A/N: Gah. The plot is finally beginning.

Chapter 8: World by Night

When I woke up, the realization of what had happened yesterday didn't hurt as much as I'd expected. The darkness felt good, the night wind brushing across my skin like when I was human. Alive.
For a year, I'd been convincing myself that feeling the wind blow around me, like I'd been some kind of statue, was a perk of that existence. Now, the night was ready for me. I still felt dead, just like yesterday, but it felt natural. My panic had been for nothing. There was a world out there, one I had never seen before. I could take it. Even though I'd never again feel warm, even though I'd never kiss my first innocent human boy with living lips, that really was part of the charm. This was going to be perfect.
When I decided to open my eyes, the others were already up. I was already anticipating sleeping late like a human girl again.
Emmett and Jasper seemed to be testing their strength against each other outside, and judging from their cheers, nothing had changed that much. Just that much better.
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Edward, standing in front of the mirror and looking uncharacteristically worried. He seemed younger, more vulnerable, with his mouth half-open and his wide eyes staring at the mirror in shocked disbelief. His hair had slipped a bit more towards red, and without the statue-like stillness of his body, I imagined that he must have looked this way when he was alive. Even his eyes seemed to have a shade of green amidst the golden yellow, an odd and fascinating contrast to his pale skin and hints of freckles.
Ah. I was gawking at him again.
What was making him look so worried? I stood up - a smooth movement without any similarity to my tired human mornings - and took a few experimental steps towards him, trying to meet his worried eyes. He seemed to notice me, but the comforting smile he was trying to send me quickly turned into a bitter grimace.
"Bella?" The first time I'd really heard his voice since yesterday. Still like singing. Still beautiful. But that single word, my name, lacked the cutting intensity that I'd come to love about him. The regret flickering across his face, the more human appearance, his voice - it felt like I was talking to a different person. "How do I look?" What? Vanity wasn't typical of Edward. And then he really looked at me.
Pain. Frustration. Regret. The kind of look a person would have if his worst nightmare had just come true, and he was trying to take it with pride. "Why are you asking? You look just as good as ever. What's wrong?" The worried response he'd be expecting. Of course I knew perfectly well what was wrong, but telling him would just be making matters worse.
"You needed proof? I always told you that I didn't have a soul. And I took yours away. Look." I stepped closer to the mirror, only remembering mid-step that it would make him think I'd jumped to conclusions, but he didn't seem to care. Just like I'd guessed. Or almost. His reflection was pale and smeared, like it was a stain on the mirror and not a person. Not Edward.
His face in the mirror was indistinguishable from his hair and from the background, and his whole reflection vanished and reappeared every few seconds. Beside me, he was staring at the blurred image in the mirror, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth. A person who wanted to cry, but couldn't.
His body seemed to relax, though, lifted of all its problems, as he saw my clear reflection in the mirror. Was he really this happy because the dead girl beside him seemed to have a soul? Despite the morbid track of my thoughts, his reaction healed my mind of all my worries. Yes, I was completely unnatural. Yes, I was just that, a dead girl. But I had someone who loved me, a dead guy, beside me, and we were alive. A small giggle escaped me as I pounced on him and nuzzled my face against his neck. He was cold, but so was I.
Something like that didn't matter when we were together. Edward seemed to have the same thought as me, because I could feel the muscles in his chin tightening into what could only be a smile.