Author's Note:
This is my first ever fanfiction, though I have been reading for years. I have rated the story mature for possible lemons.
I do not own Twilight or Edward Cullen, Stephenie Meyer does. I also do not own Written in the Stars or Ethan Collins, those were creations by bannerday.
I walked through the door of my apartment and threw my purse and keys haphazardly down onto the pile of jackets and shoes in front of door. I had once made this into a well-organized stop and drop. The organization had not lasted long and I couldn't find it in myself to reorganize it. I didn't care.
My husband, Edward, looked up at me from over his desk.
" The sculpture is garbage! I am such a talentless loser."
I internally rolled my eyes. One of these days, huh? I didn't know why I would be surprised. They were all these days. In reality, Edward was a wildly talented artist, having picked up sculpting seven years ago from videos online. He had quickly surpassed most of the online instructors and began teaching himself. He created beautiful sculptures of fey creatures and seemingly refined figures with feral looks on their faces.
I had convinced him to enter two sculpting competitions over the years. He won first place in both. When he started posting his work online, the directors from several art schools started following him out of nowhere. But he couldn't see how talented he was. He had been in a depression death spiral for over four years now.
I looked more closely at him. He had not showered today, evident by the ever present gray t-shirt. It said "There's a fine line between tenacity of stupidity". Under the text was a large image of a rock climber. He had gotten it as a Christmas gift from Carlisle's asshole father. I hated that fucking t-shirt. We used to be rock climbers! That fucking t-shirt basically said that we were idiots! He had been wearing it for four days now. I was several sizes too big and had a big hole near his armpit.
His pants were also at least two sizes too big. He was a tall man, over six-feet, but these things still needed to be cuffed at the bottom so they didn't drag.
Where did he even find these pants?
Edward had never been very interested in how he looked, but he used to have style. He wore interesting combinations of vintage button up shirts from the 1960s over the top of nerdy t-shirts. Often he wore clothes that harkened images of the early years of skateboarding. Likely they really were from those days since his dad, Carlisle, was a big part of that scene. Now he looked like he had found his clothes in a dumpster.
His hair was a mess of bronze. A few years ago I had dreams about that hair, sex hair. Now it was too long falling across his unshaven face and I knew that if I ran my hands through it, I wouldn't feel the silken locks I used to. His hair would feel greasy, and would probably smell.
He pushed it out of his face for probably the hundredth time that hour.
"Ugh!" he said while rifling through his desk.
No, don't do it
Please don't, anything but that
He pulled a pink sparkly headband out of his desk drawer. It had once belonged to Elizabeth, our four year old daughter, but he had commandeered it. He put the headband onto his head, pushing back his unruly hair with it. I cringed.
NOT THE FUCKING HEADBAND!
That headband was the anti-sex. I had a sparkly fucking pink flower glued to it!
"It doesn't look like garbage to me, it looks really good" I replied half-heartedly. I believed what I was saying, but honestly, I was tired of having to say it. We had this conversation about ten times a day. I knew that I couldn't convince him that he was good and that the decision to pursue art professionally was a good one. I knew it was. I could see the difference in his mental state after he sculpted. He was lighter, he smiled that beautiful crooked smile that lit up the room for just a few minutes while he worked. It was the only time I ever saw him. The real him, not this shell that grief had left behind. I had hoped that sculpting professionally would bring him back to me but it had been a year since he started taking art classes and sincerely pursuing his dream. I still didn't get him for more than those few sacred moments a day. So I repeated my same upbeat monologue that both of us were tired of hearing about how I believed in him. To be honest, I was having a hard time convincing myself to care.
All I did, all day everyday was care. As a college professor, I had to care about the lives, successes and failures of 96 students every semester. As a mother of our beautiful daughter, I had to care about every drawing or creation of two pieces of toilet paper glued together and colored with marker. To be honest, since my mom Renee walked out on me, my dad Charlie and my bother Emmett when I was twelve, all I have done is care for others. I was exhausted. I didn't care anymore.
I went and peaked in on Elizabeth playing in her room. She had beautiful bronze curls from her father and my brown eyes. It was one of those rare moments that she would play on her own, so I didn't greet her in fear that I would disturb her play and end up on the floor voicing Goofy for the rest of the evening. I threw myself on the couch and turned on an episode of Modern Family. I didn't like this show but I had seen every episode at least twice. I didn't care enough to watch anything else.
Edward quietly murmured from the other room, " I downloaded a book from Audible for you".
"Huh?" I said.
I really hadn't read anything in about three years. I used to be an avid reader, inhaling anything sci-fi or fantasy or romance, but I hadn't opened a book in years.
" What is it?" I asked with little interest.
"Supernova"
"Huh"
It was the newest book from the Written in the Stars series that ended, but had been quite a hit about ten years ago. It had especially been a hit with me. I had been introduced to the film adaptation of the first book by my best friend, Angela, and was quite taken with the male lead, Ethan Collins. That led me to read the entire series within the span of four days. I became completely obsessed. I had every poster, I waited with baited breath for each new film to come out. I even recorded the trailer for the second film on VHS when it premiered on the VMAs in 2009. I currently had a pillowcase with the Ethan Collin's face on it, which Edward found very humorous. I had even delved deeply in fanfiction, spending countless nights reading instead of sleeping and showing up to school the next day with bloodshot eyes.
I didn't know why Edward would have downloaded this book for me though. Sure it was the retelling of Written in the Stars from Ethan Collin's point of view but it had been years since I had cared about any of that.
We had a simple dinner as a family and I bathed our daughter and put her to bed. I stretched out on the couch and settled in for an evening of watching boring and rather sexist sitcoms when Edward mentioned the book again.
" Why don't you listen to Supernova? I will listen with you while I work" He suggested.
Sure I replied. We listened to the first chapter, and then another and another. I felt something inside me, something I had built a thick brick wall around, start to stir. I started to remember these characters, and for the first time in a long time, I started to care.
