fic: twilight [edward/tanya, edward/bella]
Title: here in your arms I find my rest
Day/Theme: July 19 / in spite of everything--
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya, Edward/Bella
Rating: PG
Word Count: 198
here in your arms I find my rest
She knew he was coming, of course.
Rosalie - her smug contempt threatening to snap the wavering thread of friendship that rejection had spun between them - was the one who had called.
“He left this morning,” she had said, as if the idea of Edward freighting through existence (melodrama his fuel) was hardly news to her. And then, her voice hardly loud enough to hear: “Poor wrinkled Bella died in the night.”
(She couldn’t be sure if Rosalie had whispered the statement with longing or relief.)
So here Tanya sat, hands folded in her lap, unblinking eyes locked on the door. Waiting. Waiting.
She stood, smoothed out her dress. There was knock at the door.
Her hand rested on the doorknob. Thoughts of comfort, those hallmark phrases of empty feelings, waited on the tip of her tongue, waited for the onslaught of bottled emotion that Edward always had in ready supply.
The door swung open.
His pale skin was snow white, his eyes coal black (red-rimmed). His hands were trembling. His mind was screaming.
And then, Edward ran in through the door. He ran into her arms. (He ran into her lips.)
And for some reason… she let him.
Day/Theme: July 19 / in spite of everything--
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya, Edward/Bella
Rating: PG
Word Count: 198
here in your arms I find my rest
She knew he was coming, of course.
Rosalie - her smug contempt threatening to snap the wavering thread of friendship that rejection had spun between them - was the one who had called.
“He left this morning,” she had said, as if the idea of Edward freighting through existence (melodrama his fuel) was hardly news to her. And then, her voice hardly loud enough to hear: “Poor wrinkled Bella died in the night.”
(She couldn’t be sure if Rosalie had whispered the statement with longing or relief.)
So here Tanya sat, hands folded in her lap, unblinking eyes locked on the door. Waiting. Waiting.
She stood, smoothed out her dress. There was knock at the door.
Her hand rested on the doorknob. Thoughts of comfort, those hallmark phrases of empty feelings, waited on the tip of her tongue, waited for the onslaught of bottled emotion that Edward always had in ready supply.
The door swung open.
His pale skin was snow white, his eyes coal black (red-rimmed). His hands were trembling. His mind was screaming.
And then, Edward ran in through the door. He ran into her arms. (He ran into her lips.)
And for some reason… she let him.