A/N

Last update today.

Enjoy!

Edward's 'parents' aren't home. I'm starting to believe we really are two peas in a pod.

Taking a deep breath, I ring the doorbell, step back and … wait.

He opens the door, wearing the same clothes from last night; hair erratic, eyes wide though exhausted. Anxious. He's stressed.

"Have you slept?" I ask as I walk past him, entering the house.

He shakes his head, hand in his hair, tugging.

Before I can say anything else, he's making his way upstairs and I follow.

The walk to his attic-room is long; eerily silent and imposing. He stays a few strps ahead, out of reach.

Looking around, everything is the same as it was last time I was here. Except this time, Edward is glaringly lucid, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

"I can't …" he drops his hands, a loud slap against his thighs. "I've tried to come to terms with it … but I can't."

"What?" I ask cautiously, watching him, keeping my distance.

"You and Tyler!"

Confused, I tilt my head. "Me and Tyler?"

He nods, scoffing, looking disgusted with himself. He's shaking. I don't want to know why.

Stopping suddenly, he almost gasps at the air, his back to me.

"This fucking dance. It'll be the death of me."

I don't say anything, I don't know what to say. Instead, I watch his shoulders as they rise and fall, the soft hair at the nape of his neck —my favourite part— standing in one hundred directions, manipulated by his hands.

"How am I supposed to stand by and watch you leave with him?" His voice is low, defeated. "Sit here, knowing that he's your date, that he's the one touching you …"

Taking a step closer, I almost reach out to touch him. "Edward." His name escapes as a sigh. "Tyler and I aren't … you don't need to worry about that."

He laughs. It's humourless. "I worry about everything. When it involves you … I …"

My feet move, my hand reaching out to touch. Light fingertips against his shoulder blades. Instantly, he relaxes, his shoulders slumping.

Closer still and I'm directly behind him, my forehead resting between his shoulders, the heat from his body radiating, soothing.

"I want to ask you not to go," he groans, his head dropping as I wrap my arms around him, pulling his back closer to my chest. "But … I can't. You should go."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, his fingertips ghosting the back of my hands.

Shaking his head, he takes a deep, steadying breath. "No, I'm sorry. If I hadn't been such a dick, I could be the one taking you. It's the first punishment I've ever endured that's been … effective."

"I wish you could come."

"Me too. This fucking … hurts."

My palms against his toned torso, small movements meant to soothe him. I think it's working. "Is this what you fought so hard to avoid?" I ask, my voice muffled against his back, small inhales of his scent.

He nods, I don't need to look up, I feel it. "I can't cope."

"Of course you can." I squeeze him tighter. "You're stronger than you think."

He chuckles. "Not when it comes to you."

"How would you usually deal with these feelings?" I ask.

"Cocaine." He snorts, his voice tight, I hear him swallow.

"What can I do?" Voice pained, desperate, I don't let him go.

He sighs. "This. This is perfect." Shaky hands ghosting my fingers, steady breaths under my palms. I kiss the spot between his shoulder blades and give him what he needs.

Torn in two, I contemplate staying home with Edward while everyone attends the dance; but then I think of my dress and how much I want to attend the dance. I can't give up everything for him ... can I?

—-

A/N

I think it's safe to say, the tables have turned. Edward is redeeming himself, and Bella is the cause of most of your frustration.

We've just got to get them on the same page ...