Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
This story has been adopted. The original was written and discontinues by Amiiix3. I was graciously given permission to continue the story as I saw fit. Thank you Amiiix3 for your trust.
I examined the room. It was clean, but what else had I expected? In reality, with all the human gestures they made, I thought the room would be messier.
Edward's room was crisp and tidy, just like him. The sandy floorboards clashed with the mahogany wood in the rest of the house. A muted golden comforter covered the bed, its sides neatly tucked beneath the mattress. The only thing that looked out of place was a shabby, cardboard box tucked beneath the bed.
I smirked. "A little obsessive compulsive, Edward?"
He looked embarrassed. "I have nothing better to do in my spare time than clean," he defended, clicking the door shut behind us and striding to his bed. He plopped down on it a little harder than one normally would. I hid a grin as I joined him, sitting a safe distance away.
"So," I began after a short pause, "what did you want to talk about?" I examined my fingernails, careful not to show my apprehension.
"Just… you and me."
I felt my jaw clench. "You and… me?" My throat was dry. I cleared it. "What about us?"
"Not you and me. Just you."
"You already know all about me."
"Not that much…"
"Well, before I begin spilling the darkest secrets of my mind– I think you should tell me your story."
"What story? There's nothing to tell." He looked away.
I rolled my eyes. "Very funny, Edward." I leaned forward, draping myself across the bed so that we lay side by side; me on my belly and him on his back.
"What's funny?" he mumbled. I noticed him shift away, and forced the sudden throbbing of my lungs to subside. I had no right to take it personally. I was trying to stay away from his charms, after all.
"Why won't you tell me how you were changed?" I pressed.
"Oh… oh… That's what you wanted to know?" He looked relieved.
"What did you think I wanted to know?"
He shook his head, looking away. "Nothing… nothing." There was a very long pause as I watched him and he watched the ceiling. I gave a loud sigh. He did not move. I sighed again, this time nudging his stomach with my elbow. He shifted uncomfortably, pretending he did not hear me; it did not escape my notice that the corners of his lips were twitching.
Just as I was pulling in the air for my third, and loudest, sigh, he began to speak quietly. "I was born in Chicago in 1901. Carlisle found me dying of the Spanish Influenza in a hospital where he worked– that was in 1918. My father had already died and my mother was on her deathbed. We were placed in a ward for the dead and dying."
"And Carlisle slipped on his control?" And brought you into the everlasting darkness so that you could meet me and we would live happily ever after? I pushed the silly thought away and looked at Edward understandingly.
"Of course not!" I flinched from the protectiveness in his voice. "Sorry," he scooted closer to me on the bed, and flipped himself so he was on his stomach, facing me. His gaze of molten gold dropped to meet mine, eyes shimmering sympathetically. "I didn't mean to sound so harsh. Carlisle saved my life. He has never drank a single drop of human blood to satisfy his thirst. My mother saved me too, by asking Carlisle to save me," he added.
"Do you miss your mother?" I asked timidly, remembering of my own. He nodded solemnly, never breaking our gaze. It was as though the room was becoming smaller and smaller, and slowly everything disappeared but the bed beneath us and his eyes, less than a foot away from my own.
I wavered, half my mind shouting at me to break the stare before I got carried away, but the other half thinking about the fact that we had both been through similar losses. And then his golden eyes smoldered at me and I unconsciously leaned closer until I was able to see the tiny flecks of caramel in his deep irises. I licked my lips, which felt extremely dry and, in thinking of them, my gaze fell to Edward's angel lips– rosy, smooth, and ever so soft. When my eyes returned to his, I saw the blooming desire, likely mimicked by my own.
"I'm sorry about your mother," I whispered, so close my breath brushed his lips like a soft caress. His eyes closed and he exhaled a gentle sigh. I watched him with growing curiosity– and desire. He looked utterly vulnerable, but as he opened his eyes again, there was a new determination that was wholly delicious.
He leaned down until our eyes were inches away, and I could not look away from the pools of endless gold. "I'm sorry," I began again. I felt like a broken record, but my mind was suddenly blank… before he pressed his lips against my own.
I gasped, feeling the freshly drank blood boiling beneath my lips as he brushed testing butterfly kisses to them until I could take it no longer. I reached my hand up and wrapped it around his neck, pulling us both closer to deepen the kiss. His pillowy lips moved in perfect sync with mine, until we both pulled apart, breathing loudly, gasps of air we did not need.
"Oh," I gasped again, placing trembling fingers to my tingling lips. They felt strangely warm, as if all the scanty blood in my body had rushed up to them. Edward and I stared at each other for a few silent moments. I noticed that his lips were just as red as mine, and slightly swollen. His hair was even more of a mess than usual and I realized, with growing embarrassment, that I had taken this opportunity to finally run my hands through those silken locks.
"Um, well…," I began. I was embarrassed to find that my voice was extremely high and strained. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Well," I said stupidly. I could think of nothing to say. "Well…goodnight." And then I was gone.