Behind The Walls

07. Breathing Blue

Lypophrenia

(n) a vague feeling of sadness seemingly without any cause

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"You should get going Edward," I said, picking up the plaid backpack that I had leaned against the tree.

"I wanted to talk to you" He began, running his hand through his hair nervously.

"Oh?" I inquired

"Yeah, I had a spot I could take you. You know, to talk"

"Yeah, sure. Let me just get the car"

"I was wondering if we could run there instead"

I nodded and walked over to him, he held out a pale hand to help me up. I took it and he lifted me on his back with ease, courtesy of vampire strength. Just as I settled in, he took off. I had done this before so it wasn't as exhilarating as it would be for a human, but just the fact that Edward was the one running set my heart racing. As we climbed higher and higher, we neared a breathtaking meadow blossoming with fresh salvias. An occasional butterfly flew from here to there but the sun illuminated the striking purple in the prairie. I walked forward, brushing my fingertips along the petals. I looked back to see that Edward was still standing in the shadows watching my elatedness at my surroundings. Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. He lay perfectly still in the grass, his shirt open over his sculpted, incandescent chest, his scintillating arms bare. His glistening, pale lavender lids were shut, though of course, he didn't sleep. A perfect statue, carved in some unknown stone, smooth like marble, glittering like crystal.

Now and then, his lips would move, so fast it looked like they were trembling. But, when I asked, he told me he was singing to himself; but I wasn't paying attention to what he was crooning.

I enjoyed the sun, too, though the air wasn't quite clear enough for my taste. I would have liked to lie back, as he did, and let the sun warm my face. But I stayed curled up, my chin resting on my knees, unwilling to take my eyes off the flower lurching back-in-forth in front of me. The wind was gentle; it tangled my hair and ruffled the grass that swayed around his motionless form.

The meadow, so spectacular to me at first, paled next to his magnificence.

Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would disappear like a mirage, too beautiful to be real... hesitantly, I reached out one finger and stroked the back of his shimmering hand, where it lay within my reach. I marveled again at the perfect texture, satin-smooth, cool as stone. When I looked up again, his eyes were open, watching me. Butterscotch today, lighter, warmer after hunting. His quick smile turned up the corners of his flawless lips.

"I don't scare you?" he asked playfully, but I could hear the real curiosity in his soft voice.

"Not in the way you would think."

He smiled wider; his teeth flashed in the sun.

I inched closer, stretched out my whole hand now to trace the contours of his forearm with my fingertips.

"Do you mind?" I asked for he had closed his eyes again.

"No," he said without opening his eyes. "You can't imagine how that feels." He sighed.

I lightly trailed my hand over the perfect muscles of his arm, followed the faint pattern of bluish veins inside the crease at his elbow. With my other hand, I reached to turn his hand over. Realizing what I wished, he flipped his palm up in one of those blindingly fast, disconcerting movements of his. It startled me; my fingers froze on his arm for a brief second.