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Rated: M (themes)

Notes: continues scenario & characters established in "Curtains". not beta'd.

Prompt: Evidence


We stay up like, talking. It's the first time I've ever been in the same room with Alice, Jasper and Edward, ever. In high school, I spent a lot of time with Alice, but never knew Jasper. Nowadays I hang out with the two of them a lot; besides my roommates, they are my closest friends. I knew Alice invited her brother over for dinner often, and suspected it was just a matter of time before we both ended up there together.

It's not that weird after all, being around him. There's evidence of Edward's growth; he's not so sullen anymore, not so quick to ignite.

While I spent years learning to thaw, he has been learning to cool off.

Eventually both the red wine and the white are polished off, the remainders of dinner scattered on the kitchen counter, where Alice refuses to let me help. I'm in the mood for something sweet, but Alice didn't make dessert this time around, so I guess I'm out of luck.

"I'm making brownies next time," I tell her, shrugging into my hoodie.

"Okay," she smiles. "Friday?"

I glance at Edward, who's got his hands jammed in his pockets as he stares at the carpet.

"Yeah, okay," I agree, stepping forward to hug her. "Love you."

"Love you too," she says, giving me a quick squeeze.

Jasper hugs me too and then I'm shoving my sneakers on over my socks.

"I'll walk you out," Edward says, putting his shoes on too.

"Aw, no, that's okay. I'm parked right in front," I say, trying to smile through my yawn.

"No, I should," he frowns and I know somehow he's thinking of the night he let me walk home by myself. A tiny spark of old anger shoots through me remembering that, but as quickly as it effloresces, it dies.

I don't want to be that Bella anymore, so I shouldn't allow him to be that Edward anymore.

Hand on the doorknob, I wait patiently for Edward to say goodbye and then we leave together, bracing ourselves against the bite of late night Seattle wind.

"Do you want to get coffee or something?" he asks as we walk down the steps. "We can probably find a diner with brownies… a la mode or something."

He's tempting, in more ways than one, but the thought of being somewhere, alone with him, makes my stomach twist. He makes me anxious.

"No, thanks. I'm a little tired," I say, zipping my hoodie up all the way.

"Yeah, I feel you," he says.

I peek over at him, but his face is stoic as ever; unreadable.

"Thanks," we pause at my truck, our hug prompt and swift, and then he's gone.

***

I adjust the lens on my camera, wanting to have the right focus for today's light. Everything is sharper, the shadows darker and the light brighter. The tree's leaves have deepened, impossibly; they look like they're bleeding or in flames.

Leaf, sky, tree trunk, hair.

Lowering the camera, I realize Edward's hair is autumnal, and he's in the middle of this fracas of foliage, sitting on another bench, looking at something in his hands. Impulsively, I take two, three pictures of him, zooming in on the last one.

***

I'm not as surprised as I should be when I open the door and find him standing there, a paper bag in his hands.

"Hi," he smiles.

"Hi," I smile, and stand aside to let him inside.

"Brownies," he says, lifting the bag to eye level.

"Edward," I laugh. "I'm not… obsessed with brownies, you know. I wanted them the other night…"

"They got me in, didn't they?" he shrugs.

"Did Al give you my address?"

"Yep," he says, looking around.

In my room, I sit in the middle of my bed and motion for him to do the same. He kicks off his shoes and sits beside me, his body moving and folding with the same grace he's always had.

I do love brownies, it's true.

"Do you want milk?" I ask, scooting forward so I can climb off the bed.

"I hate milk, Bella. You know that."

"I don't know you at all, remember?" I say, leaving the room.

He's quiet when I return with milk for me and water for him, and then, "Do you hate me?"

"No," I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. "I never hated you."

"You're different," he says.

"So are you," I shrug, leaning forward t o put my glass on the nightstand.

He takes my glass from me and sets it down next to his. "Are you happy now?"

"Do you still think about them all the time?" I ask instead.

"Sometimes."

"Me too," I say, softly, pulling a string from the hem of my jeans. "I wear her ring now."

He glances at my hand.

"I'm okay," I sigh. "But it took a while, you know?"

He nods. "I'm sorry for letting you walk home by yourself."

"I'm glad you're sorry," I say, but I touch his knee.