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Beta'd by SunflowerFran!

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The sound of my phone ringing pulled me from unconsciousness. I groaned as I rolled over to pick it up, the bright red numbers on my alarm clock telling me that it was 1:47 am and that I'd barely been asleep two hours.

I answered it without looking at the screen, assuming because it was Saturday night (well, early Sunday morning) that it must have been Rose needing a ride home from Emmett's party.

"Hello?" I asked my voice hoarse and filled with annoyance. It had taken me over three hours to fall asleep; much like it had every night since Edward left without a word. I'd spent the entire week in a haze of confusion and hurt, and despite downloading every sleep-aiding app I could find, rest still evaded me.

"Bella?" my eyes widened at the sound of Edward's voice. He was the last person on earth I had expected to call me.

"Edward?" I asked, needing to be sure. My heart was racing at a million miles per hour and I struggled to keep the surprise and shock from my voice.

"Yeah it's me," He replied, drawing out the last word and slurring slightly.

"Have you been drinking?" I asked, annoyance beginning to override my shock. He'd ignored my texts all week and had declined the one call I'd made as a last ditch effort to figure out what the hell had happened to make him leave.

"A little bit. Listen, we need to talk," he said, talking so fast I almost missed half of what he said.

"Edward, it's almost two am and I'm in bed. Can you just call me-"He cut me off.

"It has to be now!" he insisted, panic in his voice, "It has to be tonight."

"Edward-"He cut me off again.

"Stop saying my name like that! Did I fuck up so bad?" his voice was filled with worry and while it made my heart tug, it didn't make me forget the ten messages I'd sent him or the sleepless nights. I'd already been screwed over by Jake and I didn't want that experience again, no matter how I felt about Edward.

"Yes," I replied honestly, because he had. He'd wounded me and I was angry.

"Fuck," he replied so softly I almost missed it.

Neither of us said anything for a minute, both of us just sitting in silence trying to figure out what to say to one another. I was hurt and embarrassed because I was so hurt. Edward wasn't my boyfriend; we'd never even been on a date or had sex or any of the things that even defined a relationship. Yet, with his dismissal, he'd wounded me more deeply than Jacob had.

"Bella?" he asked, his voice so warm it melted some of the ice from the wall around my heart that I'd spent the week erecting.

"Yeah?"

"Can you open the door?"

I dropped my phone on the bed, not even bothering to hang up before I was out of my bedroom and across the living room pulling open the front door.

Edward stood in the doorway, his shoulders hunched as he looked down at his feet, his phone still firmly planted to his ear as if he was still waiting for me to say something. His clothes were soaked through from the rain, his dark t-shirt clinging to a muscled chest that I regretted not getting more intimate with the week before. His hair was plastered to his head, so wet it almost appeared black and his teeth were chattering slightly.

He was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"Edward," I said softly, finally causing him to look up at me. His cheeks were flushed pink – probably from the alcohol – and his eyes, at that moment, were the saddest I'd ever seen.

He didn't say anything or move, just stood there watching me, his eyes never leaving my face. I shivered as the cold air finally cut its way through my cotton nightie. The sound of my shiver broke him from his trance and he cleared his throat.

"C-can I come in?" he spoke too quickly, his voice uncertain and it shocked me because it was the first time I'd ever seen him be anything less than confident.

I nodded, unable to find my voice and stepped aside to allow him to enter. I closed and locked the door with shaking fingers, ignoring the feel of his eyes on my back as he followed me into the bathroom.

He thanked me quietly as he took the towels I offered and I pretended not to notice that his hand deliberately brushed mine as he did so. He dried his hair without taking his eyes off mine, not breaking contact as he slipped his wet shoes and socks off. I ignored his stare and moved into Rosalie's room to borrow some of Emmett's clothes before handing them off for him to change into.

While he changed, I reheated the leftover soup from dinner and tried to ignore the elation building in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to be excited that he was here. I didn't want to be that pushover who let men come and go as they pleased.

"Are you making me soup?" his voice startled me and I looked up to find him only a few feet away. Colour had returned to his lips and his hair stood all over the place in a messy disarray. Emmett's clothes were at least two sizes too big for him and I hated how adorable he looked.

"It will help you get warm," I offered lamely, biting my lip and trying to look anywhere but at him. My eyes started to burn and my cheeks heated in embarrassment. I didn't want to cry right now, not in front of him.

"Bella," he said, moving a step closer to me.

I ignored him, turning my back to the bench.

"Bella," he said again taking another step.

I shook my head and looked down at my shaking hands. My breath hitched when he stepped in front of me, raising his hand to lift my chin until I was staring at sad jade eyes.

"I fucked up. I fucked up and I ran," he said, his voice low and full of apology. "And you're still making me soup. Fuck!"

His eyes were wide as they looked at me, filled with apology and regret and I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go.

"Why?" I asked quietly.

What could have possibly have happened to make him leave?

"Why did you run?"

"You own the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings and have three different copies of the Star Wars movies, even on VCR. You read A Song of Fire and Ice even though you watch the show. And you have fucking Masen prints in your bedroom," the words came out quickly and he smiled slightly as they left his mouth though his eyes were wide with wonder.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I cried out in frustration, pushing away from the counter to put much-needed space between us.

His close proximity was making me lose my mind.

He huffed in frustration, staring at me blankly for a second before tugging Emmett's shirt over his head and turning his back to me.

"Oh," I said dumbly as I noticed his tattoo for the first time. Inked into his skin, so close to an exact replica of the original that it made my heart weep, was Masen's painting of Her.

My feet moved before I could stop them, closing the distance between us so that I could run my fingers over the familiar lines of the rose.

I don't know how long I stood there, touching the drawing, whether it be minutes or hours but when he finally turned back around, breaking my contact his skin, I was startled.

"Do you get it?" he asked softly, gripping my hips and lifting me onto the breakfast bar before pushing his way between my legs. His hands moved to my face, cupping my chin and running his thumbs over my flaming cheeks.

I shook my head, still unbelievably confused with the whole situation but hope settled deep in my gut. I lifted my hand to his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly beneath my fingers and frowned at him. "I'm confused, Edward. Everything was fine and then you left. You ignored me for a week and I couldn't sleep because I thought I'd done something wrong."

His eyes widened in shocked and he shook his head quickly. "No, Pretty Girl, you didn't do anything wrong, I don't think you could ever do anything wrong. I'm the fuck up here. It's on me; I got scared and I ran and I'm an idiot for it."

"Why did you get scared?" I asked my voice laced with confusion.

"You're fucking perfect, Bella. So fucking perfect that it scares me. Everything you do and say and even the way you think is perfect. And I'm not. I'm so completely fucked up that I'm afraid I'll fuck you up too," he said, his voice filled with a sorrow that I realised ran so deep it practically vibrated from him.

"I'm not perfect," I insisted, shaking my head.

I wasn't, I definitely wasn't.

At one point in my life, I'd been so out of control I was hospitalised. Post-traumatic stress disorder, they'd labelled it.

He smiled at that, wide, with teeth, and gave a low chuckle. He leaned up and dropped a kiss on my nose before pulling back to look at me intensely.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he told me firmly. My wall of ice melted a little further.

"I'm still mad at you," I said … Because I was.

He nodded in understanding, his smile dimming and his face becoming serious. "I should probably go. I woke you up."

I inhaled sharply, my heart picking up speed.

I didn't want him to go.

"Stay," I offered quietly, my voice suddenly shy. In less than a moment, I'd gone from holding my own to falling at his feet and it terrified me.

That kind of power...

I'd seen what it could do to a person; I'd seen how that kind of devotion had destroyed my father and nearly me.

He smiled again, his eyes so gentle they were completely breathtaking. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning in to drop a gentle kiss on my forehead, whispering it again and again, as he planted soft kisses over my face.

We didn't stay awake any longer than we needed for Edward to finish his soup and use the bathroom, before climbing into my bed together in a tangle of arms and legs.

I relished in the warmth that his body provided being wrapped around mine, so close that our bodies were in full contact with one another. He burrowed his face into my hair and fell asleep to me stroking his, my face nestled in his neck.

We would talk tomorrow, he'd promised me before we'd gotten into bed. I'd nodded and smiled my affirmation, but I couldn't deny the fact that I doubted we'd speak in the morning. It had taken alcohol to finally seek me out and talk about what had bothered him.

However, despite his explanation, I still wasn't fully aware of the big deal over the Masen photos. He hadn't run when he'd seen my Game of Thrones books, so why had he run when he'd seen the photos?

I wondered why he thought he was so fucked up, why he believed himself so beyond repair that he would taint me? What had happened to make him believe that? He honestly believed he was damaged, his eyes and voice were so firm that there had been no possibility that I would have been able to change his mind.

All of that was perplexing, and I needed answers.

But … in all honesty, my greatest fear was that he would run…

Again...

Because rest assured, he would.

And I would be numb again.

Fic Rec:

Anyone Else But You by iambeagle.

Bella's clueless when it comes to men, especially her friend's boyfriend.

I am currently obsessed with this fic and you definitely need to be too!