I'd Come For You

by cornel81

Edward and Bella have been together for the last eleven years. They love each other very much. However, sometimes, you need more than love to make a relationship work. Just when you think things are getting better, unfortunately, sometimes life is sad...

3. Chapter 3 What did I do?

Disclaimer: owns them, I make them slightly insane.

It took forever to update and I'm so sorry. I hope you haven't given up on this story. RL has been too much for me, but at least something good came out... I got promoted!

Some of you thought that Edward was cheating and I couldn't have that. This is the first part that will give you some insight of his state of mind.

Many many thanks to PTB.

Song for this chapter:

Not Meant To Be - Theory Of A Deadman

I can't give you what you want
And it's killing me
And I, I'm starting to see
Maybe we're not meant to be

It's never enough to say I love you
No, it's never enough to say I try
It's hard to believe
That's theres no way out for you and me
And it seems to be the story of our lives

Nobody wins when everyone's losing

Chapter 3: What did I do?

What did I do? Edward thought as he leaned his back against the closed door of their apartment. The duffle bag was still in his hand. His fingers clenched around it tighter, causing his knuckles to turn white. It seemed like the bones had broken free from the muscles and were just about to break the skin as well. Yet, he didn't acknowledge the pressure his hand was applying to the handle. It was as if his body was reacting to the atrocious thing he had just done on its own volition.

Suddenly, he felt his knees unable to hold the weight of his body anymore and he let go. He slowly slid down to the floor with his back still leaning on the cold wood of the door. His legs spread in front of him as if they were limp. The only part of his body that seemed to be alive, that seemed to have some inert energy left, was his hand, still gripping the handle of the duffle bag. His eyes seemed to be locked on the elevator in front of him, but in reality, all he could see was Bella's face contorted with pain. Pain he had caused. Pain that was not momentary, but had been building for a while and that was his fault. Pain he didn't take the time to acknowledge, because he was busy. Again, his fault.

Edward leaned his head against the door and squeezed his eyes shut, making a single tear roll down his cheek. A muffled sound came from the other side of the door. He clenched his teeth and strained his ears to hear better, to make sure that Bella was alright. It was the sound of her bawling. It was heartbreaking. He couldn't listen to it. He moved his legs upwards and brought his knees to his chest. He finally let go of the bag, wrapped his arms around his calves and buried his head between his chest and his knees. The same thought was running through his head while he rocked himself in a feeble attempt to calm down and block the heart-wrenching sounds she was making. What did I do?

The door might have been closed and the words might have been said, but he was still undecided. Two Edwards were warring inside him; one wanted to get up, go inside, apologize for everything and envelope her in his arms, and the other wanted to run as far away from her as he possibly could and stop hurting her. It was a tie. And so, he was lying there, curled in a ball, rocking himself back and forth and not knowing what to do. His hands came to his hair instinctively. The moment his fingers dug into his soft tresses, he froze. That was a gesture of comfort. Did he deserve to be comforted? The moment the question popped into his head, he removed his hands from his head as if he had put them over a burning flame and rested them on his knees. Sanity, he felt, was hanging by a very thin thread.

He could hear her, calling him to come back and that made him rock himself faster.

How can you let her suffer like that? You really have no heart. The voice was coated with disgust.

"Shut up!" He raised his head to look at an almost transparent eidolon of himself right in front him. Her painful cries were piercing his ears. No, not his ears. His heart. His very soul. Edward lowered his head again, but before his forehead could touch his knees he heard his own voice again chuckling sardonically.

Huh, that's the joke of the year. You, having a soul. The transparent Edward raised his hands in frustration. That's the joke of the fucking year!

"Go away," Edward choked and rested his head, exhausted, on his knees.

For once in your life, be a man and do the right thing! The other him scolded. Go back! Apologize! Stop being a fool! He was in front of his face now. Stop being a failure! he seethed.

The comment drew Edward's attention to his materialized subconscious. He had hit a nerve and he was staring at Edward with a taxing look. "I can't. I'll hurt her more…"

You idiot! What do you think you're doing to her now? Can't you see how much she loves you?

"She'll be better off without me. She'll learn to love again. She'll find the happiness I can't give her."

Oh, so now you know how she feels? It's so easy for you to dismiss her feelings, you arrogant bastard! Edward shook his head to refute the argument. Aren't eleven years enough for her to prove that she loves you? How can you erase all the happy moments so easily?

"I'm nothing but a soulless monster and I need to protect her. I need to get as far away from her as possible."

That's just bullshit and you know it. Things got tough and you chose to run instead of staying and fighting for her. You don't deserve her, but she's just as much a fool as you are, for loving you. The voice was enraged and the transparent spectre raised his hand pointing at the door. Can't you hear? Edward brought his hands to his ears. It seemed like the sounds coming inside from the apartment were getting louder with every second that passed. He felt his eardrums pounding. You coward! You can't stand that, can you? It's all your fault she's hurting.

"I know." Edward's voice was barely a whisper. "That's why I'm saving her from me," he finished with conviction.

Kind of late to think about that. Did you need eleven fucking years to discover that you're no good for her?

Edward felt his anger building inside him at the contempt he recognized in his transparent reflection's voice. "I've always known it, but I thought…"

Yes, you thought. You always over-think everything until they die!

"Shut the fuck up! She's not going to die! She's going to be perfectly okay. I'll make sure of it. I would have stayed away from her long ago, if it hadn't been for you."

What?! You're delusional.

"That, I most definitely am. I'm talking to you, aren't I?" Edward raised his eyebrow challenging himself. Who in turn, waived his hand in dismissal. "You were the one that insisted I could be good for her-"

That's because you are! Edward was cut off by an exasperated reflection of himself.

"Well, I guess I'm definitely deaf. Can't you hear her? How can that be good for her?"

That's because you're not there to make her pain go away. Edward shook his head, not wanting to hear anymore. His subconscious, though, wouldn't give up. He kneeled in front of him and tried in a softer tone. You are good for her. You've made her happy before. You can do it again. Stop being stubborn and go back to her, to your life. Edward was still refusing to agree and gestured his negation with his head. Please, listen to me. You're making a big mistake. He was practically begging.

"I've just started to fix it." And he was back to being alone. His subconscious disappeared and finally, Edward caved to the need to soothe himself somehow. Such a silly gesture that it was! He ran both hands through his hair once and then again, exhaling each time. The third time, he paused. He clenched his fingers around the hair on top of his head and while resting his head on his knees pulled it so hard, one might think he would pull it out. That thin thread holding him sane was about to snap.

The more she wailed from inside, the more he pulled his hair in despair. And those words were running like a mantra through his mind; What did I do? He knew those words did not only correspond to his leaving tonight. This was only the aftermath of his actions. Of his doing.

He couldn't let her suffer like that. It was a sin to allow such a pain to engulf her. He could make it better. He would make it better. His subconscious seemed to have taken over his body and with a swift and determined movement he stood and was facing the door. Edward's eyes were bloodshot. The tears stained his beautiful face and his breathing was heavy. He moved his hand toward the doorknob, but just as he was about to grab it, he stopped. His hand hovered for a few moments – Come on, do it, knock on the door – and then recoiled into a fist in front of his stomach. All his determination vanished in an instant. Still clenched, Edward raised his hand again to knock on the door. Yes, for the love of all that's holy, do it. Knock on the goddamned door! His subconscious practically growled.He had relinquished his right to enter like he used to, the moment he passed the threshold and left her alone. But he couldn't bring his hand to knock on the door either. His hand remained for a few moments in the air. Why couldn't he make a reasonable decision? Why did he make only the irrational ones; those that had driven them – and were still driving them – apart? Because you're a failure!

The few seconds that passed with his hand clenched in a fist hovering over the door – ready to knock, but not being able to go through with it – seemed like hours, days, eons.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't go back to hurting her. He couldn't break her heart anymore. He had already done too much damage.

Her weeping had not stopped. Edward unclenched his fist and put his palm against the door. His head followed. And he stayed there against that door, with his head and his itching palm against it, trying to find the courage to finally leave. He didn't. Neither did he enter the apartment.

He could not only hear, but could also feel the vibrations caused by her cries on the other side of the door. Once again, he questioned himself; why he couldn't make the decision to go inside; why he couldn't go back and take all the stupid things he said back. The need to hold her and love her was prominent. The need to heal her was pushing him further into that door. His palm was applying such pressure to the wood that he was afraid he might leave an indentation when he removed it. The need to protect her from him prevailed.

Why was he such a coward? Why was he such a villain? Why was he such a monster? Really? Don't you know why? his subconscious asked him. Oh, but he did, he did know that he was all those terrible things. A coward. A villain. A monster. It was in his polluted blood to be all those things. He shook his head in despair. No matter how much he loved her, he knew he was no good for her. And it was all inside him. It ran through his veins. The reminder of his nature ended the war inside him. He had made his decision. He would follow through and finally leave her alone to find happiness eventually. No, no, no, his subconscious was frantically trying to stop him, materializing again in front of him. His arms were outstretched, reaching out to Edward in a last effort to prevent him from making the biggest mistake he had made in his life. No, don't go! But Edward ignored him altogether.

As a final goodbye, he closed his eyes, held his itching palm in place and rested his forehead against the door. "I love you," he almost mouthed, but inside him he was screaming it as if he was trying to make her hear it.

Edward was about to detach himself from the door and the only reason for him to go on living – the woman on the other side of that door - when he heard her shaky voice. "I love you, Edward." The wind was knocked out of him. Had he said it out loud? No, he could have sworn that he didn't.

With almost superhumanly quick movements he removed himself from the door, grabbed the duffle bag and ran down the stairs. There was no patience left in him for the elevator. The concierge of the building – Luke, a good-natured young man – tried to talk to him, but Edward could not acknowledge him. He was inside his shiny, silver Volvo in a matter of seconds and was speeding, without any destination, throughout the city.

A couple of hours later, Edward found himself in the parking lot of a ramshackle motel. The fact that he was all alone inside his shiny car, in a very disreputable part of the city, was not disturbing. Neither was it the early morning hour that made the surroundings look like a background from Sin City. No, what was disturbing were his eyes. They were glazed, out of focus and seemed to be looking though the windshield at the flickering sign indicating the parking lot. His eyes were not sad. They were not pained. Neither regretful. Nor self-loathing. They were absolutely lifeless.

Lifeless. That's how he should be. Death may have seemed a happy thought for a while. But no, he couldn't. He couldn't allow himself to be taken over by death for a number of reasons. First of all, it was the easy way out. He hated the thought of becoming his father, even though he knew there was no way he could avoid that. The pain of being away from Bella and his guilt would be easily dissipated by death. And he most definitely did not deserve that. Then, there was Bella. He might have hurt her, but he couldn't just go and leave her alone. He had to make sure she found the happiness he wasn't able to give her. Until then? He would have to be close to her, to protect her and to avoid losing his mind. So no, death was out of the question.

A slow and torturous life though, that was what he deserved; and that's what he would get away from the woman he loved more than anything in the world. He raised his eyes lazily from the sign – a locked gaze that would have turned anyone blind after that long of a time – and looked at the entrance of the motel. A foul place for a foul man. The thought brought a small, sardonic grin on his face. Yes, this was the fitting place for him to be.

Edward got out of the car and walked with determination towards the entrance, feeling that he belonged in that awful excuse for a building. The moment he pushed the door open, the little bell that was attached to one of its corners rang, announcing his entrance. He looked at the claustrophobically small lobby. Lobby; the word was an understatement for that place. The curtains that ran from the ceiling to the floor – and the distance was not that large – were an awful, dirty yellow. They seemed to have not been washed for years. They were drawn to each side of the window frame and a small coffee table stood between them. The small table was adorned with three ashtrays full of cigarette buds, ashes and dust. It was rounded by a two-seated couch and an armchair, which seemed to be crammed in the very small space. The furniture could have once been a bright color of beige or even yellow. Now, torn all over, they looked more like orange with dark splotches everywhere. The low lighting didn't help him discern the color of the stains. They seemed more like burgundy, like dried blood. Maybe it was exactly that, dried blood. Maybe someone had been killed there on that furniture. The shiver that ran through Edward's body was not out of fear. He was not afraid for his life. That lay on the floor of his home – he shook his head, no, it wasn't his anymore – bawling because of him. The shiver that ran through his body was out of satisfaction that he had finally found the place he belonged.

His life with Bella had been an extended vacation from the hell where he belonged. And such a wonderful vacation that had been! Her beautiful smiling face came in front of his eyes and momentarily changed the whole scenery surrounding him. Edward closed his eyes reveling in the strong memories. He felt the warmth of her breath, fanning across his naked chest as she laid there sleeping and spent from their lovemaking. He felt the tingling of her touch as she slowly ran her fingers over his face, moving lower to his neck and turning at the back of his head to pull his face to hers in a searing kiss. He felt the sweetness of her skin as he was reverently worshiping her body and loving her with all he had.

A clearing of a throat brought Edward back from his thoughts. He snapped his eyes open to find in front of him, and behind the counter, a burly, dirty-blond man with blue eyes, wearing a black tee – despite the freezing cold – that showed his muscular, inked arms. He raised an eyebrow at Edward, obviously annoyed to have been disturbed in the middle of the night, probably wondering what a clean cut guy like him was doing in a place like that. Edward approached the counter. It didn't take more than half his stride. His gait was wide, given his six foot one frame. He reached for the dark wood counter that was full of indents. It was obvious it had been hit many times by only God knows what sort of items.

Before Edward could speak, the burly man asked him in a very bored tone, "D'you need anything, buddy? Trouble with the car?" It would be the only logical explanation for Edward's whereabouts.

"No," Edward replied sternly. "I need a room."

The man looked at him from head to toe. Edward was not the usual type of customer he was used to having. Generally, hookers, peddlers, and outcasts were his usual clientele. But clean, well-dressed, nice-smelling, pretty Edward did not seem like he would need the services of his motel.

"Advance payment only," countered the man, obviously thinking that maybe he was broke and that was what pushed him in need of his 'hospitality.'

Edward smirked and took a bunch of hundreds from his pocket. He threw the money on the counter and said, "That enough for a week?"

The man's eyes widened for a moment, trying to count the money without touching it at first. It seemed like it was five hundred dollars and that was more than enough for a month to assure someone accommodation. As an old saying goes, 'when money talks…' and the owner of the motel most definitely cared about the money. He wasn't about to tell Edward that that was too much. He just took it and handed him a room key.

Edward took the key that was accompanied by a small chain ring and a tag with the number of the room, 302. But the motel had only two floors. He was about to ask the man about it, but he had already disappeared. He shrugged and went up the stairs. No elevator. Not that he would have used it, but he noticed the absence.

As he ascended the stairs he remembered another set of stairs he had climbed a few years ago with Bella in his arms. She had been laughing wholeheartedly and for the first time in years she hadn't felt embarrassed of his display of possessiveness. In her usual clumsiness, Bella had tripped while walking next to the pool of the hotel and had fallen into the water. The white dress she had been wearing was soaked, exposing all her curves in the most endearing way. But it had not been only Edward who noticed how the fabric hung around her frame. Without a second thought, he had grabbed her in his arms – not before allowing a low growl to escape his throat – making her playfully shout at him to put her down, and had headed towards their room. His impatience to be encased in their refuge, away from hungry eyes – all addressed at his beautiful wife – had been such that he had carried her in his arms up to the fifth floor where their room had been. Bella hadn't stopped laughing at his antics. And when he had fallen on the bed exhausted, she had kissed him sweetly and had held him in her arms until he could catch his breath.

His room was indeed on the second floor and the number outside the door was 302. It had nothing to do with the room from his memories. The decay on the walls or the cracks on the door might have been, at first sight, the noticeable difference to anyone else but him. No, the staggering difference was his empty arms. Because every time they visited a hotel after that silly incident, Edward refused to let her walk to their room and always carried her in his arms. He had been so adamant in properly performing his duty that he always tried to climb the stairs and wouldn't take the lift. Edward remembered how once Bella had put her foot down insisting that they used the elevator, because the room had been on the twentieth floor. So what if I had gotten tired? Edward shrugged at his thoughts as he unlocked the door and got inside, practically dragging his feet. The feeling of being lifeless hit him again. He felt drained of emotions, life, will, even blood.

The room was just as claustrophobic as the lobby had been. There was a double bed covered by a cotton print quilt. The prominent color was the same as the curtains of the lobby: dirty yellow. And 'dirty' was not a euphemism. The two pillows had the same print, which also adorned the heavy curtains that were drawn closed. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were the dresser and a mirror above it. There was also a small TV set attached to the top end of the wall, across the bed. Once, many years ago, this room might have looked decent, but now, it was in complete decay, just like Edward. It suits me, he mused.

He literally collapsed on the bed. He didn't bother to take off his shoes, or his clothes. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, without any light getting inside the room. The time passed and Edward didn't acknowledge it. He was just lying there in that filthy room of that filthy motel, staring at the cracked ceiling. All he was thinking about was Bella. Her beautiful, smiling face made those terrible cracks disappear. And then, in an instant, they would come back and Bella's smiling face would turn to the horrible mask of pain he had witnessed a few hours ago. And the cracks would become more prominent. And they would spread around the walls and through the rest of the room until they touched him. Until they touched his heart and broke it all over again. Because that was exactly what Bella's pained face did to him. Oh, the terrible mistakes he had made!

She had been holding back all those thoughts and he'd absolutely no idea about it. He'd never thought she felt so alone. Of course, he had to be home to know those things. He had to be present; and that, he never seemed to have been lately. He had been constantly in the studio, recording new music and then arranging the details about the concerts. And on top of that, the soundtrack! He should have never assumed such a responsibility. Laurent kept telling him it was part of the franchise. The movie he had written the music for was the third installment of a series of movies. 'The Saga', as the production company, the fans and practically everyone called them, was a huge success amongst teenagers. The sales had reached astronomical levels. It was only subsequent that the music would follow suit. Of course, Laurent didn't miss the chance to boost the record's sales more with Edward making various appearances and photo shoots in magazines.

But the issue was not Laurent; it was himself. He had a mind of his own. How had he let himself be completely in the hands of his manager? Edward exhaled, letting out a ragged breath. He had made mistake after mistake, caught up in the frenzy of things, not thinking about the consequences. He had neglected his wife significantly during the last month and for what? For nothing! It was nothing but an empire of dust. Because nothing else mattered but her in the world. Suddenly, Bella's favorite book, Wuthering Heights, came to his mind. He had read it along with her so many times over the years and could remember quite a few passages. Catherine's words rang to his mind's ears: 'If all else perished and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the Universe would turn to a mighty stranger.' Only Edward would rephrase Catherine's last words. If anything would ever happen to Bella, the Universe wouldn't only be a stranger. He would follow her in every place and every form.

The remembrance of Bella's favorite book had the memories coming to him like an unstoppable flood. A million pictures of her came one after the other. The first time he saw her when she timidly approached their desk in biology class to become his lab partner. How taken he had been with her looks. He had thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. He still believed that. He had been so impressed by her beauty and her scent – yes, her scent, as strange as that might seem – that he couldn't utter one single word to her during the whole class. Every time he had thought about talking to her, he would feel cold shivers running through his whole body and he got tongue-tied. He had even considered not going back to school just to avoid the embarrassment. If he hadn't been more afraid of Emmett making fun of him for the rest of his life and also disappointing Carlisle and Esme, he might have followed through. And he did go to school, just as he was supposed to do, but not before having gone over and over in front of his mirror the small talk he could possibly have with Bella. When the next Biology class came, he had found the courage to talk to her. The moment he heard her sweet voice talk to him and utter his name, he had known that she would be the only woman he would ever love.

The next memory that came to him was the one of him proposing to Bella.

They were to graduate from high school in a little more than a month. Bella had been accepted to Harvard – she was a brilliant student and as far as Edward was concerned she was brilliant in everything – and Edward to Berklee. They were lucky they were in the same city studying what they had dreamed. Bella was studying English and Edward, music. During summer, they were to leave and look for a house. They could stay in the dorms, but neither of them wanted to spend the next years away from each other when they could share a house and spend every night together.

He knew they belonged together. There was never a question about that in his mind. All the planning about their life in Boston had him thinking that, since they would eventually end up spending their lives together, why not start from that very moment? He knew he would never want another woman but Bella and in that moment, the decision was made. He would ask her to marry him.

Edward had been trying to find the perfect way and timing to propose to Bella. He was a little afraid as he knew that she was not comfortable with the idea of marriage, given her parents' failure. If he didn't absolutely adore her, Edward would never have thought of marrying. His parents' fate had him always second-guessing the idea of marriage and family. But when it came to Bella, there was not even the hint of a doubt. He knew they were meant for each other. He loved her so much that he wanted everyone to know he belonged to her and she, to him.

He had always been a little controlling. After his parents' deaths, he made the decision to not let anything out of his control in a desperate way of avoiding getting hurt again. But that beautiful Saturday morning, things slipped out of his control and he had never been happier. Sometimes, not everything needs to be planned out in detail.

They had decided to visit their meadow and spend some time alone before graduation and preparation for college madness started. Alice had been painfully hovering lately. If Jasper hadn't contained her with his ever-present calm demeanor, Edward thought that he would have either killed her or kill himself. They hadn't been able to share one chaste kiss in peace. So, that Saturday in the meadow was the perfect time for them both to relax and be just what they needed; the two of them alone.

The beginning of summer had turned the meadow even more beautiful. The ground had been covered by a thick green blanket of grass. Beautiful wild flowers had colored it and the tall trees around it had created the perfect natural barrier. They had seemed like they were protecting the couple inside that wonderful space from everything. The only other welcome visitor in that meadow had been the sun. In a town of constant rain and overcast skies, the few rays of sun were precious. And it seemed that even the globe of fire had been on their side that beautiful morning. The hot rays – they had been hot for Forks anyway – had warmed their skin as they had entered the meadow.

As soon as Bella had felt the sunbeams on her face, she had closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation. Edward had come behind her and had wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing tenderly the side of her neck. That had brought a smile to her face, as always. Sensing Bella's pleasure, Edward had continued peppering light pecks on her neck, behind her ear, on the nape of her neck. He had moved his face into Bella's hair then had taken a deep breath to take in her heavenly scent and smiled. And it had been in that moment that he had known he would do it. He had found his perfect moment and it hadn't taken any planning or programming. It had been just how it was supposed to happen; naturally.

He had pressed his lips softly on top of her hair and brought them close to her ear to whisper, "See, love. Even nature is on our side."

Bella had shaken her head, smiling, and had turned in his arms to look at him. The moment their eyes had met her face brightened. It had seemed to Edward that the sun's radiance paled in comparison to her beautiful, heart-shaped face and deep, brown eyes. He had watched her studying him, his features, his expression and her smile widened, if that could have been possible. He had felt his own face mirroring hers. For a few moments they had been wrapped up in each other, staring at their faces and just enjoying the silence. A thought had passed that moment through his mind, how love lives and thrives in silence. And then hoping that it could have been possible for her to read his mind he thought at her directly, I wish I had a million silences for you to listen to, my love.

In an instant everything had changed. Bella's happy smile had turned into a frown. He had looked upward to the sky to see if the sun had been still shining, because to him, the moment she had stopped smiling, the light had disappeared. To his amazement, the sun had still been visible and there had been no evidence of having been covered by clouds, as the weather had remained strangely fair for the Olympic Peninsula. There had been no obvious reason for her change of mood and he had felt alarmed.

"What's wrong, love?" he had asked with a voice full of concern, but also trying to mask it as much as possible. A few times in the past he had been over-attentive to her mood, which had made him exaggerate in his reactions and Bella feel self-conscious.

"Nothing," she had whispered, lowering her head and looking at his chest intently.

He had brought his hand on her chin and had lifted her head so that she was looking at him. "Bella, tell me what's wrong. I know there's something."

Edward had been putting all the strength in him to not behave like the overprotective boyfriend he felt and truthfully, was. He had tried to disguise his worry with a seductive tone. And maybe, he had known what that voice did to her senses. And maybe he had used it more than a couple of times to get his way. The thought had made him feel smug. And in any other couple, that might have been wrong for one partner to do consciously do to the other, but Edward hadn't felt guilty. She makes me feel flustered without even trying. In queue, as if having heard his thoughts, had come her delectably charming blush. If only she knew what that does to me.

"It really is nothing, Edward. Just stupid and unimportant thoughts." Bella shook her head and her cheeks turned more crimson. Oh, my sweet girl, are you trying to kill me with that blush of yours?

Edward had cupped her face in his strong and warm hands, trapping her face there, not allowing her to tear her gaze from him. "Your thoughts are never unimportant or stupid to me. Tell me," he had pleaded.

She had sighed in defeat. "Fine," she had conceded. "But it's stupid." Edward had been about to protest, but she had shaken her head, not allowing him to continue. "It is stupid, but I'll tell you anyway." That had earned her the crooked smile he knew she adored. "I was thinking about our time in Boston and I was wondering…" She had hesitated for a moment, trying to find the words.

"Wondering, what?" Edward had prompted. His elation for what he had been about to do had been quickly replaced with dread. He had wondered whether she had regretted the choice to go with him in Boston. But he hadn't felt he had been holding her back; she was going to attend one of the most prominent universities of the country and on top of that, she had earned a full scholarship. So no, that couldn't have been her reason for her sadness and thus, had been scratched out from his mental list. Maybe she had been thinking about her father and how much she would be missing him. But Bella had always been quite independent. It would have been probably the other way around, Charlie missing Bella more than anything. The last thought that had run through his mind had almost made him lose his footing and fall down on his knees. Maybe… he had started mentally, no, it couldn't, he quickly had corrected himself. But the nagging thought was still there. What if she had regretted… them? What if she hadn't wanted to spend her carefree, college years bound to someone? What if she had wanted to enjoy that unique time of her life like any other girl of her age, free of any commitment?

"Well…" Bella had started, ending his train of thought, "I was wondering when we would come back home."

Edward had forced himself to concentrate back on their conversation and set aside for a moment his insecurities. "I was hoping…" he had cleared his throat to make his voice sound more even, "given our schedules, we would be able to come back for Christmas. You know, spend the holidays with our families. Why?"

"It's just…" she had sighed.

Here it comes; she's going to tell me now! She's going to tell me she doesn't want me anymore. What am I going to do? His thumb and forefinger had been pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down. Her extended silence, along with the frown on her face, had not been helping him at all.

"God, Bella! Tell me! You're driving me crazy here!" Edward had exclaimed, running his hand through his hair. I'm going to be bald in ten years, if I keep doing this!

Bella had hid her face in Edward's chest and in a small voice said, "You seem so happy here. The happiest I have ever seen you. And… and I was… uh… thinking how I'd want us to come back here again… in our meadow, I mean. You always seem happy when we're here, but today… you're… more. You're blissful. And I want you to always be like this. And I know that we can't have our meadow in Boston…" Bella's whole body had been beet red after her rambling.

Edward had been absolutely bewildered. She had thought the meadow had been the reason he had been happy? After all those times he had declared his love to her. He had grabbed her face in his hands, looking straight into her big, beautiful, expressive, brown eyes. Words were not enough to show her his feelings, so he had tried to convey them with his eyes.

"You think I'm happy because of the meadow?" A few seconds after, she had nodded in response while he still had had her face in his hands. Edward had leaned forward and placed a soft, loving kiss on her lips. He had smiled while shaking his head, feeling relieved that his worst fear – Bella not wanting him and regretting her decision – wasn't coming to life. "You really don't see yourself very clearly." Bella had opened her mouth – probably to protest, Edward had assumed – but he had cut her off by placing another kiss on her lips. "Hush, love. Let me speak," he had said against her lips and she had given him her silent consent. "Good. Let's have a seat."

Edward had plopped himself on the ground and tugged Bella's hand. She had fallen on his lap while making a squealing sound that drove them both to giggle. When they had finally settled down, Edward had moved her hair from her face with a slow, reverent movement and had brought his hand back to her face, cupping the right side, allowing it to linger there. "Bella, I know we're young. I know our lives have just begun. But, love, I also know that my feelings for you are very strong and very deep. When I say that I love you, I mean it with all my heart and soul.

"Before you came into my life and brightened it," a smile had adorned Edward's face and he had gently brushed his thumb over her crimson cheekbone, "I was absolutely alone. I never had any friends other than Alice or Emmett. And they're family, so they didn't have much of a choice." Bella had shaken her head openly showing her disagreement with his statement, but Edward hadn't allowed her to voice it by closing her mouth with a kiss. "I know they love me as I love them. I don't doubt that. But the fact is that I wasn't much fun to be with most of the times. I hardly spoke to Rosalie, even though I've known her most of my life. Jasper made a great effort, for Alice's sake, to befriend me and I never reciprocated, until recently." Edward had winked at her, silently telling her that she was the reason he had changed, which, of course, had triggered another blush to take over Bella's face. "Aside from music, there never was anything that could make me want to get involved. I felt like I was living on borrowed time. As if… everything would end and I would be alone again." His voice had become a whisper. "So instead of getting involved and then losing it, I thought… I thought it would be best to distance myself from it. I thought I was doing myself a favor, saving me from the pain of abandonment." A grimace of pain had tainted Edward's beautiful face as the flashing image of his mother's lifeless face the day of her funeral had passed in front of his eyes. He had quickly snapped out of the bad memories. He had been about to do the thing that would make him the happiest man in the world. There had been no room for bad, painful memories.

"You know how lost I was before you came along, love, don't you?" Edward's bright green eyes that seemed to have blended with the lush greenery that surrounded them had born into her, imploring her silently to understand without any further conversation about his painful past. He hadn't kept anything from Bella. He had told her everything about his childhood and the scars he would bare for as long as he lived, but it would always be difficult for him to rehash on that time of his life.

She had brought both her hands on each side of his face and had caressed him gently. Edward had instantly felt the comfort her touch always offered. "You don't have to tell me these things. I already know how hard it has been for you, Edward." Her brown eyes had been full of love and compassion, but not an ounce of pity. It had been one of the things he loved the most about his beautiful girl.

"I loved you from the moment I laid my eyes on you. The moment you confessed your feelings to me," Edward had paused, struggling to find the words to describe his feelings to her. "You've given me a reason to live, Bella. I don't want to be a spectator of life anymore. I want to be involved. And I want to do it with you. You make me want to live again and not merely exist. And I want the whole world to know how happy you make me. I want the whole world to know that you are mine and I am yours. Bella, love, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me, Isabella?"

Edward had been holding the small blue box containing his mother's ring in front of Bella. His hands had been trembling from the anticipation. Yet, she had seemed frozen. She had been staring at the closed box in Edward's hands like she couldn't understand its purpose. He had been petrified at her silence and thoughtful look. Seconds had been followed by minutes and minutes had seemed to be turning into eons. He had been starting to think that she was going to refuse. He had known how she had felt about marriage; especially marriage at such a young age. Bella's parents had married right out of school, because her mother had been pregnant. Their marriage had lasted only three short years and had been interrupted with Renee – Bella's mother – leaving Charlie and taking Bella with her to sunny Arizona. The more he had been thinking of Bella's reasons, not wanting to get married, the more the belief that she would refuse his proposal had been cemented in his brain.

But what had made him lose all contact with his surroundings, and the rest of the world, had been his train of thought. Because if she hadn't wanted to marry him, what would that mean for them? Could she possibly not want to go on with their relationship? Would she ask him to break up with her? The notion of enduring an existence without her would have been capable to bring him to his knees.

Like a drowning man, desperate to hold on to something, he had searched her face for a hint of her intentions. What he had found had alarmed him more and made him guess of the worst. His Bella – Mine? What if she's not mine anymore? – had always been an open book. So the little crease on her forehead and the minor pout on her pink lips, had tipped him that she had still been thinking intently about his proposal. He had felt he had to do something and avoid having his world come crushing around him. No, he wouldn't have been able to handle being alone now. Now, he had known how it felt to belong and be loved. If she had left him too, he would probably not survive.

As if being afraid to break the spell of silence around them, none of them had said anything, but kept looking at each other; Edward had been watching carefully Bella's face, for any change in her demeanor and Bella had been staring, with an inexplicable fascination, at Edward's neck and chest. Silence had always been comfortable between them, but this time things were anything other than comfortable. As the seconds had passed the quiet that had engulfed them had seemed to materialize and turn into a thick fog.

Completely focused on his fear, he hadn't noticed his hand no longer simply trembling, but shaking. What's more, he hadn't noticed the crease on her forehead had started to fade away. He hadn't noticed her change of demeanor; the sides of her mouth had been turning upwards. Had Edward's mind not been making the worst assumptions of where her refusal would lead them, he would have seen the wide smile that had taken over her features. He would have seen her eyes were twinkling with happiness. And he would have heard her whispered, "Yes!" as two teardrops rolled down her flaming cheeks.

Edward, though, hadn't raised his head from where his eyes were locked, staring at the little blue box on his shaking hands intently. The moment he felt moisture on his hands he lifted his eyes to find his love's face blotched with tears. Panic came over him. Had his proposal made her so sad that she was crying? Instantly, he cupped her face in his hands, moving his thumbs to dry the tears staining her reddened cheeks.

Suddenly, the fog had shifted in front of Edward's eyes, and the crease had completely disappeared from Bella's forehead. But he couldn't have been sure. Had it been the fog that had tricked him? So he had rushed to say something and try to mend the situation.

"Oh, love, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have proposed. We're too young. Marriage is not for us, I know. We don't need it to be together always. I'm so sorry. I take it back. Please, please, don't cry. Forget I ever−"

Edward's ramblings had been cut off by Bella's searing kiss. Her tears had been running more strongly and hiccups had not been allowing her to complete a phrase. Edward had cradled her in his arms, allowing her head to rest on the crook of his neck, until she could settle down a little. He had kept whispering soothing words to her and had fretted to mention his proposal again. In fact, the little blue box, containing his mother's ring, had been lying haphazardly on the ground of the meadow amidst the sod. He hadn't cared about that anymore. All Edward had been thinking was that he had made his love, his heart, sad and he had to make it right again.

A few moments later Bella had collected herself and had tried to move from Edward's arms, but he had been holding her too strongly.

"Edward?" she had whispered and he had instantly grabbed her face in his hands trying to decipher her need in order to meet it.

Edward's expectant eyes had born into hers, waiting for even a whisper to ask him, tell him, command him, anything, and he would do it in a heartbeat. He had to. He had made her cry with his stupid proposal. Who needed marriage? he had thought. As long as he had Bella, he didn't need titles such as 'wife' and 'husband' to cement their commitment. To hell with marriage and proposals! It never did any good to their parents, so why risk it?

Bella had been smiling brightly despite her reddened eyes and cheeks.

Edward had heard her whisper something, but had not understood what, so he had stared at her with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Yes," she had repeated.

He still hadn't reacted.

"Yes, Edward!" She had reached and touched her lips gently on his. "A thousand − no a million times – yes."

His eyes had been wide as saucers as realization was hitting him.

"Yes, I will marry you. Yes, I will be your wife. Yes, I will spend the rest of my life with you. Yes, yes, yes, yes…" she had said over and over again as she had peppered his face with kisses. She hadn't left an inch untouched by her lips. When she had been finished, she had moved a little backwards to be able to look him in the eye and had given him the brightest smile ever.

"Really?" he had asked, peeking at her through his lashes, afraid that she might take it back. He had always felt older than his age, but at that moment, he had been nothing but an insecure eighteen-year-old boy. Bella had given him a nod and she had been instantly in Edward's arms. He had held her as tightly as he could, rolling them both on the ground, making her giggle with happiness.

The next moment, their lips had been attached and their bodies flush. The fervor, the excitement, the happiness had made them forget about everything around them and focus on each other. With lips still attached and their hands exploring each other's bodies, they had been lying on their sides over the green moss.

The memory brought a smile to Edward's face. It had been the first time they had made love in their meadow. It was such a strong remembrance that he could still feel the taste of Bella's lips on his. He brought his hand on his lips out of instinct, only to realize that he would never taste her again. But he had made the right decision. He was confident.

He was no good for her. He was no good for anyone. He chanced a glance around the decrepit room and sighed somewhat content. He was where he deserved to be, away from her.

And then his mind was again racing to the past; to one of the darkest periods of his existence. Before this night, when he left his love, those had been his worst moments, but now, he was certain that he hadn't truly known darkness before.