I do not own Twilight.
The next four days were slow, but the drive to Emmett's apartment is fast and I don't know whether or not that's a good thing.
I want to see Edward, I'm desperate to see Edward, but I'm nervous at the same time. I'm nervous he'll be different…and I'm nervous he'll be the same.
I'm nervous we won't know what to say, or that we'll have too much to say, but when I stand in front of the door with the silver three insignia, my nerves are at an all-time high and I'm wondering if I should knock or call out or just fucking leave when the door swings open and I see his crystal clear emerald eyes staring down at me. I only have time to pull in a breath, to inhale his essence, when his arms come around me, pulling me into him, into the small apartment.
I'm wrapped in him completely, utterly and I don't know what to say or what to do so I just hold onto him like my life depends on it.
Neither of us say anything, but we communicate plenty with the feeling of our chests pressed together, our hearts synching to beat as one.
I pull away first, but only because I'm suddenly desperate to look at him, to really look at him and what I see is startling.
He's the same boy I fell in love with in high school; the same boy I left in college. He's the same boy that I visited for the first time in jail; the same boy I panicked over on my ride to this apartment.
He's just the same.
I wonder if I'm the same to him and I can see by the look in his eyes, the calming, euphoric look to his gaze that I am and I know in an instant that we'll be okay, that we can make this work.
He moves his arm past me to close the door, I hadn't even realized it was still open, and pulls me further into the room. Something about the look on my face makes the corner of his mouth twitch upwards and I'm smiling back at him.
"What?" I whisper and he shakes his head.
He pulls my hand towards him, pressing my palm to the center of his chest. It's hard, warm, full of life. I want to say those words that I've said to him a million times while we were dating but I'm afraid it'll ruin whatever is happening now, but I think he knows, because I know.
"I fucking missed you," he breathes and the tearing of my eyes is his answer.
I glance around the room before looking back up at him. His eyes are intense like if he looks away from me, I'll disappear. I hope to erase that unease with time.
"Where's Emmett?" I ask even though I don't really care at the moment.
"Went home to grab some of my stuff."
"Are you okay?"
He looks at me like I should know the answer and says, "Yes," but I think he's lying because he doesn't look okay. The relief, the elation quickly delves to something else the longer I look at him.
"You look scared," I admit. My voice shakes and I reach out, resting my hand on his upper arm. I touch bare skin, his shirt only coming down halfway. He's muscular, harder than before. He's so much different…and so much the same.
He grants me a half smile and I stare at him, trying to read him.
"You scare me," he says and then looks down at our feet, smiles again, but this time it's pained. "Actually, you terrify me."
"Because you think I'll leave again," I say sadly but he shakes his head, his eyes widening.
"No, I trust you. I know we can't be apart, Bella and I know now that you feel the same." He runs his free hand through his hair, the other moving to rest against my hip. The touch sends sparks through me and I ignore them as desperately as I can. We have too much to work through, but with my hand on his arm, it looks like neither of us are capable of being physically separated right now. "It may have taken me the last couple of weeks in jail to realize and to listen, actually listen, to what you were trying to say, but I know you won't leave."
I let out a sigh, tightening my fingers around his arm at the same time because I want him to listen, to know that what he says is true. "Good," I whisper, "because I won't. But why…" I shake my head, trying to focus on how he's feeling, what he's saying. He moves backwards from me, pulling me towards the double-cushioned couch that sits against the wall. He pulls me down with him and ducks his head just enough to make sure we are on eyelevel.
"After you left me—no, listen." I had started to look away from him, the pain in his eyes too much to watch, but I glance back warily. I don't know if I can listen and watch at the same time, but he brushes his fingers against my leg, begging me to give him my full attention.
"I'd never felt so hopeless, so useless in my life," he continues quietly. "It was like everything my dad had ever done to me…said to me…my mom leaving…I would have taken the pain of all of that a hundred times over how it felt when you left."
"I-I'm sorry." My words are strangled against the sob that threatens me, but his hand moves to my face, cupping my cheek gently.
"No, no," he rushes. "Don't apologize. I'm just trying to…explain to you…" He bites his lip and I stay quiet because I know how hard it is for him to articulate the way he feels and I don't want to interrupt his thought process. I watch as he draws his bottom lip across his top teeth, like he's searching for the centered pain to continue. "The therapist in the jail told me that my biggest problem is I act before talking things through. So, I'm not looking for an apology or regret because—fuck, Bella," he grabs my hand, squeezing hard. "That's the last way you should feel. No, you scare me because you're the only one that can make me feel that way, the only one that can bring me to my knees…that can make it feel like the entire fucking world is ending." He shakes his head, drops his head into his hands, leaning forward against his knees but I stay still and quiet, just…listening like he wants me to.
"Every day was a new hell for me, especially those summers. Those fucking summers. The ones where you'd be home, five miles away and I couldn't do anything about it." He glances up at me from behind his hands and his eyes are dark, reliving this horrible time he's explaining.
My heart lurches in my chest and I want to comfort him, but I don't want to break him from this account because it's the most I've ever heard him speak in our time together.
"I used to go places I thought you'd be. The library, the movies, the beach—anywhere you could possibly go just for a glimpse of you, just to see if you were happy, or if you were trapped in your own personal hell, too." He pauses and sits back, resting his head against the edge of the couch like just saying this has taken all of his energy, and it probably has.
But I can see he's falling back into himself, into his own mind.