Cupid's Bow

Chapter 9

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When people left our world for Cupid's Bow, or any other really, I liked to imagine that they were seeking all sorts of things; adventure, intrigue, mystery. And for a while, before I was old enough to be in (and understand) 'the know,' I thought they really were. When I was younger, I had even hoped that I would be among them – that my life plan would let me jump off the edge one day, and into other worlds.

But as I grew older, I grew more aware. By that point, I was content with my life where I was. I didn't want to travel or explore or experience, I just wanted to… be.

And for a little while, that's exactly what I did.

So if someone were to tell me, in those moments both after the rosy-hue had been wiped away, but before I'd been given the full realisations of someone else's mistake, that I'd be sleeping outside with a naked one of Them, well… I might just call them crazy and push them over the edge myself.

Like I said, hope is naïve like that.

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Warmth is what wakes me.

Still unused to being so, well, warm, it's the excess of it that jolts me from the darkness. I blink my eyes open slowly, immediately cringing from the onslaught of bright white light that burns into my retinas. I slam my eyes shut so quickly that the ache zigzags through my head.

Wincing, I lift an arm and throw it across my closed gaze, finding relief at being hidden from the glare burning the back of my lids. It takes me a minute to process the where and why, and when I do, everything in me deflates.

So… not a dream then.

"Bel-la awake?"

And there's the who.

I take my arm away from my face slowly, grimacing at the feel of the heat. But it only lasts a minute… as the worst of the burning suddenly just fades.

Confused, I blink my eyes open again.

I gasp lightly as the sight of… of Edward immediately floods my vision. He's leaning over me, close, and glistening in the morning light, throwing off sparks in every direction. I gape at his face – the only part of him I can bring myself to look at, and it's still too much – and know that I'll never get used to it – to him.

You don't need to, my mind reminds me. You'll be able to go home soon.

He smiles at me in the shade.

I swallow. Hard.

"Bel-la awake," he says-states this time, his tone pleased. "Bel-la… Bel-la sleep."

My fingers grasp the soft underneath me. "B-Bella slept," I babble-correct, just looking for a distraction really, but he –

"Slept," he mutters, his gaze darting to my mouth. "No… no sleep… slept."

Surprise jolts my insides, making me glance into his eyes without nerves for once. I'm still too full of pre-conceived notions, and he's turning in directions too inconsistent with all the whispers back on Earth.

He's not a thing, I think to myself again.

"Thing," I blurt suddenly, making his eyes dart away from my mouth. He looks at me curiously. I clear my throat, pulling myself out of my head because I really just need to focus on one thing. The Thing. "Are we… we're going to find the Thing today?"

He shifts above me, his tawny hair falling across his forehead and dripping down towards me. "Thing first…" he says slowly, test-tasting words. "Tuh…take Thing… h-home."

My eyes widen. "You have a – a home?"

His lips quirk to the side as he leans down, his drippy hair brushing across my forehead. I close my eyes, heart fast, as he dips his head into his favourite place – my neck.

He breathes in… holds it… then lets it go.

"Bel-la come," he whispers, and I shiver. "Edward's home."

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I try not to let my mind wander as we start through the green again, but it proves nigh on impossible.

The truth of the matter isn't as easy as I want it to be. Clearly, the people back on Earth had some things right – the planet being one that can't really be disputed, and certain parts of the people here, too; the… the nudity, the size, the touching.

But there's also so much that isn't accounted for, like the speaking, the understanding, the whole bloody rationality of them! I don't even know at this point whether the last reason was not-covered by them or just invented by me. When I heard and saw things about Them, I'd just seen how different they were from us. I'd deemed them barbaric and uncivilised and uncultivated because they did things that I'd never seen or heard anyone doing before. And what was I using for the basis of my opinion? The gossip of other people.

Shame hits me like a ton of bricks then, momentarily breaking my stride. I stare frozen at his back for a minute, feeling the full weight of my years of disgust fall back on me.

Up ahead, I watch him glance to the side, where I used to be, and abruptly halt. A panicked noise comes from his throat when he sees the empty space, and it only lessens slightly when he spins around, and spots me.

He takes a hesitant step forward, stops, and looks at me warily, maybe remembering the last time I fled.

My name is a trembling, "Bel-la?"

I shake a little, croak out a dry, "Sorry."

He takes another step forward, face tight. "Bel-la hurt?"

A hysterical laugh bubbles in the back of my throat at his question, but I beat it down. "No," I breathe, and my gaze runs a little rosy as I stare at him, feeling fresh and new and guilty. "I… I'm sorry."

His head twitches to the side, and his hand lifts, tumbling through his hair. He takes a deep breath… closes his eyes… slowly opens them again. In his gaze, I see fear. "Bel-la… leave?"

My hands form fists at my sides, and for the first time, I realise I'm not holding my ripped top together. I wonder when I stopped clutching it. Swallowing thickly, I take two steps forwards, not quite meeting him in the middle, but almost.

I tell him,

"Bella stay."

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A/N: So I'm turning 20 tomorrow... and I like presents... particularly ones that appear wrapped-up in my inbox... xo