward's directions."
"Well good," Esme's hearted expression widened, "Edward told us Italian cuisine is popular with you so we're attempting risotto, homemade ravioli, a mixed salad, a dressing, and freshly baked bread." Esme gleamed with determination.
"The bread's on the way," Carlisle announced. He stepped over next to Esme and offered me his hand while cuddling his arm around her. Nervously I took it. "Thank you for visiting us, Luca. Edward's told us so much of you that our intrusiveness eventually won out."
"I could say the same thing to you."
"I hope you aren't cross with me over my assertion at the hospital." Defensively I waved my hand at him.
"Oh no, I was rude. You were only looking out for my health." Carlisle smiled, lovingly, but like Esme tossed Edward a canny eye.
"It was his idea." I blinked, and revolved my head to dispatch a scornful blaze at him. Edward crowded his pockets with his hands, and looked down at his feet.
"Remember me?" Emmett flapped the salad tongs at me.
"Yes, Emmett right?"
"The only one," he laughed – loudly, "I'm making the salad."
"I'm looking forward to tasting it." Emmett continued throwing the tomatoes, carrots, and red onions around spawning a hurricane of fruit and vegetables.
"Hello Rosalie," I greeted her. She remained mum and although she looked at me the indication on her graceful face didn't imply aggravation like last time. She was just disinterested.
"You know you really didn't have to do all of this, any of you, I would have settled for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." I redirected my attention to Esme.
"Nonsense," she insisted. "I've always wanted to make use of the kitchen."
"I hope you'll enjoy," Carlisle added. "It'll be a little while longer."
"I'm done," Emmett held up the bowl and Rosalie snickered.
"You're just making a salad."
"Just a salad? Do you have any idea how long I read that culinary book of Esme's to get it just right? Every single slice of tomato and onion in this salad is precisely as thin as the next."
"I had to make the dressing," Rosalie retorted, "Without even being able to taste it."
"Pshhh, you mixed olive oil with lemon zest." Rosalie huffed, and crossed her arms.
I felt Edward digging in my back, "I want to show you my room, now."
"Oh, are we embarrassing you?" Rosalie asked him sarcastically.
"Only you." She glared at him.
"Dinner isn't ready yet, correct? In the meantime I'd like parade Luca around some more."
Esme tittered lightheartedly, "We'll call once were finished."
Edward wrapped his arm around my stomach and forced me to turn around. I could hear Carlisle and Emmett laughing behind us as he dragged me down the hall.
"What's eating you?"
"Nothing," he lied.
My convoy navigated our direction up to the last level of the house. One thing I noticed was that there were no pictures of any of them on the walls. I speculated it served their anonymity. On our approach to the already opened room Edward fell behind a few steps. I was about to question him but he signaled me on. I stepped inside his room.
One side of the space was entirely covered with CD's, records, tapes, and DVD's. I ventured further inside grinning at the disarray of books, notebooks, and journals cluttering almost every inch of the furniture. There was an inviting black couch pushed up to the glass panel, a modest study, and plasma television attached to the wall. I read the titles he kept and found small niches between the CD's storing handmade pottery and…
Astonished I picked up the small ornament from his shelf and rotated it between my fingers.
"You kept this?" Edward's eyes widened when he saw what I'd found. He cleared his throat,
"Well… yes, I did." Swamped with reverence regarding him I toyed with the indigo bottle cap, and traced its sharp ridges. I'd flung it at him during the first lunch period we spent together, and he kept it. A memorabilia of our first true meeting, and Edward elected to decorate his room with it. Carefully I returned it back to its place on his shelf.
"I like your room."
There were mixed feelings on his face as I said it. He had barely crossed the threshold and watched me, dubiously. "What?"
"It's convoluted, Luca. But suffice to say I find it peculiar to see you standing there, where I always do."
"Do you want me to take a step back?" I joked.
Chortling, and negating the gap between us he hastily joined me. "No, I'd much rather hear more of your hidden thoughts."
"Hidden thoughts?"
He nodded, "Speech, sunflowers, a real home, what else is unraveling up there as we speak?"
I must have blushed. Edward doted my cheek with his finger, like trying to thrust it all out of me.
"Please?" I sighed, noticeably. The past few days I've considered that my armor might have been sired from the motive of always keeping to myself. I'm not even sure I had any hidden thoughts. Although there was this one place…
"You told me your first love was the piano. Do you have one?"
"Yes."
"Take me there, please."
Edward took my hand and led me out of his room, down the hall, and to a room almost adjacent to his. The interior was destitute except for the black pianoforte centered within its median. It had a good view of the woods, I tried distracting myself from what I was about to do.
"Now what?"
I stepped close to his side, "Can they hear us?" I whispered.
His crooked smile appeared, "Now that you've said that I'm certain they will grant us some privacy."
"Oh…" I conflicted, and began to fidget. "You should probably sit on your bench there," I shivered. Edward sat and watched me curiously.
"Are you alright?"
"Who? Me? I'm cool." I circled the piano deliberating the sanity of what I was about to do. I whirled around, held up my shaking hands defensively, and asked Edward to listen.
"The last thing I want is to bore you with how utterly unfair life has been. Neither do I want to sell you a sob story. However, let's just say that society has had an effect on me. Because of my silent and awkward behavior people made it their mission over the years to make me pay for it. I'm not a physical being, I don't fight, perhaps I could have made a better stance but there is no point in dwelling in the past now.
They took a lot out of me. I remember days when I didn't want to go to school. I was afraid to go. I was afraid of pupils, and teachers. I constantly wondered why I didn't fit in. Why this world wouldn't accept me or I it. I used to always feel that I was either born during the wrong time or in the wrong place. Sometimes loneliness can be overbearing. It forces you to retreat deeper, and deeper inside. To what end? So it may cement itself. It becomes the nature of your character.
Anyhow," I trembled, "There was one thing they never took. One special place rooted inside the confines of my heart and mind. It's a place where I keep all of my silly, childish dreams, and where my imagination can skyrocket. Grandma Swan taught me. She used to always tell me that 'every life needs its own quiet place'. I took that sentiment in the most literal sense I could.
It's a venue where even my juvenile fairytale still presides. It's my world, my perfect little world.
I have never told anyone about it. I've never shown anyone. But I'd like to include you. Tell me something; you told me that you preoccupied yourself with my books, fact?"
"Fact."
"Did you by chance happen on one in particular, one that wasn't like the others?"
"Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve's original Beauty and the Beast. It's old, older than you." Of course Edward noticed.
"The book belonged to my grandmother. As a matter of fact, she created it. She did the calligraphy, the drawings inside, everything. She loved that story so much that she used to always read it to me while sitting in her rocking chair. Grandma taught me to look past the peripheral commodities of people, and appreciate them for who they are inside. She taught me to see their hearts. Ironically, she taught me to see you."
I calmed down, and held on to the wing of the piano.
"I'm telling you all of this because in that small place, I can be me. I'll do what I can to show you but you have to be supportive. You have to help yourself. But first, I need you to play an explicit concerto for me. I need it, so I can unwind, and so I can peacefully go there."
"I know precisely what," Edward arced over the keys. I turned around, the piano sustained my weight. Anxiously I panted but closed my eyes, collecting my thoughts.
I flinched as the melody arose behind me, like a shadow of the past. For two years I've found it difficult to imagine that palace – ever since the sky reaching over me turned dark. Edward played the tune beautifully. I felt myself smiling, my eyes watering, and my pulse galloping to the tempo of his beat. I saw grandma's face, and felt her warm nuzzle. I could hear her voice reciting the lines of the fairytale. The melody arrived at that pivotal point of no return, and I heard myself singing.
"A tale as old as time. True as it can be."
"Luca," I whirled around and met Edward's stunned expression. I drew over the edges of the piano wandering to meet him around the back.
Gingerly I hugged him around the neck, "Barely even friends, then somebody bends, unexpectedly." I kissed his cheek.
"Just a little change," Edward sang, "Small to say the least," his eyes followed me as I sauntered back around the piano.
"Both a little scared, neither one prepared," and we sang together.
"Ever just the same. Ever a surprise," he winked at me. "Ever as before, ever just as sure, as the sun will rise."
This time my eyelids didn't have to conceal the dimension unfolding before me. Edward's piano room expanded. The white tiles capitulated, giving away to acres of marble lined with jade and patterns of gold. They extended beyond the simple square of the room shaping a perfect circle. The Venetian windows surged from where the floors had ended. The glass was clear as ice; the panels of ivory enclosed the entire dome – creating the casing of this place, my place.
An egg yolk dropped onto the floor without breaking – as yellow and vital as the sun. More dripped like droplets of rain descending from the heavens of my imagination. Next a shower of white wine fused with the yolks, and they started to spiral. The pigments drizzled and illuminated the scene with a spectacle of color; cinnabar, orpiment, and lead white. They changed the mien of the yolks creating a perfect blend of tempera; I could smell the myrrh.
Like rivers the paint ravaged the walls, seemingly possessing minds of their own and drew the hero's and villains of the past on my alabaster walls. The palace was festooned by the visions of the ancient world. The image of Alexander the Great and Hephaestion appeared, Achilles and Patroclus, Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum – their murals a perfect likeness of their historical record. The ikons emerged above me too, plastering the dome of the palace.
In-between them the tempera painted silvery vines like pine that encompassed them with the spirits of nature – white daisies grew wild, honey smeared lilies, and bleeding hearts of crimson. I was so spellbound that I didn't notice the music had seized.
The floor was grown, the glass appeared, and by the magic of my mind portraits of old embellished the walls. I could hear their stride from beyond the boundaries of my space, I heard their hooves bashing the concrete, and pulling the carriages. In the distance I saw an endless array of oil lamps igniting the streets of London with their blare, and heard the bong of Big Ben when midnight struck. A medieval London I had only ever visited in books written by wonderful authors that set free their ideas like doves, gliding across the hemisphere for all of the masses to see, remodeled around us.
It was his London – Edward's home, a time of romance.
I was bereft of jeans, shoes and my dress shirt. Instead, from the waist down knee-length breeches appeared, made of cloth as dark as hazelnuts. The silk stockings felt warm, and the low-heeled leather shoes with silver buckles were a nice touch. A lace shirt shrouded itself around my chest; it was as white as the stockings and had ruffles at the wrist's, and at the collar. Over it I conjured a cobalt blue waistcoat that fell to the middle of my thighs.
"Luca!" Smiling, more serene than I had been in months, I twirled on the heels of my leather shoes and confronted Edward.
He was here, still. This small place I kept, and painted with dreams, images of days gone, and the very soul of my fairytale. But Edward was here with me, and I pondered what his dreams were. What were his desires? What were his most intimate wishes?
Edward looked perplexed, in awe, troubled almost. I cupped his face and laughed when the frigid bite of his skin vanished. I felt him growing warm, hot almost. The hue of his olive tone complexion dimmed, its unnatural light going out. Edward tanned, his skin growing darker until the essence of his Italian heritage reappeared. The auburn streaks lining his untidy chestnut brown jungle faded – now a revelation only the sun could expose.
The features of his cherubic face became less defined. The pillowy lips flattened though were still pouted. A little baby fat filled the hollows of his cheeks, and the brush of his eyebrows was thicker and less perfect. Lastly, the sunflower gold of his eyes blinded me just once more before dying away to summon a long lost midnight blue. A human Edward – as he was, once upon a dream.
His fashion matched mine though I colored his waistcoat with his signature maroon.
I touched his lips with my kiss and melted to the heat that flared in them. I straightened the ruffles around his neck, tucked one ankle behind the other, and bowed.
"I believe I owe you a service Mr. Masen."
Flustered he shook his head, and laughed dazed, "Y-yes, Mr. Swan."
A grand piano phased into existence next to us, sitting at its bench was Beethoven, and next to him stood Antonio Vivaldi, his instrument ripe to play. Artists from different era's and separated by decades of harmony were brought together to play our requiem.
The strokes of the piano rekindled the fire Edward had set, and the tender strings of the violin lauded the sonata. Menorahs were affixed with lacteous candles that lit on their own accord.
I turned over Edward's hands and rested mine within his tepid palms.
I dashed to the right, and as if he could read my thoughts he bolted to the left. We drew a circle around us keeping our hands locked. The cadence of the melody hitched, matching our speed. Edward made me swirl and drew his arm around my waist. I grasped his shoulders and our hands met in the air like two long lost friends. This dance, this one classic dance, grandma Swan taught me.
As cheesy as this fantasy was, it was still my own private fairytale. I wished Edward could see it. I invoked the words following those he and I had begun to sing resonating throughout the hall.
"Bitter sweet and strange, finding you can change, learning you were wrong," an unknown chorus sang.
"Finding you can still change Mr. Masen?"
He laughed, "Are you learning that you were wrong Mr. Swan?"
"Oh shut up."
This was my world, and suddenly Edward was part of it. I couldn't be made to count how often I danced through this palace with a consort whose face had always been hidden behind a cloth of blackness. I never had a type of person I felt drawn too. I never imagined physical characteristics, an eye color or even a name. But now I saw him. In reality his skin was covered in a bright olive toned membrane, and eyes that were richer than the most sumptuous tumeric in the world.
In this place, his desires came about just like mine. Edward was human again. And I wondered how our story would have progressed if I'd met him in the 1760's. Would he still have fallen ill? Would the society of that age have kept us apart?
"Had I known you as a mortal man, I would have whisked you off to idyllic Venice – a place where we could have lived undisturbed by the ongoing distress and immorality of the epoch."
I laid my face on his chest, the satin fabric of his coat a perfect pillow. I wept when the music began it's descend. I felt myself pulling back, the palace and its majesty retreating to the Bastille within my mind.
"Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme," the chorus whispered, quietly.
"I have a question Mr. Swan."
"Go on."
"Who's the beast?"
Laughing I slipped my hand out of his and cradled him fully around his neck. The music slowly died. I felt myself pulling away. The ikons were expiring, London was resuming the modern activities of the 21st century, and Edward surrendered his humanity – leaving it in the care of my world.
When I opened my eyes the wilderness of Forks swelled before me. Taking a deep whiff Edward's aroma soothed me, and I was glad that I at least got to take him back with me. I released him from my lock, sweeping my hands down his chest.
"Luca!" Edward's voice was harsh.
"W-what?" The puzzling expression I'd seen at the beginning of the song recovered its dominance on his face. Edward trapped my face in an iron grip.
"How did you do that?"
"Do what?"
Edward licked his lips, and let me go. His mouth open, stunned, and struggling for words.
"I saw all that," he breathed. "I read your mind."