A/N: I know it's frustrating that Bella lets Carlisle get away with his behaviour (like when he didn't call her back, for instance, or how he clearly keeps things from her). She's also kind of out of her depth here, since casual relationships aren't something she's used to, and she's struggling to figure out what the rules are, if there are any. While this is not the "main theme" of this story, I wanted to bring this up through the characters, because I see it myself too often, how some people let others treat them more or less badly, and they don't call them on it, just because they're afraid of losing them.

None of these characters are perfect, and they have faults and insecurities, but that's part of humanity. Carlisle in this story isn't that perfect, close-to-flawless person he was in the books. He's still that same compassionate and considerate gentleman, but he's also weak and mentally exhausted, because he has simply been battling his demons too long. And when it comes to Bella, I didn't want her to be the doormat she sometimes was in the novels, but I also thought she shouldn't have this super good "Rosalie confidence," either. One of Bella's traits is insecurity, but I didn't want it to be her defining trait.

Once again, thank you for your reviews. Reading them is definitely the best part of my day. I've thought about taking up a habit of responding to every review individually, but so far, I haven't, because I'm a little afraid of unintentionally giving out spoilers... :)

I hope you enjoy!

"Sometimes, people put up walls, not to keep others out, but to see who cares enough to break them down."

- Banana Yoshimoto -

Unhappy Endings

"I missed these."

Carlisle pressed a soft kiss on the curve of my breast. I smiled, rolling onto my side to face him.

"Just these?" I asked in mock indignation and pointed at my breasts.

He gave a quiet laugh. "No. I missed you as well."

I swallowed, trying to ignore the feelings his words aroused. "You know, when I didn't hear back from you, I thought that was it for us." Maybe it was the post-coital hormones that made me so honest; I certainly had not intended to reveal any of that to him. I didn't want him to know how much his sudden absence had affected me.

He gave me a soft, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I was...gone," he murmured. "It wasn't my intention. And I'm sorry I didn't call you back. That was...very rude of me. I really was going to call, but..." he sighed quietly.

I watched him closely, hesitating. "Did something happen during the weekend?"

Carlisle frowned, averting his eyes from my gaze. "Why do you ask?"

I shrugged. "It's just that...you looked so strange yesterday. Like you'd been ill or something."

He still wouldn't look at me. "No, I haven't been ill. I've been just...busier than I expected to be. I was going to call you back on Monday, but then, that friend of mine showed up out of the blue. We usually inform each other beforehand about visiting."

"Do you see him often?" I asked, once again hesitating. "Or...her?"

Carlisle met my eyes, and it was a while before he answered. When he did, his voice was uncertain, careful. "It's a her," he confirmed, gauging my expression closely. "We...we get together every now and then. Maybe once every few weeks."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Have you known each other for a long time?"

"Yes. Over twenty-five years. She's a good friend to me."

"Oh." I avoided his eyes, not knowing what to think about that. "Is she the architect you once mentioned? The one who worked on your house?"

Carlisle nodded. "Yes." When I didn't look at him, he reached out to touch my cheek. I met his eyes, covering his hand with mine and giving him a small smile.

"Well, I'm glad you have...a good friend." I realized my words were sincere, and I was suddenly thinking about Rosalie, knowing I'd be only half of myself if I didn't have her. "I worry about you sometimes, you see."

He frowned. "Why?"

I squeezed his hand. "I just do. You always look so tired and sad, and...I'm just glad you have someone to talk to."

He seemed taken aback by my words; I wondered how he had expected me to relate to this matter. He gave me a soft smile, and he seemed almost...relieved. Had he really been that worried about how I'd react to his female friend? If so...why? Why would he care how I thought about this?

His voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Do you have to work tomorrow?" I heard him ask.

I nodded. "Yeah. Saturday shifts suck. But the good thing is, the hours pass more quickly. Saturdays are usually very busy." I paused. Thinking about the café had made me suddenly feel like I had to remember something. Something important. "Oh! I can't believe I forgot!"

Carlisle gave me a confused glance as I got up. I fished my T-shirt and panties from the floor and pulled them on. Then, I went to the dresser on the other side of the room, grabbing the wallet-sized picture that was leaning against the mirror.

"You left something at the café yesterday," I told him as I turned around and made my way back to the bed, sitting down on the edge. I reached over the bed to give him the picture of the black-haired little girl. "Here. It was between the bills you left on the table."

Carlisle took the picture. His face went white so fast, it made me frown in concern. Something flashed in his eyes I couldn't identify. He didn't speak for a moment.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly after a while. "I...I keep it in my wallet – I didn't notice it was missing." His voice was oddly devoid of emotion as he spoke. He sat up, and I expected him to put the photo on the table beside the bed, but he got up, taking his pants from the floor and slipping the picture into the pocket, doing so very quickly but carefully, like the picture was something easily breakable.

"She's a beautiful girl," I said, observing him closely as he folded the pants over the back of a chair and picked up his boxers from the floor, pulling them on. "I noticed she has familiar eyes. Is she a relative of yours?"

It was a moment before Carlisle answered. "Yeah. Something like that." His voice was still oddly detached. He ran a hand through his hair, before giving me a brief look and turning away. "Excuse me."

I watched him as he made his way to the bathroom door. As he reached out for the handle, I thought I saw his hand tremble, but I could have been wrong. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

I lay back down on the bed, pulling the covers over me. Carlisle's reaction to the picture confused me a bit. I wondered what significance it might have had, and why he had been so quiet about it.

I glanced at the clock; it was close to midnight. Sighing, I set my alarm to wake me at six, and then, I tried to stay awake, while I waited for Carlisle to emerge from the bathroom. But after a few minutes, my eyelids began to feel too heavy, and I drifted off to shallow sleep before I even knew it.

I was vaguely aware of the bed dipping beside me, as Carlisle joined me moments later. I heard a quiet click as he turned out the bedside light, and then, the bed jostled slightly again, as he lay down beside me. Still half-asleep, I turned onto my side and reached for him. I felt his lips brush my forehead before he wrapped his arms around me and held me close.

I was so sleepy, I didn't realize that, for some reason, he was holding me tighter than usual.

When I woke up to my alarm the next morning, I turned it off quickly and got up as quietly as possible. Carlisle was fast asleep, and I decided that, since it was Saturday, I should keep it that way. I studied his peaceful face for a moment and reached out a hand as if to touch the dark circles under his eyes, once again wondering to myself when the last time was that he'd had a decent sleep.

I showered quickly before getting dressed and gathering my things. I made myself some coffee and had a quick breakfast, disregarding the fact that I had no appetite, and by the time I had to leave for the café, Carlisle was still sleeping. I wrote him a quick note that said I didn't have the heart to wake him up before leaving for work, telling him to help himself to coffee and anything in the fridge. I also wrote that I wouldn't mind at all if he was still in my bed – preferably naked – when I'd get home in the afternoon.

That image sustained me throughout the day. However, when I got to my apartment hours later, Carlisle's black SUV was no longer in the parking lot. I swallowed my disappointment as I got inside, but I perked up immediately as I spotted a note on the kitchen table. Throwing my keys on the counter and shrugging my bag off my shoulder, I took the note and smiled.

Beneath my own writing, there was a message written in neat, curvy letters. Damn. Even his handwriting was so sexy.

Bella,

I hope you had a pleasant day. The thought of staying in bed the whole day and waiting for you was more than tempting. Then, I came to think that I can make use of my time, and I decided to go to my house, so I could prepare you dinner. Nothing would please me more than to see you waiting for me in my bed tonight. I hope this will compensate for my absence, when you come home in the afternoon and find your bedroom empty.

If it's alright with you, I'll pick you up tonight at six. Give me a call if you're unavailable - it's certainly not my intention to hog you all to myself, though I find the thought very tempting.

Carlisle

P.S. I took a peek at your bookshelf while you were gone. I hope you don't mind. You have a wonderful collection - I'm very impressed. Why didn't you tell me you like reading? This is a passion we share.

Smiling, I placed the note back on the table and took my bag, heading for my bedroom to change. The small, occasional neat freak inside me purred as I saw Carlisle had made the bed. It was a small thing, but for some reason, it made me feel warm.

Carlisle was punctual to the minute. When he came to pick me up at six, he gave me one of his dazzling smiles, before placing a tender kiss on my cheek.

"You should've woken me before you left this morning," he told me. "I felt very bad for keeping you up so late yesterday. It's unfair that I got to sleep in, and you didn't."

I chuckled. "I didn't exactly complain last night, did I? Sleeping is overrated. I'd very much rather spend my night in bed with you and be fully awake, if you know what I mean." I pressed closer to him and wrapped my arms around him, running a hand along his backside. He hummed quietly before leaning in to press his mouth to mine.

"I think I do know what you mean," he murmured against my lips. "And perhaps you're right. Sleeping is a bit overrated." He placed one more kiss on my lips, before drawing back and smiling. "But now...there's dinner in my oven waiting to be shared. Are you hungry?"

"Starving. What did you make?"

"Pasta with sundried tomatoes and ground beef."

"Mmm. Pasta is my favorite thing in the whole world."

Carlisle smiled. "You're definitely my kind of woman, Bella."

His comment was playful and innocent, but it sent a squadron of butterflies loose in my stomach. I turned around to grab my coat and bag to distract myself from the feeling, hoping he hadn't noticed my reaction.

When we arrived at Carlisle's house a few minutes later, it was drizzling. He hurried to unlock the front door and held it open for me, and a delicious smell greeted me as I stepped inside. After Carlisle had taken my coat, he led me to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for me. Would I ever get used to his gentlemanly manners?

As expected, he didn't let me help with anything when I tried to offer. As he hustled around the kitchen, taking out plates and glasses, he gave me a searching look, asking me if I was tired.

"A bit," I answered. "The café is always crowded on Saturdays, so this is just what I needed – a quiet and calm night. Rosalie called me in the afternoon and asked me if I wanted to go clubbing with her and Emmett. Even the thought makes me want to pop caffeine pills. Maybe I'm getting old or something."

He chuckled appreciatively. As he grabbed an oven mitt from the counter, his eyes went suddenly blank; he looked like he had just remembered something. "Oh."

"What is it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I was supposed to get the newspaper from the box on our way inside, but I forgot. I've been a little scatterbrained lately. I think I forgot to grab the mail yesterday as well."

"I'll get it for you," I offered and got up.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it tomorrow."

I was already making my way out of the kitchen. "But your paper is going to be all damp by then. It'll probably rain throughout the night. I'll get your mail. It's the least I can do, since you're not letting me help you in the kitchen."

He chuckled. "Alright. Thank you, Bella."

I hurried down the hall to the front door, leaving it open as I walked to the mailbox. He'd been right; yesterday's mail was still in there as well. I grabbed the paper and the few letters from the mailbox, holding them to my chest to keep them dry as I made my way back inside.

When I got back to the kitchen, Carlisle was just finishing setting the table. There was a large bowl of delicious-looking pasta in the middle. I wondered who had taught him to cook; everything looked wonderful. It looked like he wasn't new to domestic duties.

"Here you go." I placed the mail on the counter close to the stove.

"Thank you, Bella." He flashed me a warm smile. "Please. Have a seat."

I turned around towards the table, but then I noticed I had dropped one of the letters, and I crouched down to pick it up. I didn't intend to look at it more closely – that would have been impolite, after all – but my eyes happened to fall on the name of the sender on the upper left-hand corner of the envelope. For some reason, something about the handwriting caught my attention. It was elegant...and feminine. I put the letter on top of the others, but not before I had accidentally read the name of the sender. Esme Banner.

Esme. What a strange, beautiful name. It meant beloved; I remembered I'd read once it somewhere. I turned away, wondering who she was, but then, I shook those thoughts away. It was none of my business, after all.

I forgot about the whole thing soon after. The night was wonderful; after we'd eaten, Carlisle offered to show me the rest of the house, since we had never gotten around to finishing the tour the last time I was here.

My favorite room in the house turned out to be the library that also served as Carlisle's office. There was something different about the room; it must have been the color theme. The rest of the house was decorated and furnished with light, neutral color tones. But the library...the floor was dark hardwood, and the walls were paneled with rich mahogany. Not that you could see much of them – tall bookshelves covered every wall. Since the library was bigger than my bedroom, I estimated there had to be hundreds of books in this room, if not thousands.

Carlisle laughed softly as I stood there with my mouth open.

"I'd give practically anything to know what you're thinking about right now," he murmured. "Your expression...it's priceless."

I closed my mouth and drew in a deep breath. "I'm thinking about the note you left today. You said my book collection is impressive. Now I know you were just trying to be polite."

He shook his head. "Of course not. I was being sincere. Quality over quantity, right?" He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, urging me to step inside. "Take a closer look. If you see something interesting, feel free to borrow it. My books are at your disposal."

I gave him a surprised look. "Really?"

He nodded, smiling. His blue eyes danced. "Really. I swear to God, Bella, I've never seen anyone get so excited over a room full of books. When I've brought guests here in the past, they've immediately turned away, yawning."

I chuckled. "Well, I'm not yawning. The nerd in me is doing a happy dance."

He laughed softly. "I can see that. And I meant what I said – you're free to borrow as many books as you want. You can go ahead and take a few with you right now, if you want."

I smiled. "Do you have recommendations?"

"Hmm." He went to the shelf that was close to his desk. "Are you looking for something light?"

"Sure. Nothing depressing. I tend to empathize too much with tragic characters."

Carlisle plucked three books from the shelf, and then he looked around for a moment, before pulling one more from the stacks. "I suggest you start with these," he said with a smile. "There's some tragedy in some of them, but the endings are relatively happy."

"Perfect. I'm a romantic – and a little naive – when it comes to these things. I don't always like books with unhappy endings, you see. I get why some of them have to end badly, but...it's kind of depressing. I mean, if there are books that never receive a happy ending, how can people expect their lives to come to a fulfilling end? If happy endings don't exist even in fiction...how can they exist in real life?"

Carlisle frowned. "I don't know. I suppose…sometimes, there is no happy ending for everyone. That's how life works. It's sad, of course, but...it's true. It's a universal constant, really."

He stared at the floor at his feet for a while, lost in his thoughts. When he came out of it a moment later, and when he noticed I was watching him closely, he gave me an attempt at a smile.

"Listen to me, getting all deep and meaningful," he murmured and gave soft, joyless laugh. "You must think I'm silly." His voice was forcibly light. He offered me the books, and I took them, idly reading the titles.

"You know..." I began, giving him a long look. "Whenever you say something like that...well, you sound like you really know what you're talking about."

It was a moment before he answered. When he did, it seemed as if he was trying to look anywhere but into my eyes. "Perhaps," he murmured quietly. "I suppose I do know what I'm talking about. And sometimes...sometimes, I'd give practically anything if I didn't have to know."

He didn't say anything after that, and I decided not to push it. There was something in his eyes that gave me the feeling he wasn't here with me anymore. He had gone somewhere else, and I couldn't bring him back from that place. I wanted to, of course, but...for some reason, I felt as though there was a part of him that wanted to stay there. Like he would lose something important if he tried to leave that place behind.

What was that place he disappeared into every now and then? And why couldn't I reach him whenever he went there? Would I ever even catch a glimpse of that other world that only he seemed to know about?

I didn't have an answer to that question. I knew I had to accept the fact that I might never have it. The thought made me...sad. Like I had lost something before I'd even gained it.

I spent the night at his house. When I woke up the next morning, Carlisle was already awake; it didn't surprise me. He pressed a soft kiss on my cheek when I opened my eyes, and then he was pulling the covers away from my body, his hands immediately exploring and caressing my bare skin. We'd ended the previous night by being wrapped around each other, and it seemed as though it was his intention to start a new day in the same fashion. I didn't mind.

Because in those moments, when I got to have him so close to me, that dark place that took him away from me didn't seem to exist. In those moments, when we were skin to skin, I was his, and he was mine, and nothing and no one else seemed to exist.

As the days passed, Carlisle and I came to form a comfortable pattern without even noticing it. We didn't spend a single night apart; he spent a few nights a week at my apartment, and then, I stayed a few days at his house in turn. We even began to leave clothes at each other's places, and there was more than one occasion when I was going through my closet and trying to find my sweater, for instance, and Carlisle had to remind me I'd left it in his bedroom the previous day.

I sometimes wondered if it bothered him that I left my stuff lying around at his house, but he didn't seem to mind. Then again, he had begun to leave his things at my apartment as well. One morning, when I was getting ready to leave for work, I noticed he had left a razor and a can of shaving cream on the bathroom counter. It was a small thing, but still, it felt like we had reached a new level of intimacy. It made me happy.

Way too happy.

I sometimes thought to myself that I could get used to this. Having him almost constantly around was...nice. Actually, it was more than nice. I knew I liked it more than I should. I didn't want to kid myself, though. I knew no matter how much I enjoyed this new pattern of ours, and no matter how much Carlisle seemed to enjoy it as well, it didn't mean this would last forever. Whenever I thought about that, I had to remind myself to take it one day at a time, and just try to enjoy this as long as it lasted.

I came to notice that, no matter where we spent the night, whether it was at my place or his, it seemed to me like Carlisle almost never slept. There had been more than one occasion when I had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, for instance, and almost every time, he would be sitting on the edge of the bed, fully awake. Once or twice, I woke up and realized he wasn't even in the room, and when I got up to check if he'd gone to get a drink of water or something, I'd found his clothes and shoes were gone.

It made me realize that maybe he took walks at night more often than I'd thought. He usually came back in an hour or two, undressed quietly, and then slipped back into bed next to me, sometimes reaching out to touch me lightly or caress my hair, as if to make sure I was still there.

I didn't know if he still had nightmares – it could have been that I'd slept through them. Needless to say, all this worried me. A long-term lack of sleep had to be harmful, after all. I'd tried to talk to him about it, but he always brushed it off by saying he had gotten used to his sleeping problems, and I had no reason to worry about him.

He must have picked up on my growing concern, though. Once or twice, I noticed he had tried to pretend he was asleep, if I happened to wake up in the middle of the night. I didn't know how to feel about that. I didn't want him to start pretending and hiding his problems from me – it was the last thing I wanted. He kept enough secrets from me as it was.

"You're not fooling me, you know," I murmured one night, when I was staying over at his house. The illuminated clock on the nightstand told me it was almost two in the morning.

There was a beat of silence.

"What do you mean?" Carlisle asked quietly.

"I mean, I'm fully aware you're awake. Your breathing is too steady."

He gave a soft chuckle. "Too steady? How can one's breathing be too steady?"

"It's unnaturally steady. It doesn't sound like you're sleeping, it sounds like you're doing yoga or something."

That made him laugh loudly. "Really?"

"Uh huh. I'll give you a pointer. If you're going to try to pretend you're asleep, you should at least snore a bit every once in a while."

"Oh. Like you?"

I grabbed my pillow and tried hit him with it, but aiming was a bit hard, since it was dark. Carlisle broke into quiet laughter, grabbing my wrists and trying to stop my pillow attack. He pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me after prying the pillow from my grasp. His naked skin against mine felt heavenly.

"I was only joking," he chuckled. "You don't snore, Bella. You may have very interesting, one-sided conversations in your sleep, but you don't snore. I promise."

"Apologize."

He laughed again. His hands began to slide along my bare back and came to rest on my waist. His nose nuzzled mine. "Alright. I'm terribly sorry. That was no way to talk to a lady...no matter how loudly she snores." Laughter bubbled from his lips again, as I dug my fingers into his ribs – hard. I didn't let up, until he was gasping for breath.

A minute later, he was still breathing heavily. "My God, Bella," he chuckled. "You're probably the only person in the world who can make me laugh at two in the morning."

I smiled. "That's me. I'm entertaining and full of surprises. Here's another one." I rolled onto my back and turned on the bedside light. Carlisle blinked at the sudden brightness, giving me a confused glance, as I got up and began to dress. I picked up his pants from the floor and threw them at him.

"Get your clothes on," I told him, smiling softly.

He frowned confusedly, sitting up. "What are you up to?"

"Well..." I put on my T-shirt and fastened my jeans, before bending down to pull on my socks. "One of the first things I learned about you was that you're a poor sleeper, and you find night walks soothing. So, that's what we're going to do now. We'll take a walk."

Carlisle scratched his head. "At two in the morning?"

"Yep. Don't tell me it'd be the first time you did it."

"It wouldn't," he admitted. "But Bella, you have to be at the café in the morning. You have an early rise tomorrow. Or today, to be exact."

"The same goes for you," I pointed out. "You have an early class, don't you?"

"Yes, but–" He didn't manage to finish; I tossed his shirt across the room, and he grabbed it, giving me another baffled look, as I made my way out of his bedroom.

"Hurry up, Carlisle. You're not getting any younger."

I heard him give a quiet chuckle, and a moment later, he emerged from his bedroom, fully dressed. I was waiting for him by the front door; I already had my shoes and coat on. He gave me one more confused smile, as he went to the hall closet and pulled out his coat.

"Are you always this unpredictable?" he asked me as he grabbed his keys.

"Only when the situation demands it." I opened the door and waited for him to follow me outside. Carlisle gave a soft laugh, before stepping out and locking the door behind us.

As we walked down the silent street in front of his house, our pace unhurried, I could sort of understand why he found night walks soothing. I had always loved Seattle when it was awake, but I realized I also liked it when it was asleep. We were far enough from the downtown madness, but every once in a while, the distant sound of cars reached our ears.

I turned to look at Carlisle. His hands were thrust into his pockets, and his eyes were on the pavement. It took a while more until he sensed my gaze.

"Are you feeling soothed yet?" I asked, smiling softly.

He gave a quiet laugh. "I'm getting there, I suppose." He paused, glancing down at his feet. Our unhurried pace slowed even more, as he brought his head up to gaze at me. "You know, Bella, you must be the first person to offer to take a walk with me in the middle of the night, just because I find it calming. No one else has ever offered to do this for me before."

I watched him closely. "Have you given anyone a chance?"

He seemed taken aback by my words. "No. I suppose I haven't," he murmured after a while.

I nodded in a thoughtful manner. "Can I ask you something?"

A guarded look came over his face, but he nodded. I drew in a deep breath, giving him a searching look, as I tried to think of a way to phrase my question.

"Do you... Well, I know you've done a lot of dating. Or maybe not insanely a lot, but..." I shook my head and tried to gather my thoughts. "Anyway. When we were talking about relationships a couple of weeks ago, you said you're not cut out for that sort of thing, and then you said you've tried to change that, multiple times. And I was wondering...how have those things come to an end in the past? Do you always break up with women, or do women break up with you?"

Carlisle frowned. He wasn't looking at me, but I had a feeling he wasn't trying to avoid my gaze. He just seemed to be deep in thought.

"Well, sometimes, the women I've dated in the past have come to the decision to end things with me. But..." He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But usually, it's me who brings it up first. Sometimes, they've been surprised and disappointed, and sometimes, they've agreed and told me parting ways was a good idea."

I looked ahead of me, thinking about the things he'd said. Hesitating, I glanced at him again, noticing he was watching me, maybe trying to gauge my reaction. "And what is it that makes you bring it up?" I asked quietly. "What happens? What changes that makes you suddenly decide you should end the current relationship? You don't have to answer...if you don't want to."

He considered my question for a long moment. "You know, I'm not sure if I can answer that. It's not any specific thing that makes me realize that, maybe I should be alone. Nothing in particular happens, really. It's just this feeling that comes over me, I suppose. It overwhelms me and..." he frowned down at the pavement. "And then, I always realize I'm right back where I started. That it'll always be this way, no matter where I am, no matter how much time passes.

"I've thought about it a lot during these past couple of months, actually. A large part of me feels that, maybe it's wrong to start any type of relationships with anyone, since I know how every single one of them is going to end. But then again, the women I've dated have always wanted to keep things casual. Since they haven't expected anything more from me, I haven't felt like I've been leading them on. But still...still, for some reason, everything about the whole thing makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, and then, I realize that maybe I should just stay alone."

"But you don't want that. To be alone."

He hesitated. "It's...it's difficult to explain. Sometimes, I feel like I need it. Loneliness. I feel like it's the only thing that keeps me...sane. But at the same time...at the same time, I feel like it's suffocating me."

I reached out to take his hand. He gave me a sad smile, and for some reason, he looked like he was almost embarrassed about his confession. Like he had just revealed some terrible weakness he'd wanted to keep hidden.

"There's nothing wrong about feeling lonely," I murmured softly. "There's nothing wrong about feeling the need to be with someone."

His eyes were on the pavement again. "But that's the thing. I'm lonely...even when I'm with someone."

"Why is that?" I asked softly.

He shook his head slowly, not answering. Then, he let out a long, unsteady breath. He withdrew his hand from my grasp, as if to distance himself from me and my question. It hurt more than it should have.

Carlisle gave me a distracted half-smile, before stopping and turning to me. "We should get back," he murmured quietly. "We'll both have to be up in a couple of hours."

I nodded wordlessly and turned around. As we began to walk back to his house, he surprised me by drawing me under his arm. There was some sort of urgency in his touch, despair, almost like he was expecting me to disappear any moment. It seemed even more strange, since he had withdrawn his hand from mine a moment ago. It made me think about what he had said about loneliness – that he felt lonely, even when he was with someone. And when I had asked why...I wondered why he had reacted the way he had.

But then again, it had been a rather personal question.

We were silent when we arrived at Carlisle's house minutes later. It bothered me a bit, that silence. It was full of unanswered questions. Maybe Carlisle noticed my mind was still on our conversation; he did the only thing that could distract me. As we made our way to his bedroom and I began to strip off my clothes, his arms wrapped around me from behind. I shivered as his lips went to my neck, before pressing soft kisses along the angle of my jaw.

As I turned around in his embrace, and my hands began to work on his clothes, I thought to myself that I'd do practically anything to keep him from feeling lonely ever again. I didn't know where that thought came from, and I had to remind myself once again he wasn't mine to fix.

No matter how much I wanted it to be otherwise.