A/N: I just finished 50 hours of the Final Fantasy VII Remake. I'm still high af, and slightly dazed, so I should probably not say much more. What I said last week x ten.
I bloody well need a cigarette, people! Holy shit!
Black Swan
Chapter 20
"Holy shit!" Edward balks the instant we enter the garage and he lays eyes on my Mustang. "I thought you said you didn't have a car?" He turns to me, eyebrow quirking.
"I lied. Get in," I reply, heading toward the driver's side.
"Hey?" he speaks up.
"What?" I ask over my shoulder, my hand gripping the door handle.
"Can I drive?" he asks, his voice rising with hope.
I roll my eyes and sigh minutely to myself. "Sure, but scratch my car and you're dead," I warn him, tossing him the keys.
"After what you did to my car?" he reminds me when he pulls himself behind the wheel, sliding the seat back.
"It's not my fault your Swedish piece of crap has no guts," I say, just as he turns to me, his mouth agape.
"...What?" His voice practically fails as if I have just insulted his manhood.
I smirk. "God, you're such a teenage male."
"I am a teenage male," he mutters sarcastically, turning back to the wheel and slotting the key in the ignition.
He looks good behind the wheel of my car, I have to admit it, and he's as equally enamored by it.
"This car is so you," he says, smiling subtly to himself when we're a mile out from school.
"Is it?" I reply unconvinced.
"Yep," he turns to me again, his smile this time broad. "It's beautiful, in your face, and really, really smooth."
I immediately scoff, forcing to prevent my smile from echoing his. "Me? Smooth? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yeah, you do." He winks, and in turn, I arch a cynical brow.
"You might be a pretty vampire, bucko, but right now you're just human."
"I'm human, I know." He sighs out of some kind of irony. "Hey?" His tone immediately switches without missing a beat.
"What?" I sigh, rubbing my forehead slowly. He's exhausting me already.
"The other week, you sent me flying twenty feet with just your finger..."
"And?" I gauge him suspiciously
"It was to show me how strong you are, wasn't it?" Again he glances at me, but there's something...odd about his expression.
"Nope," I answer simply.
"...Then...why...?" He's confused, and this time I have to fight the outright urge to laugh.
"If I'd used my whole hand, you'd be dead," I explain matter-of-factly.
"Oh..." He turns back to the road, his lips twitching discreetly.
I huff, quickly growing exasperated with him. "Why is that funny?" I demand.
"It's not." He half shrugs a shoulder. "I just like that you don't want to hurt me."
"Good God, you're irritating. And if you ever do to me what you did last night again, Sonny Jim, I'll throw you down a tree myself!" I snap, only for him to turn his head languidly in my direction and flash me an entirely too charming smile.
"I promise."
I'm out of the car and stalking toward the school building before he can cut the engine.
Rose catches up to me, grabbing my elbow to pull me in line with her. "After the scare you gave me, I want Tequila-infused B negative," she speaks against my ear.
"After the silent treatment you gave me, I want your mate to shut up Brer Rabbit!" I jerk my head behind me, where I can smell the scent of him rapidly closing in on me.
She scoffs obnoxiously. "Would you stop fighting him, bitch? It's more tedious than the lack of sun in this town."
"Too much cloud cover dulling your beauty?" I mock her, rolling my eyes because Rose's vanity isn't exactly tactful. She enjoys the sun's highlights, and not only for what it does to her hair.
"Hey," Edward announces his presence by draping his arm around my shoulders. I shrug him off me, only for him to immediately replace it.
"Remove your arm before I break it!" I warn him.
He falters, his expression knotting with confusion. "But..."
"Did I say things were back to the way they were before, you idiot boy?" I say sharply, whipping my head around to face him.
He shoves both his hands roughly in his pockets and scowls at me. "Fine—have it your way, granny." And quickening his pace, he moves ahead of us and disappears in the crowds. Though, being a six-foot-two, nineteen-year-old, with that head of hair of his, it's practically impossible to lose sight of him wherever he is.
"God, you're a pain in the ass, Bella," Emmett grumbles, racing ahead to catch up with him.
"It's pleasing to know you completely dismissed everything I said last night," Rose speaks in monotone, revealing how unimpressed she is.
"I have to test him," I say distracted, keeping close track of him even as he moves further into the school building.
"How?" she asks suspiciously.
"Every day I'm with him he openly forgets what I am." I turn to her as she arches a skeptical brow. "I'm not kidding. He says 'sorry I forgot'"—I imitate him—"at least once an hour. It's psychotic!" I blurt, completely maddened by him.
"He forgets?" she puts to me dubiously.
"He forgets!" I reiterate.
"Huh. He is one strange human..." she adds in obvious contemplation.
"To say the damn least!"
. . .
"Sorry," Edward mumbles submissively after approaching me at the lunch table I occupy with Rose and Emmett.
"Why do you constantly feel the need to apologize?" I ask, observing him closely. His head's bowed and he looks genuinely remorseful on top of simmering with resentment.
"'Cause," he says, jerking a shoulder.
"What for this time, then?" I say with a conceding sigh.
"For calling you a granny," he replies begrudgingly, yanking his hands into the pockets of his jacket as if he's not altogether happy with the decision he's made to apologize.
"So, you should be. I'm not a grandmother. Now stop being an idiot and sit down," I reply, my voice light. I'm not angry with him. He'd know if I was.
Breaking into an impulsive smile, he sits beside me. "You gonna apologize to me, too?" He leans closer to me and unleashes that smile on me again.
"And why would I do that?" I ask, edging him back with my elbow.
"For calling me an 'idiot boy'," he points out.
"I'm sorry I called you an idiot boy." My voice is droll and a fraction too condescending.
"Being patronizing isn't an apology," he imitates me, fighting off the urge to grin this time, just as Emmett blatantly snorts back his laughter.
"Be very careful, pretty boy, before you find yourself up a tree again."
He huffs, his expression immediately darkening. "Jesus, you're a bitch," he mumbles under his breath, internalizing his tantrum as Emmett immediately straightens in his chair.
"Dude, I know she's a pain and everything, but you can't be calling her that," Emmett cautions him with more than an obvious edge of empathy in his tone. It's very clear who his allegiance is with, and it's not me.
Edward turns to him without an ounce of remorse. "She said she'd start being nice to me," he justifies with a lot more sarcasm than I'd usually tolerate.
"She is right here!" I fume.
He glances back at me, his eyes continuing to narrow. "Yeah, that didn't last long!" he says scathingly, in some kind of accusation.
"That was before I found out you told your rapey, little deceased cousin that you were going to fuck me and move on," I remind him through clenched teeth.
"How can I apologize when you won't even hear me out?!" he bursts, his eyes widening and boring beseechingly, and angrily, into mine.
"The sexual tension in this room is choking me," Rose mutters dryly, as she goes through the pretense of filing her nails.
"Would you take your tantrum elsewhere? You're grating on my last nerve!" I snap, my patience with him rapidly growing thin.
"Bella, come on..." Emmett attempts to diffuse the situation.
"Why invite me to stay with you if you're just going to treat me like shit!" He slams his fist to the table, alerting half the population of the cafeteria in process.
Taking a very stiff and measured breath, I only glare at him, the warning behind my eyes unmistakable.
Edward falters, blinking as if he's confused, or perhaps he's sensing the danger he's in for the first time. Whatever the case, it's only brief, before he shakes his head and tears his attention from me.
"Forget it," he utters out angrily. "I'm just a human—what do I know..."
"You keep this up and that's all you'll be," I promise him, launching myself out of my chair in a single motion to make my way outside. I pass the usual sycophants at Edward's regular table who all turn to stare with varying degrees of curiosity—and glee in the case of Acne Perm—but the moment each of them meets the coldness of my gaze they all quickly sever theirs.
I smirk and push my way through the double doors. Rose is right behind me, grabbing my arm and pulling me around the corner out of sight.
"Okay, calm down..." Her voice is almost soothing, even with a slightly amused smile twitching on her lips. "Bella..."
"What?" I reply petulantly, feeling my expression cloud from frustration more than anything; mainly at myself.
"Look at me." I do, only for her smile to pull broad and rueful. "You know I love you more than my purse collection, more than my car"—I scoff to myself and break into a reluctant smile—"and I'll always be on your side..."
"But..." I prompt her in emphasis, flattening my palm to my forehead.
"But, you're not being fair on him." She's considerably more serious, even though it appears to pain her to say it.
"Hmm..." I murmur, allowing my thoughts to drift. She's right; I know she is. I'm just not about to admit to it.
"Either hear him out and forgive him, or not, or send him home while you figure it out. But right now, you're confusing the poor boy."
"He's...driving me insane," I confess, allowing my frustration to momentarily take the reins.
"You know what I think?" She moves to stand beside me and wraps a consoling arm around my shoulders.
"What do you think, Barbie?" I mock her wryly, and with entirely too much affection for the wench.
"I think your feelings for him are what's driving you insane." She challenges me, and while there's sensitivity behind her words, for the most part, she's her usual pragmatic, hard-headed self.
"I think you should mind your own business," I reply, only semi-teasing because she's right. She knows it, and so do I.
"I have an idea," she ventures after prodding me in retribution.
I groan pointedly. "What this time?"
She nudges me this time. "Why don't me, you, Em, and Red Canary go to Eclipse Saturday night?" she suggests, eyebrows raised high as I all but asphyxiate on my own saliva.
"Have you lost your mind, woman?" I burst through a constricted throat.
Eclipse is a very exclusive vampire bar in Seattle where its patrons dine openly on humans. Vampires will often bring their pets and share them around. It's the most morally decadent place that exists in our world, and it's very rare to find a honey-eyed immortal within its walls. "You want me to take him there?"
"You can introduce him," she proposes, a very discreet smirk betraying her actual intentions.
"Why?" I narrow my eyes, scrutinizing her suspiciously.
"We all undoubtedly think he's your mate, but if you're still not convinced that he only wants to be with you, Eclipse is as confronting as it gets."
I expel my breath, every last molecule of it, but I'm not even remotely sold. "If anyone touches him, I will unleash hell. You are aware of that, aren't you?"
"That's why we'll bring Em." She winks.
"Oh my God..." I break into an inevitable grin. "Not to mention, if anything happens to him, the warden will kill all three of us."
"You wouldn't let anything happen to him," she adds slyly. "The way he was speaking to you back there..." She tilts her head toward the cafeteria. "You didn't even flinch, and Em was preparing to throw himself between the two of you. You've mellowed, sister dearest."
"You wish, you bitch," I retort, scoffing past how ridiculous I think it is. "He's my mate—you expect me to tear his head off?" I turn her words back on her.
She chuckles lightly and squeezes me. "Though, that glare you threw him? It sure made him sit up straight. I think it even scared Em."
. . .
"Emmett told me I should give you some space, so I'll ride home with him and Rose, okay?" Edward puts to me at the beginning of Bio.
"Do as you wish," I reply coolly without turning to look at him.
"Bella..." He sighs.
"What?" I keep my eyes steeled to the whiteboard ahead of us.
"I'm sorry, I—"
"You have nothing to apologize for," I cut him off.
"Then..." he murmurs but appears to abandon it.
This is when I turn to glance at him; his head's bowed and he's rubbing heavily at his forehead with the heel of his palm.
"This is driving me nuts," he says by way of explanation.
"What is?" I ask, my tone subconsciously dropping in line with my troubled thoughts.
"You. You're hot and cold around me. I never know what to expect," he appeals to me, and there is something behind those jaded eyes of his that makes me pause.
I expel my breath sharply, but I have no words to put him at ease, so I offer nothing.
"Bella...I..." But once again appearing frustrated, he lets it go. "Loving you is really hard, you know that," he mutters beneath his breath, and entirely to himself.
I turn to him squarely this time. "Loving you is harder," I reciprocate when he looks up and catches my gaze.
His pulls up short, his eyes immediately widening as he blinks back the obvious surprise of it. "You heard that?" He's in disbelief.
"Of course, I did." I scoff at his naivety. "I hear everything you mumble to yourself."
"E-everything?" he stammers, looking immediately guilty.
"Everything," I affirm.
"Shit..." he mumbles.
"Is this your definition of giving me space?" I put to him, eyebrows raised high.
"Do...you want me to give you space?" he asks apprehensively.
"Good Lord..." I honestly feel like beating my head against the lab table between us. It's not only because of Edward, however. Fake ID and Acne Frizz are currently in the back row discussing mine and Edward's obvious break-up. "You aren't keeping up your end of the bargain," I lean close to him and whisper covertly in his ear.
He gazes at me in confusion, even as blood rushes conspicuously along his neck. "Huh?"
"Fake ID. I don't like the conclusions he's making."
"...What's"—he glances over his shoulder, his forehead knotting—"he saying?"
"That I've been screwing around on you," I fill him in, as he immediately tenses.
"What?" He practically snarls over that one word.
"You heard me."
"That fucking asshole," he mutters darkly, and for a single moment, my little red canary actually looks threatening. "I'm going to fucking kill him," he adds, silently fuming to himself. It's causing his blood to run even hotter through his veins, and my mouth to immediately salivate.
"Calm down, bucko. I've been feeding on animal blood for two weeks, in case you've forgotten," I explain lowly, swallowing past the relentless urge I constantly fight in his presence.
"Are...you okay?" His voice drops with sudden concern, and I find it very hard not to break into a smile.
"I'm fine." I clear my throat roughly, shaking my head gently to myself.
"Sure?" He inches closer to me, enclosing me in his scent, and I close my eyes and practically sway.
"Fine," I repeat in a murmur.
He taps my shoulder gently and opening my eyes, I turn to gaze at him. "Can we talk when we get home?" he asks, a vulnerable expression monopolizing his face.
"All right," I reply, my voice barely emitting a sound, and without conscious thought, I lean toward him and press my face against the warmth of his neck as though being reeled in by an invisible lure.
"B-Bella..." he stammers nervously.
I swallow the moan building in my throat as I slowly drag my nose and lips up and down his supple flesh. My fangs have drawn, and my eyes are slowly rolling back into complete darkness. "God, you smell good..." I breathe.
"Bella," he echoes, the tone of his voice more urgent this time. He wraps both arms around me; it doesn't help, but I immediately understand his thought process. From an outside perspective, it would seem as though he were comforting me.
My groan this time becomes audible, and it's enough to pull me back to my senses at the very least. Knowing I have to play along though, I curl against him and grip his shirt with both my fists. He's warm, so warm it feels as if it's seeping through my skin, contaminating me.
"Are you okay?" he whispers against my hair when I realize exactly what's happening to me. Not only am I in the darkest depths of blood lust, but my desire is not limited to what's coursing through his veins.
I pull back abruptly and stare ahead of me, flustered and a lot more surprised by own impulses than I really should be.
"Bella..." Edward whispers in an obvious attempt to grab my attention.
I turn to him, feeling suddenly feverish—if that were at all possible. I only tilt my head in question, and very discreetly he parts his lips and taps his index finger to his teeth.
In immediate comprehension, I whip my head back to the front of the room and clamp my jaw shut, willing my fangs to withdraw.
It takes imagining Acne Affliction for it to be fully effective, but after my thoughts are as equally frazzled as my physical state.
I'm hungry, I decide, attempting and failing, to put it out of my mind, but there's no escaping it. I'm hungry for the hot-blooded boy sitting beside me, in more ways than one.
And my red canary, it would seem, is just as affected. The blood that was only moments ago traveling along his throat has now settled notably in his cheeks, and it does nothing to ease my torment. He appears restless and fidgety, he constantly drags his long fingers through his mess of hair, and he keeps clearing his throat awkwardly and hunching over on his stool as though he were in pain.
A quick glance beneath the table soon solves that puzzle; his blood is clearly amassing rather intoxicatingly in his groin.
I consider it for a moment. He's not quite twenty-four hours out from taking my blood. It shouldn't affect him like it did last time.
"Have I given you too much again?" I ask him at the end of class, raising my brows to stress it further when he flashes me a puzzled look.
"No, I'm fine," he assures me, sounding somewhat distracted.
That's when I realize where his attention lies. Fake ID walks past us on the way out of the room, and Edward's suddenly intense eyes track his every movement. His blood's beginning to boil for a very different reason this time, and while it's as equally potent, I'm also intimately aware of what's happening to him. I walk beside him as he follows Newton, contemplating whether or not I should put a stop to this before it begins.
I decide to stand back and observe, and my red canary doesn't disappoint.
"Hey, Newton!" he calls out to him at the entrance to the gym, the tone of his voice giving nothing away.
As Fake ID turns, Edward grabs him by the scruff of his sweater and roughly drags him six feet back, before slamming him against the side wall.
"What have you been saying about her?!" he demands, leaning in within a few inches of Newton's increasingly pale and fearful face.
"N-nothing," he stutters, cowering before him with his hands raised.
"Well, why have I heard people saying that you told them Bella was screwing around on me?!" Edward counters, his voice practically becoming a growl, as he draws Newton back and slams him even harder into the brick-face surface of the gym.
Newton's eyes widen, and as he shakes his head, he glances around hastily searching for whoever it was who ratted him out.
Releasing him, Edward grabs his face, much like I did the first day we met. "If you open your fucking mouth and speak her name again, you're dead—you got that?"
Fake ID immediately nods his head jerkily before Edward shoves it to the side.
"Wank," he mutters, watching Newton skulk away, a deep scowl transfixing his features. That is until he looks up and catches my gaze.
I motion him over to me with my index finger, and as his expression relaxes, he immediately complies.
"Wank?" I question after he stands beside me and rests his arm around my shoulders.
"You heard that?" He's surprised again, and I can only roll my eyes.
"You forgot?" I pre-empt him.
"Erm, yeah..." He slides his hand down the nape of his neck, as I sigh wearily.
"You have my keys. Don't forget, Sonny Jim, because if you go home with Rose and Emmett and leave me stranded, I will most definitely eat you for dinner."
He breaks into a sunny smile. "Can I drive again?"
I sigh a second time; it's audible and stemmed from the fray of a thousand emotions currently converging with me. None of which makes a lot of sense to me; though, exasperation, confusion, and physical desire appear to be the most prominent. It's a very strange combination. "Sure," I concede.
"Awesome."
"You'll make one heck of a vampire, bucko," I speak softly to myself as I watch him head to his next class.
. . .
"Bella?" Carlisle calls to me the moment Edward and I emerge from the garage. I look up at him, my eyebrows raised as he makes his way toward me. "Come into my office, please. I'd like to speak with you," he says in his usual sedate tone, making it hard to ascertain his motives.
"Okay..." I say slowly, my brow creasing. I glance over my shoulder, meeting Edward's concerned gaze. "Go hang with Emmett," I suggest, and smiling awkwardly he nods his head.
"Your mother has made him an after-school snack," Carlisle adds, smiling slightly to himself.
"Of course, she has," I say wryly.
Placing his hand to the small of my back, Carlisle leads me to his den. "Take a seat," he offers, hand outstretched as he takes his position behind his mahogany desk as though we were having a consultation.
"What's this all about?" I ask suspiciously, sitting in the leather winged-back chair regardless.
"Your brother Jasper brought it to my attention—Edward's unusual attachment to you. Granted, as two vampires, it's not that unusual, but as a human, such a young human as he is, it is...extraordinary," he begins, alluding to God only knows what.
"In lay terms, Carlisle, what are you saying?" I say with a frustrated sigh. Although, I can't deny my own curiosity over it, either.
"In lay terms, the two of you have...imprinted." He clears his throat, well aware of how it sounds and how it's going to be received.
"...What?" I utter in barely a whisper and with as much disbelief as repulsion by the very idea of it. "We do not imprint, in case you've forgotten."
"I realize that and I don't mean it in the same sense as werewolves, but it's the closest term to explain what happened between the two of you."
"What exactly does that mean?" I demand, fighting to keep my voice hushed, but I'm under no illusions that the five other vampires in the house aren't all listening intently to our conversation. "Don't you think I would have realized...something, the first day I met him?!"
"It didn't happen until you took in his blood, and he...took in yours," he explains, sighing and bowing his head momentarily. "It only happens when a human's blood sings to a vampire. It's exceedingly rare because the vast majority of the time a vampire will kill their singer unwittingly, but the moment you both drank each other's blood it connected you with an intangible, unbreakable force."
"So, what does all this mean?" I raise my arms and allow them to drop to my sides helplessly. His demeanor is beginning to concern me.
"It means we should turn Edward as soon as possible. If something happens to him, you will...lose the will to live; as Edward will if we lose you."
"He's too young to be turned," I state, my troubled thoughts drifting to the boy in my room, waiting for me to have that talk with him.
"In five months, he'll be twenty years old. He's the perfect age," he counters patiently, clasping his hands together on the surface of his desk.
"He has no idea what it means!" I suddenly yell out in despair. "You can't do it to him yet! It's cruel!"
"Bella," he sighs again as if collecting himself, "he wants to be turned. He wants to be with you."
I can only stare at him for a moment, before laughing ironically to myself. "So, that's why he can't explain it..." I mumble, shaking my head. "He thinks he loves me but he doesn't... Our blood has just...connected."
"It draws you together, that is correct, but it does not control your emotions. For example, if Edward was female, it wouldn't necessarily lead to a romantic relationship between the two of you. Those inclinations have to be present first," he attempts to rationalize.
"Are there other cases that you know of?" I ask, beginning to feel numb.
"Yes." He nods his head solemnly.
"And?"
"Some are mated. Some are companions."
"Are you telling me what I want to hear, Carlisle?" I ask calmly. Too calmly. But beneath the surface of my skin, I am everything but calm.
"Of course not, Bella." There's an edge of frustration in his voice. "Edward confessed his feelings for you well before you first fed him your blood."
"Good God, is there anything in this house that's sacred?!" I burst, angered by the lack of privacy that goes with living among six other vampires.
A small smirk edges on his lips. "Unfortunately, no."
"For Christ's sake!" I say, running my palm over my forehead and into my hair, but I'm at a loss for words.
"Bella..." My eyes meet his helplessly, and with an empathetic smile, he continues, "Are there any doubts in your mind that Edward is your mate?"
I'm shaking my head before that one word can pass my lips. "No."
A/N: I did promise you she'd begin to soften. Well, as much as she's capable of, anyway. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading.
