oOo
Edward was alone in his studio, painting late at night. Bella had gone to see a movie with Leah. She'd asked him to come, but he had declined, eager to finish his painting.
After the block earlier in the year, work was coming easily to him now.
His hand was moving in slow strides, the paintbrush describing the shape of a woman's body as if caressing it. It was a slim body, skinny almost, delicate, but with beautiful, round breasts. Alabaster skin and luscious curves, and pink nipples.
He'd been in his studio all night, and he knew that Bella was curious to see his new paintings. Up to now, he hadn't wanted to show them to her. He just wasn't sure they were worth anything.
Even though he was spending so much time in his studio, he wasn't certain that anything worthwhile had come of it.
The last thing on earth he wanted was to disappoint Bella.
Which was the reason he was spending all this time up here, alone. The reason he'd wait until she was asleep before he crept into bed next to her.
Edward dipped his paintbrush into the black colour, enhancing the long lashes of his subject.
Yes, work was going wonderfully well.
Now.
Edward knew exactly what had caused his block, and he knew even better what had released it.
All this hiding in his studio to paint? It was a sham.
He sighed. He hadn't wanted it to be this way. He hated to be lying to her, but he didn't want to disappoint her, either. He knew he was betraying her trust.
He sat down on the sofa he'd bought, for her, for them, and dropped his head in his paint-blotched hands.
He hated himself intensely at this moment.
It had started a few weeks ago, when he'd been frustrated beyond means with his inability to produce anything worthwhile. He'd been meaning it as a kick-start, a one-time thing.
And it had made things easier, so much easier. Dreadfully easy.
So the next day, and the day after that, he'd done it again. And again.
Always afraid that Bella might notice something, afraid of fucking things up again.
So he kept the façade. So he kept things to his studio, his sanctuary.
Ashamed and disgusted with himself.
But as much as he wanted, as much as he tried to psych himself up, he couldn't not do it.
Edward ran a hand through his hair and took another sip from his mug. The mug was another precautional measure. Just in case.
The clear fluid burned down his throat, relieving him from his broodings, at least for a moment.
Deep down, Edward knew that something needed to happen. That he was risking everything. Risking the love he'd found.
Deep down, he knew that he couldn't fight this battle alone.
He took another sip.
Even though it was Grey Goose, he hated the taste. He would have preferred some Glenlived, but there you go. Vodka was much harder to tell from your breath, especially if combined with scrubbing your teeth and Listerine.
Yes, work was going wonderfully well. Now that he'd returned to the arms of his initial dragon.
oOo
Thoughts?