A/N: This is not the last chapter because I'm a big liar. There will be one more short, closing chapter after this. It just felt right to split them up. (More at the bottom)

Audio-Visual Challenge—Musical Mastery: "Troublemaker" by Olly Murs featuring Flo Rida

Something True

Troublemaker

Through the day she tries not to think of Edward as she walks to class. She tries not to think of him as she sits in class drawing paper bags—far away, up close, the crinkles, the shadows. She tries not to think of him as she heads home and when she studies.

He's with her anyway, in her mind, everywhere she goes. His smile, his laugh, his eyes, his arms, his kiss, his fingertips. His last "I love you."

But late at night, lying in bed, as she tries to think of him, all she can think about is his absence. Especially on the nights Rose spends with Emmett.

Bella and Edward talk on the phone daily. He tells her that Biter is full-grown now, but is still filling out.

She plays with her sheet, weaving it between her fingers, missing both of them, Edward and Biter. She usually doesn't cry, but in the few moments when she just can't help it she doesn't let Edward know.

Maybe he knows anyway. It's then, as her tears spill and she suppresses her sniffle, that silence lands as heavy as bricks between them.

Sometimes he'll break through with, "Bella?" And she'll mask herself with a smile and spit out an unbroken, "Yeah," or "I'm still here."

Days go by and it gets easier, being apart. Until he visits or she visits and the whole cycle starts over again.

This is a new side of love. Love isn't gone, or false; it's with her, only... not.

...

Here in Seattle, even on clear nights, Bella can't see the moon or the stars outside the window. She stares out at darkness as she sits in the rocking chair, listening to its rhythmic creak. The chair is too big for this new room, but she figures she doesn't really need the space between the end of her bed and the closet.

The chair was the first thing to be packed into the rental truck, and the last thing to come out, carried by Bella's mother and dad.

When Bella arrived with her dad, her mother was already there, waiting next to a tree encased in red brick and surrounded by flowers at the building's entrance.

Bella noticed how much brighter her mother appeared, healthier, though aged. Shiny, straightened hair with new highlights. Makeup.

Her smile, big and eye-crinkly, just before she hugged Bella goodbye in the hallway, told the story of contentment, and of being proud. Her embrace was the kind that squeezed around shoulders and held on for longer than a few heartbeats.

Then Bella had turned to her dad who, tearing up, kissed her head and told her to have fun and be good.

She watched him walk down the hall wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Bella wiped hers, too.

Her parents had pooled their money together and bought Bella a sedan. Her mother had driven it to the school to surprise her, which meant that her dad had to drive her mother home.

"That thing is so noisy," Rose says, turning from where she's been bent over a book at her desk under one of the two windows.

"Sorry." Bella stops rocking.

"I kind of like it." Rose gets up and moves to Bella, sitting on her lap and linking their fingers.

Bella drops her forehead to her friend's shoulder.

Edward had come with his parents to help move Rose in the day after Bella arrived. Rose had to wait until her mom could take a day off work. Edward and Bella stayed behind while Rose and her parents went to dinner together.

"I want to show you something," he said when he could tear his lips and limbs away from Bella.

He went to one of Rose's boxes and pulled out a framed picture. It was a vintage black-and-white. An elderly couple, their backs to the camera, long coats draped over their bodies, the man in a hat and the woman's gray hair in a bun. They were walking along a tree-bordered path. The woman's arm was linked through the man's, her head resting on his shoulder.

Bella took the picture from Edward for a closer look. "It's beautiful."

"My grandparents." He sat beside her on the bed. "Their marriage didn't end."

She looked up at him.

"We're not going to end," he said for the second time. "Believe it." With a hand on the small of her back he drew her close.

Edward set the frame aside and laid Bella down, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his head on her stomach. She slid her fingers through his hair.

Minutes ticked by filled with nothing but their breathing and their mingling thoughts.

"Maybe they were like this once," Bella said. "Your grandparents."

"I'd bet money on it."

Bella later set the picture in the center of the shared wall-ledge above the record player stand. On one side was a photo of Rose and Emmett, and on the other side, a photo of Edward and Bella.

...

Getting up from the rocking chair, Bella is drawn to the picture of the grandparents on the shelf. Rose follows her.

She mistakes the aim of Bella's gaze.

"I've never seen my brother look at anyone the way he looks at you."

"Really?"

"Not anyone."

Bella looks down with a small smile.

"I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him, either."

"Not even you?" Bella blinks moony-eyes at Rose.

"You better not look at him that way. That look is just for me."

Bella places her hands on Rose's shoulders, guides her back to her desk and makes her sit down.

"Study," she says. "I'll creak for you."

Picking up her art history book Bella moves back to the rocking chair.

...

Bella devotes one afternoon a week to teaching knitting around a long, low table in the craft room at the local children's hospital. The chairs are so small. The youngest kids, the four and five and six year olds, learn finger knitting. They all love it, their accomplishments, their beautiful, imperfect creations. Even the boys.

"It's a bracelet," one girl says, holding it to her wrist

"It's for my mom," a boy says, and Bella looks into his big, round, brown eyes. The boy doesn't have any hair and he's skinny, but his face is bright.

"She's going to love it," Bella says. "She'll keep it forever and ever."

Another girl, a nine year old, pats Bella's shoulder. She hands her a square pot holder. "For you," she says, eyes downcast.

"Are you sure?" Bella asks, taking it in her fingers.

"Uh-huh."

"It's so pretty." She hugs the girl. This, teaching kids to knit, is the one thing on Mrs. Cameron's list that Bella won't be crossing off.

Visits with Edward have become fewer and farther between. Bella is hosting part time at a restaurant, only getting one to two weekends off a month. And if neither can stay with the other from Friday through Sunday, Edward and Bella decide not to visit at all. It's too hard: the long drive, the short visit, the long drive back, Bella studying in between, dividing her time between Edward and her dad, and sometimes her mother. The tiredness. It would lead to arguments, and neither wanted to spend their short time together like that.

This last visit, they made up before Bella left, but on her drive back to school, tears blurred her vision. She wanted to be with Edward, making things stronger, not leaving while things were still shaky between them.

She called him, one hand on the steering wheel. Her headlights lit up a band of the road in front of her while everything else was black.

"Why did we fight?" she asked. "I hate that."

"Me too."

"What was it about?"

"I don't know."

But Bella did know. When things are less than perfect between them, she guards herself, bracing for something bad, afraid and expecting that this is it, things are ending. This time Edward got frustrated. "Stop being so insecure," he said. "Stop doubting me. You act like our relationship ending is inevitable."

She knows it's true. Her insecurity in their relationship is toxic, but it still pissed her off to hear it from him.

She'd gone to her dad's, and when she came back, Edward tugged her inside by her wrists and apologized. She'd grabbed his shirt sleeve, and let her hand sweep down to his forearm where she held on.

In the car, though, she thought she should've apologized, too. So she did just then, over the phone.

"I'm sorry."

They'd wasted their time together and it would be three weeks before they'd see each other again.

"I wish we had one more day," he said.

Bella wished the same, though it still wouldn't have been enough. There would then be the wish for another day, and another.

After a pause, Edward asked, "What are you wearing?"

Through her tears, she laughed.

...

It's a Wednesday in late October, after one in the morning, when there's a knock on the door.

She checks the peephole to find Edward. Without bothering to put on pants, she opens the door in just her nightshirt.

Edward looks rough—exactly like someone who has just driven over a hundred miles in the middle of the night. His eyes are bloodshot, his beard furrier than she's ever seen it. His tight eyebrows seem to relax when he looks at her.

"What are you-"

Edward's inside with the door closed before Bella can finish her thought.

He meets her lips with his. He tastes like liquor. She pulls back.

"You've been drinking?"

He shakes his head. "Just one of those airplane size bottles. Outside your door. I brought it with me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a coward. I have something to say to you. To ask you." He holds her face in between his palms, their noses inches apart. "Remember when I said I was one thing?" .

She nods. "A composer."

"I was wrong. You've spun me, Bella," he says, his lips brushing hers. "Like nothing else. I can't fucking think about anything but you." He kisses her. "I'm ridiculous without you. Ask Biter."

She laughs quietly. "Edward... " Bella pushes against his chest and backs up. "I miss you, too, but how long are you staying? When are you leaving? And then what?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not leaving."

"What?"

"I'm not living three hours away from you for four goddamn years."

She might be inhaling and exhaling, but she might not. Her feet might be planted firmly on the ground, or she might not be touching it at all. "But you love it there. Your music."

"I also love it in Hawaii. I don't live there, do I?"

A hand to her head, she looks down.

"Will you help me find an apartment here?" He lifts her face and brushes his thumb along her cheekbone. "And help me live in it?"

Bella stares into his eyes; she's definitely not breathing now. He means it. He says she's spun him? Her head is spinning.

"If you want - or when you're ready, would you..." He glances away, swipes a hand through his hair. His gaze is back on her, looking nervous. Torn. "Would you live with me? Bella?"

Her voice is stuck in her throat. She takes his fingers in both of her hands for touch, for assurance, for balance.

Clasping her hands, Edward brings them up around his neck. He slides his fingertips down her arms, down her sides, her waist, to her hips, and pulls her closer. He runs his lips across her forehead. "What's in here? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking-" she rakes her nails through the back of his hair "-yes."

His smile goes wide and her pulse picks up tempo. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Letting out a deep breath, he drops his head to her shoulder like he's overwhelmed or relieved and she holds him there, caressing his hairline.

"I can't say no to that," she says. "To you. I don't want to."

With his face still buried in her shoulder and her hair, he wraps his arms all the way around her. She feels dampness spread over the top of her sleeve. She lifts his face. He's misty-eyed. He digs a thumb and index finger into his eyelids. "Look what you do to me, Bella."

"Edward." She opens one palm over his cheek. "If you only knew."

"Knew what?" He tilts his face into her palm, kind of rubbing against her hand.

How loved he makes her feel.

She lets her hands fall to his shoulders, and down to his chest. On tiptoe she kisses him and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

She's on the last button, their lips moving together in continuous kisses until he drags his lips over her face.

"Where's Rosalie?" He asks against her cheek, sliding his kiss down to her neck, the breath of his nose warming and tickling her skin.

"Emmett's."

And then her shirt's off and they're on their sides on the small bed, Bella running her hand along his firm, lean bicep, trailing her lips after.

She's in nothing but panties, her mouth to his stomach as she fumbles with the button of his jeans, the zipper. She slides her mouth lower, pushing his pants and boxers away.

"Bella," he says, his hands in her hair.

They're both naked now and on her knees over him, she looks down into his eyes feeling all the love and want that must be written on her face, in her gaze, her parted lips.

Reaching up, he traces her lower lip with his thumb. He pulls. "I've thought about you like this for weeks."

From his wallet she takes a condom and rolls it on him.

She crawls on top of him and they move together in a new but familiar rhythm.

"Damn, you're beautiful," he says, both of his hands at her neck, slipping down to her breasts, and then to her waist. He slows her down, stops her. "Wait." His eyes are shut.

"It's okay." She keeps going. She doesn't need long. She knows this already. "Trust me."

And he does, letting Bella move however she wants. She watches his jaw tense up, his eyes, his eyebrows. He groans, still trying to control himself. Until he no longer can. Until he's letting go.

Bella follows.

He pulls her body against his, their sweaty stomachs and chests flush. "Think of this," he says out of breath and voice, "every day."

She slides down to rest her head over his heart as their breathing calms. She kisses his chest. "You're so horny."

He laughs. "Not just that." He folds her in his arms and presses himself closer to her. "This."

"My everyday Edward," she says into his neck, the thought in the back of her mind that what she was once sure didn't exist, is now something she's calling true and everyday.

It's future, and she can see it. She can believe it.

She kisses his furry jaw. He rubs the opposite side. "I should've shaved first."

"I like it."

"You do?"

She nods. "I like you."

"Like?"

"Love." She smiles.

A/N: Thank you for being wonderful.

I'm going to talk a little bit here instead of at the end of the final chapter because sometimes I like my stories to end quietly, without my "author" voice getting in the way.

So, the witfit. I loved this experience. It was a challenge and kept me writing daily. If anyone is on the fence about it, I'd say, give it a try.

All of you, your reviews, your encouragement kept me going when I didn't think I had it in me. And Thimbles was there to preread for me when I was at my most insecure, so thank you, girl!

Now, I'm pretty sure this is going to be my last individual multi-chapter story. I won't say I'll never write a multi-fic again, but it's my intention to make this my last.

I do have some collaborations coming in the near-future. I'll be working on an E/B story with IReen H. I'm not sure when it will post, but we've talked and are definitely going through with it. Yay!

If you're interested in checking that out, we have a profile page under the penname BelieveItOrIReen. fanfiction dot net/ u/4749958/BelieveItOrIReen

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Thank you again for sticking through this with me!