Disclaimer: I do not own the idea of Twilight, that belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I do however own this plot. So enjoy.

I have no clue as to what to do. Normaly if I saw a guy cry, I'd tell him to man up and to stop acting like a pussy. But like always, he makes me do the opposite of what I'm used to.

Hesitantly, I respond to his hug by wrapping my arms around him as well. It fells so good. Even in his vaulnerable state, he makes me feel safe. But I'm also confused. If I was the one to make him cry, why would he seek comfort in me?

For what seems like hours we stand there, wrapped in each others embrace. The world around us fades. All I can hear are his choppy breaths and quiet sniffs. To try and comfort him, my hands move up and down his back. The soft cotton of his shirt running under my finger tips. I continue this soothing motion for a while. Then unonscious of my actions, my hands work their way under the back of his blue t-shirt.

And I feel them.

Their littered all around his back, some smaller and some larger. Raised about his skin. I fell every bump, and I know instintly what they are. It tears at my soul.

Scars. Over at least twenty of them.

I'm snapped back from my discovery by him jerking himself away from me. He does it so fast that my arms are still raised in the air, but are empty. I'm so surprised, I don't even notices he's running, and almost immediately so am I. His legs are longer than mine, so he is a good couple of feet ahead of me.

Knowing I will not be able to catch up to him, I open my mouth to scream his name. Only I can't, my mind goes blank. It was then I realized I don't even know his name. How? I have no clue. I have spent my whole high school career obsessing over him. I studied him like he was something to learn in school, and I don't even know his name.

"Hey!" I screamed. "Hey, stop!"

Only he doesn't, if anything he begins to run faster.

"Please. Will you stop running, please?" I'm not screaming anymore. I'm quietly begging. I try to think of something I could say that would get him to stop running.

"Your name!" I see he slows down. "At least ...At least tell me your name!" I basically demand from him. This has been an extremly weird night, and the connection I feel to him is starting to freak me out, but I'll be damned if I don't at least get his name.

He stops running, so I take this as an invitation to jog to him. When I am again facing his back, he speaks.

"Edward." It was a whisper.

"Edward." I repeated his name, whispering it almost lovingly.

"Okay Edward, can you turn around please?" He does. "I-I'm sorry about touching you. Well not really, I liked touching you." Fuck, that sounded super creepy. He looks at me funny, so I began to back pedal. "Not like that! God, I would never touch you like that!" I screamed. After the words left my mouth, his entire body deflates. I clearly said something worng.

"How about this? We forget what just happened. I can still take you to where I was before, or if I have totally creeped you out, we can head back inside." I really hope he chooses the former option. I can't help but want to spend more time with him.

"Where would you take me?"

"Um... A few hundred yards into the forest there is a meadow. Sometimes I go there to get away from life." Telling him about my secret sanctuary makes me a little nervous. Ever since I was little that meadow has been my way of escaping my fucked up life. It was my safe haven; I have never shared it with anyone.

"Its dark." He points out.

"Yeah. Yeah it is, so?" I ask, confused by his obvious statement.

"How-How will you know where your going? How will you know where your taking me?"

"I just will. Just trust me, Okay?"

"I do."

And so we set off toward my wonderland.

Thank you for reading. If you would be as kind to review and to follow my story, a big thanks will be sent your way.