AN: Happy New Year!
Finally I've been able to make this chapter, finally Bella explaining to Edward about twin flames.
I have just one or a few more chapters in the making, until we reach the end. I don't want to give false promises, but I can say that I will do my best to wrap it up by the end of this week.
Thanks for the patience and I'm sorry for the delay.
Reminder warning: this story, and specifically also this chapter could be triggering to some readers.
Chapter 25 - Twin Flame
"You're just gonna laugh at me when I tell you."
It wasn't a question. It was a fact. He and Bella—real conversations between them were impossible. There would always be mockery, always laughter. That's just how it was.
"Bella."
Her eyes snapped to his, the demand in his voice impossible to ignore.
"I was not going to laugh at you."
A strange unease bloomed inside her, as if something terrible were on the verge of happening.
"Don't go back to the past," he said softly. "Not again. Stay with me instead."
Her mind blurred, teetering between past and present, unable to focus.
"Stay with me... forever?"
It wasn't a demand or a threat—just a quiet plea.
"Be serious," she whispered.
"I am."
Forever.
Her heart raced. She should let go of him now. They were standing too close.
Run.
She pulled back suddenly, nearly stumbling as she stepped away. Embarrassment prickled her skin. Freed from the warmth of his touch, she turned and fled upstairs.
Shoes.
She needed her shoes. Her bare feet thudded against the floor as she remembered: upstairs. Edward had taken them off. She ascended quickly, her pulse hammering with every step.
At the bathroom, she grabbed her shoes. They didn't fit. She was still wearing Edward's socks—too big by miles. Frustrated, she ripped them off, slipping her bare feet into the shoes.
Run.
She darted down the stairs, and to the front door.
Edward was already in the hallway, eyeing her carefully.
As she went to grip the doorknob, ready to wrench it open and flee, Edward's hand slammed down on the door, keeping the door shut.
"Where are you going?" he asked gently.
She flinched at his tone. She flinched, because he was too kind right now.
She flinched, because he said forever.
"A walk," she said, not meeting his eyes. Her chest heaved, her breaths shallow and rapid.
She tugged at the doorknob, but his hand didn't budge.
"Right now?" he asked.
His eyes searched hers with maddening calm.
"You need sleep, Bella. It's the middle of the night."
"I just want to go for a walk," she said bitterly.
"While you're dissociating?"
She clenched her fists. "I—I'm not!"
"Prove it."
Her heart sank. The request shouldn't have stung, but it did. Did he really think she wasn't present, wasn't here?
"If I prove it," she said, tears threatening to spill, "will you let me go?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."
"Promise me," she said, her hands curling into fists. "No catches, Edward."
His face softened. "I wasn't—no, Bella, no catches. I—"
She didn't let him finish. She couldn't.
"I love you, Edward," she blurted out, her voice trembling but steady.
Would that be proof enough?
"I love you, Edward. Despite everything. Despite the fact that you're the reason I went to hell and back. Despite the fact that loving you has torn me apart in ways I didn't think were possible—"
Would that be adding to the proof he needed?
She was braced for the catch, the condition.
"I love you."
Was this enough proof?
"And knowing what I know now—if I had to do it all over again—from the minute I met stepped into the CC for the first time—until this exact moment—I wouldn't change a thing."
She braced herself for her defense.
"That's how much I love you."
He always had an angle.
"I was the perfect prey for James," she said, raising her eyes up to meet his. "He knew I loved you—long before I even understood it myself. For loving you...I became a prey in a game of deceit and money and power."
Edward didn't move. He just stood there, his breath hitching and something that looked like vulnerability brimming in his eyes.
Then, to her surprise, his hand dropped his side away from the door.
Gently the back of his fingers touched her cheek and she stopped breathing upon feeling his touch. She helt her heartbeat loudly against her chest.
He gazed at her in a way she didn't understand.
"You have it all wrong," he said, his voice strong.
"Oh and you know everything so much better, right?" she said defensively.
"I fell in love with you first," he stated. "I—I broke my own vow to myself—"
"I don't want to hear it," she snapped. "Will you just let me go outside or did I not prove plenty that I'm not dissociating right now?"
"Yeah, of course, you proved it plenty," he said immediately, his voice rough.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"Go take your walk," he added. "I won't stop you again."
She froze. He believed her?
Whatever.
She jerked the door open. The cold air bit her face, shocking her senses. She turned to see Edward slipping on his own shoes.
"I don't want you following me!"
He followed her anyhow.
Each step felt heavier than the last. Her exhaustion, his proximity, his maddening calm—it all pressed down on her.
And still, she kept walking.
And for whatever it was worth, she would make it through the night.
Whatever it took.
It was nearly dawn now, she was sure. Her psychologist was going to kill her for this.
Edward walked a step behind her.
"Bella—" he started, his tone rushed and uneven. "I don't know if anyone ever told you this, but after Tanya disappeared, we had several emergency meetings to figure out new safety measures."
Bella kept walking, her steps deliberate. She didn't respond.
"We even considered shutting down the CC permanently."
Her chest tightened. No one had ever told her that before.
"There was a vote," Edward continued. "The majority decided to keep it running, with added safety measures. I… I was among the majority that voted against shutting it down."
She clenched her fists, hiding her left hand with her right as she walked.
"I promised myself something that day," he said quietly. "I vowed to never fall in love. To never tie myself to just one person."
Bella pulled at her fingers nervously, wishing she could walk faster.
"I don't know if you're even listening to me," Edward said. His voice had a frustrated edge now. "I don't know if you hear me or if you're dissociating again."
She didn't answer. Didn't look back. She just wanted him to stop talking.
"But I need to ask you something," he said, and this time his voice was softer. Sadder. "Will you please look at me when I ask you?"
Curiosity got the best of her. She halted and turned around.
"Right," Edward said, his voice tense, as if bracing himself for something painful. "I knew right from the start that loving you would be a major risk to your life. I imagined something similar to what happened to Tanya. That James would abduct you and use you against me. That he'd threaten me to give him our data from the CC."
"So?" Bella asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"I didn't calculate that the major risk would be that he'd use you to bait me the way he did."
"James was the most cleverest man, after all," Bella said, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. She wasn't even sure why she was laughing—nothing about this was funny.
"Can you look me in the eyes and tell me, with the knowledge that I knew your life was at risk the moment I said I loved you, broke my own vow, and brought you to my apartment that night—can you honestly say you'd do it all over again, knowing I am the fucking cause of all this?"
Bella didn't drop her eyes.
"I love you, Edward. Even if sometimes I wonder why you would want to fuck a cheap whore that night—"
Edward moved so quickly, she barely had time to process it. Three long strides brought him to her, his presence towering, suffocating.
"Stop saying that, right now," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I vowed to myself to never fall in love. My life was perfect. I had everything. Everything I thought mattered. And then—"
His voice dropped lower, colder.
"Then I met you," he said. "You made realize that every single thing I'd built was a lie. And that night was the one perfect thing in all of it. It was superior to everything else. Then James...he fucking ruined you. He took your privacy, your safety, your fucking sanity. He haunted you. He abused you. He tortured you. He made you suicidal. He told you to let me rape you, Bella Swan. He threatened you with things even the Devil himself would find revolting. And I—" He shook his head, his voice rising. "I didn't stop it. I didn't protect you. After a perfect night, I mistrusted you. I failed you."
Her breath hitched, and he noticed. He always noticed.
"You think I don't feel it, Bella? Every time I look at you, every time I think about what came after that night? Every time I think about it, all I can see is the aftermath. And nothing—nothing—can ever fix that."
His voice cracked again, but this time he didn't try to hide it.
"You can go ahead," he said, his tone bitter and mocking. "And tell me I failed and wronged you. Because that's what I did. The one and only good thing I could have had...in my life."
He stepped closer, his voice hardening to steel.
"But don't ever tell me I fucked you like a whore that night. Don't you dare try to turn what we had into that."
She stared at him, tears blurring her vision, but he wasn't done.
"Don't you ever—ever make me relive that night like it was something dirty. Because it wasn't."
Her breath hitched, but she couldn't respond.
"Then, everything that came after that... has led me to believe that I could never get intimate with you again without feeling like a rapist."
She herself was barely hanging unto reality.
"No matter what the consequences would have been if you hadn't stepped down on your knees in my office, fact of the matter is. I feel like I raped you. Can you fix that? Because I think not."
Her breath hitched, but she couldn't respond.
"Didn't think so," he concluded.
Her body shook, and her mind spiraled, her feet moving before she could stop herself. She turned her back on him, wrapping her arms around herself as she walked away from him.
She didn't want him to see her dissociate.
This time, she felt it happen in a snap. It was that same suffocating feeling she hadn't been able to outrun—not in the months after James, not in the countless hours of therapy. Trauma therapy could teach her how to manage her thoughts, but it couldn't erase the emotions that gripped her now.
James's voice, his sneer, his threats. The pain in her fingers, the cold floor beneath her knees. The shame. To be reduced to nothing just for someone else's cruelty.
The images came in waves—James's voice cutting through her fractured thoughts.
Let him use your cheap body. If you fail, we will come for you.
Blood smeared on walls. Words etched into her psyche like scars.
Edward's cheap cum dumpster lives here. Edward's whore. Fucked in her mouth until she couldn't breathe. How does it feel to be a rapist, Edward?
Edward's voice cut through the noise: Has led me to believe that I could never get intimate with you, without feeling like a rapist. I feel like I raped you. Can you fix that? Because I think not.
The last thing she ever wanted, was to be the cause to inflict such thoughts and emotions in Edward.
But he felt like a rapist. And like he said, she couldn't fix that, not ever. Despite what James said. Despite what Edward thought. But Bella knew better.
And she spoke in her mind. He is not a rapist. So you shut your damn mouth, James.
Like most times, it didn't work to convince James. How could she, if even Edward himself wasn't convinced?
He is not a rapist, she repeated to James.
But each time she told James, she felt a new pain inside her body. It became unbearable. Then, he went for Edward—
P-Please don't hurt Edward. Hurt me instead.
But he didn't hurt Edward. James leaned down. He whispered into Edward's ear. And Edward stepped before her. Bella froze at the look in his eyes—a man coming for only one thing. No. Not again. But she had no choice, did she? She'd have to obey, stand down.
Edward ripped her clothes off. He pulled down his zipper. She was naked. He was not. He was only unclothed to do what he needed to do.
Fuck her like a cheap whore.
He turned her around. They were outside? She felt...cold air.
This is really happening. This is real.
Her upper body was bent over harshly. Her chest crushed against ice cold metal— a car? He slammed inside her without warning. She cried out in pain. It hurt. Between her legs, it hurt. It didn't hurt that night...
This is not that night.
This was rape.
He's raping her...
She took no pleasure. Only pain and humiliation.
He raped you, Bella, she heard James' voice.
She cried with each pound, her body feeling ice cold.
He's raping you.
Uncared for. Unloved. She was nobody's. James was right. She was being raped. She was.
She wished her mind would shut out. She wished for a quick death. She hoped he'd have mercy on her body and soul.
She felt—something cold.
Something faint—far away.
Some nudge—against her cheeks.
There is was again—a touch. A soft pressure against her cheek, pulling her—somewhere else. Away from the rape.
She blinked, seeing James and Edward both at once, their faces shifting in and out of focus.
"Edward didn't rape you," a voice said, close by her ear.
James glared at her.
"Edward isn't a rapist."
Who's voice is that?
"Edward didn't rape you in his office," he said.
James turned his glare to Edward now.
"Your worth exceeds that of the CC."
James was coming closer, to attack Edward, ready, with a gun. He always brought a gun with him.
"Every single piece of what that company was... pales in comparison to you."
He nearly pulled the trigger.
"You're worth more than anything I could ever build or own. So, so much more."
She was about to lose Edward.
"And you saved me. Protected me with your life."
She blinked her tears away, unable to stop him as he pulled the trigger.
"I didn't die, because of you."
The loud bang made her flinch.
"And I'm not raping you right now, either."
It was Edward's voice, she heard.
"It's not real, sweet, sweet Bella Swan. It's a figmentation... it's happening in your head."
Edward wasn't dead. He was talking to her.
"I didn't rape you, Bella."
Because she had been dissociating...
Not again.
"I'm not a rapist."
Oh, God, had she lost it again?
Edward's eyes flickered.
"That day in my office I didn't rape you, Bella."
She saw Edward and his familiar green eyes.
"I'm not a rapist."
The forest around them was coming back into view.
"I'm not raping you right now on the hood of a car," Edward said, his green eyes locked on hers.
Her trembling didn't slow and her shame burned hot and raw.
"Stop—I'm not dissociating," she muttered quickly, her voice unsteady and curt.
He inhaled sharply.
"I noticed," Edward said, his tone quiet, almost tender.
The humiliation was unbearable. She tried to ease her trembling body.
"You're finally back."
Finally? How long had she been dissociating?
She felt spent—meaning she'd been dissociating—that long. That long for her soul to feel spent.
"Are the hallucinations gone, too, Bella?"
He knew?
She felt utterly mortified.
She nodded quickly, as words failed her.
And she began to realize how they stood. He held her wrists by her sides in a firm grip. She couldn't remember why.
"Look at me," Edward demanded softly. "It's okay, just look at me, Bella."
She tried. But feared his anger if she failed. But the struggle to find focus was difficult.
"Let me—go—" she croaked out, failing hard to find his eyes.
Unfortunately, he didn't release her wrists.
"Please," she tried, begging.
"Tell me," he said instead. "Tell me exactly what you saw."
"What's it to you—?" she began.
"If you don't, then I'll give you my version. Both are fine by me."
She noticed his eyes in her blur of pain that his looked sad.
"Alright then," he said, his eyes flickering. "One moment, you were feeling the pain of new torture. As James threatened you, to let me fuck you. Then you begged him to not hurt me. You begged him to hurt you instead. You were going to obey his command, but told him no matter what, that I am not a rapist."
Bella froze at how precisely he knew what had happened. She must have been vocal—which humiliated her further.
"This time, however, at some point in time, before or during that fear I saw in your eyes while I—" He stopped abruptly and when she snapped her eyes up, she saw he had paled. "While I raped you...on the hood of a car. While you screamed out in pain. You began to believe James."
Yes.
"You started to believe me—and what I don't know—is—has that ever happened before?" he asked carefully.
"No," she said curtly.
"Then I have a choice to make."
Bella tried to yank her wrist free, but Edward held her tighter.
"Stop fighting me, Bella," he ordered.
But oh—she would not go down without a fight and hear him of whatever choice he had to make.
"Bella Swan—"
"No, Edward Cullen, I don't want to hear it, because I know just fine that all you did was try to comfort me with a lie."
"Stop fighting this," he demanded.
"You feel like a rapist. And I can't change that. Just like you said. You'll always feel that way."
Edward's expression darkened, and she tried to step back, desperate for distance, for air—but he was faster.
"Stop it—" she cried out, "Let me go—I don't want your false comfort—"
"That's enough," he ordered, his voice low but firm.
His body blocked her retreat, pressing her back against the rough bark of a tree.
"Do you have any idea what I felt when I saw that look in your eyes?" he said in a low voice. "When I heard your voice so desperate?"
His arms caged her in.
"But the worst part is when you started to believe it too—and that—Bella Swan, that—that will not happen on my fucking watch."
He stood a little close to her.
"As I said, I have a choice to make," he repeated. "To believe my demons or to believe yours. My demons whisper that I raped you. And yours? They whisper that James will destroy me unless you obey him. They show you horrors. They make you plead, Bella. Plead for him to hurt you instead of me."
Edward's voice turned harsher.
"You will never—ever plead with your demons like that again," he commanded. "Do you understand me?"
"He said he would—" she began, her voice small and trembling.
"I said," he repeated, his voice a dangerous whisper, "is that understood, Bella Swan?"
"What if—"
"What if nothing. You will never beg like that again, Bella. Is that understood?"
"But—" she began, her voice cracking.
"Say it," Edward urged, his voice gentle now but still commanding. "I need to hear you say it, Bella."
The weight of his command was suffocating, but she managed to whisper, "I can't control it. What I say—what I do—when I dissociate. I can't give you comfort with a lie, no matter how much you want it. I'm sorry—"
He groaned and flinched.
"I'm sorry—" she repeated.
"Don't apologize," he said quickly. "Just don't."
He looked as if he were in pain.
"You were gone for minutes, Bella. Nothing I said or did brought you back. Except for one thing. When I told you I didn't rape you. That was the only thing that worked. And I will not let you—or James—or my—my own demons rewrite that one good night we shared into something it wasn't."
He pulled back a little from her.
"You'll keep suffering if I believe what my demons tell me. So fine, Bella. I give in to you. I didn't rape you."
It was a declaration.
His shoulders sagged as he looked at her, his vulnerability laid bare.
"I've made my choice," he said.
He leaned in, his forehead brushing hers. His breaths came shallow and uneven, like he was fighting a battle inside himself.
"I give in," he murmured. "But if someday I slip—because I might—I think I fucking might—if I lose control, your voice—your plea—will stop me. You're the one who can silence my demons."
"You just told me never to beg for you again," she stammered, her voice shaking. "To never plead like that."
"And I meant it. But I also meant this: if my demons rise again, it's your demons that can fight them."
His chest rose and fell in unsteady waves, and his eyes lifted skyward.
"Is that alright with you, Bella?" he asked tensly.
Bella froze as realization struck her. He was crying, but still trying to stop his tears.
"I know I've asked so much of you already," he added apologetically.
It shattered her.
"Perhaps if your demons fight mine, and mine fight yours. Maybe... maybe they'll destroy each other."
"Just like that?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "You believe it? Just like that?"
"Yes. Just like that."
"Why?"
"Because I can't stand to see you suffer anymore," he said, his voice tight, words clipped. "I'll believe it if it means you don't have to keep breaking yourself for me."
"You can't just—"
"Why not?" he snapped, cutting her off. "Why the fuck not, Bella? What's the alternative—letting you drown in this? Watching you spiral every damn minute while I stand here useless?"
His words hit like a whip, and Bella flinched.
"I made a choice, Bella," he said, his voice low but trembling with barely contained frustration. "I chose to believe you. But do you realize what that means for me? What it costs?"
Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to stand her ground. "Explain it then."
"It means that I have to fight and contain my own demons because I trust you more than I trust myself. I've spent months listening to my demons. They've always made sense."
Bella opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off with a sharp glare.
"And now—now, I choose to turn my back on them. Because if I don't—fuck."
He laughed bitterly, the sound devoid of any real humor.
She noticed his fear, his panic, his demons.
And she thought, enough is enough.
"Can you try and name five things you can see right now?" she blurted out.
"What?" he asked skeptically. "Why?"
"It helps with panic."
Edward scoffed, his body tense. She could see the doubt in his eyes, the skepticism.
"Five things you can see," she repeated.
He laughed bitterly, the sound raw and laced with sarcasm.
"You want five things I see?" he asked darkly.
His gaze dropped to her hands.
"One," he began, his eyes flickered to her hands, "your hands. The way they're shaking, like they don't even trust me. Two. Your missing fingers, and I know exactly who took them. Three—"
"Edward—" she whispered in shock, but he continued, his words sharp.
"—that scar tissue on your left hand from how badly your wound healed. A forever reminder of my failure. Four, your eyes—dark circles that tell me you haven't slept without nightmares. And five. That haircut you did yourself this morning because you couldn't bear for someone else to touch you."
Bella was unsure if the exercise would work in his current state.
This wasn't Edward she was taking with. It were his demons. She thought about stopping. Maybe it was for the best?
She decided to give it a try, because it might work. It might fight off his demons.
"Now, four things you can touch," she said, weakly.
"Four things I can touch?" he asked, stepping forward before she could react. Her body froze, her breath catching. His fingers brushed the surface of her face. "One—all these cuts on your face when you were trying to get out all the parasites crawling under your skin. "Two—" He lifted her sweater just enough to place his fingers over the jagged scar on her abdomen. "I'm feel the evidence of your suicide. Three—" His hand slid gently to her ribs. "I feel how much weight you've lost. You're not eating much yourself, are you? And four—I can feel your fear right now. You're frozen, Bella."
She wasn't going to let him derail her. "Three things you can hear."
He sighed hard, shaking his head. "The tremor in your voice. Your unsteady breaths. And the sound of your shoes, shuffling against the dirt because you don't know whether to stay or run."
Her lips shook. "Two things you can smell..."
"The faint hint of antiseptic that clings to your face from where I cleaned your cuts. And—you smell like the hospital where you've spent your last six months."
Did she really? The last thing she wanted, was to smell like the hospital.
It was more than humiliating.
"And one thing you can taste," she muttered weakly.
The words had not left her mouth when she felt his lips suddenly, hard, cold and ruthless.
His lips, against hers, unplanned.
She stepped back, her breath hitching.
"I taste you," he said hoarsely.
He scoffed.
"How the fuck is that possible?" he asked in confusion.
He stepped closer with his crazy eyes, as if he were going to repeat what he'd already just done.
She swung her arm and meant to slap his cheek—but the loud crunch she heard as it were not her hand connecting with his cheek, but her fist with his nose. She saw blood pooling from his nose.
God.
Have mercy.
"I—I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice a mix of confusion and apology. "I'm sorry."
Bella stumbled away from him, her legs trembling as she tried to put distance between them. She didn't know if it was his kiss, his words, or her own shame clawing at her, but the ground beneath her felt like it was tilting.
Edward's eyes widened as he watched her. Panic flickered across his face.
Blood pooled from both his nostrils down his upper lip, towards his chin.
He kept both his hands by his side.
"Bella?" he whispered urgently, his tone shifting from defensive to soft, almost pleading.
"Stop," she blurted, her voice flat and emotionless.
Edward froze, the guilt and concern etched into his expression deepening.
"I shouldn't have—" he began.
"Stop," she repeated.
"I wasn't myself—"
"Stop!" she cried out.
He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Come on, then. I have a guest room."
In the quiet of the house, Edward led her to the guest room. He opened the door and stepped back, giving her space.
"Do you need anything?" he asked apologetically.
She shook her head, stepping inside without a word. She didn't thank him. She wasn't sure she could. She felt too ashamed to look at his face, the blood which she caused to shed.
As she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it, her body trembling.
The events of the evening replayed in her mind, each moment sharper and more painful than the last.
What was she doing?
She wasn't sure if she could do this—if either of them could.
But for now, at least, she had a door between them.
She heard a faint sound on the other side, followed by a shadow shifting beneath the gap of the door.
"Are you there?" she whispered.
There was a pause before he replied.
"Yeah." His voice was hoarse, barely audible.
"What are you doing?"
"...waiting," he said hesitantly.
Bella frowned, confused. "Won't you go sleep?"
"I didn't want to—to leave you. I can't leave you alone."
Her heart twisted painfully at his words, and she pressed her hand against her chest, trying to still the ache.
"What about your nose?" she muttered.
"I certainly deserved that," he said quietly.
No one deserved physical violence.
"Are you going to stand behind this door all night?" she asked.
"The night's almost over," he muttered. "Besides, I'm sitting. Not standing."
"You're sitting..." Bella repeated, unsure what else to say.
She didn't know why, but her body betrayed her, sinking slowly to the floor. She sat with her back against the door. The closeness, though separated by the barrier, was oddly comforting.
For a long time, they both remained without words.
"How about we redo that—exercise?" he asked.
Bella's heart raced, panic threatening to take hold. She curled her fingers tightly into her palms, squeezing until it hurt.
"So you can go ahead and ridicule me again?" she said suddenly, her voice trembling.
There was no sound on the other side of the door. Her vision blurred as the walls seemed to close in around her, her unfamiliar surroundings suffocating her.
"Can't you, for once in your life, do one damned thing right for me, Edward?" she begged. "And that would be—it would be—for you to not—say—a word. I can't deal with your mood swings right now."
Bella clutched at her chest with her hand. She wanted the pain to stop
"Making snide remarks about my appearance," she whispered hoarsely, her tears spilling faster, her voice growing quieter. "About my chopped-up hand... my horrible haircut... my scars—my weight—"
Bella was struggling for air.
"A cruel k-kiss—stolen—during a panic attack exercise—"
Bella's hand moved instinctively to her chest, pressing against the scar that he'd touched earlier. And guilt consumed her.
"I hit you in the face," she cried in shock. "I never wanted to hurt you. I hate violence—blood—"
"Five things I can see," Edward said quickly. "One, your eyes. Not just brown. Up close, they hold countless tiny gold flecks, like stars in a sky."
Bella blinked, startled, as he continued.
"Two, your hands," he said. "They move like you're trying to keep everything from slipping away. It's brave... You're the bravest person I have ever met. Three, your hair, the way it falls across your face when you're trying to hide how much you're feeling. Four, your shoulders, they always look like they're carrying the weight of the world. And five, your lips. Because even when you're silent, I can tell you're holding back a million things you want to say."
Bella wrapped her arms around herself, feeling both exposed and seen. How did he do this with the door in between them?
"Four things I can touch," Edward said, his tone unwavering. "One, the warmth of your skin. I don't need to touch you to know it's there. It's what reminds me you're alive. Two, my chest. The ache I feel when I think about how much I've failed you. Three, the air between us, it's heavy, but it's alive. It feels like it's pulling us together, no matter how much we fight it. And four, your hands. Because I've seen them offer so much care to everyone, but not enough to yourself."
"Bella pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. "I want you to stop-" she began.
"Am I doing it wrong?" he interrupted.
"I don't know what you're doing!" she snapped.
"Like you said. For once in my life, I'm doing one damned thing right for you."
Are you? The thought lingered unspoken, sharp and cutting.
He didn't wait for an answer from her.
"Three things I can hear," he continued. "One, your voice. Even when it's breaking, it pulls me back from everything I'm afraid of."
Edward wasn't panicking...she was. Was he helping her? Grounding her during her panic? But how? How was he doing this?
"Two, the way your breath hitches when you're fighting to stay in control," he continued. "It tells me how strong you are, even when you think you're not. And three, your heartbeat. I can't hear it now, but I can imagine it… because it matches mine."
Bella pressed her forehead against the door, her tears falling freely.
"Two things I can smell," Edward said. "One, your skin—"
"A hospital—" she said offensively.
"The hospital scent is most likely one of my own demons reminding me of that time you were in a coma. No, your skin carries the faintest scent of roses. On our night, when I held you in my arms, you smelled like roses. But later, at the CC... when I pressed my hands to your wound, I caught your scent again—richer, almost overwhelming, like a punishment for failing to protect you."
Bella tried very—very hard—to breathe.
"And two, the air around you. It's always different. Like something sacred. It lingers even after you've gone, as though the world doesn't want to forget you."
Bella's sobs grew softer, her breathing slowing.
"And one thing I can taste," Edward said finally, his voice trembling slightly.
Bella froze, her breath hitching as she waited for his answer.
She heard the sound of a kiss.
Next came the softest thud against the door.
"You," he whispered, his voice raw. "I can always taste you after that night—addictive and so damn fine."
Did he just press a kiss against the door? For her?
Slowly, she reached up from her sitting position for the door handle, her fingers trembling. She shifted away from the door and turned it carefully, the faint creak of the door echoing in the stillness.
As the door opened, he came into view—still on the ground, his eyes focused on her with that same intensity, that same pull.
"You know, Edward," she said softly, "you can be a real damn charm when you want to be."
Edward smiled, the corners of his lips curling up.
"Honestly, tell me, what's the catch?" she asked, her tone sharper now.
His smile faltered instantly. "Catch?"
"There's always a catch with you. You kiss me like you're punishing me, and now suddenly, just like that you're...charming? How am I supposed to believe you?"
Edward ran a hand through his hair, his expression stricken, but he said nothing.
"You're always playing a game. And I—" Her voice broke. "I'm tired of being the one who loses every time."
She felt the weight of his gaze on her, but she refused to look up, afraid of what she might see there.
"So tell me. What's the catch this time?"
He said the unexpected. "I thought you were dead."
Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto his in stunned disbelief.
Edward took a shaky breath, his hands trembling slightly as he rested them on his knees.
"I know it doesn't excuse anything. It probably doesn't make sense, I know. I'd already touched your face, your scar. But just before that kiss—all I could think in that moment was that I needed to be quicker. Quicker than the nightmare I thought I was in. Quicker than the moment that always takes you away from me."
He thought she hadn't been real. Oh, God. What sick joke was the universe playing with them?
"I wasn't thinking clearly. And when I kissed you and you did not vanish," he said, and she swore she heard a faint, self-deprecating smile in his voice. "That was the highest form of pleasure I've ever felt. It felt even better than… that night at my place."
Something in her chest ached at those words. That night...it had been everything.
Now...that night was no longer something superior?
Better than that night.
That night had always been their pinnacle, the moment that outranked everything else.
"You look tense," he said quietly.
"The sight of the blood on your face isn't helping, but mainly, what you described... sounds like a state of... dissociating."
Edward's gaze flickered with something.
"Maybe I was," he admitted quietly. "I wasn't myself..."
His eyes softened, a deep sadness filling them.
"Well, fuck," he said. "I was right before. You and I are playing a dangerous game here, Bella. If I were a true gentleman to you, Bella Swan, I'd walk away—"
No.
Before she could think, before she could second guess herself, she leapt forward and kissed him.
She pressed herself to him, her legs around his hips, her knees touching the ground as he still sat against the wall with his legs outstretched.
She mounted on top of him.
He responded to everything—
Or she was dissociating and imagining it all—
She felt something stir beneath her.
Proof.
He wanted her.
Or she was just dissociating—
Edward placed his hands on each side of her cheeks.
And he abruptly pulled her back.
With his eyes dark with confusion and hunger, he said, "What the fuck are you doing, you little fool?"
She tried to kiss him again.
"Get off me," he murmured urgently against her lips, but his tone was not harsh.
Once again, he pulled her face away from his, ending their kiss.
"I don't have the strength to pull you away."
"Apparently, you do," she accused.
His eyes flickered over her face.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered angrily.
"What?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.
His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her off the ground.
"Come on," he said, his voice rough.
He led her toward the bathroom, his grip never loosening. She didn't understand why.
It wasn't until she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror that she understood.
Blood. His blood.
It smeared across her lips, staining the corner of her mouth and her chin. The sickly, coppery red was stark against her pale skin.
Edward stood behind her, his expression unreadable. His eyes were on the reflection in the mirror. And then they flicked back to her face, to the blood that had transferred from his own skin when they kissed.
"You're a mess," he said, shaking his head.
He took a washcloth and ran it under hot water, then moved to wipe the blood from her face with deliberate care.
"You don't have to—" she began, her voice small, unsure.
"Is it just me, or did we have this conversation before?" he asked bitterly.
He continued, rinsing the cloth again before bringing it back to her skin, wiping away the remnants of what had been.
"I'm sorry...," she whispered brokenly, the guilt starting to take over.
His hand paused mid-motion. His eyes never left hers.
He's right. She was a mess.
"Is it just me, or did we have this conversation before?" he repeated.
She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't form the words, unsure of how to explain or make it right.
His fingers stayed pressed to her skin, watching her curiously.
"Why are you saying sorry?" His voice was quiet, like he was trying to understand.
She hesitated, her gaze dropping. "For being so violent and hitting you... Probably breaking your nose..."
He threw the washcloth in the sink. She detected anger, again.
"There's blood everywhere—" she whispered.
"My nose isn't broken," he said.
"Oh..." Her voice faltered. "Well...I'm also sorry that I—kissed you without asking. Without... permission."
His gaze never wavered from her, as though he could see straight through her apology.
"You're sorry for kissing me without asking?" he repeated, his lips curling in a mocking smile.
He let out a short, amused laugh.
"Are you laughing at me?" she asked in shock.
"It tends to happen when you make hilarious apologies."
He was mocking the gravity of the apology she was trying to make.
"You—You are. You're mocking me—"
He eyed her darkly.
"Maybe just a little," he admitted. "Sorry."
He turned the tap back on and threw water on his face.
The water turned red.
Bella was sucked into her own memories of blood.
Her fingers.
Her lungs choking in her own blood.
But mainly, her miscarriage.
There had been so much blood when she had that miscarriage.
Thick, large blood clots—
Suddenly, a few cold waterdrops hit her face.
She snapped her eyes up to his.
He was drying off his face, which was no longer bloody.
"Did you just—throw water—in my face?" she said, wiping it away with her hand.
As he threw that towel in the sink as well, he gave her another hard look.
"I did," he said casually. "The sight of blood triggers you."
"And you're mocking me?"
He leaned against the sink. His arms were crossed, his stance deceptively casual.
"Your point?" he asked, steering his head.
Edward raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening just slightly.
"You know," she started, "I never told you what twin flames are because I thought... you'd laugh at me. Seeing as you're already laughing at me, I figured... why not give you one more joke for your collection."
Amusement danced in his eyes, but he didn't interrupt.
She narrowed her eyes.
"It's a soul," she said, her voice shaky and uneven, "one soul, split into two bodies. A connection that's deeper than anything else."
His eyes didn't waver from hers, the mockery replaced by something unreadable.
"To me, it means I feel empty when you aren't near. It's like my soul has always known it's incomplete—like a part of me has been missing. And that part... is you. That's why, when you're not here, I can't breathe, can't think straight—"
It was due to his silence that she managed to get the words out.
"It's the reason why I'm tense when I'm around you. It's because I only feel whole when you're around. And I know how easily that can be taken away."
Her voice broke. So did she.
"By someone like James. By you, who left me for six months without a word. Or because today… because today, you were suicidal."
She swallowed hard before continuing. Her arms wrapped around herself.
"I feel tied to you in a way that's unshakable. If it weren't for this... feeling, this belief that you're my twin flame...I I look back...I don't think I would've survived James. It's probably the reason I didn't die that day when I shot myself. Why I even got out of that coma in the first place. It's you."
Her laugh was bitter, filled with self-recrimination.
"I know how crazy that sounds. How... stupid. It's probably the most ridiculous, stupid, mocking-worthy thing you've ever heard. And maybe it's all in my head."
She was so tired. Was any of this even real?
"What does the brilliant, analytical, no-nonsense Edward Cullen has to say about that?" she said.
Why wasn't he responding? The silence between them was deafening.
"Go ahead, then," she whispered, unable to stop herself. "Mock away."
Slowly, he straightened, the teasing edge in his demeanor dissolving completely, from what she could see out the corner of her eyes.
Bella forced herself to meet his gaze.
"Don't hold back," she added weakly.
Edward straightened, his movements unhurried. His arms crossed, too, matching hers.
"You really want me to mock you right now?" he asked seriously.
"Yes."
He cleared his throat.
And seemed to be thinking, hard, just for a moment.
"I really can't," he said at last, even though amusement was evidently in his eyes.
She turned sharply, heading toward the door. But before she could make it three steps, his hand shot out, his grip firm on her upper arm.
"Running again?" he asked.
His hold wasn't painful, but it left no room for escape.
"Let go of me," she said. Her words lacked conviction.
"Only for this twin flame bond to drag you back to me?"
His lips curved, but his gaze wasn't mocking—it was probing
"You're saying that you believe that our soul is one?" he asked carefully. "That we are a split soul? You really believe that the universe had to tear one soul in half, that the stars themselves decided we had to meet like this?"
She tried to pull free, but Edward's grip on her arm was steady, holding her just enough to keep her from bolting
"That's adorable," he said.
She winced. "There it is..." she muttered.
He pulled her straight and held her by both her upper arms.
"It's adorable," he repeated, his eyes locked on hers. "Adorable you believe in something so... fantastical. It's adorable how you believe in something that can only be felt. It's adorable how you hold onto something that can't be touched, but somehow, it's right here, with us."
His grip on his arms loosened, his fingers running up her upper arms.
"What happens when I tell you I believe it too? What happens when I say that you are my twin flame? What happens then?"
His fingers touched her shoulders, then slowly her neck. She shuddered when his fingers dipped an inch beneath her sweater.
"A love written in the stars," he said. "Can't say it doesn't suit us."
Her breath caught at his sudden touch on her collarbone, hesitant but still making her skin tingle.
"Here you have it then, Bella," he said. "I believe it too. You're my twin flame. The universe was involved in our unbreakable bond."
She was unsure of how to respond to...this.
"Did you forget that earlier tonight I called you my sexual soulmate?"
He quite possible did.
"Did you forget I was the first to make a reference to us having some kind of cosmic bond? Even though your reference is much more romantic and intimate, and mine was plain physical."
His voice was shaky, his fingers gently grazing her skin as if he were testing the waters.
"Would you… mind?" he asked.
"Mind what?" she asked, her voice rising instinctively.
"To kiss me again."
"You pushed me away last time," she accused weakly.
"I won't push you away again." The certainty in his tone wavered, a thread of doubt creeping through.
"You laughed," she said quietly. "When I apologized for kissing you without permission, you laughed."
"I laughed," he said quietly, "because you already had my permission, Bella. You've always had it. I just… wasn't expecting you to take it."
He hesitated, his lips curling faintly in a self-conscious smile.
"And I was nervous. You make me nervous."
His hand came up, gently tilting her chin so their eyes met.
"You have my permission to kiss me," he said.
He shifted closer, the space between them growing impossibly small.
She shook her head, stating, "You're basically asking me to give you another change to push me away again."
The intensity of his stare, however, was overwhelming, as he asked, "Then, do I have your permission to kiss you?"
She tensed at the idea and his question, that he would lead.
"The sun is almost awake," he added gently. "Hurry, my twin flame. Do I have your permission to seal this night in our memory with one, quick kiss?"
He wasn't rushing her at all.
He was showing her how adorable it indeed was if someone believed in something cosmic.
She nodded faintly, unsure if she could trust her voice to speak, but he didn't move right away.
"Okay, Bella."
His lips almost touched hers with deliberate slowness.
He gave her every chance to pull back.
"I'll kiss you now," he said.
He made it sound like a statement.
"Kiss me back," he added.
That sounded much like both a statement and a question.
His lips brushed against her in the softest touch she'd felt thus far.
Just before his lips captured hers fully, he quietly laughed as he lingered against her lips and spoke one final time.
"You throw a good right hook, Bella. So if you want me to stop, you know what to do."