Draw Me In

–|*|–

Twenty One – Going Out Of My Mind

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*~ Although we're apart
You are a part of my heart
But tonight
You belong to me ~*

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"Five minutes, Mr. Masen."

I lift my eyes for only as long as it takes to shoot the backstage staff a quick smile in the mirror before looking back down again. "Thanks."

The door shuts with a quiet click, enveloping me in silence again. I can feel the heavy bass from the opening act thrumming through the floor and sinking into the soles of my shoes, and know logically that their loud sound can't be stopped by a single wooden door. But it's not that. Instead, my eyes are drawn to deeper semantics via apparently harmless electronic text.

Just two syllables, and my world is muted by her words.

–|*|–

Sweat drips into my eyes as I strain by vocal chords under the burning lights of the stage. I can barely see beyond the shine; the audience appearing as only vague, blacked-out silhouettes. Unwittingly, my eyes search the expanse of the dark, seeking something, someone, I know I won't find.

My fingers don't almost tumble over strings and my voice never falters.

I'm distracted, but not in the way I want to be.

–|*|–

"Nice show, guys," Emmett praises from the backseat of our car, while simultaneously watching his phone and swallowing an overly large bit of pizza. He nods his head to me after a minute. "You never played your song, though."

The solo I'd only ever played live a handful of times. The last time had been in Birmingham.

I just shrug in reply, letting my gaze fall to my mobile. I stare intently at her words on the screen, troubled.

Why was she thanking me?

"Problems?"

I lift my head quickly, meeting Jasper's gaze in confusion. "What?"

He gestures towards my phone. "You look like you're trying to figure out how to solve world hunger."

I manage a half-smile. "Not today."

His eyes narrow.

"Bella?" he guesses.

I look back at him, perturbed.

His glance turns sheepish. "Ever since you came back from seeing her, you've been . . . "

"Weird," Emmett pipes up from opposite us, eyes still glued to his screen.

"How did you know about that?" I ask them both in exasperation.

"You weren't exactly being discrete when you were creeping behind us in your car," Emmett replies, rolling his eyes. "It wasn't exactly mind-bending detective work."

"Good thing," I shoot back snidely.

His eyes flick to me then, his eyebrow arching. "You might be a big boy now, Ed, but I can still kick your arse."

I slump back into my seat, tugging on my hair as I try to rein myself in. I hadn't told them I'd gone to see Bella because I just . . . hadn't. She hadn't answered any of my texts, so I had no idea how I'd be received. But it was more than that. I was so used to everything of mine being everyone else's that I just wanted something I could keep to myself for a minute. Not hidden, but just . . . mine.

Not to mention the fact that Emmett would have taken the piss out of me relentlessly.

"Sorry," I mutter, giving my phone one last look before abruptly shoving it into my pocket. Leaning forward, I pull my fingers through my hair, my mind racing.

Okay. I'll be your friend.

You will?

"You should be," he utters back. "Rosie gave me a right ear bollocking about it, and I didn't even do anything!"

I rub my eyes with the heel of my hands, feeling a twinge of amusement despite myself. "What happened to just Rose?"

I imagine him waving me off. "Just Rose just happens to have a softer side which is distinctly Rosie. If you tickle her just above – "

"Information overload, thanks," I quickly interrupt, grimacing behind my hands.

"I was going to say ankle, Ed, god. Get your mind out of the gutter, man."

I just shake my head in reply, finding myself begrudgingly amused.

"Why didn't you tell us you were going?" Jasper asks from beside me.

Sighing, I drop my hands from my face and rake my hands through my hair again. "I was . . . nervous," I admit. "And not ready to share."

"What, so are you guys together now?" Emmett interrupts.

I look at him incredulously. "No," I say emphatically, "we're . . . we're friends." I think.

His frown is lit-up with the glow from his mobile. "But you just said – "

"Christ, Emmett!" I snap abruptly, feeling frustration coat my throat, my tongue, my words. "I barely know the girl, for pete's sake! Why are you making such a big deal about this?"

Silence greets my exclamation, and in the quiet, I seethe.

Emmett looks at me then, eyebrows raised. "I'm not," he says calmly. "But ever since you got back from seeing Bambi, you've been jittery as fuck. You've been smoking like a bloody chimney and it's like you're terrified of missing something because you won't put your bleeding phone down."

I laugh, but it's forced; uncomfortable. "Right," I say dryly. I send a pointed look towards his own device. "Because you're so detached from yours."

Undeterred, he utters right back, "Rosie was wishing me well on our show tonight. I was thanking her."

Thank you.

My stomach balls into a tight knot.

"Has Bambi even been in contact with you? Because from what Rosie tells me, she was in a bit of a state when they found her."

A throb of pain ricochets around in my chest. My head snaps up. "What?"

"Alice said she was upset," Jasper utters lowly from beside me, and my gaze swivels to his.

"Upset?" I repeat, my voice cracking a little bit.

He just nods, and it's not enough.

Because of me?

But she'd said . . .

"Why are you telling me this now?" I demand, darting my gaze back and forth between my brothers', trying to shake away the burning licks of pain encroaching on my chest.

Emmett eyes me. "Because we've never seen you like this before, and clearly, it has something to do with that girl. You need to pull your head out of your arse and sort this out, man. Talk to her, don't talk to her, whatever, but make up your mind."

"It's not that simple. She's – she's different. I can't just push myself onto her."

Emmett raises a brow, nodding towards my phone. "You've been mouthing the same two words over and over again the whole night." He shakes his head. "I'm not so sure it's Bambi who needs the push."

–|*|–

For the rest of the ride back to the hotel, I quietly stew over Emmett's words. I hadn't realised they'd noticed how distracted I'd been, thought I was still doing a show of acting normal, but, I guess, even though performing came with what I did, I never was any good at lying.

And apparently, I couldn't be more see-through.

But it had been two weeks; two weeks since I had left her, two weeks without so much as a, hi. And then today, out of the blue: thank you.

For what? For being a persistently obtuse git and upsetting her?

After leaving her flat, I'd made the resolute decision that I would be patient. I was heading up north for a couple of months anyway, so it should have been easy to be so. But it wasn't. Everyday I'd watch my phone, waiting, feeling a sinking disappointment each time I was left wanting. Maybe I was acting a little bit more than ridiculous. I barely knew her. She didn't owe me anything.

But I kept on waiting.

And now I don't have to. Emmett, for once, is right.

She's made the first move, and I'm stalling because I have no idea how to respond.

–|*|–

The car stops and loiters outside the hotel, and I do, too.

"You coming, Ed?" Emmett asks, peering in at my form still slouched in the seat.

Dazed, I glance out of the window and nod slowly. "Uh . . . yeah, I guess." I slide out from the car and stand. My gaze flits up to the bright, garish lights of the hotel and I hesitate.

"Actually," I utter quietly. "I think I'm just going to . . . go, for a bit."

"Go where?"

"Just around," I answer vaguely, then clarify at their speculative looks, "for a walk."

Emmett frowns. "Are you pissed at me?"

I roll my eyes. "No."

"Are you sure? 'Cause I don't want you brooding all over Manchester. People will recognise you in a heartbeat and then mum will be pissed at me for getting you snogged to death by a bunch of pre-teens."

I grimace. "Thanks for that."

He sends an over the top salute my way. "Just doing my duty as your big brother, Edwardo."

I sigh, looking to Jasper. "I'll be back in a bit. If I'm not back in an hour, don't send out a search party."

Jasper just smirks. "But as your big brother, Edward, I feel like it might be my duty."

I glare at him, and then at a similarly smirking Emmett. "You're both bastards," I mutter, already pulling my hood up as I start off down the pavement.

"Hey Ed!" Emmett calls loudly, very purposefully attracting the attention of people passing by. "Don't you want to take the car?"

I just swear under my breath and speed my pace, ignoring the chuckling from my brothers as I go.

–|*|–

The darkness of the night makes it easy to slide through crowds, undetected.

I walk for god knows how long, keeping my head low. I don't stop until the mass around me thins, and I fall into a silent street; collapsing onto a bench in a quiet cul-de-sac.

From the confines of my hood I lift my gaze. Small, red-bricked detached houses, windows yellow with light, stand tall but unimposing in front of me. An unexpected bout of nostalgia fills me as I continue to stare, imagining the warmth of a continuous home-life within. I was twenty seven, and the only stable home I'd ever had was my parents'. It wasn't that I couldn't afford to buy property, I just found myself lacking the time, or incentive to.

I had grown weary of hotels a long time ago, but I couldn't very well escape that. And when touring was over, my brothers and I would inevitably fall back into our childhood home. Our parents never minded because we'd always been close as a family, so the thought of living in a space of my own had never really been a question of when.

And I had never felt confined because of it, because I had gained my independence a long time ago, when I began my career. Living alone had just never . . . appealed to me.

The sound of a dog barking jolts me, and I shake away my thoughts, quickly. We still had a few more cities to visit; I wouldn't be going back home for a while.

Dropping my head, I watch as my finger taps over the rectangle in my pocket, the usually negligible weight unexpectedly heavy on my thigh. Nostalgia is swiftly replaced by frustration, both at her message and myself. She was fast becoming the most confusing woman, nay, person I'd ever met. And I'd met quite a few.

My eyes close as I recall the moment she opened the door to me – the first time. I'd known of Emmett and Jasper's plans and had followed them, feeling as sketchy as I was acting, but unable to stop myself. I'd sat in the car for a good twenty minutes, simultaneously trying to talk myself out of it and trying to gain the nerve to just get out of the car. Then I'd sent her what would be my final text – knowing she wouldn't respond, as she hadn't to the previous, but not wanting to just . . . show up, either.

I grimace now, remembering my nerves then; like I was ten years younger, a virgin in every sense of the word, working up the courage to ask a girl out.

And then I'd been at her door, and then she had, too, but definitely not like I had been expected.

She was, quite clearly, wearing considerably less than the last time I'd seen her.

I'd said her name, Bella, and had babbled out something about her not getting my text. My eyes had been inappropriate, my gaze and body reacting like this was the first time I'd seen a woman in a towel, acting like she was wearing even less.

I didn't know what it was – still don't – but it was like the first night, in the room backstage. Her hands, her face – her skin had looked so soft, almost luminous. And it wasn't just the slope of her cheek this time, or the delicate tilt of her wrist. It was the gentle curve of her shoulders and the pale blue lines on her chest, her translucency made more apparent by the necessities of her insides seeping through to her outer softness. But I had been looking at her eyes – a deep, rich brown teeming with warmth – when she'd whispered a single no, and slammed the door in my face.

Maybe I should have cottoned on to the fact that she clearly wanted me to go, but I had waited and, eventually, she had let me in.

She had radiated tension as soon as I stepped in. I didn't need to be a mind reader to tell that she was uncomfortable with me being there – it was in her evading eyes and curled-in posture. But I had persisted, gently, because I wanted to know why, because for some reason, I wanted something from her.

It was selfish, yes, and I'd stumbled over my words as I tried to explain. She thought I was messing with her, and nothing could have been further from the truth.

She had been messing with my head since I first saw her, and she didn't even know it.

She still was.

Throwing said head back, I stare up at the dark night sky, seeing few stars but not as my eyes cloud over, picturing her smile – the only one she'd let me have – when I'd teased her about her offer of friendship. The word friend had slipped past her lips so reluctantly, but I'd grabbed it with eager ears, feeling as though I could relax since the first time I'd entered.

My greedy wanting had been satiated for a minute.

And then I had left, because she'd looked more spent than me.

For the past two weeks I'd gone over that meeting time and time again in my mind, analysing every look, every shudder and sigh. Like her skin, she screamed delicate. It awoke some strange stirring in my chest, making me have the desire to . . . protect?

I choke on a bitter laugh, my face twisting as I recall my brothers' earlier words. She had been upset after I'd left. I was probably the last person she'd want on her side.

I run my thumb over my jean-covered mobile then, groaning aloud as her: thank you flashes before my eyes. I feel like an absolute arsehole.

I can't fathom her.

So I stop stalling and pull out my phone, telling her just that, in one simple – but loaded – word.

Why?

The device vibrates in my hand almost immediately, and my eyes widen in surprise, my phone almost clatters to the ground.

My mind skitters and my heart jumps; simultaneously focused and distracted – but in the way they want to be, this time.

It reads –

For wanting to be my friend.

Her answer makes my heart clamber up to my throat. Her honesty pulls at me even from so many miles away.

With slightly shaking fingers, I reply –

You don't have to thank me for that.

And then –

I should be thanking you.

I wait, eyes glued to the screen like Emmett's were earlier. A hoard of people could pass by right now and I wouldn't even notice.

Vibrations lick at my fingertips.

Why?

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth at her mimicking. My reply is as honest as hers, and I hope that in it, she can read the deeper appreciation I'm trying to convey.

My desire to be her friend had been an easy realisation. I had the feeling that her acceptance of me as one was anything but.

For wanting to be mine.

–|*|–

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A/N:

bollocking = to be reprimanded, lectured, told off, etc.

snogged = kissed

cottoned on = understood, realised; to begin to understand

Sorry for the wait! Nice hearing from our boy, though?

Thanks for reading! See you next time. xo