Perspicuous (J.HALE)

27

It was so quiet.

It had been quiet for weeks, but there was a noticeable absence of sound rather than a dulling of it. The pool of blood had disappeared from the living room and Carlisle's office had already been cleaned—the house smelled of lilacs instead of the tangy, metallic rust.

Esme was upon us as soon as we stepped through the door, fervently apologising for not having been there when it happened and hounding us for anything that we needed, or if we were hurt. I couldn't help myself from throwing my arms around her, her cold and narrow frame tensing in surprise for a fraction of a second before relaxing into the embrace. Carlisle was there, then, also asking if we were alright. He looked a little unkempt, but unharmed. Despite Meg having told me that everything was fine, my stomach was still churning acid. I needed to see them all with my own eyes, just to make sure.

Alice appeared next, and it was as if she'd shed her skin to start anew. Her eyes—spinning gold—weren't surrounded by bruise-like circles and her skin glimmered, plump and luminous. Her hair was rich in blades of gold, burgundy, chocolate and hazel, and she moved with purpose again. It seemed they had managed to get out and hunt in the aftermath of the fight, which was a relief. They had all begun to look like walking skeletons.

Then there was Emmett. He swept me up into a hug before I could say a word, twirling me round before swiftly putting me down when I warned him in a panic of my unsteady stomach. He ruffled my hair and chuckled when I batted at his hand, poking me in the sides and making me squeak. It was good to see him smile again—he had such a lovely smile. Although I would never admit that to him.

Rosalie was with the baby. I poked my head round the door to find her holding a bundle of blankets to her chest, sat by the fire, her face a picture of peace. She seemed so different to the last couple of weeks—there was no animosity in her face and her eyes were soft, unguarded. She looked at the baby as if she were a dream.

I even asked after Edward. As much as I didn't like him, I didn't want him to die. Most of the time.

I found myself venturing upstairs in search of the face that I hadn't seen yet, and most wanted to see. There was music drifting through the cracked door to his room, trickling down the corridor, and I smiled as I approached. My feet carried me a little too quickly to be quiet, and so I didn't even attempt stealth when bursting through the door.

He was lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with his hands on his stomach, fingers laced together, and he was dazzling. It had been so long since I'd seen him golden-eyed that it was like a punch to the gut. His hair, his skin, his lips, the curve of his neck and the slope of his shoulders—every cell of him was rejuvenated. He'd been beautiful before, but this...

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at me with a lazy smile, and my knees almost gave out.

"You took your time."

It took me a moment to compose myself enough to even process what he had said, but in that moment, he had gotten to his feet and approached me, making it harder to breathe.

"I had to do the rounds," I said. "Make sure everyone was okay."

"Mm," he hummed, sliding his arms around my waist. "I see how it is, don't worry. I know where I'm not wanted."

I rolled my eyes and batted his arm, only to wince at the contact. He grinned—the smile so full and wide and genuine that my chest threatened to burst—and pulled me even closer. He didn't kiss me immediately, lingering a few centimetres from my lips just to tantalise me, but when he did, I just about melted. I hadn't really noticed our lack of intimacy over the last couple of weeks, as both of our minds were dominated by other pressing matters, but as soon as his lips touched mine, it was as if a deep and ancient longing—buried somewhere deep in my gut—was satisfied. The strength of the feeling unnerved me a little, stomach swooping in alarm, and he pulled back.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I breathed, blinking ferociously. "I've just, uh...forgotten how intense it is."

He chuckled. "Taking that as a compliment."

"Shut up," I laughed. "I-

He caught my lips in his again before I could even finish my thought, let alone my sentence. His hair felt like silk as I twisted my fingers through the curls, and his hands like burning ice. I'd missed him so much it hurt, despite spending more time with him in the last month than I ever had. I realised, caught up in his lips and his skin, that we had both just been hanging on, concentrating on getting through to the other side.

"So what actually happened?" I said as I pulled away, frowning confusedly at him. "As far as I can tell, everyone is relatively unharmed. Bella's okay?" 

"Oh, yeah, everyone's fine," he said, before taking a deep breath. "It's a bit bonkers." 

I raised an eyebrow. "More bonkers than usual?" 

"Definitely." 

I took a steeling breath. "Rip the band-aid off." 

"Jacob imprinted on Renesmee." 

I stumbled backward in pure shock, physically recoiling away from the words as if they'd actually tumbled into the air in front of me. "Fuck off." 

"I know," he said. 

"He what?" 

"We think that's the reason he and Bella were kind of weird during the pregnancy," Jasper said, looking a mixture of amused at my befuddled outrage and hugely uncomfortable. 

I stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to tell me it was a joke. "He imprinted on a child?" 

"Imprinting isn't, like, always romantic," he said, sounding unconvinced. 

We both looked at each other, equally unnerved. 

"Okay, yeah," I said, nodding. "Definitely more bonkers than normal." 

"I mean, it meant that the pack couldn't attack us," he said, shrugging. "It's, like, one of their most sacred laws. Can't kill another wolf's imprint." 

"That's handy," I murmured, still a little shell-shocked. "I mean, we could have just called Elliot over. Jake didn't need to push the boat out like this." 

"I don't think it was intentional." 

"I fucking hope it wasn't." 

Quiet stretched out between us as I took a moment to become accustomed to the information he'd provided. 

"How do you feel?" I asked, shaking off the discomfort and closing the distance I'd created between us. 

He smiled down at me. "Relieved." 

I met his eyes and smiled. "Thank you. You do a lot for people." 

He wrinkled his nose. "Ew. Are you being appreciative?" 

"It won't last long - savour it." 

"It's weird." 

"Seriously. You look after everyone else without even thinking about it. You're naturally, like, generous." My eyes widened. "I could never." 

"I feel sick." 

"You can't feel sick, dumb-dumb." 

He made a dramatic gagging sound. 

I laughed and shoved his head away, and he grabbed me by the waist and buried his face in my neck. I gasped gently at the cold and melted into him, giggling, and breathed in his rosewater scent. After a few moments and strained beats of my heart, I pulled back and looked into his eyes. They crinkled in mild confusion, the swirl of melted butter in his irises solidifying slightly, and I smiled in reassurance.

"I love you," I said simply.

All confidence left me immediately after the words left my mouth, my entire ribcage vibrating with a wash of nerves. A million different outcomes flashed through my mind in the millisecond of silence that followed, none of them positive, and I opened my mouth to bumble through some kind of incoherent excuse, but he interrupted me with another bewildering smile.

"I love you too," he said, hooking his thumb through a belt loop on my jeans.

I smiled and took a breath.

Then he kissed me, and everything felt steady again.