Red (Twilight) (Edward Cullen)

I Wish You Would

**Autumn**

The road winds through the trees, the car's engine purring quietly as Edward drives us toward his home. I watch the autumn leaves swirl outside the window, their colors blazing bright reds, oranges, and yellows—a final burst of life before they inevitably fall. They remind me of how quickly everything can change, like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all.


I glance over at Edward, his expression focused yet serene as he navigates the road. There's a quiet tension in the air between us, something that's been building since the moment he invited me to meet his family. I've been asking—begging, really—for him to let me into his world, and now that he's finally agreed, I can't shake the feeling that there's something he's holding back.

"You're awfully quiet," I say, trying to break the silence.

He glances at me, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"About how you might react," he admits, his voice low.

I frown slightly. "To what?"

"To my family," he says, his tone cautious, as if weighing each word carefully. "They're... different."

I reach out and place my hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sure I'll love them, I already get along great with your siblings... most of them anyway" I say, trying to ease his worry. "I can't wait to meet them in their own element."

He nods but doesn't say anything more, and I can't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. What is he so afraid of?



Before I can dwell on it, we arrive at his house, a beautiful, large home nestled deep within the forest. The architecture is modern but blends seamlessly with the surrounding nature, almost as if the house grew out of the earth itself.

Edward parks the car and steps out, coming around to open the door for me. Ever the gentleman, I think to myself with a smile as I take his hand and step out. The cool, crisp air fills my lungs, and I shiver slightly, though whether from the chill or nerves, I'm not sure.

"Ready?" Edward asks, his eyes searching mine.

"As I'll ever be," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

He leads me up the steps and through the front door. The house is even more stunning on the inside—spacious and filled with light, the walls adorned with art that I could spend hours studying. The smell of something delicious wafts through the air, and I realize it's coming from the kitchen.

As we walk in, I'm greeted by a tall, blonde woman who I recognize as Rosalie. She's breathtaking, with the kind of beauty that makes you forget how to speak. Next to her is a man with dark curly hair—Emmett—who gives me a wide, friendly grin.

"Welcome, Autumn," Rosalie says, her voice smooth and welcoming, though her eyes seem to assess me with every word.

"Hi," I say, a little nervous under her gaze but managing a smile. "Thank you for having me."

Emmett winks at me. "We're making Italian. I hope you're hungry."

"I can't wait to taste it," I say honestly, the aroma making my stomach growl.

From behind them, a smaller, more delicate woman appears—Alice, the one who had approached me in the cafeteria with that strange knowing smile. She waves at me, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

 "Come on, we're just about to sit down."

Edward leads me to the dining room, where the table is already set with an array of dishes that look straight out of a gourmet restaurant. As we sit down, I notice the others entering—Jasper, who gives me a polite nod, and finally, Carlisle and Esme, who I recognize as the heads of the family. They both exude a kind of warmth and kindness that puts me at ease instantly.

The dinner is surprisingly pleasant. Everyone is welcoming, and the conversation flows easily. We talk about everything from school to the latest movies, though I can't help but notice that every time the conversation drifts toward anything personal about the Cullens, it's quickly steered in another direction by Edward. It's like he's playing a game of deflection, and I'm not entirely sure why.

As we finish the meal, Edward offers to give me a tour of the house, and I eagerly accept. He shows me the various rooms, all beautifully decorated and with a kind of minimalist elegance that I love. Finally, we reach what I assume is his room. It's sparse, with a massive bookshelf filled with everything from classic literature to modern novels, but what catches my eye is the grand piano in the corner.

"You play?" I ask, surprised.

Edward shrugs modestly. "A little."

I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "You didn't tell me that."

"You never asked," he says with a grin, clearly enjoying my reaction.

I walk over to the piano, running my fingers along the keys without pressing them. "Funny...Will you play something for me?"

He hesitates, looking almost bashful—a rare expression for him. "I'm not that good."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You're not going to change my mind, Edward. Please?"

He sighs, but there's a playful glint in his eyes as he sits down on the bench. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

He begins to play, his fingers moving gracefully over the keys, the notes flowing together in a hauntingly beautiful melody. As I listen, I realize it's an original piece, something he's composed himself. There's something about it that tugs at my heart, something familiar, yet new—a melody that seems to echo the rhythm of my own feelings, my own thoughts.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, more to myself than to him.

He finishes the piece, letting the last notes linger in the air before they fade away. When he turns to look at me, there's something in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable that I've never seen before.

"I wrote it for you," he admits quietly, and my heart skips a beat.

Without thinking, I lean in and kiss him. It's soft at first, just a gentle press of lips, but it quickly deepens, fueled by the emotions swirling between us. It's as if all the tension, all the unspoken words between us, are being poured into this kiss, and I feel like I'm flying through free fall, completely untethered and yet utterly safe in his arms.

When we finally pull away, we're both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. I look into his eyes, and for the first time, I feel like I'm seeing him completely—no barriers, no walls.

"Thank you," I whisper, and I'm not sure if I'm thanking him for the song, the kiss, or something else entirely.

He smiles softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "Anything for you, Autumn."

In that moment, with the music still lingering in the air and Edward's arms around me, I feel like everything is perfect. Like nothing can break the spell we're under.

But deep down, I know that perfection is fragile, like the autumn leaves outside, brilliant and vibrant, but fleeting. And I can't shake the feeling that something is coming, something that could change everything.