A/N

Last one for today ...

We're only half way through this story, let's not get too comfortable, or write these kids off completely ... not yet.

I don't know how we got here; sitting on the floor, legs criss-crossed, facing each other, not touching, just … talking.

"I felt like I was always chasing you."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Are you kidding?" At my incredulous expression, he continues. "After that first time, at the beach, when did you approach me first?"

I think hard for a second. Memories flash: our first kiss, when he followed me outside; dancing seductively with Tyler, Edward scared him off; in the field, when Edward left Heidi and made his way to me; in the random kitchen, when he approached me, much to the dismay of Jessica and Tyler; the text he sent; biology when he touched me … it was always him. He was chasing. I just … learned to expect it without realising. In his own fucked-up way, he was making his feelings clear; small gestures that he fought and I ignored.

"Your actions were overshadowed by your attitude, you can hardly blame me for not noticing."

"True," he nods, looking sheepish.

I sigh, running my finger over the carpet, swirls drawn. "We did everything so wrong, didn't we?" His answering smile is sad, tight. He watches my finger, in a trance. I take a chance, taking a deep breath. "In an ideal world, what did you hope to achieve."

Puffing his cheeks, he blows a long breath. "I don't know," he whispers. "I never really thought about it in the beginning." Eyes on mine, he sits straighter. "I wanted you. But I didn't want the … feelings that came with you."

"So you …"

"In a way, maybe I wanted you to hate me, but not enough to reject me. Not until it all became too much."

"When was that?" I pry, my finger stalling.

He's silent, his brows furrowing as though he can't pinpoint the exact moment. "That night in that house … in the bedroom." He sighs. "God, Bella, I've never felt anything like that and I didn't know how to … deal with that. It didn't matter in the end because that led to the cafeteria, when I—"

"I remember." I cut him off, not wanting to rely that day.

"I felt like an absolute prick. I … but I didn't know how to apologise, so I —you just pushed and pushed and I got defensive."

"Who hurt you?" I ask, changing the subject. "You disappeared and then when you came back …"

The room is dark; if it wasn't so large, I'd probably feel claustrophobic, but it's airy, despite the proximity of Edward and our heavy conversation.

"Jacob and Paul. Laurent joined in too." At my surprised expression, he carries on. "I was being a brat, I wanted you, I wanted to run to you and beg for your forgiveness but my whole life, I've conditioned myself against everything I was feeling. I struggled. And then … Jacob said something about you, about asking you out, and I fucking snapped. I pissed them all off and they," he shrugs, "decided to kick some sense into me."

I flinch, looking away.

"I wanted it," he tells me. I look back at him, gaping, silently begging him to tell me he's joking. "I pushed and pushed, because I deserved every ounce of pain they could inflict. I needed it."

Shaking my head, I swallow hard.

"I thought maybe, they'd knock some sense into me."

"Stop," I plead, disgusted, ashamed that though he's far from innocent, I've played a part. This turmoil. He's suffered just as much as I have, if not more. We've both got blame where the other is concerned.

It's all so screwed up, and we got caught in a repetitive loop. We both caused each other pain, but we dealt with it differently -we still are. Every question answered produces a new one.

"Why didn't you talk to me?" My voice cracks, pained. I don't understand. "We could have —we should have— had this conversation a long time ago."

Face softening further, he looks even more defeated than before, almost sheepish. "I wasn't ready for it. I was fighting years and years of walls I've painstakingly built; but my resolve kept breaking and I couldn't bear to face that, to deal with it. I was fucking terrified of what it all meant. I was selfish too." He leans back against the bed and looks towards the ceiling, eyes closed tight, fists clenching. "I kept taking little bits of you, because I could, and then I'd … run away when faced with the reality. I manipulated you and I was a coward and I'm … so fucking sorry about that. None of this is your fault, it's all on me. I just ... I get so defensive and I bite. Because it's always worked."

The first light of dawn shines through the window, throwing our shadows into disarray, dancing across Edward's features as I watch him, his green eyes opening, looking towards the window.

"I'm sorry too," I whisper eventually, too scared to disturb the balance we've created within these slate walls. "I wanted you and I pushed and pushed, not caring about your limit, not seeing beyond what I wanted to see. I was selfish too, in the beginning. I always have been. I've discovered that about myself lately." When his questioning eyes meet mine, I try to elaborate. "Every ounce of attention I've received has always been on my terms; men at my disposal ... you were right about that. You made me see that."

"We're both so fucked up," he observes, smile soft, sad. "But ... I realised something yesterday."

"What's that?" I ask, pulling my knees to my chest.

"I don't want to fight you anymore, Bella ... I don't want to push you away."

—-

Thank you for reading!