Cupid's Bow

Chapter 17

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The air around us remains tense for as long as Edward's body does.

In terms of minutes, I don't know how many pass – haven't done since they pushed me over the edge. But it's long enough for my hovering arms to grow awkward and achy, for my skin to dampen where it's stuck to his, and for embarrassment over this fact to creep in.

"Edward." I say it so quietly I'm not sure he hears. But his arms tighten around me a fraction, as if in answer, so I guess he does. I pause after that though, not sure what I can say to loosen his hold, because even though he's not trembling anymore, it doesn't feel like he's going to let go anytime soon.

Lifting my slightly-shaking arms from mid-air, I hesitantly touch my fingertips to the warm skin of his back. His entire body jolts in reply and I freeze, worried I shouldn't have done that.

But then –

"Bel-la," he croaks out, his voice gravelly, like the texture of Earth ground. "Bel-la s-stay."

My eyes widen in reply, feeling the ache in my limbs radiate towards my chest. I can taste the beats of my erratic heart when I whisper back, "I'm right here." And what's more – "She's gone now." It's not much of a guess to pinpoint… Tanya as the source of his unease; she's the source of mine, too. Not just because of her physicality or the fact that she touched me, but also because of what she said.

What did it mean?

"It's… it's okay," I murmur clumsily, when Edward starts shaking again. I'm not used to comforting people or… making them feel better, or even okay. But… I don't know. I realise then that's exactly what Edward's been doing for me since I was dropped here and… I don't know, I guess I can't just, I have to…

I close my eyes and take a step outside of my brain, letting my fingertips turn into whole hands, until I'm just sort of… rubbing my palms up and down his back. It's pretty obvious that They communicate much more, ah, physically rather than via speech. So I touch him instead of speaking, and take his trembles until they're mine, too.

The oppressive heat of the sun fades away after a while, leaving the world calm and peaceful behind my closed lids. I can suddenly feel the aloe cool and fresh on my neck, even though it must have been applied hours ago now. My stomach stops quivering and my arms are just sort of holding on now, feeling warm-smooth-solid beneath my arms and chest and cheek.

My mind grows hazy, but deliciously so. I rub my cheek against his warm-smooth-solid because I feel warm-smooth-soft, and my skin is blurred and liquefied, seeking the clear lines and panes of his.

Vaguely, and after a moment, I feel the heat around my waist disappear, but before my eyes can struggle open, it surrounds me again, tenfold. We might be moving, but I'm too relaxed to move, too comfortable to check.

So instead I just turn my head inwards and rest my palm on warm, hearing beats and feeling heat, until I drift away, slow and soft.

OoOoOo

OoOoOoOo

OoOoOo

Drowsily, I blink my eyes open.

For a minute my mind is blank, and I can only remember as much as I can feel. I'm warm and sleepy, and my eyes won't stay open for the life of me. In the dim my breaths are deep and even, and the ground underneath me is so soft it feels like I'm lying on about ten duvets.

Basically, I don't want to move. Ever.

So I just lie there for a bit, forgetting where there is and just enjoying the boneless feel of my limbs for a bit. Rushing into awareness has never seemed less appealing, so I don't.

It takes me a minute but then –

That's what shocks me back into reality.

We don't get to stay asleep, and we don't wake up on our own accord.

So this time, I force my eyelids to stay open, even though the desire to let them fall back closed makes my eyes burn a little bit. The light I see is a dead giveaway, and everything over the past couple of the days comes rushing back – all at once and too quickly.

I shut my eyes again and bang my head on the soft, grateful that the light seems somehow… less today.

The warmth I hadn't noticed behind me stirs, and I freeze.

I hear a groan and look down as the shimmering arm wrapped around me flexes, stretching out across my stomach and settling there. I automatically tense under his touch, feeling myself flood with butterflies at the sensation of his skin on mine. Everywhere.

Right. I'm sort-of naked, remember? Right.

And so is he. Right.

Closing my eyes again, I give my head a small, but rattling, shake. I'm over the naked issue, I tell myself. Over. It.

He murmurs out a hum, and then I feel his nose in my hair. He breathes and breathes and breathes, and so do I.

I think –

We fell asleep again?

Where did yesterday go?

And then, of course, I remember.

Inamorata? Soul?

"Bel-la," he murmurs, and I remember the hazy fog that had encompassed me yesterday and I wonder if I was just really, really tired, or if it was something else?

Then I give my head another shake because I'm sick of asking myself questions.

Carefully, I grasp his hand in mine and slowly ease out from his little nook. I scoot forward and then spin around, curling in on myself as I face him, trying to hide skin he's seen all of already.

He lies on his back, head turned to the side, watching me.

My cheeks redden so I duck down a little to rub the suddenly warm skin against my shoulder, like I can rub the colour away. To avoid looking at him, I let my eyes wander the space we're in, noticing the slightly darker tinge to the light. I peer up and see green above us, likely blocking out much of the sun. I look back down again, across the space, and notice only a tiny shallow – matching the small area we're in.

It feels hidden; we do.

I clear my throat. Twice. "It's nice here," I say lamely. "Um… not so bright."

Silence. I glance at him to see him watching me intently; golden-green searing. I look away quickly, clasping my hands together and twiddling my thumbs. Something feels different, something is different, but I don't know why.

Out of my peripheral, I watch him rise, but only slightly. He sits cross-legged on the soft opposite me, and I just about see his hand run through his hair, combing back wayward strands, or at least attempting to. The glimmers dancing along his arms and chest catch the corners of my eyes and pull my head up. I don't realise I'm staring until my gaze eventually makes its way back to his, and he's staring right back.

Startled, I almost trip over myself as I dart up and dash over to the little pond on the other side (no where near deep enough to trip and drown in, thank goodness), just about muttering water as I go.

I drink away the dryness in my throat, definitely not shaking when I feel him come up behind me, spreading what I know must be aloe all over what must be new burns; on my neck, shoulders and back.

He breathes and breathes and breathes, and so do I.

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A/N: Eeep. Sorry it's a tad late. This story will be ending soon and it's making me a little sad.