Okay, I never do this. I mention songs in the story, songs are performed in the story, every chapter name is a song, but I never tell you to go listen to any of it, because you should listen to what you want while you read. But this time you should go listen to the song.
One, because I think it's impossible to write about how music sounds, so I'm not really going to try. I'm not even going to fully quote the lyrics. So if you want to really experience it, you'll have to go listen. And two, I think it's just one of those songs everyone should hear before they die. :) There are many covers out there, but like Bella, I'm partial to Kate's original.
I have some thanks today:
To AngryBadgerGirl, author of Apples and Oranges, for recc'ing me in her author notes.
To WriteOnTime, author of the genius The Port Angeles Players (seriously, if you haven't read it, stop now...go read!), for recc'ing me in her author notes, and also for just being nice in general.
Disclaimer: Twilight's not mine and neither is Kate Bush's brilliant song.
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BPOV
"Why am I on stage right?" Jasper asked, hunched over the floor plan of the stage for the new live show, "I'm always stage left, Rose is stage right."
Felix sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. I was sure he was working hard, too, getting us ready for the tour, but honestly, he wasn't the one rehearsing for fourteen hours a day, so why did he seem so exhausted?
"The sound guys liked the amp set up better this way. We're really behind on these plans. Can you just deal?"
Jasper made a face that we all recognized. Well, all of us but Felix. "We've been doing this for ten years and I'm always on the left. It's just weird, that's all."
Jasper was pretty laid back about a lot of things…unless it had something to do with music or performing. Then he was a big fat neurotic, perfectionist, OCD mess. To Felix, whether Jasper stood on the right side of the stage or the left while he played certainly couldn't have seemed at all important. But Rose, Emmett and I sensed Jasper's spiking anxiety instantly.
"It's weird for me, too," Rose said abruptly. "I look to my left at Jazz, for the cues. It's going to throw me," she looked at Jazz and gave him a tiny nod of the head. Jazz threw her a tight smile. Felix might have argued with Jasper, but if Rose double-teamed him, they'd get their way. Besides, Rose knew that Felix secretly lusted after her and she wasn't above using it.
Felix looked up at Rose. She cocked one blonde eyebrow and her lips curled in a tiny smile at him. Emmett snorted softly behind me. He loved watching Rose work over lustful guys. And Felix was getting worked. Emmett figured they deserved it for lusting after his girl, and he was usually right.
"Alright, alright. I'll tell the sound guys they have to reconfigure. Whatever you need, Rosalie. Anything else?"
I stuck my finger downstage center, "I'd re-think that platform you want me on unless you want to see me fall off of it and into the audience."
Felix scowled at me, "Bella, I think you're exaggerating this whole clumsiness thing you're so worried about."
"Uh, no she's really not!" Emmett laughed. I glared at him, but I chuckled.
"Fine," Felix huffed, rolling up the floor plan, "I'll take your concerns back to the production supervisor and we'll see what we can do."
He was gathering up his stuff and shoving it back into his messenger bag, still casting surreptitious glances at Rose, as the door to our rehearsal studio opened and Aro breezed in, looking like his usual fresh, flawless, immaculate self even at this hour. I leaned back on the couch and took a deep pull on my throat-soother tea, trying to soak up as much vocal rest in this break, if you could call it a break, as possible.
"Hello, darlings!" Aro was bright and cheery, "Are we all excited for the tour?"
"We're pretty freaking tired, honestly," Jasper said, "But that's not your problem, Aro. What brings you by?"
Aro sat down in the seat Felix vacated as he left for the day. He'd no doubt be back tomorrow with more tour details to overwhelm us. Time was short and all the preparations were in a full out rush to the finish.
"Just some promotional events we're arranging in your first few cities. I thought I'd go through them with you now so you know what's coming."
It was 8 pm and we had at least two more hours of rehearsal for the stage show before there was a chance I could get out of here and there was really nothing I wanted to do less on my one break of the night than talk about publicity. But if we didn't do it now, we'd just have to do it afterwards, so we all scooted closer to Aro and let him go through it.
It was a whole lot of the usual, interviews, appearances on some morning talk shows, a few marketing tie-ins he was hoping to sell us on…so boring.
We were saved when the stage manager appeared and starting whining about how much we still had to work on tonight. Aro conceded and said he'd catch up with us later about the rest. As we were all dispersing back to our positions for rehearsal, Aro caught my arm.
"Bella, a word?"
"Sure, Aro. What's up?" I stopped and looked at him expectantly.
"Laurent and I have been chatting about your arrangement with Edward," he said, his voice blithe and unconcerned. My blood stopped in my veins. "We're both extremely pleased. The two of you have done a wonderful job of selling it and it's worked out for the both of you better than we ever could have hoped. You know, of course, how high your profile is. Interest in you and every move you make is at a fever pitch. It will all translate into positive attention once the album is released, I'm confident of that. And now that they've moved up the release date, it's all falling into place perfectly."
I could say nothing, I just nodded.
"And Laurent is thrilled with what it's done for Edward. Scripts are coming in, projects are under consideration for him again."
Well, that was good to hear. If it helped Edward then that's what I hoped for. So why did I feel like the next thing out of Aro's mouth would end me?
"We'll have to discuss the details, plan an exit strategy, but I think we'll be looking at a timeline for ending the set-up soon."
"Ending it?" I wondered how my voice could sound so impossibly calm considering the screaming in my head.
"Nothing too abrupt, of course. But it's served its usefulness. I'm sure you'll be relieved to stop pretending. I know you didn't like it. And," he stopped and chuckled, shaking his head, "this show of restraint on Edward's part must be tedious for him. I'm sure he's eager to return to his usual pursuits."
I felt sick, and weak in the knees.
"Wh-when?" the turmoil in my chest finally manifested itself in my voice. I hurriedly took a sip of my tea to cover it.
"Oh, we haven't settled on the exact timeline. We'll talk some more, look at your calendars, pick a time that works for everybody."
It sounded like we were planning a fucking lunch date. How could we be standing here talking about me and Edward breaking up like it was some business meeting we were all trying to squeeze in?
My face must have given me away because Aro squeezed my hand and gave me his concerned face, which wasn't all that convincing. "Nothing you need to worry yourself with, dear. Just focus on the rehearsals and the tour. Leave the rest up to us."
He kissed my cheek and cast a wave at the rest of the band and then he was gone. I muttered a hurried excuse to the stage manager that I needed the ladies room and I nearly bolted out, ignoring the curious gazes behind me.
Once I was locked in the bathroom, I slumped against the door and willed myself not to cry. Aro said it was just he and Laurent talking. Maybe they hadn't said anything to Edward yet. But when they did? What would he say?
This last week with him, as busy as I'd been, as little time as I'd had to spend with him, had been amazing. Every night I'd spent wrapped in his arms, curled up on his chest after the most mind-blowing sex I had ever or would ever experience. And it seemed like he liked me. I kept such a careful check on my emotions, constantly reminding myself not to hope, not to expect, not to read anything into what he said or did.
And yet…
When he touched me casually, the way he looked at me just before we fell asleep, the way he kept me in his arms all night long…it felt like he cared. I couldn't imagine that he could be with me like this if he didn't feel anything. But then, I'm not Edward Cullen. And there was plenty of history that proved he could. Maybe that's what made Edward so deadly; he made you feel like it was more when it wasn't.
I had no idea what to do. Should I say something? Tell him that Laurent and Aro were planning our demise? Ask him what would happen after that? But didn't I know what would happen? I would go my way and he would go his. Maybe if he wasn't quite bored with me yet, he might want to drag it out a little longer. But then again, I was leaving on tour in two weeks, so there really wasn't a lot to hope for there.
If I brought it up now, it would just force the uncomfortable truth to the forefront and taint the little bit of time I had left with him and I couldn't bear that. If all I had were these last two weeks, the few hours I could squeeze in around my brutal schedule, then I wasn't about to spoil it by talking about this.
I felt my heart start to break a little every time I thought of it, but I would keep it to myself. And I'd keep Edward just as I had him, frozen in this little bubble of happiness, until the last possible moment. Before I left town, I knew I'd have to talk to him about it, and I would. But until then, he was mine, or at least I could pretend that he was.
Knowing how I would proceed didn't necessarily make me feel better, but at least I could move again, and I felt like I could face him tonight and pretend it was okay. And, I thought with a heavy sigh, I could get back to rehearsal.
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It was late when I finally got back to Edward's, and I figured I'd try our favorite room first, so I headed for his bedroom. The door was closed, but I heard music inside. My hand was poised over the handle, momentarily wrestling with whether I should knock or walk in when the music that I thought was the stereo abruptly stopped. Then there were a few piano chords, replaying what I'd just heard, tentative, working it out.
Holy shit.
That was Edward, playing the piano.
I quietly turned the door handle and slipped in the room as soundlessly as I could. The piano was situated so that Edward was turned mostly away from me. He was seated on the bench, his torso curled forward. He was wearing a white t-shirt and faded worn jeans and he was barefoot. His head was dipped low over the keys, his wild hair falling forward, half obscuring his face. His hands… how had I not noticed how beautiful his hands were? Those long, elegant fingers, stretched out, flexing, dancing over the keys. So beautiful. I could hardly breathe he was so beautiful. I needed to let him know I was here. He hadn't played for me yet. He might not want to share this with me.
I cleared my throat softly. His head jerked up and back over his shoulder. For just an instant I saw an expression flash there that I'd never seen before; intense, focused, slightly scowling, but not unhappy. Then in a heartbeat it cleared and his face lit up with his beautiful smile. My breath caught in my throat that it was meant for me.
"Hey," he said softly, reaching his hand out and beckoning me closer. I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around his shoulders from behind. He leaned back against me and tipped his head back into my chest, turning his face up to me. I leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lips. He reached a hand up and pushed into my hair, grasping the back of my neck, pulling me down to him, kissing me back.
"I'm glad you're back," he murmured against my lips.
"Me, too," I replied, smiling.
He pulled my arms free from his chest and scooted over, motioning me to sit next to him. I sat down, pressing the side of my thigh against his.
"I heard you playing when I came in," I said, "It was beautiful, Edward. I had no idea you could play like that."
He shifted a little, uncomfortably. "Thanks. I'm really rusty. It's been….damn. It's been a long time."
"What were you playing?"
He looked down at his hands and fingered the edge of the keyboard for a second, "Ah…just something that I've been working on. It…well…"
I ducked my head so I could see his face. He was still looking down at his hands and then he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. He was nervous.
"Edward…?"
"It's just something that I…ah, Christ!" he exhaled loudly, blowing his hair up off his forehead. He silently reached up to the top of his piano and slid some loose pages across to me. Manuscript paper, all filled out with a composition, by hand. Edward's hand. It was in pencil, heavily corrected, erased and rewritten in some places several times. Did he write this?
"Did you write this?"
"No! I mean, I did a little composing when I was younger, but I'm not that ambitious right now. No, this is just something I arranged. A song… You said you liked it."
I looked closer, letting the notes play in my head. I flipped it back to the first page. Written in Edward's handwriting across the top was "The Man With the Child In His Eyes".
Oh my God.
The Kate Bush song. The one I sang that morning after I first stayed here. The conversation came flooding back to me. I told him that I couldn't sing it with the band because it was really meant for voice and piano, and it couldn't be just anybody on piano. Because it was so intimate. He'd arranged the piano part for me. So I could sing it with him.
My throat began to constrict. Don't cry, don't cry. I really felt like I was going to cry. This was just…so…nice. I was being flooded with emotions and responses and reactions and it was all I could do to hold myself together and not start blubbering uncontrollably.
"Bella?" His voice was soft and uncertain. I hadn't said anything, I realized, I was still just staring at the music in my hand.
"Edward, I can't believe you did this," my voice came out as a whisper.
"You said you wanted to sing it, but you couldn't do it with the band," He leaned a little closer to me, his arm snaking around my waist, and his voice dropped, soft and intimate in my ear. "Will you sing it with me?"
I closed my eyes and let out a slow, shuddering breath. I would need to pull it together to find my voice. I had to sing this with him, after he did this for me. I wanted to sing it with him. I looked up to meet his gaze and I nodded.
He gave me a minute to look through the music, to familiarize myself with his arrangement and I struggled to pull myself together, get my voice back under my control.
"Ready?" he smiled. I nodded.
Edward started, playing the first few opening notes, the haunting melody on the piano I knew so well. There were other instruments in the song, mostly strings, so Edward had altered his arrangement to pick up the slack and it was beautiful. My vocal was supposed to start right on the heels of his first notes but I was so caught up in watching him play that I was late. I rushed in:
"I hear him
Before I go to sleep
And focus on the day that's been…"
I could feel Edward's playing pulling me along, supporting me, leading out my vocals and resolving my phrases, responding to me. It was intimate. Every bit as much as I thought it might be. After the first verse, the piano swelled, grew richer, louder and the sensation of it in my chest practically forced the chorus out of my throat. I'd never had such a visceral experience singing. I'd never felt so wrapped into the music around me before. I reached out and placed my palm flat on top of the piano, so I could feel his playing vibrate through my hand, up my arm and into my chest.
I launched into the second verse and I was aware of the lyrics as never before. I felt them in my heart…and they hurt.
"He's very understanding
And he's so aware of all my situations
When I stay up late he's always waiting
But I feel him hesitate
Oh, I'm so worried about my love
They say no, no, it won't last forever
But here I am again, my girl
Wondering what on earth I'm doing here
Maybe he doesn't love me
I just took a trip on my love for him"
I felt my throat constricting with the truth of it, but Edward's surging piano was pulling me along and I was thrust into the chorus again. Then the vocal was done and it was all Edward, his breathtaking piano finishing the song. I watched his fingers move up and down the keys, his shoulders rocking with his effort.
He finished the last notes, his fingers stilled. The vibration of the music still hung in the air. I made myself raise my eyes to him. It was pointless to try to hide my tears. He reached his hands up and cupped my face, slowly drawing his thumbs under my eyes to swipe them away.
"Edward…" I began. The words failed me, so I leaned in and showed him how I felt, pressing my lips against his. I reached out and tangled my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and pulled his head closer to me, deepening the kiss, slipping my tongue over his bottom lip. He opened his lips under me and pushed his tongue in against mine and I was sinking into the sensation of him, the exquisite taste and feel of him underneath me.
It was too awkward, sitting side by side like this, I couldn't get close enough to him. I stood and turned, swinging my leg over his, straddling his lap and settling down there, digging both hands into his hair. He moved his hands to my hips, pulling me in against him. I could feel him pressing hard against me already and I was desperate for him. Edward's lips left mine and started a hot descent down my neck to my chest. His hands slid up my ribcage, pushing my shirt up, skimming my skin. He broke away long enough to pull it over my head. I whipped it up and off my hands and shook my hair to free it before I pitched the shirt to the floor. His hands slid behind me and in a brief, practiced move, he unhooked my bra and it quickly followed my shirt to the floor.
I grabbed his face in my hands and crushed my mouth against his again, desperate to be with him. But Edward had other plans. He suddenly grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up as he stood, until I was sitting on top of the piano, my legs hanging down over the keys. Discordant notes rang out as the backs of my legs brushed the keys.
Edward's fingers went to work on the snap of my jeans, opening them and slipping them down and off my legs as I lifted my hips to help him. I felt a rush of heat as I imagined what he might do next. He slid his hands all the way up the length of my legs as he returned them to my hips, looking up at me through his dark lashes. He placed one hand on the center of my chest and pushed gently, laying me back on the piano. The lacquer top was cool against the skin of my back. I was nearly trembling in anticipation.
I gasped as I suddenly felt Edward's mouth on the inside of my thigh. He was working his way upwards, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses up my leg. I writhed underneath him, feeling swollen with desire for him. His lips left me for a minute and my wet skin cooled a little. Then without warning I felt his mouth on my panties. My back arched and I moaned involuntarily.
"Edward…"
He kissed me like that for a minute, but just when I thought that's all he would do, he stopped and hooked his fingers in my panties over my hips. I lifted them just a little, so he could slide them down and off me.
And then he finally pressed his mouth against me. I cried out again and he tightened his free hand on my hip, holding me still. I felt the tremors starting inside.
And then I exploded, screaming his name, arching against him. He slowed as I floated down.
I heard him unzipping his jeans, heard him fumbling with something, but I couldn't open my eyes yet, I felt boneless, made up of nothing but skin and nerves.
His hands gripped my hips again and he was pulling me forward and down. The piano let off a cacophony of sound as I hit it on my way down. I opened my eyes. Edward was sitting on the bench again, and his clothes were gone, and he was ready for me.
I slid down off the piano, then I was on him and he was in me. Edward's eyes fluttered closed and he bent his head to rest his forehead on mine. Slowly I began to rock against him.
"So good…" he murmured, "I'll never have enough…" he didn't sound like he was talking to me, but to himself.
It felt good to hear that he was as overwhelmed by us together as I was. It was earth-shattering to me, but I didn't have nearly the experiences to compare it to that Edward did. But it seemed as if it was just as extraordinary to him as it was to me. That had to mean something, didn't it? And the song…it had to mean he cared about me, at least a little. I couldn't believe he could do that for me, or touch me like this and not feel at least a little of what I was feeling. I would hang on to that hope.
"Bella, I love…the way you feel…uhh, Baby…" he trailed off in a groan as I ground myself into him.
Our pace was picking up, I could feel his urgency as he slipped one hand to my shoulder, cupping it, holding me still. He gripped the back edge of the piano stool with his other hand, providing himself with leverage. My head fell back and I let him set the pace, driving us towards the edge again.
"Edward, I…"
"Me, too, Baby. Almost…" He was gritting his teeth as he pounded, his face against my neck, and then with a gasp he was there and I was right there with him.
I sat curled against him, slumped on the piano bench, floating down. His hands stroked my back and played with my hair. He was planting soft kisses against my neck.
"Well," he murmured into my neck, "you just helped me live out the fantasy I've played in my head at every piano practice I've had since I was thirteen."
I laughed at the idea of a teenaged Edward having raunchy piano lesson fantasies.
"Really?"
He pulled his face away enough to smirk up at me. "Yes, really."
"I can't believe there's anything you ever wanted to do that you haven't already done. But I'm glad you saved this one for me."
"This one is all for you, Bella," he murmured, pulling my face down to kiss him gently one more time. "All for you."