Still In Bloom ↠ Twilight ✓

15 ; restless blue veins

[ you're welcome ]

Here's the thing: Wallace has practiced everything he'd ever say to Bella if he got the chance. Rehearsed it about a million times inside of his head. Rehearsed the anger, the way he'd dismiss her apologies, and even how he'd walk away.

But as Wallace walks forwards, towards Bella and hopefully towards her forgiveness, he finds that his mind is nothing but a blank sheet. It's something that hasn't happened to him, this thoughtlessness, since he had to watch as his mother's casket was lowered into the ground.

Yet, it's here and Wallace is scared out of his mind.

His hands, which are fiddling with the fabric of his shirt, are clammy. Pulling fruitlessly with the energy he seems like he needs to expel. He's restless in a new way he hasn't ever been before it seems. This type of restlessness is different than the one that always plugs itself into Wallace's veins before he graffiti's a mural onto a brick wall or whenever he kicks open the rusted door of an abandoned house on private property.

No, this restlessness is there in his veins because Wallace has something to lose.

Until now, the end always justified the means for Wallace. But now, as he sees the Swan house in the distance underneath the glow of the early morning light, he hopes that the end isn't what it entails. Wallace would rather have an incomplete memory if that was the case - after all if there's no definitive end than you can make up your own.

The tips of his shoes kiss the curb of the Swan driveway. Wallace swallows thickly, bottom lip faintly tremoring and to bide himself time, he reaches into his back pocket. He slides his phone out of his jean pocket, checking the time to make sure it's 10 am like he had thought and that Bella should be awake by now, before shoving it back into his pocket and moving forwards.

Each step feels like it carries weight. Like he's entering a battlefield of no return. And even as the thought crosses his mind, Wallace realizes that he's more dramatic than he ever thought possible.

The cement steps leading up to Bella's front door make a clicking sound as Wallace's sneakers climb up them. His hand trailing up the railing to keep his shaking legs from truly collapsing from underneath himself.

As he faces the door, Wallace closes his eyes and steadies himself for one last moment. A soft breath enters through his nose and exits out of his mouth. With freckles eyelids, he opens his eyes and lifts a hand to the front door.

He knocks twice.

The curtain in front of the window by the front door sways slightly and Wallace wills for Bella to not just see that it's him on her porch and go back to her room for him to get her silent decline. So, instead, he goes to knock again, unafraid if he looks insistent but the door is shuddering open and Bella's perfect yet simple face is staring at him.

She's dressed in a loose brown T-shirt and a pair of ratty grey sweatpants. Her brown hair is tousled unevenly towards the right side of her head, and there's a faint crust of toothpaste in the corner of her mouth, and Wallace can see her toes poke out from underneath the fabric of her sweats and yet Bella still manages to make Wallace's breath catch.

He wonders if that'll ever stop happening. Some part of him hopes it doesn't, while another part tells him it'd be easier to forget Bella if it did.

"Wallace?" She asks after a moment, voice filled both with confusion and a tint of something that Wallace recognizes as anger.

"Bella," Wallace speaks softly, licking the roof of his dry mouth. "It's good to see you."

Instead of answering, Bella just seems to watch him for a few moments. Like he might be a ghost and she's seeing things. Then she clears her throat and asks, "What are you doing here?"