For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud - William Wordsworth
There was no doubt about his mood when Edward returned home. It was already dark, and his body felt tired from the sleepless night and early morning start. But he had no desire to leave, despite having eaten nothing for the entire day and consuming nothing but two cups of black coffee.
They just talked. And talked, and talked. His favourite colour- "Black, I guess?", her favourite flower- "Dahlias for looks, lavender and lilac for scent". They sat across from each other on the couch, a decent enough berth between them, though Edward longed to cross the distance. Her hand was right there, smooth and white and so inviting, but she moved it back to her cold cup of coffee just as he mustered the courage to reach out to her.
Bella, for what it was worth, was fighting the same attraction. But she had another battle to wage, that which burned in her throat as a constant companion. It was getting easier and easier by the minute, but she was worried what his touch would feel like. The fire of his skin, his pulse so close, the tactile experience of the rush of blood so delicately contained.
She knew she should wonder what she was doing, try to talk herself out of it. For his own good. Logically, it didn't make sense at all. She was so new to this life, and she needed to focus on Charlie and school and making sure he would be taken care of when she had to fade out of his life. An eternity of time stretched out before her, and she had to fill that with something she had yet to figure out. But she found she simply couldn't focus on any of that when Edward was sitting in front of her, his legs casually crossed and his whole face lighting up as he told her about running from the cops and managing to survive jumping off a third story fire escape because he happened to land in a dumpster. It was terrifying in reality, but the way he told the story was hilarious, and Bella couldn't help but be enraptured by his animation.
"So…" Bella started when the conversation lulled, "What… what happened yesterday?"
Edward had the wherewithal to look embarrassed, as his light blush was evident enough to her. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I have a difficult time controlling my temper."
Bella mocked an expression of shock, and Edward managed to laugh at himself through his discomfiture.
"I guess you could call it a fight-or-flight response, but I'm almost always tuned to fight. Emmett's just lucky I've learned a little more control. If he tried that a few months ago…" he trailed off darkly, recalling his initial impulse.
Bella accepted his response almost coolly, as if it was the most normal answer in the world. Edward realised that it would take a lot more than that to scare her away, but he found himself reluctant to even try. He had stories that could make the average person's skin crawl, that could drive them to tears if he found that some sympathy would be advantageous to him. He could tell her about Will, should tell her about Will.
But while they were leaning towards each other on the couch, he found the words couldn't come out. And then she was looking up at him through her lashes with eyes the colour of the sun, and he wasn't really thinking about anything at all anymore.
"Edward?" she repeated. He blinked, surprised.
"Yeah?"
"I asked if you could give me a head's up if you plan on the whole flight thing? It just always seems like you're… running away or something."
"I had been planning on it," Edward admitted, conscientious enough to sport a light flush from the embarrassment. "But I don't know if I could leave anymore."
"Why did you want to?" she asked.
Edward sighed, pulling at the shock of hair that flopped onto his forehead. He told her about his parents, or lack thereof. He didn't remember them but for a soft impression of a woman with red hair and warm hands, but he told her all of it. About the foster home where the parents put vodka in his apple juice because it kept him quiet and the one where he wasn't allowed to have doors and had to shower in front of the foster dad. He told her about jumping out of windows and searching through dumpsters until he was shipped back to more secure houses and group homes and he finally got out of there for good. Cut loose, just a kid alone in the world with a taste for freedom.
"Family's a funny thing," Bella agreed. "I know you must want to escape, but I'm glad you've stayed. I mean, the Cullens seem great."
She caught herself, and he caught on.
"Speaking of family, your dad will probably be home soon, won't he?" Edward said, nodding to the window where the day was darkening. They spent the entire day on the couch, but it felt like not a moment passed.
She was cognisant of the time, it was impossible not to be, but for some reason it still took her off guard. "You haven't eaten anything all day!" she cried, jumping up with an inhuman swiftness that startled Edward.
"Don't worry about it, I can eat at home," he said.
"No, let me make something for you quickly. That was so stupid of me. I'm so good about meals with Charlie, I swear."
"Bella, seriously, I'm fine," he promised.
She was already in the kitchen, rifling through the refrigerator. It was fairly well-stocked since she moved in, but there were no leftovers, and even she couldn't make water boil any faster than physics allowed. She grabbed an onion and a knife and chopped it as quickly as she could, her hand becoming a blur in Edward's eyes as her movements flurried.
He touched her elbow lightly, but she felt his warmth burst through the thin layer of her frayed sweater. Her hand stilled, and she looked up to meet his eyes.
"I've gone longer without eating," he said softly. "I'll stay, if you want your father to meet me."
Bella stared up at him, the knife forgotten, resting in her palm. And she thought back to that awful spaghetti night with Jasper, where Charlie was so accusatory and combative even with the calming influence of Jasper's gift. Edward was just as sharp, just as uneven. There was a set to his jaw that could seem menacing, a glint in his eyes that screamed danger. She saw it, too, the first time they met, and many moments after.
That's not what he was anymore, not to Bella. But she was seeing it again, and this time through her father's eyes.
"Better not," she acquiesced.
He nodded. "As you wish."
"I'll see you tomorrow?" Bella asked wistfully. It felt like the moment he left, he would disappear. As if the entire day had been a hallucination, and when she walked into their Biology classroom he would greet her with the usual glare and sneering disdain.
"I have a paper due too, don't I?" he said, then smiled. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."
Bella didn't move until she heard the squeal of his tires on the wet pavement, the fading patter of his heartbeat. An onion was finely chopped on the cutting board, but there was no other tangible evidence of his presence in the house. Nothing that Charlie could see, of course. His scent, however, clung to every surface. Daylight had given its way to a rainy dusk, but it smelled like sunshine inside. His fingerprints were pressed into the picture frames that held the only remnants of her life before.
Charlie appeared only a few minutes later, cheerful and touting his bag of fish. Bella sported a forced smile and continued her cooking. When Charlie asked what she had been up to all day, she smiled wistfully at the vegetables. "Oh, nothing," she said. "Just hung out."
Edward, for his part, didn't lie. He burst into the kitchen and loaded a plate with the meal Esme barely finished cooking, shovelling food in his mouth with little regard for manners. Esme chastised him, but he could only shrug. He told her he spent the day at Bella's and got so caught up, they forgot to eat.
If she was surprised, she didn't show it. She simply tucked a napkin on the front of his shirt and dared to lay a gentle kiss on the crown of his head. There, he smelled like all her other babies, fresh and soft. Edward thanked her between bites, but his mind was elsewhere. He had things to do, to organise. His plate was inhaled in a matter of minutes, and though he got up to clean his dishes, Esme took it from him carefully.
"Go call Emmett in for dinner, will you, dear?" she asked. Alice and Rose were already seated at the dining room table, laughing over a gossip magazine, their heads pressed together like they were in their own world. Sisterhood persisted, even with natural enmity.
Edward found Emmett dribbling a basketball on the side of the garage, throwing up a few layups casually. Edward laced up his sneakers and jogged out to meet him, coming up behind him to steal the ball from his hands and sink a smooth shot. He checked the ball back to Emmett and spread his arms in a defensive position. Emmett drove the ball to the basket.
They traded shot after shot in a physical game. More than once, one of the boys ended up on the ground, but both were too proud to call a foul. Finally, Edward launched himself up and batted down the ball, taking it for himself and dunking right on top of Emmett.
They were both breathing hard, and Edward was bleeding slightly from where he scraped his knee. Emmett rubbed the side of his neck where Edward elbowed him so hard he almost couldn't breathe. When they finally caught their breath, Edward straightened up and stared Emmett down with an intensity he almost needed to look away from.
"You're my brother and I love you but if you ever try anything like that again I will kick the shit out of you," Edward promised.
Emmett's eyes widened, but whatever tension he carried easily dissipated. It wasn't in his nature to take an ultimatum as a threat. If anything, he appreciated the challenge. He clapped his younger brother on the shoulder and ambled away, idly cataloguing options for further pranks, much further down the road, when Edward might've possibly forgotten about the egg incident.
"And Emmett?"
"Yeah?" he answered warily.
"Where can I buy flowers?"