Cupid's Bow
Chapter 13
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"I'm okay now," I say weakly, not exactly strong-arming my defence, but I can't help it. I can still feel the nausea bubbling in my stomach all the way up to my throat. "You can… you can put me down."
Edward only gazes at me in reply. He hasn't stopped looking at me since I defiled that bit of soft back there. I cringe thinking about the mess I made.
"Edward carry," he tells me softly, his arms around me fixing me more snuggly to his chest. "Bel-la rest."
"Not tired," I mumble back in reply, just letting my bones be the weak, lacking things they are for the minute. My eyes fall shut despite my petulant tone, and my cheek presses against his hot, bare chest; too focused on not throwing up again to register the other kind of flip-flopping in my stomach.
We walk – well, Edward walks, I'm just… carried – for a little while in quiet. I take deep breaths as I slip further into the lull, my ear pressed over the spot where his heart is. I focus on that, on the quick pounding of his pulse… and it works – for a bit.
And then, well, it doesn't.
"Edward," I say shakily, quickly snatching my face away from his skin, feeling myself pale. "I think I'm going to – "
And then, well, I do.
All over myself.
I groan, feeling my stomach heave at the smell, the feel. I pretty much expect him to drop me – I would drop me – but he just holds me tighter still. My face heats up – both with fever and embarrassment – and I don't think I've ever felt more uncomfortable than at this particular moment.
Suddenly, we – or just he really – bursts through green, and into another wide net of space, trickled with little pools of water. He steps in until he's toe-to-toe with a little shallow. Slowly, and watching me, he kneels down.
My left hand automatically curls around his shoulder as we go, preparing for the dip… but the discomfort never comes, and I breathe a little better when I'm back on the ground again.
Stretching out his arm, he dunks his hand into the water and pulls it back – shimmer-sparkling in the light – before gently placing it on my forehead; soaking up sweat and salt. My eyes briefly flutter-shut at the feeling, somehow forgetting about the sick covering me for a minute. On Earth, I used to get sick a lot, but not like this. Bacteria bred in the heat (especially when it was created and not natural), so colds and such were common. I was used to headaches, joint pain, sore throats and bunged up noses. Actual sick? Not so used to that.
He shifts under me – so that he's sitting cross-legged with me in his lap – but that's not what causes my eyes to snap open.
His fingers at my throat – tugging, pulling, ripping.
Again.
I pull my hand away from his shoulder and say his name, but it comes out weaker, and a lot less indignant than intended.
His golden-green swivel away from my neck to catch my eyes. "M…may…make better," he pleads softly, his gaze not so much swirling or splashing as clashing. His glance darts down briefly to my soiled clothes before he presses his palm against my forehead again.
I close my eyes briefly as I take in the situation, and then his point.
I can't stay like this.
"Bel-la?" His fingers feather over the pulse point in my neck, waiting.
Resigned, I pull my eyes open at the same time I start pulling myself up. His hands move from my skin to my back, helping me. I studiously avoid his gaze as I hunch in on myself, wincing as the sick on my clothes clings to me.
I breathe through my mouth heavily, asking, "Can… can you… can you turn around – please?"
After a minute of non-response, I peek up at him out of the corner of my eye to see him looking at me blankly. Pressing my lips together, I give my head a quick shake. Instead of trying to explain, I slowly pull myself to my feet, and of course, he comes with me.
Fisting my hands at my sides so I won't clutch at my stomach, I take one, two, three wobbly steps around him… or as much as I can considering he won't let go of my waist.
I lift my hands and press-push them down onto his, relieved when he lets them slip away.
"Turn around?" I ask quietly, feeling the sun beat down on the back of my head and wanting nothing more than to dunk my whole head under one of those shimmering pools.
In reply, he just blinks at me, his eyes on my mouth, his brow slowly slipping into a frown.
Desperation bubbles up inside of me like flames bubbling away at a candle wick. Impulsively, I reach out a hand and pass it over his eyes, closing his lids in the process.
When I pull my hand away, I want to… to, when he just pops them right back open again.
"Edward please," I plead, my voice wobbly, my throat tight. I feel uncomfortable and sick and hot and sweaty and achy but I can't feel better until he stops looking at me.
I know I can't stay in my clothes – it's the last thing I want at this point – but it's not about pre-conceived notions right now, or anything to do with Them. It's me. Because the only thing that could possibly make me feel worse right now, is if he were to see me.
His head twitches to the side, his mouth dips.
"Please," I whisper.
His eyes widen then, the green swelling, the gold sprinkling little raindrops of sun all over to compensate. His gaze drops to my hand a moment before he picks it up. Slowly, and deliberately, he swipes my palm across his eyes once more. And when my hand falls, they stay closed.
Relief unfurls inside of me, smattering aches. "Thank you," I breathe.
"Bel-la stay," he replies lowly.
I nod my head quickly. "Bella stay," I echo in assurance, carefully tiptoeing around him until his back is facing me. I watch him tense hesitantly, waiting for him to spin around, but he never does. So, letting out a quiet breath, and with great trepidation, I lift my arms and start unbuttoning my shirt.
My fingers tremble as they go, so it takes me a long time to get all the buttons free. Once done, I clutch the sides of my shirt tightly together and look around nervously.
"Bel-la safe," comes Edward's soft voice from in front of me. Startled, my head snaps in his direction – terrified for a moment that he's turned around – but my wide-eyed stare is met with his glimmering back, wondering how…
"Edward here," he confirms, and even though his voice his gentle his body is tense.
I swallow, and tremble. "No one else?" I ask, voice small.
A beat of silence. "Bel-la here."
A shaky smile threatens to pull at my lips as I let my hands slip from the fabric. With one last sweeping glance around, I let the shirt fall – sick and sweat and all.
Unbidden, a heavy sigh works its way past my lips as a light breeze breezes by, shudder-shaking my skin until little bumps dance along my arms. My body jolts almost violently as it becomes exposed to the outside… everything, but it doesn't hurt.
Stumbling a little, I take a few steps back until the heel of my foot touches the something-cold. Holding my arms tightly in front of my chest, I quickly look away from Edward and down to my bottoms – grimacing at the feel, betting that the heat is making everything stick and feel ten times worse.
I let out a shaky breath, catching sight of my too-bright skin in this too-bright land.
"In for a penny…" I murmur soundlessly – my voice a hard swallow – as I pull one trembling hand away from my chest to the waist band of my trousers.
I close my eyes, trying to block out the sound and smell and feel of everything for a minute so I can –
And then I just do.
Tug.
Pull.
Drop.
"D-d-don't l-look," I whisper-stammer harshly, my trousers puddled at my feet, my eyes still closed.
He doesn't say anything in reply, and it takes me a minute to open my eyes again.
When I do, he's still facing away from me.
Relief blows cool on my flushed skin, and quickly, I dart my foot back, intending just to sink into the pool behind me. Unfortunately, I must yank my left leg away too quickly, as it catches on the material at my feet – and I lose traction.
My eyes widen, panic pulling and burning me as I slip backwards. It's deeper than I thought, the pool, so I end up sinking too far down. I gasp as the water grips my body all around – unwittingly breathing in water.
But before I can register how stupid that was, I feel skin on my skin, and then air as I suddenly break the surface. By the ache in my lungs and throat I know I'm coughing, but my ears are strangely muffled – sound making no sense. Is someone saying my name?
"…la!…"
Back on soft, water spilling down the corners of my lips, pressure on my chest.
"…la… el-la!…"
Darkness swirls behind my closed lids, and I'm about to surrender when –
"Bel-la!"
Abruptly awake, my eyes snap open at the same time sound floods back in. Gurgling coughs split the airwaves and ring in my ears. Light, shimmering, burns my retinas before colour infuses and spreads, leaking in shapes and shadow. The pressure on my chest lets up and I gasp, greedily intaking large gulps of oxygen.
I blink and blink and blink, and I finally make out Edward; wide and wild eyed, close and clear above me.
"I – I'm o-okay," I gasp out, not knowing whether it's me or him who's trembling when the damp skin of his forehead touches the damp skin of my shoulder.
"Edward n-not turn around," he replies shakily, "not again."
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A/N: Sorry about the wait! I've had the flu and it's not been fun. I'm all better now though, so updates are back on schedule again.
