New A/N: Oh my gosh. I thought I had this finished! It has been months- I am so sorry! This was supposed to be the last chapter, it was the last chapter, until I realized I never actually posted it, reread the whole story, and decided these characters weren't done yet. I've got a small part of chapter seventeen written (I'm working on it right now), and I don't know when it will be quite ready, but rest assured, chapter seventeen is coming.
Disclaimer: Yup, still own nothing.
A/N: If you haven't heard Falling by Harry Styles, I strongly suggest you do when you read this chapter, even if it's the only song of his you listen to. It's not everyone's favorite, but I've absolutely fallen in love with it, and it was actually the song that solidified this entire story. This was the idea that wouldn't leave me alone all this time. This song, and this moment, is what built up the entire story.
Chapter Sixteen
The arena was packed, and I felt like I was going to vomit. I tried to keep my gaze down, I tried not to look for him. I feared I would break if I saw him. The voicemails I had listened to on the ride over replay in my head, though I'm not sure if I'm trying to build up my confidence to face him, or punish myself for not giving him the chance to explain himself months ago.
As if wearing some sort of beacon, my eyes glance up, immediately locking onto his profile. He hasn't seen me yet, and for that I am thankful because I am rooted to the spot, blocking traffic, and making the guy behind me stumble into me. His muffled curses brings me out of my daze, and I allow Alice to guide me to our seats by the stage.
I suddenly want to scream and curse and cry and demand she take me home, that this is too much. I'm overwhelmed, but I've missed him. I've missed my best friend, I've missed hearing his voice, watching him perform, and I need to see him, despite the pain it's causing me.
The lights above us dims, and the stage lights turn on. He's dressed in one of Alice's creations, his hair styled perfectly as he jogs to the center of the stage. He waves and smiles, posing for a few fans snapping pictures.
"Hello Port Angeles!" His voice simultaneously tears at the hole in my chest and soothes me at the same time, and I let my eyes fill with tears. "How's everyone doing tonight? Good? Good!"
He pauses, looking out over the crowd, sighing. "You know, it feels really, really good to be up here tonight," screams rise up around me, morphing into chants for which songs they want to hear. My heart pounds as Sweet Creature, Matilda, and Adore You are shouted by thousands of people.
Carmen plays a few notes of each song, running through them a few times, before settling on Sweet Creature, the band joining in. I see Edward take a deep breath, his eyes closing as he turns his face skyward, he lets the music play through what should have been the first verse, listening to fans sing his lyrics. As Carmen and Emmett loop back around to the start, Edward starts to sing.
And just as I've always been, I become transfixed by his voice. He runs through the first third of his song softly, holding almost perfectly still, with the exception of his hands that fiddle on the mic and stand. He blinks rapidly, and I'm standing close enough to see him swallow forcefully before he opens his mouth, the chorus belting out of him, full of emotion. On the large screen above, I notice the tears rimming his eyes, as do many other members of the audience, who awws sadly.
I silently fall apart, watching him perform, feeling the longing and heartbreak all over again. He keeps his composure, and moves on to Adore You, As it Was, and Satellite, before introducing a new song called Daydream that has fans jumping and screaming along.
"This is another new song," Edward says as Carmen starts to play unfamiliar notes. "Emmett gets credit for Daydream, that song truly wouldn't exist if it wasn't for him and his love for his wife. Falling is probably the hardest song I've ever written, though it only took about fifteen minutes to get the lyrics figured out."
Edward pauses, as if trying to figure out what to say next. "Er," he starts, then stops, breathing sharply. "It's a really personal song to me. Anyway, here's the last song of the night, Falling."
"What am I now?
What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around?
I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.
What if I'm down?
What if I'm out?
What if I'm someone you won't talk about?
I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling."
He stops, but the crowd keeps singing, and he lets them finish the verse to the newly released song they had only had a few weeks to memorize. "You said you care, and you missed me too. And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you."
I vaguely remember the one phone call we shared, three weeks after the end of his tour. I was drunk, and heartbroken, and desperate to hear his voice, so I pulled up his number and listened to the phone ring.
"Hello?"
"I miss you," I sigh, my three words slurred.
I hear nothing on the other end of the line for a moment. "Oh, Bella, Lo-"
"You wrote too many songs about me," I interrupted him before pulling the phone away from my ear, ending the phone call as tears flooded my vision.
Edward clears his throat away from the mic, and it's almost as if he's reliving the memory as well.
"What am I now?
What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around?
What if I'm down?
What if I'm out?
What if I'm someone you won't talk about?
I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling. And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again-"
His voice cracks throughout his singing, before breaking at the end, and he cuts his note short. He pulls back from the mic, and I watch, heartbroken, as Edward releases a heavy breath, hastily wiping away an errant tear before it falls too far down his cheek.
Oh, Edward.
He pulls himself back together just enough to repeat the last verse, his voice almost uneven, his breath still shaking. The song comes to a close, and he bows to the crowd, his smile pained. "Thank you all so very much," he manages to get out before he turns to leave the stage. His eyes sweep the audience in my direction, and I see him freeze as green locks on brown for a fraction of a second. Agony fills his face as he shakes his head, making his way off the stage, disappearing behind the wall.
"Come one, let's go," Alice says. I look to her, feeling lost, noticing her eyes are puffy, her cheeks tearstained.
"We're leaving?" I croak.
Alice shakes her head, "I meant let's go backstage," she corrects before adding, "unless you want to leave."
I shake my head, and Alice smiles, twisting her fingers through mine, ignoring how clammy my skin is against hers, as she pulls me through the thick sea of people, who are still singing, or screaming Edward's name. She flashes her Staff badge as she passes security, and they let us both through with only a curious, concerned glance at the mess we must look like.
"He wasn't supposed to sing Falling tonight," Alice informs me. "Well, he was supposed to, but Kate made him take it off the list when he couldn't get through the song during practice- hell, he could hardly get through the song when he was recording it."
She pulls me down the hall and into the ready room, and into the open doorway of Edward's dressing room. Edward was sat in a chair, his head in his hands. "I fucking thought I saw her, Emmett. I- It-" he sucks in a gasping breath, and I realize he's starting to break. "I miss her so fucking much."
Rose stands off to his side, her hand rubbing circles over his shoulder as the air shudders in and out of him. Her eyes are full of unshed tears and pain for her friend as her gaze meets mine. She squeezes his shoulder before lifting her chin to the door, a silent request for Emmett to follow her.
Alice gives my hand a squeeze, while Rose offers me a watery smile. Emmett tucks me into his side in a fast half-hug. Just before Rose closes the door behind her, she speaks. "They brought her, Alice and Jasper. She's here."
His head snaps up, taking one look at me, before he buries his face in his hands again, sobs shaking his shoulders. I instinctually step forward, stooping to my knees in front of him. He's trying to speak, but the only thing I can really understand is, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.
My hand reaches out, lightly touching his forearm. He reaches out suddenly, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me up against him. His face presses into the curve of my neck as my hands tangle in his hair. My tears stream freely down my face and into his hair, while his roll down my neck, soaking into my shirt. I'm half crouched, half standing, and it's not at all comfortable, but I don't dare move as his frame shakes against mine- or maybe I'm the one shaking- as he finally tells me what really happened that night.
James had this planned all along- some sort of publicity stunt. He wanted me to be with Victoria Stillwell, but we ruined his plan. He promised her she could have me. She kissed me after the concert I didn't- I would never do that to you. I didn't kiss her back, and I'm so sorry you had to see that. I'm so sorry.
"I'm sorry I left without letting you explain what happened," I whisper, sniffling. "I was in shock, and I went to worst case scenario, and panicked."
"I couldn't find you," his voice is low and hoarse, "Alice told me what you saw, and I left to find you. I had to tell you that it wasn't what it looked like- but you were gone. You were just gone. You wouldn't answer your phone and when you finally did the next day… Fuck, it killed me."
My back is aching, and one of my legs is going numb now. I try to readjust, but Edward's hold on me tightens. "Please don't," he begs, and I feel my chest constrict at the heartbreak in his voice. "Not yet."
"My back is killing me, and I'm starting to lose a leg," I say wetly. "I just need to rearrange."
He reluctantly releases me, and I stand, my back popping with the movement, making him smile slightly as I groan. I keep my eyes on his, the emerald of his irises a drastic contrast to the bloodshot red around them, as I curl up on his lap, my arms coming to rest around his neck. He releases a long breath, one of his hands fall to my waist, squeezing me against him, while the other runs through my hair, cupping the back of my head. We silently breathe each other in, seeking comfort being next to one another again.
I'm not sure how long Edward and I hold each other in silence. It could have been only minutes, or it could have been close to an hour.
"Edward," I breathe, pulling back to look at him. He meets my gaze, a whirlwind of emotions in his eyes.
"Guys?" Emmett asks, hesitantly knocking on the door. "I don't want to interrupt, but Rosie is getting hungry. And nauseous because she's hungry. And she really wants Mexican- ouch! What? It's true! So, er, could you guys, like… hurry and figure out what you're going to do, please?"
I tuck my head back under Edward's chin, feeling his chest vibrate with hushed laughter. "Poor Rosie," he says.
"You should probably take your clothes off," is my response, and I slap a hand over my mouth in horror as his surprised laugh bursts out of him. "Changed," I hiss, feeling the blush from the roots at my hairline to the collar of my shirt. "You should get changed, into normal clothes, so we can feed the pregnant lady what she wants before she vomits."
I move off his lap awkwardly, unsure of where we stand now. I give him a small smile before excusing myself, leaving his room so he can change.
I'm surrounded by friends I hadn't seen in a long time, and I find myself tearing up all over again, which makes Rosalie cry too. I glance at Alice whose beaming at me as she rubs Rose's arm.
"Okay, what do you guys want?" Emmett asks, tapping on his phone. The restaurant Rose wants has an app to order food, and Emmett claims it is the most used app on his phone lately. Everyone shoots off their orders as Edward joins the group. I'm handed Emmett's phone. "Order whatever you want."
As I go through Emmett's phone, selecting my dinner, my free hand pushes against Edward's closed fist, feeling his hand relax under my touch. I thread our fingers together as I give the phone back. Rosalie also asks if she could get a milkshake from McDonald's as well, and I try not to make a face at the idea of mixing her spicy order with ice cream.
I keep Edward's hand in mine as we follow the others through the back stage halls and into one of the sleek black cars waiting for us.