A/N

Last update today.

Enjoy!

It's Friday. Edward's back.

I gasp when I pass him in the hallway, my feet faltering, our eyes meeting.

The bruises, they're everywhere. His lip and eyebrow are cut -a few stitches in the latter.

"What the fuck happened?" I can't help but ask, reaching out instinctively towards his face.

He dodges my hand, narrowing his eyes. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

I know people are watching —we're standing in the middle of a busy hallway— but I can't find it within myself to care.

Pursing my lips, I relent and nod, looking at my feet.

He doesn't move, I don't move.

I don't move because he doesn't. We just stand there.

Eventually the bell rings and he walks away without looking back. I watch him go until I can no longer see him.

All day he walks around with his hood drawn over his head, ignoring the teachers that tell him to lower it. They don't argue, knowing it's futile -he does what he wants.

No one else asks him what happened.

He's in biology, sitting stoically in his seat when I arrive.

"So," I start, side-eyeing him, taking note of how his body tenses when I speak, as though he's bracing himself, "who finally got the better of you?"

"That's none of your business."

"Did you deserve it?" I push, raising an eyebrow.

"That's debatable," he answers after a few seconds, not looking at me. I don't move, looking over him carefully, noticing how he favours his left side. "Yes," he finally sighs.

For a moment I'm taken aback that he offered the information, choosing to answer my question instead of evade or ignore it completely.

"For what it's worth," I whisper, "I hope you're okay."

Banner starts talking and I'm glad of the distraction. Turning my head to focus on our teacher, I ignore Edward's gaze, even though I feel it burning into the side of my face.

The lights are dimmed as we're shown an out-of-date educational movie.

Half way through, Edward leans in closer, just like he used to, though his movements are slower this time, more careful.

"For what it's worth," his breath on the side of my face makes the hair on my arms stand to attention, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear, "I'm sorry."

I turn, gaping, confused. He doesn't move back, our faces less than an inch apart, his bruises angrier in the darkness and the proximity.

I swallow loudly. "For what?"

"A few things," he answers, his eyes shifting from my face for a moment, focusing on the ancient TV at the front of the room. "A lot."

I don't know what to make of his apology, but it sounds —it feels— sincere. His eyes never leave mine, his face soft.

"Thank you," I manage, my heart racing. His eyes meet mine again and he nods once, both of us focusing our attention back on the TV.

For the rest of class, we're silent.

I don't know what to feel.

A/N

I'll 'see' you tomorrow.

Until then, thank you for reading!