Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukka and many other festive seasons wishes! I'm sorry this is late (blame Chrimbo) but I hope you've have a lovely season and that you enjoy this chapter!

Thanks very much!

The two boys chat a little while I fix a secretly stiff drink in the kitchen but even from here the conversation is difficult. More difficult than Edward's teenage behaviour. Or his awkwardness. And guess whose to blame.

'Carlisle, for the eighth time- pass me the remote?!'

It's not like him to be so distracted but with tired, unfocused eyes, he moves to hand the plastic onto Edward's open palm. Clearly focused on something else.

The theme credits roll then, the dramatic intro, the cutting scenes, the creepy jingles. The only bonus is with my focus on the television, it's easier to pretend I don't feel so guilty about my attempted combination blend. Even if it's obvious that something's not right. You can see it in our very body language. Feel it. All he had to do was inhale for it to exhale from my mouth.

Every damn fidget became buzzing insects on my skin.

If he kept staring, I'd have to swat him to death.

'Esme?' Cullen whispers, moving ever so slightly nearer me than his buddy.

First bad sign. From Es to Esme. From Friend to flatmate. From nuisance to a nobody. From I think you fucked up to oops, should not have done that, please don't kick me out?

Though if anything, I rekon I had more chance of kicking him out than him asking me to leave. He'd miss me too much. I cook too well.

I've planted myself on the floor with crossed legs in deliberate ignorance to the space on the sofa next to our pearly Saint. I can't sit next to him. Not when he is clearly so disgusted by my very being (not that I blame him). In fact, I couldn't be more confused. Weren't we just discussing masturbation yesterday? How was a kiss too much and a discussion on self-pleasure not? For fuck sake, we discussed sex positions!

I bought the bastard porn?!

…

Maybe I just don't want to admit he doesn't find me as attractive as I thought. I mean, who would want to admit that they were the one to break that fragile line of ice between flirting and infatuation? Who wanted to admit that they misread the scene? Every time I blink all I see the horror of his expression when I pulled away, the dumbfounded disgust of what I'd done. His pale face and his deep frown.

It sucked.

And the kiss itself was pretty shit, too.

There's another shy cough behind my head and then I remember he's requesting my attention. He won't look at me when he speaks, even his tone falls to the room rather than me as an individual.

Can't bear to speak to Esme- what if she yells at me?! Pathetic.

'Esme?'

'What?'

Okay, that was rude of me. That was too rude. He's gunna think I'm pissed off. He'll think I'm hurt by his rejection. He thinks- to be honest, he can't possibly be making any judgment calls when he refuses to look at me?

'A-Are those mine?'

Cullen takes a breather before almost smirking to my attire though his cheeks are igniting the fire. The rosier they grew, the more golden he seemed to look. The more inviting, the more captivating and just goddamn, fricking fuckable.

'GUYS, SHHH!'

Edward can't see me poke my tongue out at him because he's so engrossed in the picture on the mantle. So feigning indifference, I bravely return a quick nod to Cullen. So what? Wasn't he meant to be all about charity and sharing and what not?

'Hm.' Is all he says and then he turns to look as far away from oh-so-disgusting figure as quick as humanly possible.

Hmm, right back at you, Choir Boy.

So, yes while I did technically steal his clothes (hence his confusion), it wasn't like he noticed either shirt or shorts were missing until now. Besides, it's warm in here and these make my ass look good... to some people. It's not like he ever put them to good use, either!

After a few silent minutes, the warm room gets even warmer. Not because of the predicted murder. Because I'm being stared at. To the point where it's painfully obvious. And because I'm being stared at, I stare at nothing but the screen while completely missing the story.

'It's got to be the teacher.' Edward murmurs, putting his hand to his mouth not dissimilar to the exact position Cullen has lent himself into at the moment. It's no competition as to who looks better.

I on the other hand have had my eyes glued to the screen for the longest seventeen minutes of my life without picking up any information. I'm thinking of nodding along but then it'll be obvious I wasn't watching. Edward and I never usually agree.

'I doubt it. Kid. It's more likely to be the Wife.'

It's weird how his little fall of respectability (by having someone as lowly as me attempt to kiss him) has reminded him of his stature. He seems taller again, back to how he was when I would ignore his silent judgments; challenging if perhaps a tad playful as if he's pushed the abundant vulnerabilities to the back of his mind.

This is what I assume, not from being able to see him, because I can't, but rather the heat on the back of my neck and the way his face could almost be seen as angled towards me. Meaning this; I'm so pathetic, I'm trying to convince myself that Cullen is finding me entertaining again.

Edward turns in his seat to offer a patronising glare to his friend. 'Have you not been paying attention at all?! Of course it isn't the Wife!'

I let out a weak breather. My head is pounding once again. In all honesty, I doubt it ever stopped, it was just easier to ignore with a gorgeous distraction invading my eye line. The combination of humiliation, (all of today's humiliations from the fall, to the waitress, to the attempted snog), had just built up to its peak in the last half-an hour. My eyes were pounding, my temples pulsing, my arm aching, thigh itching- Urgh. So unlike our detective on screen however who seems completely unaware of all his battle wounds. He's heading into the basement, weapon poised and feet stealthy as he measures his every movement. There's a scream, the light switch comes on and-

Adverts. Of course.

'See? It's the teacher!' Edward surmises. He curls a hand around his bottle of beer, takes a swig of it and then makes a face of disgust.

'Bet the electric bill?' Cullen says smartly, finding the courage from his mousey posture to join me in a smile.

'I bet you the electricity bill and the week's washing up. They literally just proved it couldn't be the Wife!'

Despite Cullen's warnings, Edward still happily holds out his hand for him to shake. They break apart to their original seating and as if we weren't there, Carlisle extends himself along the full length of the sofa like a house pet and props is head up at the arm's edge by me. His feet he bounces loosely off the side. He's also got an arm in the same position as he did from my bedroom this morning: a flat hand against the craziest parts of his hair with his chest rising and falling with perfect distinction.

When the program comes back on, I have to force myself to watch it and within a second-

'What the fuck?!'

'Should've been paying attention, Edward.' He chides, playfully. His smile turns lazy, half hanging off the side of his face. So I wasn't being stared at then, not when his attention was taken by those stupid actors. Greeeaatt.

'It couldn't have been her! It-'

'Electric bill, right?'

'Piss off.'

Edward is reluctant to discuss absolutely anything for the rest of the evening except episodes of programs that we've only half been watching and because I don't want to seem out of character by going to bed and because I especially don't want to be left alone to face my mistakes, I just keep my mouth shut and endure several other pointless TV appearances while trying to form an inspiration for the submission in my painfully abusive head.

I've got my image. I'm thinking about swapping the colour contrast, enhancing the dark as if the main figure is stealing the light just by his presence alone. I want dark eyes, like midnight dark with sheet-white skin, silky colours and such.

'She won't talk to me.'

My eyes shift to the voice's owner.

I'm frowning. Frowning before pulling myself up to a seating position again. My eyes feel heavier than expected and my back and my coccyx and my head and my vagina and my thigh and my wrist are fucking killing -. But I guess that's a sign. Not sure what about, maybe just a warning about boys and Tilly-no-mates.

I look to both the boys. The first one has uncharacteristically fallen asleep, head turned in towards the sofa as if he is as peaceful as paradise itself. The younger male is glaring at the television as if he's totally absorbed in its every being. He doesn't even look like he's just spoken. He's too busy glaring.

'Who?' I ask, not quite sure if I imagined the conversation. He looks at me very quickly before giving a sigh of disgust. Oh.

'Bella?' I guess, trying to sound interested. I should've known that.

He nods and scratches his stubbly chin.

'Oh, Edward.' I sigh, softly. Er?! Did I just sound sympathetic?! 'Urm. What happened?'

He's silent for a long time, summoning the courage I'm guessing, before looking over to Carlisle who is breathing softly, his grey shirt tanned with the day's events all over it. Including grass stains. Possibly mud, dirt, sweat. And what might even be food? Wait- is that? Dribble? I pull myself backwards, alarmed and turn back to Edward.

'Did something I shouldn't of…'

This catches my attention. Uh-oh.

'Like?!'

He frowns again as if not expecting my panic and then resolves himself by watching his hands.

'I made a move.' He says bitterly.

I'm not listening, I'm not listening, Edward is lying because I'm not listening. I'm not involved, its all a lie...

'Oh.'

I don't really know where to look. If I look at him, he'll see my awkwardness. If I look to the floor, I'll look unsympathetic and if I look to Cullen- No. I refuse to look at that belly-coiling bastard.

He's in trouble for the foreseeable future.

No leading your flatmate on and denying her the goods.

Nu-uh.

'Any advice?' He asks meekly, attempting to lighten his face with a smile that doesn't arrive. I want to scream something along the lines of 'fuck no but hit me up when you find the answer' except he just looks so genuinely devastated-. Do I hug him? That's what Carlisle would do. Or that's what he might say to do. I used to think he said it just to wind me up... maybe Edward does need to be babies. Maybe I should offer some kind of physical support?

No, that's weird isn't it? I don't want him to think I'm coming on to him.

Gross.

'Well… how did it come about?' I ask eventually. It hurts acting so much like I care when I've resigned myself to forever ignore Bella's very existence. It wouldn't be a huge loss n the long run. She didn't offer much on the personality front.

'What?'

'The, er, kissing?' I say, highlighting the obviousness.

'It didn't. He reminds bluntly.

I look to Cullen again, wince slightly before moving to sit by the armchair a little further away from Sleeping Beauty. Edward and I are both pretending to look at the TV, even staring at it when I turn it off leaving us in an awkward darkness. The darkness seems to help because it doesn't take long till he opens up a little.

'I thought we were-… I thought-.' He groans and, I think, throws his head into his hands. 'I misread the signals.'

'There were signals then?'

More than me Kid, I just went for it.

'Uh- No. Yes? Maybe? - Oh, I don't know.' He takes another breath and then reduces his voice to a whisper. 'We were talking about emotions and stuff and how humanty over-reacts in such violent matters and-'

'Riiight.' I reeeally don't care about whatever crazy, new-age conversation they thought they were having.

'And I went to kiss her… and she flinched.'

'Like horror-violent-flinch or she-wasn't-expecting-it-flinch?'

'Is there a difference when she won't return my calls?' He sounds miserably cold. I wonder what Carlisle would say if he was awake. He was always better at advice. Especially guy advice. Especially advice for Edward. Kid must be desperate if he's coming to me.

'When did it happen?' I ask, trying to sound reassuring.

'Two days ago.'

This doesn't prompt any new support as I thought it would, it's just silent. Silent apart from the great snorer over there. How deep of a sleep could you get into a sofa as uncomfortable as that one?

'What would you do, if you were in this position?'

Hahaaha, fuck off you stalker?!

'From your perspective or Bella's?' I force myself to answer.

He sighs deeply. 'Both.'

'If I was you I'd probably try to forget about it. Waiting is only going to make it worse. Maybe try to act not-interested.'

'Really? Not interested?'

Yeah because the rigorous calling is clearly working sooo much better.

'It's just a suggestion, Kid. Calm down.'

'Kid?!' He repeats, aghast.

'What?' I ask confused, showing blank hands in a raised position.

'Since when do you call me Kid?!'

…

Urm. All the time?...

'Since you needed someone else to sort out your relationship problems!' I snap back, folding my arms across my chest and trying desperately hard to blow up the TV with my fury.

'Ouch.'

I sigh again, releasing some of my irritation with it.

'Look, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to-' I voice another silent groan in my chest, close my eyes for a second and try again to sound more experienced. 'If I was you I'd… maybe write a letter or try to talk to her about it in person. If you just keep texting her, she's going to feel trapped.'

'A letter?'

He has a way of making everything I say sound like a swear.

'Sure. That way she can't ignore what you're saying unless she burns it. And let's face it, who gets letters nowadays? No one, exactly. An anonymous letter is best. It's intriguing.'

I am a fucking genius.

'What about if someone else reads it?' He asks, clearly embarrassed.

'If you write it verse, it might be published in a century's time?'

'Hilarious.'

'I'd read an anonymous letter. It sounds mysterious!'

He contemplates the idea for a long time before thanking me, almost too sincerely. I focus my eyes on him in the dark. His copper locks are messier than usual, his slight mouth more wrought and his posture tight.

'You really like her, huh?' I say slowly.

His chin moves in the dark. 'She's…remarkable.'

She's a non-entity. Boringly plain that somehow made her the most amazing girl to Edward. Which was a bit of a disappointment. Then again, it'd be even more disappointing if they didn't sort it out. I couldn't live with the Kid being any stroppier than he is right now-

'Esme?'

'Edward?'

He rolls his eyes. 'Don't tell…' he starts to whisper again. 'Please don't tell him about…'

'Secrets safe but you know what he's like, he'll know if something's bothering you.'

You couldn't escape him, it was infuriating.

'Oh I don't know. He's seems pretty focused about something else for now-.'

I can't tell if Edward is smiling, I know he's stood up to leer over Cullen, probably about to wake him up if I don't jump in as soon as possible. Which is what I do.

'Don't,' I warn just as he's about to pinch into the perfect torso of our Landlord.

'It'd be funny?' He tries to persuade. But I act without thinking and slap his hand away.

'Seriously, don't. He hasn't slept properly in a few days, he deserves some rest.'

He raises an eyebrow at me and without thinking, I turn my head to my feet, grateful for the dark to hide my blush.

'And you haven't done any washing?'

'What?'

He points to my legs, just above where there's a bandage, fabric tight against my thighs. God bless the man's underwear choice. And curse my fucking choices.

'You're right. Maybe I should let you wake him. He enjoys your company more .' His eyes simply lighten up with gleefully evil thoughts and despite my glare and my anger and my scowl, I have a feeling my blush is again noticeable in the dark. 'Night Es.'

'Just as a warning, I've seen Bella in gym shorts. If you want my help, you'd better hush your cheek.'

He's already bundling up the stairs before I have the chance to push my threat into action. I hesitate by Carlisle's side. I had to wake him up, save his spine and what not. I also should really say thank you again for dinner…and apologise. I didn't even want to think about that. I just wanted the ground to swallow me whenever I thought of-.

His right hand flinches on his own stomach and when I lean closer he stirs a little. So I pull away.

Maybe it was bad breath? But it couldn't have been considering the amount of mints I'd stolen from the bar. Maybe I was just too much? Maybe he does see me as a sort of family member? Who the fuck discusses bedroom habits with their family, though?!

'Are you intending to stare at me all night, Miss Platt?' Mumbles my favourite sound.

'No!' I half shriek, pushing my foot far out and joining it so that we're at a large distance from each other. He still has his eyes closed but rubs them with both hands before stretching and then putting both hands behind that perfectly bent spine to sit up.

'I thought you were asleep…' I confess awkwardly, again looking at my chipped nail polish rather than his tired yet still beautiful face.

'I was until I heard you breathing on me.' He chuckles slightly, but I seem to forget it's another good sound and continue with my eyes to the floor.

'Sorry.'

'I was joking?' Again I don't say much which forces him to take action and move out of his make shift sleeping sofa. 'Coming?'

'To bed?' I ask. To whose bed?

He goes to check his watch but finds it absent from his wrist so pats around his pockets to find- a packet of pills. He shows me the white strip and then throws them in the dark for me to catch.

'Dissolvable.' He explains.

'I'll take them now, then.' I say quietly eager to shut the brain fuzz to silence. White noise wasn't going to be enough. I'd need concrete walls of non-existent sound f I fancied sleeping tonight.

He mentions something about reading the instructions but it's lost in a wide yawn and then he rubs both eyes again. 'Don't forget to change your bandage, either.'

I touch the edge of it on my thigh and wince from the pressure on my sore skin. I shouldn't hate Tilly too much... but fuck me, could you be any more of a wet flannel?! It wasn't like she was suffering with the pain of coffee to the skin!

'Goodnight, Esme.'

My own mouth stumbles over the words and so I just feign exhaustion and wave before hiding out in the kitchen and grabbing the whiskey from the cupboard. I'm just about to pour the honey liquid into the tumbler, slipping it over the crushed powder when I stop again.

Should I really be taking medicine with alcohol, that's not good is it? The more I think about the reason for the pills, the worse the headache gets and then I remember throwing myself at him and Cullen looking physically repulsed.

Suddenly, the small tumbler of whiskey becomes half a glass followed by another half-glass and then two more untill my head is positively steaming and I'm no longer in pain. Just dissociation

I'm more than jumpy having swallowed far too much of a bad liquid and when finally I think I can drag myself up the stairs and into bed, the home phone rings. I pick it up automatically.

'F 'uck sake A-liss, it's-like one in the morning?!' I'm slightly aware that I'm slurring a little bit and have to blink several times to try and clear some space in my buzzing brain.

In all honesty to her though, I haven't looked at my mobile since throwing it into Cullen's backpack this morning.

The breathing changes into a weird chuckle, harsh and resolute. Completely unlike Alice's chiming voice.

'Who's Alice?'

'Erm. Whose this?'

Nice one Esme.

I know exactly who it is and I know I don't want it confirmed. I just want it gone. Man, if I knew I was going to have this phone call, I might've have taken several more glasses. Or triple the pills?

'Take a guess, my Little Brown Eyes.'

Without thinking, I press End-Call and let the phone fall to the floor, staring awkwardly at it, debating about how much trouble I might get in if I just trashed it here and now before running away and hiding in a cave. It rings again and because I don't want the boys to wake up, I answer it before the second ring goes.

'It cut out.' I lie stiffly.

Luckily, the topic of conversation seems to change from frivolous chatter to unexplained absences almost immediately.

'I presume you'll be at work tomorrow? After missing the whole day, you naughty thing.'

The nausea in my stomach reaches a new low and I nod before remembering I'm on the phone.

'I've got lessons-' I say as an introduction, trying to hide my hiccup behind my hand.

'It'll be worth your time Miss May.'

Miss May? May? Who the fuck is-… Oh hell no.

'I'll try.' I mumble pathetically. My head is heavier than the White House. Drinking and medicating is so fucking stupid.

I need another drink.

Possibly even a joint.

'Try harder and you'll be rewarded.' The voice whispers.

I can see the smarmy smile growing larger with each second. The grimy teeth dripping with saliva. My head is like a drumbeat to a warning.

'I've got to go.' How weird is it that my voice sounds completely different when speaking to my boss? Or maybe that's the drugs?

'To bed, I presume?'

'Uh.' My thumb is hovering back over that button, the desperation rising in in my throat like vomit itself.

'What will you be wearing?'

A fucking snowsuit if it shuts you up. My eyes catch the dark stairwell, the complete silence of the large living room and I shiver a little. 'I'm- I've got to go.' I repeat.

'Saving all the mischief for tomorrow?'

'Go'night.' I try again, why I wish him a good night is beyond me, it just proves my idiocy.

'Dream of me.'

That tips me off the edge and without thinking I hang up again.

This time, he doesn't ring back.

It's only half way through my headache that I realise I'm in a severe amount pain and after chewing on some other vulgar powder medicine, I scrub at my teeth and head into bed.

It's cold in my room. The kind of cold that makes you want to bury your head in the sand for years on end. I can just about wriggle my toes without complaint but with the wiggling of my toes comes the awful scratching of my bandage to the duvet. I can't really bring myself to change it now I've gotten myself settled but it is causing enough irritation that I can't stop thinking about it.

I let it go. I let all today's utter shite leave me and lay on the cold, unfamiliar bed, trying to focus on not hurting.

Trying also not to focus on the obscure shapes behind my eyes or the even weirder ones on the ceiling.

When there's a creak.

We live in a semi-old house, creaking, squeaking and squawking isn't unusual. It's almost normal. Though there is something sinister about this creak. Like it's a tentative lean on my window frame before bearing all weight onto it and the sound get louder. The louder the sound, the more difficult it is to be reasonable especially when the creaking starts to come nearer.

Something touches my scaly skin and I scream so loudly, I frighten myself out the room, breathless and startled.

Within seconds, both boys, and the several other double figures from my delusional eyes, come charging out. Both distressed and confused. Edward's still heavy with sleep, so heavy that he barely has time to make a sarcastic comment.

'Are you okay?!' Cullen demands. He puts his hand out over my wrist and pulls me closer so that I'm positioned behind him as the three of us face my bedroom door. I say three but I can barely focus myself to count properly. There could be seventeen of us if I were to trust my eyesight right now.

I don't reply because I'm still trying to catch my breath all the while trying to still seem brave and under control even if that means stumbling over my feet into his grasp.

'Stay here,' Carlisle instructs softly and slowly, he pushes my bedroom door open with a closed fist. Edward follows him, stealthily and I tremble on behind like the wuss of the back. We stay in silence, forcing our hearing to exceed its limits before someone switches on my light switch to simply see my tousled bedcovers.

The Kid's sigh is so dismissive and so fed up that I feel myself well-up in un-explainable tears of embarrassment.

'Another spider?' He jokes, watching Cullen guide the pest(s) from my bed sheets to his hand and then from his hand to the open window.

Which in itself is weird considering I thought I'd closed that. I rub my temples with a sweaty hand.

'Felt like someone was breathing on me!' I say defensively, shuddering once more when I think about the creepy guest in my bed. Ew, spiders.

'All gone now,' Cullen promises reassuringly and he shows me both hands to prove his innocence.

I mumble my apologies and try to restore my faith in the room as they tiresomely return to bed.

'Night then, Es.'

'Wait!' And again without thinking, I grasp tightly onto Cullen's hand. He looks at it for the same length of time as he did earlier today except he seems a little more amazed at it then confused.

'It was just the one, I promise.' He repeats with a lazy smile.

The difficulties in trying to summon sassy courage while standing opposite your rejecter is simply unnameable. Especially when there's double of them and you're struggling to work out which one is the original. That and I'm pretty sure one of them is varying in colour. Hm.

'If you think I'm sharing the bed with some eight-legged, furry freaks- you've got another thing coming!'

He restrains his smile with determination.

'Doesn't usually bother you?' He teases, quietly and ignorant that he is apparently reference my bedroom guests and watching as he watches Edward fight to ignore my useless flirt fighting, he turns as if to return to his room.

'It might have laid its eggs or something-just- eugh.'

The smile cracks into a smirk.

'Fiine! You can stay with me.' The more he tries to seem annoyed, the more he cant help but smile. 'If-'

'If?' I repeat, bemused.

'If you change that bandage. It's disgustingly vile.'

Charming.