A product of quarantine and the Twilight Renaissance.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plot points, and backgrounds do not belong to me.
Edward checked his phone, noting the time in the little book Carlisle used to take notes on Bella's health.
What she ate, how often, detailed descriptions of her injury as it healed, her self-reported levels of pain, and, of course, how much she slept. Or, until now, how little she slept.
Bella was fast asleep on his couch, her breathing slow and deep, her heart beating out a steady rhythm that seemed to fill the room. Edward had turned off the music that she'd fallen asleep to, not wanting anything to disturb her when she was sleeping so soundly. Six hours had gone by, the most she'd slept at one time since she first arrived.
He was sitting on the floor a few feet away. He was attempting to read, but he'd been on the same page for the last 30 minutes. Instead, his mind replayed the day over and over again.
He still couldn't believe how stupid she'd been, pushing herself that far. Edward had a first-person account of the state of Bella's injury, and while he had tried to make himself scarce around the house in the past week, at least part of Carlisle's mind was always on her. Edward knew that while she was healing exceptionally fast externally, her body was having more trouble dealing with the infection inside. He may not have insight into her mind but he could imagine how excruciating it must be to apply pressure to that leg.
And yet she'd done it. Over and over again. Until her body couldn't do it anymore.
The reason Edward gave himself for not intervening when the first unmistakable sounds of Bella limping around the house hit his ears was that she needed to learn her lesson. If she didn't want to listen to Carlisle and worsen her injury, what did he care?
He knew that wasn't the truth.
Edward wasn't used to being surprised. Hearing thoughts, living with a psychic, and having the ability to hear said psychic's thoughts eliminated any uncertainty from one's life. The entrance of Bella also caused Edward to realize just how much he'd let his skill of observation slip. He didn't need to pay close attention to the physical reactions of anyone when he could just know what they were thinking. But now Edward felt blind.
It wasn't just that he couldn't hear this unusual girl's thoughts, or that she wasn't like any being any of them had encountered before. It was that her reactions were so uniquely her own. Even as out of practice as he was with reading physical cues, Bella was completely unpredictable.
He was learning a few things, though. She was proving to be extremely stubborn. Despite being in such a precarious situation, she managed to find humor. The way she looked when she teased him about his unwillingness to disclose what had put Alice and Jasper's shower out of order lingered in his mind.
Now, she let out a long sigh.
Edward glanced up from the book. She didn't appear to be waking, her face still relaxed in slumber.
This was the most relaxed he'd seen her. She was on her back, likely the only way she could sleep without disturbing her leg, but her face was turned toward him. Her lips were parted slightly as if she were about to say something. One arm was draped across her middle, the other wrapped to hold on to her opposite shoulder. Like she was hugging herself.
So maybe she wasn't completely relaxed.
Or is she cold?
The temperature of the house was never a concern to a bunch of vampires. They kept it as it needed to be for the appliances, mostly. Frozen pipes were a major issue for everyone. But even so, the Cullen's aren't sensitive to a chillier home.
Edward didn't know if Bella would be.
He knew a human would be cold in their home, especially today. Barring a significant weather event, Forks was never what one would call warm. This August day was on the colder side of the typical weather patterns.
Edward didn't have a blanket in his room. He could turn up the temperature a bit, but then what if she were to get too hot? It wasn't like she was shivering.
After more deliberation, Edward left. Only for a moment, of course. Esme kept a large collection of blankets in the living room closet. Partly to seem normal on the extremely off chance one of Carlisle's colleagues were to visit, and partly because they were so soft.
Even a vampire could appreciate a good blanket.
Edward grabbed two – a thick purple quilt and a blue fleece throw. When he got back to his bedroom Bella had shifted slightly, her head now turned toward the back of the couch.
He approached her silently, weighing the blankets in his hands. He decided on the throw, the thinner of the two. He figured if she got any colder he could always add the quilt on top.
Edward carefully draped the blanket over Bella. She didn't move as he pulled it up to her shoulders, making sure the fabric didn't pull too tight or constrict any of her movement. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up feeling trapped.
Once the blanket was situated and Bella appeared to still be in deep sleep, Edward made his way back to his original spot. He watched her for a few moments, listening to her breathing and her steady heartbeat.
Picking up his book, Edward went back to staring at the same page he'd been on for hours.
Short and sweet for a Sunday.