Wide awake

Chapter Seven Bittersweet Butterscotch

B.P.O.V

Edward liked vegetable soup. A lot. I sat on his black leather couch watching utter fascination as he greedily consumed the steaming bowl of soup in the middle of his large bed, still wrapped in the blanket. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in days. The thought made me frown. I inspected his room once again from my spot, noting the towering heap of tissues spilling over the wastebasket beside the bed. The room was slightly more cluttered than last time I was here. More clothing and papers and books strewn about carelessly. I felt ridiculously intrusive, just climbing up to his room like it wasn’t an extreme invasion of privacy.

Feeling forlorn about my behavior, I decided to do something that would probably just annoy him further. ”I’m sorry about just barging up here.” I apologized quietly. “I was just worried about you being sick and all.”

Edward’s head snapped up from his steaming bowl of soup and he narrowed his bloodshot eyes at me. “What did I say about that shit?” He rasped out, trying to sound annoyed and angry, but coming out extremely nasal. The edges of my lips twitched in response to the hilarity of hard core Edward Cullen sounding a lot like a twelve year old girl. He softened his face and rolled his eyes at my amusement while diving back into the bowl of soup. “I don’t mind. The soup is fucking delicious. Plus, I felt bad about leaving you out there all alone last night.” He frowned.

I proceeded to tell him about how I knew he wasn’t coming, and stayed inside the house, which seemed to console him a bit. So I continued watching him devour the soup, and couldn’t get past the irrational fear that Edward wasn’t being cared for properly.

“Doesn’t Carlisle ever make you soup or anything?” I asked, prying more than I probably should, but trying to squash the irrational concern I was feeling.

Edward snorted at his spoon and shrugged. “He brought me some hospital food, but it tasted like ass.” I nodded in understanding. Me and hospital food had a long history as well. “Carlisle is a shitty cook. And I’m probably the only person on the planet that can completely fuck up toast.” He chuckled thickly, and then began a mild coughing fit that made me cringe.

But my spirits were mildly lifted. Edward didn’t have anyone in his life to make him good food, or bring him soup when he was sick. Until now. I smiled a little. That was one thing I could happily do for Edward… and well. When he was done with his soup, I produced the bag of cookies and tossed them on his bed. His eyes lit up a little bit at the sight of them, and it made me smile. He loved my cookies.

We settled into a revised version of our routine, being in his room instead of the gazebo, rather comfortably. He tossed me the iPod, alerting me to a new album he got. I loved it, of course, nodding along to the heavy drum beats and slightly industrial sound of the music with a smile.

I didn’t realize exactly how much I missed my night with Edward until that moment, sitting on the black leather couch and watching him sketch away in his book comfortably while talking to me about his newly acquired album. It was only the second time ever I had seen him without his signature black leather jacket, and even though he looked miserable with his red nose and gruff stubble, he was still gorgeous. There was one lock of hair that kept falling into his eyes, and my fingers were still doing the pathetically annoying twitching thing, wanting to smooth it back.

We spent the entire night like that. I never moved from my spot on the sofa, still feeling slightly uneasy about invading his privacy, while he sketched and talked to me in his pitiful nasal tone.

I eventually alerted myself to the alarm clock on Edward’s bedside table, and realized five hours had gone by. It was amazing how time always flew by when I was with him at night chatting so comfortably. With a sigh, I zipped my bag back up and lifted myself off the sofa, slinging it onto my back and drawing up my hood. Edward looked almost as disappointed as I did about my departure when he looked up from his sketch book.