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Little Song

Edward holds Bella in the night and muses about how much he loves her. This was written to prove to Abby I can SO write fluff.

Ok, huge departure from my typical angst-laden guilt-wallowing stuff. but i did it, so there, ha.

1. Little Song

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1023   Review this Chapter

My heart hums along to the melody. Each note she plays is beating into my soul. Cantare, cantare, mia cantante…

It is the song of her heartbeat. As she lies sleeping beside me, it beats throughout my universe, until it is not merely the most powerful of sounds. It does not eclipse them. It obliterates them. Her heart is the only thing in my universe.

The perfect noise continues. It is a background to the silence of the night. I praise that I need not sleep, so I can feast open eyes on her perfection. She is beautiful.

Her skin is perfect white, the same color as the sheet she lies on or the hand I extend cautiously, my seeking fingers only inches from her precious warmth.

Her hair is like a halo, sprawled in tumultuous directions, tangled and smooth at once. It is very long, extending in all ways from her head, brushing against my hand. It is soft and delicate. The separate strands are smooth, as though polished. It is the color of chocolate, of a tree trunk, of the earth bare and beautiful.

Even in her sleep, my adoring gaze embarrasses her. She flushes, rosy blood rushing from her pumping heart to color curving cheeks. It is exquisite… and I am proud to say that even the scent of her blood doesn’t tempt, so close to the surface as it has become. It is not that I have grown strong. It is merely that something more great than the agony of abstaining has been experienced.

I have lived without her.

And I know I shan’t have the strength to so much as attempt it again. I could never take her away from myself. I need her love far more than her blood. I can enjoy the scent, almost, with no fear of hurting her.

Her lips, deep bright red, quiver in her sleep. I am practically bounding with excitement. Is this what I think it is? Is the talking about to begin?

I love the sounds she makes. It is such a perfect voice, high and melodic, a music to match the siren call of her blood. For once, in her unconsciousness, I can know her thoughts as surely as if her mind was not closed to mine. If she wants me excluded from her brain, I shall be glad as she is that my power cannot touch her. This is the way she wants it. This is the way it shall be, even if I have no control over it.

Yes, there it is. A tiny trembling sound escapes her lips. “Edward…”

She sounds desolate. I sigh. It is one of those dreams again. Usually I can dispel them with my mere presence. However, apparently she isn’t comforted by a monster tonight… no, that won’t do. I cannot sit here loathing myself. My great mistake is in the past. I must be brave, be what she needs me to be. Hatred for myself will not stop that look from twisting her face.

I stroke her face from chin to cheek. The skin is soft and warm beneath my fingers. I can feel a slight sheen of sweat, can sense the thin, pale hairs, can experience the perfect evenness of her skin.

Her look of woe twists into a smile. “Edward,” she whispers again, this time a fair more contented sound. “Edward, I love you.”

I can feel a dead heart within my chest. I once thought that heart held no purpose. Now I know that even if there is no blood for it to churn, the organ is far from vestigial. It may be the most useful one at all. Certainly, it is over-full of adoration. It bends and twists with the amount of love it must contain at her soft, sweet words. “I love you too. I always will.”



Strange how I carry an entire conversation on with a sleeping person. However, I must comfort her any way I can. If this makes her sleep soundless, I will debate till the end of time.

She snuggles into my waiting arms. My entire cold form is drowned in the warmth, pressing against me at every point. I am very careful not to hold too hard, not to hurt her above all other things, but I wrap my arms around her. My cold hands stroke her back, and she smiles in her sleep.

“I love you,” she murmurs again, and that most perfect verse is woven into the unbroken melody of her heart. Ah, such a sweet little song. I would it could linger in my ears for eternity. It is precious. I should not disrupt it, but she wants me to, wants that I should forever still the sweet tempo of her heart.

And I am glad, somehow, that she has won this battle.

Perhaps it is wrong. Perhaps I am a monster to steal the soul that beats the tempo to this little song.

Yet I cannot come to regret that sacrifice to the vast and brilliant fire of our love. If it must be slaked with a life, let her give what she must, that our light together might burn for eternity.

It is what she wants. And I will not take it from her.

The music of her heart whispers in my ears, singing a ballad of truest love. If this I must lose, I will. Let me just have her. Forever.

What more can I ask?

It is selfish, and yet it will make her happy. So it is the right thing… the song trills long into the silence of the night. I can find no way out of the wrong, wrong, path I’ve been forced into. It leads toward the silencing of this song. However, without the melody, our hearts can twine into harmony… forever. And what more is there than that?

I hold her as her heart sings its little song into the night.