#edwrd

Bella can hear Jake sleeping the floor above. From Edward, as usual, she can’t hear anything. His silence is astoundingly loud and has been for a while. Normally she would at least get the sweet relief of sleep to forget the uncomfortable feeling of not belonging here. But not tonight. Tonight her thoughts won’t just shut the fuck up, determined apparently to crush her. She rolls over again and kicks the blankets off with a frustrated grunt before finally just sitting up and giving in. If it wasn’t 2 am on a Tuesday she’d just call Peyton and beg her to pick Bella up, but it’s not exactly peak fun time. And besides...she didn’t really know what to say to a n y o n e right now. How to explain anything that was weighing heavily on her. So heavily tonight that she’s surprised she can still breath.

Quickly she changes out of her pajamas, not really in favor of going out, even for fast food, in fuzzy penguin pants. It would have just made her look more pathetic than she already feels. She debates leaving a note for Jake just in case he wakes up and comes down to find her gone, but she figures the fact that her stuff is still here will serve as an I haven’t fucked off back to Seattle message just as well as a note would. And Edward...well she doubts he’ll actually notice that she’s going anywhere anyway.

Pulling out her laptop Bella checks for what’s open nearby, figuring walking is her best bet just to clear her head. A Taco Bell isn’t too far off, and a diner as well. But she chooses Taco Bell. Sitting alone in a diner in the middle of the night was just too sad. Taco Bell in the middle of the night...well you’re either high or sad and no one’s going to look twice which works for her. 

STOP THIS, RIGHT THE HELL NOW. Literally, I’m so damn glad that I met you when I did??? You’re just such an incredible person and writer, like every single character you take on is just the luckiest in the world bc you’ve done each and every one of your muses so much damn justice? Even the ones I don’t know anything about, I just KNOW they’re in good hands with you and I find myself wanting to learn more about them bc of you? 

The entire time since leaving with Alice, Bella was torn between shock and panic. It felt so long ago now that she’d been dragged from the water. Saved from what would have been a sure death. There’d been no real time to process before Alice showed up. And Edward...out of some misplaced guilt...she couldn’t understand why he’d do something so stupid. None of this seemed real. Even now that they were here and Alice was watching diligently it seemed like a nightmare more than reality. 

When the vision finally came Alice couldn’t even begin to hide the horror on her face. Though she turned methodical as she explained his plan and what Bella needed to do. As she dressed her up with careful hands Bella could see the panic in Alice’s eyes. They both understood that there were some things you couldn’t come back. Not that he planned to come back from this at all. 

Before they’re even inside the music is pouring out. Loud and so upbeat. It doesn’t match the way her heart drags as she tries to get through the crowd alone. There’ve been no screams of terror. Nothing to suggest the horror that Alice has seen has begun to come to fruition. Which means she has time. 

      𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 along so well when she first came to be part of the family. They both seemed to be quiet souls, or at least Esme thought so. She had been far more lively as a young girl, bright like the sun if she allowed herself to dwell on her childhood, but after Charles, that flame of joy; that innocence had left her, had dulled her spark. And so they had bonded over comfortable silences, the gentle sound of old book pages being turned and the melancholic sounds of a piano being played.

      She often wondered how their relationship was perceived by Edward, but most, she wondered what it would be like to hear thoughts. To be able to listen to someone's mind. Was it overwhelming? Perhaps awkward at times? Her dainty hands skimmed through the pages of the worn poetry book, running her eyes through korean alphabet and feeling her heart clench a bit. As it always did when she thought of her mother; the woman's voice was still clear in her head, and Esme wondered if Edward could hear it too. Wondered if when he heard her thoughts, did he hear her own voice? Or was it something else? That inner voice that was Esme's but sounded nothing like her actual voice.

It’s been maybe a month. A month...felt like a very long time. But time in general passes strangely now. She finds herself waiting. What moment is too soon before she’s allowed to break this self imposed exile if only for a night? Bella does a quick shot to quiet the voice in the back of her head telling her to stop doing this. To stop dragging them into this place when she’s not good enough to come home yet.

Nothing should sound as good as a knock on the door. And she’s still just not ready to face it, that she loves him and living without him gets harder every single time he leaves. It’s easier to tell herself that this will be the last time before she comes home. It’ll be the last time they break around each other. Surely it has to be...it should be. Opening the door to him, there’s no hiding her relief when she sees him. “Come in,” Bella says softly while stepping aside, the door closing behind him feels heavier than usual but that’s another thing she’s not ready to face.

     She wasn’t very good at this... waitressing thing. 

The fact that she hadn’t gotten fired by now was testament enough to her ability to play the part. The bartender, the owner—Sal,—let her get away with murder so long as she gave him a pretty smile and hung on his arm for a bit before she left for the night. 

It wasn’t like she was invested in the gig; it was just something she did to pluck up a bit of extra cash. Extra cash which she squirreled away and hid in the floorboards of her’s and Ernie’s run-down apartment, next to a creased headshot of her dearly departed mother. She was saving every bit she could for her very own set of glossies, so far she had no more than $9.75, convinced a set of photos would be her one-way ticket to stardom.

So it’s no surprise that, as the handsome young man in booth 7 recounts his order for the second time, she’s only half listening. 

     It doesn’t help she’s almost done for the day...

When there’s a long pause, Evelyn knows it’s her turn to plaster on a convincing smile and nod patiently, pretending as though she didn’t just zone out for most of that...

“Right, right,” she scribbles on her notepad convincingly, “two orders of fries, extra crispy, a strawberry lemonade, and a reuben... right?”