Rightio, guys, lots of things to say.

First of all, I must thank you all for the reaction to the last chapter! Thank you so much to all of you who follow this story, you truly make my day sometimes. I think I got like 24 reviews for the last chapter alone, which may not seem a lot, but it's a big jump! Thank you!!

Secondly, all songs and titles belong to their respective authors. The song Edward plays was originally meant to be La Campanella by Liszt, but I decided Edward wasn't that good. Yet. But check out that song too, if you're into classical. The song he plays is Comptine d'un Autre Ete - l'Apres Midi (put accents where needed) by Yann Tiersen, which is truly one of my favourites because it sounds beautiful and is actually not that hard to play.

And last but certainly not least, Muse are legends.

E Minor

I wake in a tangled mess of sheets. I'm fully awake, fully aware, but I make no move to get up. To be frank, I don't want to. My mind reels at yesterday's events, my pillow still slightly wet. The rosy dawn curls over me but I shake it off because I don't want anyone's comfort. The numb sensation fills me, so that I look at yesterday with cynicism. I don't know what to think.

I feel slightly jealous that Edward can go about his normal duties without any disturbance while I have to watch my every move. Every time I close my eyes, he is there, etched on the underside of my lids, smiling in the soft glow of the moonlight. I did not dream last night.

There is an unmistakeable weight in my chest, almost pinning me to the bed. My alarm rings once again, but I was awake long before I needed to. Smacking the offending object, I almost throw it across the room before I manage to restrain myself. Edward is opening cupboards, making breakfast in the kitchen.

How did I get here? I fingers curl toward each other again, tendons straining. The red marks on the insides of my arms are all too prominent now, and I am going to have to wear long sleeves today, despite the scorching sun. I skim my fingers over them, producing a dull sting. The warm tears start again, although now they are soft in contrast to last night's violent ones.

I am calmer now, and I can speculate on what I'm going to do next. I search my mind, but unfortunately, I come up with nothing. I could pretend that it is nothing; that yesterday meant nothing. I could ignore the butterflies and the yearn for Edward's skin, but I do not have the strength. A part of me wants to see what happens, but I am afraid. These days, I am a mixture of swirling emotions, and I never know which one is going to float to the surface.

The soft padding of footsteps brings me out of my reverie. Edward knocks on the door. I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Jasper?" His voice is soft and muffled from the other side of the door.

"Yes?" I cringe at my tentative reply, my voice husky from sleep.

"It's nearly ten to eight, we've got to leave."

"I'll be out in a minute," I close my eyes and wonder what to feel. He walks away, back down to the kitchen again while I groggily heave myself from my bed, clutching the bedside table for support.

I sit for a few minutes, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen. My mind immediately wanders to Edward- every spare moment is used up to contemplate on how I would- or would not- get out of this situation.

I make my way to the door, but my fingers linger on the handle, hesitant to face Edward. Pursing my lips in order to gather my courage, I open the door.

He smiles a good morning when he sees me, but I quickly sit. I eat in a painful silence, eager to get back to the safety of my room. Edward doesn't notice, and takes it as an invitation to talk my ear off about an up coming trip with the university. However, he realises that my nods are fake, and soon stops, taking a sudden interest in his breakfast.

I clear up for the both of us, leaving Edward to get ready. I catch his finger awkwardly when I take his bowl and almost gasp. Concealing the mishap with a stumbling sorry, I walk away before I have a chance to see his brilliant smile.

I am just about to get into my car before I hear his velvety voice again.

"Jasper! How about we take my car today? My class finishes just before yours." He's wearing a short sleeved top, something I haven't seen him wear before, and I find it hard to peel my eyes from his forearms, which look smooth. I envy him and the soft shadows on his arms, the light dusting of brown hair. My eyes travel down to his hands where he is fiddling with his keys, his long fingers manipulating them this way and that. I can't deny him- I want to get closer to him. I'm a risk taker, but I trust myself not to go too far with this one. I couldn't, for I would realise when I was stepping over the line.

With a shy smile, I walk towards him and get in. His smell circles me, making me involuntarily clutch my body in the hope that my arms could magically turn into his. I love his scent. Something between cinnamon and apples and musk flooded the car, my stomach contracting because of it. I had never encountered it before, but it mesmerised me.

"You cold?" he smiles, and proceeds to turn the heating up. I catch him in time.

"I'm fine, honestly." A part of my wants to grasp his hand and stop it from going towards the dial, but I manage to restrain myself and just use my voice. He complies with another smile and we head off towards university.

One of my favourite songs comes on, so I start mouthing the words. I catch Edward glimpse at me before grinning. There was something that made me smile about catching Edward looking at me.

"You like Muse?" he says, and I can almost see the escaped beginnings of a grin.

"I love Muse!" I barely manage to contain my excitement at the discovery of common ground.

"Well, good." Then he turns up the volume as I watch his lithe fingers, soft and gentle. I can't stop smiling about the fact that he likes a band that I likes, and when I realise this, I make myself stop, not matter how much I protest internally. Wanting to find out more, I press for questions.

"Your favourite song?"

"My favourite song?" he turns to me. I nod because that is all I'm capable of doing at this moment in time. I notice his eyes shine brighter today, the striking green highlights glistening- probably because of the sun. "That's rather a hard question," he trails off, pursing his mouth to one side while he ponders on such a simple question. This gives me an excuse to look at him, so I don't complain for the delay.

"I'm not sure, although asked by anyone else, I would say Citizen Erased. There's so many more, though Citizen Erased is probably my default. I also like Hyper Chondriac Music and Exo-Politics," he trails off again, so I wait for him to finish. I already have my favourite in my head. "I like most of them. I could name them, but that would be a bore, so what is your favourite?"

"Fury," I say, feeling rather satisfied with myself. He nods in agreement.

"The deep rumbling of the guitar at the start is great. Although the last verse of Citizen Erased is something."

"Yeah, I guess," I agree, but I'm not so sure. I was never really that caught up on lyrics.

"Bliss has piano arpeggios that I envy," he smiles to himself, and then adds proudly, "I'm going to learn how to play them, you've just reminded me."

"Have you ever been to a concert?" I quickly change the subject for I fear I will become lost in his music terminology.

"No, I haven't actually. Have you?" he glances at me while we stop at the traffic lights. I stare at him, shocked.

"How can you not have been to one?" I say, sounding slightly outraged. I lower my voice slightly, embarrassed that I can't keep my emotions together when I'm around him. "They're legends. Bellamy's performances are explosive when he's on stage."

"I guess I don't follow them as religiously as you," he says softly.

"I'm going to take you to one, sometime."

"I'm looking forward to it," he just laughs, which I find slightly unnerving, but nevertheless, I vow to keep to my promise.

******

My sandwich lies untouched in front of me, attracting the odd fly that Maria swats away with her sinewy hands. She rubs up against me, clutching my upper arm, almost like one of those annoying cats that continuously feel the need to rub themselves against your legs. I hate cats.

The top of her head brushes my shoulder, tickling me. Her fingers play with my shirtsleeves as if it's some sort of obsession, and I constantly worry whether she is curious enough to ride them up to my forearms and uncover the angry lines. She is beautiful; I can't disagree with that. Any man would be a fool not to want her, but I can't bring myself to feel anything. It's not that I can't be bothered to try- I did, I really did. However, she holds nothing on Edward. Her wide smile is shallow compared to Edward's, and her pale skin is unhealthy in contrast to his porcelain cheeks. They have the habit of turning a soft rose in the wind- I love windy days.

There is a sick feeling in my stomach that I cannot shake, and the only comfort comes from Edward when he beams at me occasionally after a bite of his dinner. I manage to weakly smile back; he shoots me a concerned look, brows furrowed, but I only shake my head and smile. His anxiety is sweet and immediately puts me at ease.

"Jazz, why are you wearing this? It's so hot, are you not boiling?" Maria asks, her forehead creased as if I was stupid. I didn't like her using that nickname, although I doubt I would have said the same if it was Edward.

"No, I'm fine actually," I say, perhaps too sharply than needed. I tear my arm away from hers, grateful that there was nothing latching on to me. She fiddles with her hands before looking up to me a giving me a weary smile. I regret my decision, and put my arms around her, squeezing her.

"It's not that hot, is it?" I smile, enticing a giggle from her. With that, I have already won her over. I see Edward peer from under his forehead, before quickly averting his eyes when I catch him. I almost feel like I'm betraying him in some way, but then I make myself realise that he has no idea about what was going through my head, even if he is extremely perceptive.

He seems much more relaxed without James, who is ill (although I doubt that that is the real cause of his absence.) Alec made him laugh earlier, which caused a sharp pang of jealousy to go coursing through my body before I could stop it and scold myself for being stupid. However, mostly he sits quietly, observing the people at the table. It gives me time to watch him; the way his lips part when he's interested, the way he snaps out of it and looks down when something is said that he disagrees with. Edward has a knack for putting his point across successfully, and when he can't do this, he gets frustrated. I think it's almost sweet, for it revealed yet another small part of the boy he is inside.

"Shall we go then, Jasper?" Edward and I have no classes this afternoon, but we decided to stay nonetheless, although it was more Edward's insistence than mine. I notice Maria tense, but I ignore it in favour of spending time with Edward.

"Sure." Maria ends up walking with me to the car, arm through mine, even though it is a short distance. Edward walks further ahead, clearly giving us privacy, but I want nothing more than for him to walk beside me. I turn to Maria when we reach the car. She looks at me expectantly.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep," she says, and then proceeds to kiss me on the cheek. It takes me by surprise, and I don't know how to react. Thankfully, she leaves with a coy smile behind her shoulder.

Edward sits quietly for most of the drive home. I can see he's thinking, but I don't know what about. His head turns slightly- an interesting thought must have passed through his mind, and, sure enough, he turns on the CD player, bringing up a familiar tune. He visibly relaxes, lowering his shoulders.

"Maria seems to like you," he turns, smiling.

"Yeah, I guess," I'm not sure how to reply.

"You should tell her how you feel. Take her out, kiss her."

"And what if I don't like her?" my tone is slightly sharp. The word kiss sounds unfamiliar to his lips.

"Well, then…I don't know." And we're back to just listening to the song on the CD. When we arrive home, we both return to our respective bedrooms. I try to do homework, but bloody Edward and his piano distract me. The soft, melancholy tune coupled with the conflicting thoughts flying around my mind take up my concentration. I try to work out a plan. I preferred to act on impulse, but this time, I'm not taking chances.

Stupidly, I decide to test out my limits. I creep into his room, slipping through easily as the door is already ajar. I sit on his bed while his smell consumes me, and watch his back flexing with the music. The piece reaches an uplifting part, and he looks up and laughs at the sky. I know he's seen me, but he doesn't stop. The nape of his neck is tempting, the soft, curling hairs brushing his skin. He brings the music to a slow stop before turning to face me, beaming.

"Play." My request is simple. He nods, and turns, starting another sad tune. It's beautiful, the way his body moves accompanied with the music. I want to drown in the music, drown in him. I almost contemplate lying down on his bed and closing my eyes and inhaling his scent, wrapping myself in his duvet. This time, it's shorter than the last piece, but still wonderful. I want to learn to play the piano.

"What's that one called?"

"Comptine d'un Autre Été- l'Après Midi. It's by a French composer called Yann Tiersen, they used it for the film Amélie. I'm not sure if you've seen it."

"It's beautiful," I whisper. He smiles back at me.

"Come here, I'll teach you to play the right hand. It's very easy." I look at him in astonishment while my mind processes what he just said. Before I know it, I'm moving towards him, and I sit where he makes room for me on the bench. Our thighs are touching, and he's so, so close.

"Right, so the first note is a G, which is this one," he presses a key, and the sound rings out. "The song is played in E minor, but you don't need to know that." All I can do is smile, partly because my music knowledge is horrible and partly because I can't tear my eyes from his fingers. He carries on, and I muddle through, occasionally pressing the wrong note. We laugh and giggle, and he gives me a small punch that makes me smile. His cheek is close to mine, his soft breath smoothes over my skin. I notice his throat, clean and smooth. His jaw is beautiful, but none more so than his hair, which shakes when he's being silly on the piano. I can't stop laughing at him, and he seems to just egg me on even more until I'm red in the face. We eat and stay up later than normal, just talking about anything that comes to mind. That night, I fall asleep truly happy.