AN: this chapter... literally did not go in the intended direction. i had the scene all plotted out, and it was going great... and then i just... derailed. i dont know. it got off kilter and i dont think i regret it. sure, yeah, maybe its a bit fast paced but im a shit writer and i embrace it. cause im just doing what i love. but i hope you guys love it too because im quite fond of this chapter. i love paul. he's so multi-faceted and im trying to show that. and bella isn't just some compliant house wife. theyre perfect for each other. why they weren't the canon pairing, i'll never know. it would have made a much more interesting series, in my opinion. then again, i just hate edward. oops. anyway, i'll stop talking now. enjoy! cause im going to sleep! maybe! ha! -s

I think the beach had to have been one of my favorite things about La Push. I loved being able to go down to the beach whenever I wanted to relax. Localized beaches everywhere else were so crowded and saturated with people. This one stayed relatively empty, especially at night when the temperatures dropped. I loved to sit in the sand just in front of where the waves crashed against the shore and close my eyes and just listen. To the waves, to the wind rushing through my ears. It helped take my mind off of all of my constant worries.

There was always something to worry about. School. Charlie. Renee. Edward. My mortality. The Cullens'. My looming birthday. Paul.

There were some worries I couldn't even escape from here, but they weren't as pressing as the ones back in Forks. They were ridiculous worries in comparison, and some part of me even wondered why I labeled them as worries. They were more like passing moments or thoughts that bothered me.

Like Paul.

It bothers me that my mind returns to him a lot now these days, when before my first night in La Push not only had I never known he existed, but it was the first time we'd met, and there hadn't been many words exchanged. It bothered me that he was so upset with me and I hadn't done anything to offend him, to my knowledge. And above all, it bothered me that I should feel like he should be sitting next to me right now, comforting me and telling me everything would be alright. I shouldn't worry. I was safe here. And yet this nagging feeling persisted.

I didn't feel like my sanity was safe here. Not for the moment at least.

I sighed and laid back in the sand, closing my eyes. I could try and forget for now. I could lay here and listen to the rolling waves and breathe in the salty air and just stop thinking. I wanted to. But I've never been lucky enough for something so simple.

"Do you ever sleep?"

I couldn't help but laugh a little. One day I wouldn't. Hopefully. "I guess it depends on the night."

I heard the sand shift beside me and I opened one of my eyes, peeking over at Paul, who was sitting a few feet away. His expression was unusually resigned, but his nose was still crinkled. Like he smelled something he didn't like.

Well it wasn't me. I showered this morning.

"I don't sleep much either." He commented without looking my way.

I considered that for a moment. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I've got a lot on my mind. Especially here recently." At that, his calm expression was replaced with a mildly irritated look. But honestly, he just seemed tired to me.

"Me too." I said, sitting up and pulling my knees against my chest. I shivered and he scooted an inch or two closer, like it was second nature. I frowned. "Paul?"

He looked at me, his brows knit in frustration. He was thinking about something. I could see it in his eyes. "What?"

I looked away. "Do you hate me?"

"No."

It wasn't how quickly he responded that made me jump in surprise. It was the shock in his voice. Like my question had taken him by surprise. Like he'd been expecting literally anything else to come out of my mouth. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until I felt my chest get tight. I let it out in a gasp and took a deep breath, closing my eyes. The relief I felt was irrational and stupid. I shouldn't be so happy. But I was.

"Oh. Okay." I nodded quickly and hugged my knees a little tighter, crushing them against my chest. "Well, that's good."

There was a long stretch of silence between us. Five minutes or thirty minutes could have passed and I never would have known. I stretched my legs out after what seemed like forever and picked at my nails when my shoulders got stiff from sitting still for so long. Sometimes I would glance at him, but he seemed contented to sit there in silence, looking out over the ocean. Our eyes met once, and he'd quickly looked away, that irritated look coming back full force.

I huffed and stretched my arms out in front of me. "I think I'm just… gonna go. It was nice to learn that you don't actually hate me. Maybe I'll sleep now that one of my worries has been set to rest. See you around, Paul."

"Wait!" He reached out and grabbed my wrist to keep me from leaving. I flinched and yanked my hand away out of reflex. It hadn't hurt—the bruises were nearly gone now. Only I knew they were there. But looking up at Paul made my pulse quicken.

He was livid.

"Paul?"

He stood abruptly, shaking so hard I thought I could hear his teeth chattering.

"Paul!"

"I gotta go." He ground out, still shaking. He stumbled back a step, his eyes wide with a terrifying mix of fury and fear. I scrambled to my feet and took a step towards him, extending my arm, brushing my fingers over his hand. His skin was hot! It burned like he was on fire. It reminded me of Jacob's warmth, but it was different. Paul burned much hotter.

"Don't touch me! You need to back up." He gasped between clenched teeth. He pressed his fists hard against his temples, doubling over.

"I don't know what's wrong, but you're not scaring me. You need help." I took another step forward, reaching out with both hands to hold his arms. His tremors had slowed significantly but hadn't stopped. His breathing wasn't nearly as labored but it was still heavy. He shook his head slowly back and forth, muttering.

"Paul, speak up. I can't hear you."

"I don't understand." He looked up at me, his eyes flicking back and forth, searching for something. He looked down at my hand on his arm, his frown deepening. He looked back up at me. Tired again.

"Why does it have to be you?"

I blinked. "What?"

Gently, he removed my hand from his arm, but he didn't let it go. He looked at it, like he was comparing it to his. I could see faint yellowish color of fading bruises around my wrist. From so close, I was sure he could see them now too. They were obvious to me now. I was so much paler than him it was almost funny. Or it might have been if I weren't so dumbfounded by what he'd just said.

"What is that supposed to even mean?" I ask quietly, staring at our hands, scrunching my eyebrows in confusion. Compared to Edward, Paul was fire. His volatile emotions, his physical temperature. It was so different to me, and not entirely unwelcome.

He shook his head and let go of my hand. I felt the loss of his warmth immediately. Paul turned without a word and walked quickly away without another look. I wasn't sure what to do with myself after that, so I began walking towards Emily's house. I didn't know what to think, either. He didn't hate me. That was a plus… but what did he mean by "why does it have to be you?" I didn't get it. I wasn't sure if I wanted to.