Draw Me In

–|*|–

Nine - For I never saw true beauty 'til this night

.

.

*~ So, here we go
A face in the crowd,
Jump up and jump down
Baby, can you see through me? ~*

.

The evening seeps into the city inconspicuously. It's an unseasonably warm night, and the building windows are lit up like kept stars. There is a non-stop flow of murmurings from below, like people were too busy to take the time for each other in the day, and there's a vague haze covering it all – more a film over my own eyes than the city itself.

I sit outside on the balcony, watching everything come alive.

"No, mum," I reply, holding in a sigh. "We're not out drinking. You can rest easy knowing that we're not on our way to developing cirrhosis anytime soon."

"Cheeky git," she replies, but I can hear the smile in her voice. "I know you're too old for me to be mithering you, but I do worry. Ever since you and your brothers became so known . . . well, I worry."

My exasperation softens. "I think we're a bit too old to be getting mixed up in all that stuff anyway."

Her chuckle drifts down the line. "Son, you're twenty seven, you should be out having fun. It's just my prerogative as your mother to wish you wouldn't have too much." My lips curl up as I flick ash away. "Now pass to me to your brother. I have something to say to him about that birthday present he sent me."

I chuckle, rising from my seat and gesturing to Emmett through the glass. "See you soon, mum."

"Love you, sweetheart."

I pass him the mobile when he slides the door open and pops his head out. "It's for you."

He raises a brow, and then smiles as he puts it to his ear. "Hi mum." I don't bother to hide my grin as I watch his face fall; listen to him stammer out an explanation.

"It was only – "

"But I never – "

I laugh silently.

"Hey mum," he says loudly, narrowing his eyes at me. "Did you know that Edward has taken up smoking again?"

My laughter stops.

Tosser, I mouth.

He grins, sticking two fingers up at me before disappearing.

I sigh as I fall back onto the chair, taking a long drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out. The smoke escapes in wisps, swept away by the wind and deposited with the rest of the smoke in the city below.

I close my eyes against the lights, letting the nicotine do its work.

I had given up about a year ago, only sneaking the odd fag here and there, but for the past week I had been going at them rather liberally. But I couldn't help it. Smoking had always lulled me, and I had been driven to frustration, my focus impelled to the peripheral as something entirely more distracting took front and centre.

A girl.

Just a girl.

I had never been one to lose sight of real life just because I so happened to be in a relationship at the time. Essays or exams or friends usually took precedence while the relationship sat on the backburner. The girl was never . . . in the spotlight. And I had all but driven any hope of having another one into the ground a few years prior, letting myself be absorbed by the music, and only that.

Yet one stolen glance at a girl in a crowded room and . . .

She wasn't just anything.

My heart beat breaks through the murmurings of the night as I recall the moment I first saw her.

–|*|–

I could feel the sensation of so many bodies near, all thrumming to the beat of our music as the lights blared down on us, sending moisture seeping out of my skin and clinging to my shirt. The microphone slid between my fingers and I felt rather than heard the sound of my own voice as it resonated through the speakers.

There was adrenaline everywhere, and I bathed in it.

My eyes fell to the crowd, and though the spotlight was bright, I felt indebted to them enough that I should try to see them. But my gaze, as ever, was filled only with empty wanting; eyes that trailed and took, only ever lingering on surface and skin.

I shook my head as I sang harder, my voice gritty and my throat sore.

When it came to my solo – something that was relatively new – I picked up my guitar and gratefully sat my arse down. My hands shook before I started – nerves and adrenaline sliding together – and then I began to play.

My head remained down as I plucked at the strings, moving quickly then slow, quick, then slow. The spotlight felt ten times hotter now the rest of the stage was dimmed, and I could hear my heart as I poured it out in song.

But I couldn't look up. I had performed this song live a total of five times, and it still felt too raw, too personal. Daft as it was, every time I played this it felt as though I were giving a little part of myself away . . . and I wasn't quite ready to face anyone as I did it.

But then something caught my eye.

It was a small thing, not the glow of a mobile or the flash of a camera, but something like a tiny zip reflecting the light and twinkling in the peripheral of my vision. I looked up on instinct, a little bit dazed, as my eyes sought out the source.

And my fingers almost faltered, my voice almost stopped.

For a minute all I could make out were her edges – just the soft corners of her dark hoodie, the reflective zip, and the high hue in her cheeks. For a minute I could only see the soft curves of her hair, the way she looked so small in comparison to the jumping bodies around her.

And then I saw all of her.

I didn't really know what it was, precisely. Perhaps because it was a conglomeration of many things rather than just one; the way she stood so still amongst the rapid of bodies, remaining in her own space despite the tidal wave that threatened to swallow her whole. It was in her quiet, soundless stance – and in the way she wasn't looking at me.

As the night wore on, I stole periodic glances at her, and each time she would be watching my hands, or Jasper's or Emmett's. Her expression seemed curious and assessing, and so hushed in comparison to the madness around her.

I wondered if she knew how unprecedented she was . . . and how much that intrigued me.

At one point, when I stopped to address the crowd, my gaze snagged on hers the moment she looked up.

And I don't believe in strange, mystical forces such as fate or destiny . . . but there was something in her eyes that made my mind take a step out of my body – pulling away from the words I was saying – until it felt like I was there in the crowd, with her, and I was falling and flying all at once.

Because her gaze was a tangible thing.

And it wasn't skating or skirting the surface my skin.

It was sinking into it.

–|*|–

Standing up and walking to the edge of the balcony, a shudder dances across my skin as I remember. I peer out at the lights and wonder if she's in one – dancing or working or living.

My hand hovers over my pack of "cancer sticks" (as mum would call them) as I gaze out into the lights. I weave one in and out of my fingers but don't light it.

"Hey, Ed."

I jolt slightly, the fag falling from my fingers and rolling onto the floor. I swipe it up before it tips over onto the city below and turn to face my brother.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna go down and get something to eat," he says, gesturing behind him. "You want anything?"

I shake my head. "I'm good, thanks."

He squints at me. "You sure? You've been off your food for days now."

I chuckle. "Yes, mum, I'm sure." I shrug and light the cig, blowing the smoke into the air. "I had a big lunch."

Jasper rolls his eyes. "Yeah, five whole cigarettes."

"Sod off. I've already had Emmett in my ear about it."

"I know," he chuckles. "He seems to be having great delight in outing you to mum. So." His eyebrows lift, a grin appearing on his lips. "Does your sudden relapse have anything to do with a certain someone?"

I shake my head, already turning around. "Piss off, Jasper."

His laughter is the last thing I hear before the door slides shut behind him.

–|*|–

.

.

.

A/N: *holds breath*

mithering = to make a fuss; moan

tosser = an unpleasant person (basically another way of saying "wanker")

sticking two fingers up = making a "v" sign with your index and middle finger (with palm inward), used as an insult

fag = cigarette

So, there was a resounding "yes" to the possibility of an EPOV last chapter, so... that was Edward. What'd you reckon? I hope I didn't disappoint anyone! I'm sorry about the wait, but I'll hopefully be able to update tomorrow as well to make up for it. We've not finished hearing from our boy quite yet. ;)

Oh! And there's also been a very lovely banner made for this story by the very kind FicSisters! You can find it on their blog, and there's also a link to it on my profile if you fancy having a butcher's. :)

See you (probably) tomorrow!