—Franz Kafka, "The Diaries" (from the travel diaries, 1912)
edward is tired. not in the usual human sense of the word, but tired of the chatter that doesn’t belong to him invading his head. backlash from his family for loving a human. the grief in bella’s eyes when she talks about her inevitable (to edward, anyway) death.
all he wants to do is visit his meadow; the only place in the pacific northwest where he can lie down and drown out anything that isn’t bella. storm clouds made themselves known outside. the rain wouldn’t stop him today, but he didn’t want bella to get sick in the wet. oh well, he’d figure it out.
he just needs her and her alone. it was so much easier, to love bella in the rain. something about the petrichor wiped away the intense burn her blood evoked in his throat. it surprised him when he discovered this. he was kissing the side of her neck slick with rain and only until later did he realize he didn’t ache to drink her so badly when kissing her. the rain was safe. the rain didn’t make her smell more prominent to the monster caged inside him. but, of course she could fall ill in it. always an odd. always a damn odd stacked against them. they got nothing, without the other sacrificing.
he’d bring a giant umbrella if he had to. set up an entire canopy. build a simple wooden roof, just enough to cover her. anything. edward would do anything.
the more he thought about bringing bella to the meadow, the more he lightened his grip on the table. his fingers would start to make indents in the wood.
“i want to go to the meadow this afternoon.” he finally says to bella.
bella raises an eyebrow and her ears ever so slightly perk up, when another crack of thunder booms across the sky. she looks outside skeptically.
she looks back at him, a smile making its way on her lips. she can read his desire. she could always read him. better than anyone. the deeper they bonded, the more she could read him. and even though her thoughts never spoke themselves to him, he could read her as well. he knew she was thinking it too. edward could hear it in the way her heart’s paced picked up especially. it beat to a certain rhythm when she was lustful. the sweetest of music. it was no secret to bella that it was easier for them to love each other in the rain.
so when she turned back to answer him, amusement and eagerness laced her tone. she’d already agreed.
“even if it rains?”
“yes.” edward said firmly.
even if it rains…
