Chapter 20: Sew My Name
A/N: My inbox has been completely inundated this week - thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favourited, read, reviewed, tweeted and messaged me. You guys make me giddy-happy.
BelieveItOrNot, IReen H, dreaminginnorweigen, moirae and dragonfly366 - I love you ladies hard.
MissWinkles introduced me to the wonderfulness that is Josh Pyke. Thank you, bb.
Tam. You make everything better and brighter. YMFC, bb.
Sew My Name, Josh Pyke
When I go, I think I'm gonna sew my name into all of your clothes
My girl, since you have always worn me well.
And there are too many animals on this ship, some of you I think will have to sink
But when it gets too much, you can only adjust
Oh, I am always thinking about you
And how you always wear me well,
You can't outgrow something sewn under your skin
So I will always wear you well.
And Sunday evening always has this sense of something good about to end
I know we hold our breaths for tomorrow, and when I go I think I'm gonna write my name
Into all the books you love so well, since you can read me good my girl
Yeah, you can always read me well.
Try and rationalise a thing you've never seen before
You can wear me well, you can wear me well
I'd suit myself, but its one that I've never worn
You can wear me well, you can wear me well
And if there's only one truth that I know, it's that the stitches that we've made are the best I've ever sewn
So when I go, I think I'm gonna sew my name into all of your clothes...
Feb 2011.
"Baby, come on." I let Bella tug me inside, her frigid fingers wrapped around my wrist.
Wherever she leads, I will follow.
Those three words still ring in my ears – they echo in my skull … they're emblazoned in fiery sparks against the black night air, they're graven across my heart.
I stumble after her unthinkingly, my eyes blinking furiously to adjust as we step inside the well-lit building. Bella pulls me toward the elevator, her red heels tap-tap-tapping across the tiles.
Inside the metal box dragging us skyward, we huddle together, teeth chattering, and lips quivering.
I love you.
She loves me.
"You love me?"
Bella looks up at me, my coat hanging off her shoulders, her face pale, her lips a disturbing shade of bruise-purple.
"I love you." Her confirmation causes warmth to surge through me.
My heart, already thrumming from the adrenaline of rushing around in the snow, accelerates, and my breathing becomes shallow, panting.
"I love you, too."
And now, I have to kiss her. Hesitantly, my hand shaking – whether from excitement or fear or the onset of hypothermia I do not know – I reach for her, curling my cold-stiff fingers into her hair.
She doesn't stop me.
Her hands slide around my waist as I press my mouth to hers, frosty noses bumping and chilly, blue-tinged lips trying to smile and find their way to each other at the same time. Bella giggles against my kiss, before my tongue finds her warm mouth. Gasping into each other's mouths, our amusement evaporates.
This kiss is I love you and I'm sorry, I trust you and I'm done with hiding, I want you and I hate being apart from you.
It's not a kiss that exists outside of time and space – in fact it's so firmly anchored in them that it's a kiss I'll recall with perfect clarity in ten, twenty, fifty years. The warmth that spreads inside, while our outsides shake and shiver. The flashes of cheerful yellow and chocolate brown as my eyes flutter open and closed, open and closed – unable to decide whether I want to see every detail, or lose myself in other sensations. The feel of Bella's silky hair under my fingertips, her sweet tongue against mine, her hot breath filling my mouth.
Our last first kiss.
Scored by dings and pings and tinny elevator music, and the clearing of throats, as an elderly couple waits for us to become coherent enough to alight on Bella's floor.
"So sorry." We fumble our way out of the tiny space, faces afire, making room for them to head wherever the hell super old people head this late at night.
The door to Bella's apartment is wide open, her coat hanging from its hook, her bag and keys in their designated spaces.
"I wasn't thinking," she murmurs, noticing my frown at her lack of concern for her personal security. "Well, I was, but only about the fact that I had to get to you before you left. I had to tell you."
"Love, do you have any blankets? We should get warm."
Bella nods, motioning for me to take a seat on the couch. I head for her kitchen instead, filling the kettle with water and opening and closing cupboards and drawers at random until I find spoons, mugs, and hot chocolate powder.
I'm waiting for the kettle to boil when I feel Bella's little body press against my back, her still chilly arms sliding around my waist. I rub her forearms briskly, hoping fervently that she doesn't end up getting sick.
We settle onto the couch, cocooned in faded blankets, fingers wrapped around our steaming mugs of thick, sweet cocoa. Bella leans her head on my shoulder, and for a few moments, everything is exactly as it should be.
"Baby, will you tell me what you meant before? About your depression getting worse?"
My heart drops straight to my frozen toes.
I set my mug on the coffee table, the sweet aroma suddenly cloying, the taste of cocoa becoming bitter in my mouth.
I don't want to have this conversation. Not now. Not when she's just told me, finally, that she loves me.
She loves me.
Will she still love me, knowing how much I'm slipping?
Her head falls back to my shoulder. The warm weight of her trust settles on me, the floral smell of her shampoo grounds me, and the wisps of her hair tickling my throat reassure me.
She came back to me aware of my illness.
She loves me.
It's my turn to prove myself – to show her that I do trust her.
I don't look at her as I speak. I force the words out slowly and calmly, though my insides are still anything but. "It's been getting worse for a while. I, well, when I'm tired, things get, um, overwhelming. I can feel it. This downward spiral. The tiredness makes it harder to keep control of my emotions, and the strain on my emotions exhausts me, and it just keeps getting worse."
Bella's voice is soft and shaky. "Is it … is it my –"
"No." I cut her off. She cannot take this on herself. "I mean, yeah, I was fucking devastated when you left –"
"I'm so – "
"No more apologies, love, please." I pause until I feel her nodding against my shoulder. "I was heartbroken, yes. But not, uh, irrationally so, you know? I was still …. functioning, I guess. And when I did get overwhelmed I called up my therapist and we worked through things. I got to a really good place. But then, I don't know, lately, I can feel it stirring. It's like … I guess, it starts whispering things to me – not like I'm actually hearing weird voices or anything – just these feelings that don't make sense, but are really pervasive. Like feeling worthless, unloved, unwanted. Intellectually, I know those things aren't true, but it's hard to make the way I feel match up with logical thought."
I scrub my hand over my face before I push on.
"When I'm really bad, I just – I want to stay in bed all day. Facing people, talking, smiling, keeping the act going, it takes so much effort, and some days I just don't have the energy. The meds have done a really good job over the last few years, but it might be time to look at upping my dosage or switching to a different type. I'm going to go see my doctor this week."
I pause. I need to be honest with her. "Bella –"
She sits up, and I turn my head so I can look at her. I hold her gaze as I speak. "If that's what needs to happen – if my meds need to be changed – things might get worse for a while, before they get better. I mean, they might be fine, but I can't promise that. You need to know, I might struggle really bad for a while."
She gives me a sad smile, and all I can find in her dark eyes is compassion. There's concern, too, in the slight scrunching of her eyebrows, but there's no panic, no judgment.
"I understand," she whispers. Her fingers caress my cheek. "Just promise me … if it gets too much, that you'll tell me – or anyone, really – someone … Don't hide it, okay? Don't suffer in silence."
"Even when I'm at my lowest – I swear to you, I will never harm myself."
"Is that a promise you can make, Edward? The meds might really screw you over. So, I'd rather you promise me that if you do ever feel like that, you'll tell someone. Don't let guilt or fear stop you."
I touch her chin, making sure she keeps her eyes on mine. "I promise."
"Thank you."
Leaning in Bella presses her lips to mine – it's gentle, sweet, and all-too-brief.
"Sweetheart?"
"Mmm?"
"How come – uh, how are you okay with this … now? Like, what changed, that you, I guess, accept my illness?"
She sighs, reaching for my ear. I cringe, but she tugs on it carefully, pulling on it until my head rests in her lap. I look up at her and she smiles, bending forward to kiss me sideways. Her fingers move into my hair, stroking it, her nails raking gently across my scalp – exactly as they have so many times before. My eyes close under her tender ministrations, waiting as the silence lengthens and intensifies.
"I trust you."
My eyes snap open, searching her gaze for any hint of uncertainty in her declaration. Her eyes are more gold than brown as I stare up at her, and I'm both awed and humbled by the trust and love I see shining down at me.
I swallow, feeling the sting of overwhelming … joy in the corners of my eyes.
"I, um –" her eyes widen as I reach up and press my finger against her lips.
"Enough talking," I tell her, my voice scratchy and hoarse.
Curling upwards, the muscles in my stomach tightening and straining under the effort, my mouth finds hers. She sighs into our kiss, her fingers still threaded through my hair. Awkwardly, I fumble around until I'm supporting most of my weight on my arm, my torso facing Bella's, my legs still lying across the couch. I'm not exactly comfortable, but I couldn't care less.
All that matters is the way our lips are moving together. They're warm now, sweet with sugar and cocoa and delight.
I pull my mouth away only to murmur, "I love you," before I lose myself in her taste again. And suddenly, I do care about this awkward position I've contorted myself into, because I can't get close enough to Bella.
Breaking our kiss, I lean back and – "Fuck!" – I'm looking up at the ceiling, the wind knocked painfully from my lungs.
In my haste to rearrange us, bring us closer, I lost my balance and fell off the couch, hard. Bella looks down at me, concern in her eyes and suppressed laughter on her lips. I grin up at her and, reassured, she lets the laughter bubble sweetly from her throat.
I make no move to stand, still refilling my lungs as I watch Bella giggle, her dark hair a tangled mess as it falls around her face. When she tips her head back, I take the opportunity to sit up, grabbing her around the waist, and pull her off the couch. She squeals in surprise, but as her body settles on top of mine, the amusement and shock drain from her features.
Her gaze becomes intense with something I can't quite read, and the air is suddenly thick and heavy, pregnant with anticipation.
My mind is racing. Are we ready for more?
"It's okay," she whispers, kissing me sweetly. "I know we're not ready for that – not yet."
"Mmm," is all the agreement I can manage as I fuse my lips back to hers.
We might not be ready to make love again, but I have not yet had my fill of kissing her.
It's sometime in the early hours of the morning when I finally manage to tear myself away from her embrace. I force myself to collect my keys and jacket, and bid Bella goodnight.
"Oh, fuck."
As soon as I step outside the doors of her building, I have to laugh in frustration.
I unlock my car, and turn the engine over.
Nothing.
"Aw, shit."
I deliberate only momentarily. Do I call roadside assistance now, and stand around in the snow until they drag their asses out here?
Fuck that.
Bella looks confused as she opens her door to my frantic knock.
"What's wrong, baby? What happened?"
"I left my fucking headlights on." I try really, really hard to keep my gaze fixed on her face, but she's changed into an old tee-shirt, and I can tell she's not wearing a bra.
Maybe I should have waited outside for the AAA.
"Edward, I'll help you jumpstart it in the morning, but I'm not going out in the snow again. Just sleep here, okay?"
"Yeah, fine," I sigh, scrubbing at my eyes.
"I, um, I don't have a spare bed though."
"It's fine, I'll just sleep on the couch, love." I'll try to, anyway.
"Don't be silly! You're too tall. Just sleep with me – I mean, sleep in my bed."
"Uh, I …" My eyes drift across Bella's threadbare tee-shirt. "I don't know."
Bella shakes her head at me. "I'll put a bra on if you'd prefer."
"No!" My cheeks flood red. "I mean, if you want to, but it's fine, really. It's good. Shit. I mean you're good, whatever you want."
"I'm not going to try and seduce you, okay? I'm too tired," she winks, but then yawns widely. "Please, let's just get some sleep."
"Can I – is it okay if I take a shower first?"
"Yeah, of course. I mean –" she leans in and sniffs me "– you don't smell bad, not at all. So you don't have to. It's fine, really."
Oh Bella. Silly girl.
"I'll just have a quick one, if that's cool." My voice breaks, squeaking like a fucking thirteen year old.
Bella tips her head, frown lines creasing her brow. "Uh, sure, I'll just grab you a towel."
She flits out of the room, reappearing with a fluffy green towel and a washcloth. "Here."
"Thanks," I mutter, my cheeks still burning.
"I'll be in bed. Come quickly, baby."
Oh for fucks' sake, Bella. Are you trying to kill me? I hear the door of her bedroom snap shut and the lock click into place.
Standing under the steaming water I take myself in hand – my other arm braced against the wall. I'm torn. Each stroke and tug fills me with pleasure and a twinge of shame – as good as it feels, as wound tight as I am – it feels a little wrong to be doing this in Bella's space, in her shower, where she washes and is naked and exposed and vulnerable … fuck.
But, oh fuck, if I'm to sleep in her bed, I need to take certain measures.
My hand speeds, my thighs tighten, and my breathing shortens as my mind conjures an image from the past – Bella naked, wet, her soft flesh pink from the scalding water.
I groan as release washes over me, my eyes growing heavy as my climax crests and then ebbs away.
Dried and dressed in my jeans again, I hesitate at her open door, tapping lightly against the frame.
"Get in here." Bella is already in bed, tucked under a grey and pink comforter. Her eyes are sleepy-heavy, and she looks, well, content, a small smile playing on her lips.
I climb in slowly, uncertain, nervous. I lie on my back, my head on the pillow, my limbs stiff.
"Baby, I'm not going to fucking attack you. Relax. You just need to cross your arms over your chest, and you'll look like a vampire in his coffin."
"Sorry," I mutter, rolling to face her.
Her eyes spark and shine in the low light cast by the bedside lamps, and her smile is unsettlingly mischievous.
"Baby?"
That tone can only mean trouble for me. "Yeah?"
"Did you just jerk off in my shower?"
I'm not entirely sure how my head avoids exploding as every molecule of blood in my body comes rushing to the surface: my cheeks, and neck – hell, it's entirely possible my knees are blushing right now.
"I, uh …" I shake my head. "Um … uh … I'm sorry." I manage to finally splutter the words out.
"Don't be," she grins. "There's a reason I locked the door when I got changed. You're not the only one who needed to prepare."
"Bella." I more groan than speak her name. "What the fuck, love?"
A previous conversation flashes through my mind. "I thought you couldn't … you know … do that?"
Her grin is positively wicked. "You remember that? Well, something changed – a while ago, actually. Apparently, I just needed the right inspiration."
And with that, my shower has been rendered completely redundant. My eyes slam shut – which helps nothing at all, because my imagination is really fucking brilliant when it comes to bombarding me with images of Bella preparing.
The words grind out from behind my clenched teeth. "Bella, I think, I should sleep on the couch."
Her face softens, her smirk fading to concern. "Oh, baby. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Wait –"
She climbs out of bed and pads softly out of the room.
As I listen to the soft sounds of her moving around the apartment, I let my eyes scan her dimly lit bedroom. It's quite different to her room at Garrett's – more personal, more lived in. There's the usual pile of books on her bedside table, and another on her desk, of course. I scan the titles beside the bed, smiling a little at her wildly varied tastes.
I've just spotted a series of photographs on one of the walls when Bella re-enters the bedroom, a pile of blankets in her arms.
She sets them on the floor, then untucks the flat sheet from her side of the bed. Pushing the comforter toward me, she picks up the blankets and starts unfolding them over her side of the mattress. I watch, bemused, as she buries herself beneath the pile of faded quilts.
"See, it's just like we're in separate beds."
I shake my head and laugh a little, but inside, my heart is fluttering like crazy. To be honest, I'm really touched. Once again, I can see just how much she's changed. She's putting my needs first.
A year ago, she would have teased and tempted me until I silenced her with my mouth, until I gave in and covered her with my body. Today, however, as much as I want her – and fuck, do I want her – she knows we're not ready, that I'm not ready. This simple gesture, the empathy and patience she's showing – it makes me feel cared for. Loved.
I can't speak for fear that opening my mouth will release the flood of sobs building in my throat. I fumble around until I find her hand, bringing it to my lips and pressing a kiss to her palm.
"Goodnight, Edward."
Bella's hand in mine anchors me when morning brings the disorientation of waking in a strange bed, with the light flooding the room from the wrong direction.
She's awake, her face bathed in early morning golds and pinks. Her dark hair is alight with sparks, and her eyes glow with warmth and affection as she waits for me to regain consciousness.
"Morning, love." My voice is thick with sleep.
"Can I come over?" she asks, her voice soft with just-woken scratchiness.
Wordlessly, I lift the comforter. She wriggles out of her blankets and I tuck my covers around her, pulling her close so that we lie side-by-side, facing each other, with only our hands still touching.
"Did you sleep okay?" she asks.
"I did." I reach my free hand out to tuck her dark tangles behind her ear. "Thank you."
"I'm glad. Did you, um, did you want to go for breakfast or something, and then we'll try to get your car going."
I really do, but I don't have any clean clothes. Oh, fuck it, who cares? "Yeah, I'd like that."
Monday night.
Brewery night.
I'm relieved to see Garrett and Jasper already here, and I make my way toward their booth quickly, my eyes on the floor.
I slump into a seat, fist-bumping Jasper, and clapping Garrett on the shoulder.
"Bloody hell, man. You look tired as."
"Yeah, thanks for that, Gar. Appreciate it."
"He's right, dude," Jasper adds, his brow creasing. "You okay?"
I shrug. "Yeah. I am tired, but I'm alright."
"You sleeping, okay?" He asks, his eyes narrowing.
"Yeah, fine – just not enough, I guess." My hand scrubs across my face, and I bite my lip on a smile. "Too many late nights on the phone with Bella."
"What's with that?!" The question bursts from Garrett's lips – even he looks surprised by his own perturbation.
"What do you mean?" I take a deep breath, trying to push away the defensiveness I feel rising.
"Katie said you guys are coming to our wedding as each other's dates?"
"Uh, yeah – Oh, shit! I totally forgot to respond, didn't I? I'm so sorry, man."
Garrett waves me off. "Bella sent one, obviously. But, I mean, are you guys fucking serious? Are you – what? Are you back together now?"
"Ah, yeah. Kinda. I mean – yes, we are, but we're like, I dunno – taking it slow."
"Just like that? She disappears for over six months, breaks your fucking heart, and you just … you just take her back, no questions asked?"
"Believe me –" I laugh bitterly, "– I asked a lot of questions."
"I don't get it, hey?"
"Garrett, man." Jasper's voice is quiet, but a warning laces his tone.
"I just … I mean, she's my family, and I love her, I do. But, really – I saw the state you were in when she left. You were like a bloody zombie, mate. How can you let her back in after she did something like that to you? How do you just … forget?"
As frustrated as I am with him for his harsh words, I'm kind of touched by his concern. I let that thought temper the building anger – he's a good friend. "I haven't forgotten, Garrett." I shake my head. "But she made a mistake. A big one; one that caused us both a huge amount of pain. I know it and you know it. But, she knows it, too. And … she's changed."
Garrett rolls his eyes and I cut him off before he can say the words I suspect he's itching to get out. "Yeah, I know every idiot who gets back with an ex probably says the same thing, okay? I know it sounds like a fucking cliché, and I know it sounds naïve and foolishly optimistic. But in Bella's case, it's the truth. She's different. She's … well, she's healing. She's, I guess, she's dealing with Jacob's death, she understands how, uh, different my illness is. And she trusts me. Now."
Garrett doesn't look convinced, but drops the subject on a firm look from Jasper.
"So, wedding details all set?"
Garrett deflates visibly at Jazz's question, his head in his hands. "If either of you want to get married … just elope – seriously."
Jasper and I chuckle.
"Yeah, been there, done that." Jasper smirks. "So, Katie's still in full crazy bride mode then?"
"It's not Kate … it's her mum, and mine … and Aunty Renée."
"Bella's mom?"
"Yeah," he groans. "I think she knows it's her only chance." He backtracks quickly as he catches my frown. "Oh! Not because she doesn't think Bells will ever get married. But Bella's so fucking stubborn that there's no way she'd let Renée and Mum go crazy planning it all for her."
"What? But Katie's as stubborn as all hell, too?" Jasper interjects.
"Yeah, she is. But she finds it hard to say no to my family, you know? And her mum's figured that out – so she makes all her suggestions through my mum, and Katie doesn't want to offend anyone. And that's really not fair on Katie – manipulating her like that – so I had to tell Mum to back off. This week has just been ridiculous. I had Katie in tears last night because her mum told her the flowers she wanted were ugly or something. And you should have heard the shouting match they had over Skype when Kate told her she wasn't going to wear a white dress."
"Wedding dresses come in colors?" I ask, scratching my ear. I frown, trying to picture one in blue or green, or that canary yellow Bella was wearing on our date … yeah, it's not happening for me.
Garrett rolls his eyes. "It's called 'blush' or something, I don't know. But her mum totally lost it. Saying everyone would think Katie was a tart or something. I mean, bloody hell, we live together – and they had no problem at all with Katie moving in with me. But, for some reason, for the wedding we have to play-act all virginal? I just don't get it, hey?"
Jasper laughs. "Aw hell, some of the arguments Angie had with her mom … They didn't speak to each other for a week because Angela didn't want the traditional family fruitcake – she wanted chocolate, because she hates raisins. Her mom doesn't even like fruitcake herself, but her great-grandma makes this ridiculously alcoholic thing for every wedding, christening and – I dunno – funeral, in the family. It was a fucking nightmare."
I busy myself with my beer, shuddering as Jasper and Garrett share increasingly insane wedding-madness-related anecdotes. Seriously – why do people put themselves through this shit? Just for one fucking day?
As I drive home a few hours later, a surprising thought flashes through my mind: Thank fuck Bella is so damn stubborn.
As ever, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Also, I posted a O/S called "Move Like You Want." You can go to my profile, or check it out here, if you'd like: fanfiction dot net/s/8431129/1/
Love, Shell x