I do not own Twilight.
Umm, maybe some progress here? Hopefully you all like ;)
He doesn't look as surprised to see me this time when he sits across from me, though this is another seemingly random visit. I've signed in and been given the basics once more, this time seated at table three.
His eyes glance over my face and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something, or ask something, but I'm already speaking before he gets the chance.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He sighs and his gaze flickers away from mine. "Because I wasn't going to apply."
There's an immediate response on the tip of my tongue, one of misunderstanding, of outrage but his direct answer draws me back in. "I—how did you know what I was talking about?"
I can see the answer written on his darkened face.
"My dad?" I breathe out a humorless laugh and sit back. "What, are you two best friends all of a sudden?" I regret the taunt as soon as it slips from my mouth. Charlie had always thought of Edward as a son. I think he knew he needed a father figure in his life, and so took the opposite route of my mother when we started dating. Instead of fighting against him, he tried to guide him.
"Sorry," I breath, but he's already leaning forward and shaking his head.
"It doesn't even matter," he says. "They're enforcing an early release."
I blink a few times, defining early release in as many ways possible. "What do you mean?" I stammer.
"The prisons are overcrowded. They're granting early release to low level criminals."
He's doing amazingly well at hiding any emotions that this information would produce. My pulse is already quickening, my words barely more than a whisper. "When?"
"Next week."
I stare at him, trying to fathom how he must be feeling because he's not expressing anything, but I know how I'm feeling and I'm sure it's close to how he's feeling—excited, relieved, scared.
His eyebrow twitches down. It's barely noticeable, but I know what it means.
"You don't want to be released." It's not a question.
He pulls in a breath through his nose and looks to the left of him, studying the table beside us. No one is sitting there; more tables are empty today than the last time I came here. I wonder if there are certain days that are busier than others.
He runs a hand through his hair, sighs, looks back at me. His emerald gaze is haunted. "You don't understand, Bella. Time stops in here. When you visit…when my brother visits…I know you have lives outside of here, but when you're here, in that chair, it's like we're in the same world."
"We are in the same world," I say quietly, sadly.
"No, we're not." He lets out a laugh that is more pained than amused and then motions towards me, his gaze glimmering. I don't know if he's holding back tears or irritation. "You're graduating, you're dating"—I open by mouth to argue the second point, but he continues—"You have friends. You have goals. I have a cell. A cell and these clothes. I have nothing when I get out of here, Bella. I won't even have you."
On the cusp of tears, I choke out, "I said I was…"
"That you were trying, yes, I know. But I don't know what that means anymore."
My answer is quick, but thought-out. After all these visitations…counseling sessions…talking to Emmett, my parents, Rosalie, Alice…the answer is obvious. "I want to be with you."
And I do wantto be with him, despite everything we put each other through.
Edward doesn't say anything for a moment and his perfectly sculpted façade is put back into place. "Why would you want that? I've ruined your life."
I sigh, letting my shoulders drop with the movement and there's a look of hesitation on his beautiful face, almost like he regrets bringing it up, but I'm not about to agree—or disagree—with him. "And I've ruined yours. Edward," I shake my head, exasperated, "it's something we have to work through outside of this place, but I want to be with you."
I'm happy with how determined my voice sounds at the end. It matches how determined I feel.
"I'm not holding you to anything," is his soft response and I don't know if he means he thinks I'll go back on my word, or he'll let me go if he needs to. I don't think I like either option. I don't like how much we distrust each other.
I set my chin, stubborn. "Fine," I state. "Then I guess I'll just have to prove myself when you're out."
The corner of his mouth twitches upwards, almost as though he could break into a smile at any moment, but he fights it. He lets out a breath, his muscles relaxing with the exhale. It's like he's released his tension, his pent-up anxiety, though a little still hovers in his eyes. He bites down on his lip and releases to speak. "You still love me?"
My sigh comes out as more of a laugh this time. "Edward, I never stopped loving you."
The anxiety is gone, replaced with something I haven't seen in months—hope.
"I've missed you," he breathes and the words are held with so much conviction, so much pain.
"I know." I swallow back the lump in my throat. "I've missed you, too."
He smiles, and the sight is nearly overwhelming. It makes tears well in my eyes and for the first time I feel like we will be okay. In a week, he'll walk out of this prison and back into my life as he's always meant to be.