Writing on the Wall

Chapter 2: The Party

Bella

"And we're back at the dormitories, which concludes the Bruce Winston Travel Company Tour! We hope you choose to travel with us again soon."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. In fact, I've been laughing the entire walk with Bruce, mostly due to the boy-in-question's exaggerated gestures and "fun facts" about some buildings that couldn't possibly be true.

"Well, I hope you don't charge me," I responded. "I got nothing on me."

Bruce scrunched his nose in fake disapproval. "Cheap! Free labor's illegal, you know. I'll have to make you pay up somehow."

I shoved a hand into my skirt pocket and pulled out a candy I'd been saving for the day. I reached out to offer it to him. "Fair trade?"

He narrowed his eyes and scratched his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. After a few moments, he grabbed the piece of candy swiftly from my hand, proceeding to open it rather quickly. "It'll do."

We continued to joke like that all the way back to the entrance of my dormitory building, which he'd kindly accompanied me to despite my insistence that I could find it on my own. I'd only met Bruce that day but I already greatly appreciated his company. It was nice to make a new friend, and I mentally thanked the commitment I'd made to try.

"Thanks for the tour," I said, stopping at the front doors.

"No worries," he said. He hesitated for a moment, before continuing: "On second thought, what if I told you to pay up more?"

I tilted my head. "Alright, swindler, how much are we talking about?"

Bruce suddenly looked sheepish as he scratched the back of his head, which I found a bit uncharacteristic from his confident demeanor during the past couple of hours. "My friend's having a party at the village nearby this weekend. Friday––well, tomorrow night, actually. I was hoping you'd come. As payment, of course."

I widened my eyes. A college party. Something high school Bella I never imagined I'd be invited to, but also something in line with my commitment in trying. There was going to be people, most likely lots of them. It seemed so easy to succumb to the comfort of declining, as I usually did…

Then I remembered another commitment I'd made just a couple of days ago.

Come by for coffee, the angelic Carlisle had said when I'd said I wanted to catch up. I'd agreed rather quickly, lost in his distinct clean, fresh scent.

Bruce probably noticed my hesitance in responding. "All good, though. It's a bit last minute––"

"No," I cut him off, standing straighter. "I'll go."

His face immediately brightened up. but he faked a cough to hide it. I almost rolled my eyes, though I'd be lying if I didn't find it a bit charming. "That's…real great to hear. I'll see you there."

I took my time walking up the stairs to my room, deep in thought. Every step I took, I became surer and surer I'd made the correct decision.

Seeing Carlisle that day made me feel like I'd woken up from a dream. I knew he'd always been real, of course, but his drastic disappearance along with the rest of his family had made me subconsciously question my judgment––on their beauty for example. Were they really as mesmerizing as I remembered? Were they actually as graceful? As achingly perfect?

The sight of Carlisle in my lecture hall made me sure the answer was a resounding yes.

He looked the same as he always did, proof of his immortality, though I realized my flimsy memory didn't do his beauty justice.

However, while he and the others may not have changed…I realized I had to grow up. Don't get me wrong, I was so tempted to fall right back in love with the Cullens, to feel their presence so closely as I had before. It felt right. Easy.

But I'd made a commitment to take the harder path.

I'd realized in that split-second party was just what I needed––a human experience, a right of passage. To be with someone like Bruce, or Penelope. To be normal, to be me all on my own.

"How were your classes today?"

Penelope was sprawled on her cot at the other side of our room, already cozied up in her pajamas. She had The Breakfast Club playing on her laptop in front of her.

"Good," I replied as I dropped my bag rather ungracefully on my desk chair. "Hey, great movie choice."

She simply smiled in response before turning back to her film. I chose not to disturb her, pulling out my laptop from my sling bag and booting it up on my desk. I reached back into the bag and pull out the syllabus Carlisle had distributed in class. It wasn't difficult to find his email and phone number.

I decided to take the more professional mode of communication. He was still my professor, after all.

Carlisle, I wrote in the email.

I don't think I'll be able to make it for coffee this weekend. It was great seeing you, though. Hope to learn a lot from you this semester.

I pressed send before I let myself overthink it. It was a good decision…right? I wandered aimlessly in the usual websites I lurked, distracting myself with irrelevant news and articles.

His response came only ten minutes later.

Bella,

No worries, and the pleasure was all mine. You may want to check the first story we're discussing––I believe you'll quite enjoy it.

Immediately curious, I picked up the syllabus again.

"Carmilla: A Dark Fugue," I read out loud. I couldn't help but smile to myself, remembering that a few days ago, I had thought there was only me left who was in on the joke.

My smile turned into barking laughter, much to the surprise of poor Penelope.

"Who did you say invited us again?"

Penelope and I were standing at the gate of a massive…house? There was a black banner hanging from the balcony window that had glowing, golden greek letters sprayed on it quite clumsily. It was clear from the massive crowd inside that the party had already begun. A few were already outside leaning against the fence, vomiting.

"Er…Bruce," I said. "Winston, I think. I just followed the directions he gave me."

Penelope grimaced, pulling the back of her dress down. "You never mentioned he was a fratman."

"I never knew, and you never asked," I replied, squinting to scan the people inside the house. Thankfully, the outfit I'd chosen––a casual black off-shoulder paired with denim shorts––seemed to fit the dress code. "We can go back––"

"Don't be silly," she cut me off, looking at me incredulously. "It's not a bad thing. From your description, I was just expecting something a bit more chill, you know?"

"You're not alone," I mumbled.

"Bella!"

It was Bruce, who'd apparently seen me standing practically frozen outside the venue. He was wearing his varsity jacket again. I felt a rush of relief seeing a familiar face, and he looked genuinely happy to see us as he jogged to greet us at the gate.

"You girls look great," he quipped. He turned to my companion. "You must be Penelope."

"In the flesh," she replied with a friendly smile.

"Great to meet you," he said, before turning back to me. "Let's get you both some drinks."

As we headed in and mingled, I began to notice from watching Bruce's interactions that his confidence and charm wasn't unnoticed by anyone at all. In fact, I eventually realized that he was the popular boy. He just exuded friendliness and congeniality. If someone told me that every person in the venue was somehow his friend, I would believe them.

He introduced me to countless of people, whose names I immediately forgot the second they uttered them. I felt my social anxiety building inside me, but chose to dissipate it with a few gulps of alcohol.

Penelope, on the other hand, was also a natural. Though I don't think anyone could beat Bruce's friendliness, she was a great conversationalist, even with strangers. I thanked God I went to the party with her.

Eventually, I eased up. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the good music, or the general energy of the party, but I found myself talking and laughing, and later even dancing. Bruce mingled and left the group often, but Penelope stayed loyally by my side for the most part of the night.

My laughter suddenly stopped when I felt something press up against my bottom.

I instinctively turned around, though too quickly and clumsily that I spilled my own drink on myself. I found myself face-to-face with an unfamiliar boy, who had a drunken sloppy smile on his face.

I immediately felt nauseous.

Not wanting to cause a scene, I shoved him off and wordlessly back out of the main room and into the empty kitchen. My mind was so blank that I didn't remember to find Penelope or Bruce; all I wanted was a bit of room to breathe.

It wasn't the first time I'd experience something like…Well, it never got easier.

Someone was calling me from the main room, but I couldn't register it at the time. I turned on the faucet and washed my face with trembling hands. My mind was still blank and I found my eyes drifting to the kitchen window, staring at nothing…

Until it was something.

There was a car parked at another house at the far end of the street. It was a bit far away, but there was something familiar about it. Even with only a dim streetlamp lighting the street, I could recognize it.

A black Mercedes S55 AMG.

It can't be, I found myself thinking––the first real thought I had in a full ten minutes. I felt my mind clearing. It was impossible, a longshot.

But I found myself walking out of the house's back door anyway, the frigid night air waking me up even further.

I walked down the street, ignoring the cold and instead focused on the car in question. I was soon proven right––it was the right model. It was parked in a house that, while definitely smaller than the frat house nearby, was also clearly more luxurious: a two-story colonial, with full length windows and a well-manicured front lawn.

The lights were on inside.

Longshot, longshot, longshot.

I walked down the entry path anyway, wrapping my arms around myself as I was finally affected by the cold. I didn't even reach half the way when I heard the door unlock.

I froze.

Please, I heard myself thinking.

And the universe granted me my silent request. The large white door eventually opened fully, revealing the blonde angel I'd been blessed to reunite with, who I'd already dreamt about.

"Bella?"

I ran then. I ran the rest of the way, tripping slightly on the front steps, but nonetheless I reached him. Without even an ounce of shame, I hugged Carlisle as tight as I would a lifesaver.

He technically was.

Carlisle

I was immersed in my reading half past midnight. If I were to be honest––which I found myself feeling very reluctant to do recently––I was forcing any form of distraction.

There was a nagging question at the back of my mind that was truly unproductive to answer, but peeved me anyway.

Why did Bella cancel?

It was unproductive to answer due to the fact that this was the outcome I'd hoped. I wanted Bella to move on, be her own person, make her own choices. And she turned out to be mature enough to let go of us––me––and keep her distance.

She chose to email, for God's sake.

It was a positive ending, wasn't it? I was still in her life, even given the privilege of sharing my knowledge with her through my classes. I also felt…forgiven.

So why did her cancelling upset me so?

I found my thoughts drifting to her despite my efforts in rereading Faulkner for what was probably the thousandth time. I kept thinking of her that I found myself recalling her scent, almost as if she was nearby––

Then I heard her.

Her footsteps were fast and sure outside. I found myself wondering if I'd left her an address somewhere. I peeked outside my window and watched as she momentarily paused in front of the Mercedes, as if in…recognition? Slowly, she turned to the front door.

I felt her hesitate for one second before stepping forward.

I walked––or ran––to the front door without any more thought and opened it before she reached it. When I called out to her, I was greeted with a grateful embrace, again.

And I felt myself drown in her scent, again. Though it was mixed with…

"Have you been drinking?" I asked when she finally let me go.

She looked up at me and I found a familiar sight––not in the right way. She looked genuinely troubled. Her thin eyebrows were pressed together and caused a crease on her forehead. It was the same sight I'd seen several years ago, on her birthday, as she was seated across from me with a large gash on her arm––

"I'm sorry," she blurted out.

I shook my head, smiling. "Drinking is not a sin, Bella. Please, come in."

I led her inside and closed the door behind me gently. I watched as her eyes drifted around the large main room. The house was a simple colonial on the surface, but I'd chosen more contemporary furniture inside, similar to our home back in Forks. For some reason, I was sure she noticed that too.

That was when I noticed her teeth slightly chattering.

"Give me a moment," I said.

I ran up the stairs as quickly as I could, fishing out a coat and a blanket from my drawers. In two seconds, I was back in front of her, and I wordlessly wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

Her eyes were on mine the whole time.

I led her gently by the small of her back to the living room, where she sighed quite unceremoniously and sat. "I'm regretting saying no to coffee now," she said.

"The offer still stands," I replied, already moving to the kitchen. "May I ask how you found me?"

"Your car," she said in a bit of a slur. That worried me; I never really had a chance to interact with an intoxicated Bella before. Based from the scent of her blood, however, I concluded she hadn't taken more than she could take. "I saw it from across the street. At the party."

I smiled at that, turning on the stainless kettle. "Ah, the fraternity house?"

I flickered my gaze towards her for a moment and she looked embarrassed, her cheeks flushed. "Yeah."

"I should've known better than to invite you for coffee on a Friday night," I said, returning to the living room and sitting in the lounge across from her.

"Carlisle—"

"No offense taken, I assure you," I cut her off, giving her a smile. She smiled back.

"Like I said, I regret it." She sighed again, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. "I tried too hard. I…I don't know. I thought it would be a good…human experience."

I frowned. She seemed to be hedging, possibly not giving me the whole story. I decided not to push it. However, her words sounded familiar, from what seemed to be a lifetime ago. I recalled Edward always adamant about her going through authentic human experiences and rites of passage. To live a full life.

"I'm not the same person, Carlisle," she continued. "I was stuck for a long time. You leaving was the most difficult thing I've ever…but I was able to pull through it. It made me different, and I'd like to think stronger."

"You've always been strong, Bella," I said truthfully.

"I can't go through that again," she finally said.

Did she mean…?

A tear escaped the corner of her eye but she made no motion to wipe it. "I can't go through that again if I'm nothing on my own," she continued. "That's why I'm decided to try, to go to college, to work, to make friends…So that if anything like that happens to me again, I can stand on my own."

I smiled sadly at her, understanding. I stood up and walked a step towards her, reaching down to wipe the single tear on her cheek. "And I'm proud of you," I said.

She returned the smile, looking up at me. "Carlisle…"

The kettle decided to whistle then, interrupting her. I smiled apologetically at her before gesturing to be excused.

As I quietly prepared her coffee, I heard a phone ring––hers––from her pocket. Despite being several meters away from her, I could hear the conversation easily.

"Bella!" It was a young girl's voice, unfamiliar to me. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm fine, Pen," Bella whispered on the phone. "Just…I dropped by a friend's place."

I felt the corners of my lips quirk at that description.

"A friend? I thought you had no friends here––Is this a dude? Fuck, if it's one of those sleazies hitting on you––"

"No!" She didn't bother whispering this time, in what sounded to be genuine repulsion to the thought. "God, I––Pen, I'm fine, alright? I promise. I'll just meet you back at the dorms, okay?"

"You promise? Bruce looks pretty worried about you, what am I supposed to say?"

"Exactly what I just said. I'm alright…More than alright, actually." I heard her cough. "I have to go."

I waited a few more moments in the kitchen, making sure the conversation was over, before bringing a tray with sugar, milk, and the cup of coffee. I didn't know the way she liked it yet, after all.

Her cheeks were flushed when I got to her, and she looked genuinely grateful for the coffee. "You're way too kind, Carlisle."

Before setting back down in the lounge opposite her, I decided to put on a vinyl in the turntable at the corner of the room. Thankfully, she seemed to appreciate Vivaldi. We sat in a comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the symphony.

Conversation came easily after that. She was mostly curious as to where we'd been, to which I responded truthfully: Canada had been our choice of residence until very recently. I mentioned Rosalie and Emmett had parted from us but remained in Canada as well, the latter particularly enjoying the wildlife assortment there. The bears are bigger, he'd said. After a bit of reluctance, I casually mentioned Edward to be exploring the wilderness in South America in quiet retreat.

If she felt any emotion or pain in that fact, she was skilled enough not to let it show.

"And Esme?"

"Northern Europe, based on the last we've heard from her," I said, keeping my tone light. Despite my efforts, I could see the concern in Bella's eyes.

"Carlisle, you don't have to tell me, but…" she trailed off, fairly sure I already understood what she meant.

"No worries," I assured her. "In a way, she gave me more hope in her decision to leave."

"Hope in what?"

"That there's a possibility the life of a vampire is still…a life," I explained. "That we aren't cursed to be stuck in time as I thought we were. That we're capable of change and starting anew."

Bella looked at me then, her expression unreadable. "You think you're capable of that, too?"

"Perhaps," I mused. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure of it. Deep in my heart––if my unbeating one still counted, at least––I knew I was never completely comfortable with change. My principles, such as my choice to avoid human blood, had always been difficult to bend, as well as my belief in my eventual damnation and demise in the back of my mind.

It was difficult to consider anything else. Hope was dangerous.

"I think you can," she said. "You might just be scared."

I looked at her curiously. That wasn't a word used to describe me often.

"I know I'm not as wise as an old man like you"––I couldn't help but roll my eyes at that––"but I really think people, you included, are only scared of change because they're not used to being unsure. And they're unsure the change will make them happy."

She sat up straighter, her expression turning a bit more serious, if not fierce. "Just know it'll always be worth a shot."

I found myself staring at her silently for a few moments after that, in quiet awe that a human is capable and confident enough to share some form of wisdom. Isabella Swan is different, I found myself thinking.

Not just different, I corrected myself. She's grown up.

I'd insisted on driving her home despite her resistance––I can walk I swear I can, she'd said––and eventually found the set-up of cruising leisurely with her in the passenger seat quite…comforting.

"What is it about this car?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she began, her fingers absentmindedly trailing the dashboard, "you've travelled so much and now moved to the complete opposite side of the continental US. And still, you chose to keep the car. Why is that?"

It was a valid point. "Though I never really thought about it that thoroughly, I'd like to think of one's chosen vehicle to be a reflection of themselves. I feel most comfortable in this model."

Bella hummed in acknowledgment, looking at me curiously. "Yeah, I kind of see it."

"Do you?" I teased.

"It's sleek, classy, mature," she stated, counting the adjectives with her fingers. It was endearing to watch. "Reliable, too, but with an air of mystery."

"Ah, I believe I'm hearing the writer in you now," I said, highly amused.

She laughed at that, but her expression turned thoughtful after a while. "That's another thing I'm grateful for, you know. A silver lining to you leaving."

I gripped the wheel a bit tighter at the direction of the conversation, but waited patiently for her to continue.

"You see, I had so many…feelings," she said. "The expected ones first, of course. I remember being in so much denial, even thinking that it was all just a bad dream that I need to wake up from. Then eventually, anger. I hated him for choosing to leave me, despite all the promises he made, and even wished at one point that I never met you guys."

A dull ache reverberated in my chest.

"But really, it was the feelings after that that got me fucked up for a while," she said solemnly. "The self-doubt, emptiness, withdrawal, regret––all of it, at the same time, all at once. I couldn't make sense of it that I ended up being a pain in the ass to all my friends. Especially Charlie.

"Then I decided to write. I thought it was a dumb idea at first; the last time I wrote anything on my own besides homework was back in middle school. But I began writing everything I felt and to try to make sense of all them.

"That's where it began, you know? I realized I loved to do it. From there, I tried writing all kinds of things. Poems first, though I wasn't very good at it, then stories. It was an escape at first, until I realized it's something I genuinely want to do for the rest of my life. I don't think I would have found it without…you know." She shyly turned to me then. "Sorry, I rambled a bit there."

"Please don't be sorry," I pleaded. In fact, I wished she wouldn't stop talking, ever. I found myself drawn to the way she spoke, probably due to her refreshing candor. She wasn't afraid to be vulnerable around me, and I considered that a privilege. Of course, the thought of verbalizing that…

She smiled gratefully at me.

"I'd love to read your work," I decided to comment, flashing her a grin in return.

"Oh, no," she said, grimacing dramatically. "Now that's something I'm dreading, Professor Cullen."

The way my title rolled off her tongue was pleasing to hear. "It's inevitable, Ms. Swan. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to it."

I slowed the car to a full stop almost regretfully, as we had arrived at the dormitories.

"Thank you, Carlisle," she said, tying the waist of coat I had lent to her. "I mean it. My night was turning unbelievably awry until…well, I've never been this grateful for a freak coincidence."

"Likewise," I assured her. "I greatly enjoyed your company tonight. Rest well, Bella."

I tapped her gently on the chin again, a gesture I was sure was slowly turning into a habit. I watched as she left the passenger seat and trudged towards the dormitory doors.

I left as soon as the doors closed behind her, and unfortunately missed the way she looked back from the lobby window to watch me drive away.

I was so lost in my thoughts from the conversation I'd had with Bella Swan that I failed to notice a familiar figure in the middle of the road I was driving until the very last minute. If my reflexes were anything less than a vampire's, I was sure I would have hit my daughter, though I was sure the Mercedes would take more damage than she did.

Within a second, she'd already got into the passenger seat next to me.

"Alice," I greeted.

"Good morning," she responded cheerfully. She took a momentary sniff, and her lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "She still smells wonderful, I see."

Of course, she'd already seen everything. "Naturally. May I ask why you've come?"

"I want to hunt."

"Jasper?"

"Busy."

I raised an eyebrow at her, before proceeding to set the car on neutral. It was unlike Alice to lie about anything, especially to me. I knew all of my family's tells.

She knew I'd caught her then, because her expression turned apologetic. "Alright. I need to speak with you."

"Is this about Bella?"

"Hunt first," Alice insisted, reclining her seat and setting her feet on the dashboard. "Please."