Here's the thing: Wallace had expected that when he would awake next, it would be to aching joints and a dry mouth. After all, going to sleep alive then waking up dead seemed like it would do such a thing to you - even if that thought didn't make much sense.
Yet, when his eyes flash open, all Wallace feels is too much.
The influx of different stimulation makes Wallace jut his neck backward. The smells of the gloss finish on the hardwood, the soil outside, the smell of something floral, all manage to intertwine. Then there's the sound of fluttering wings from miles away, car engines rumbling in the distance, a fluttering heartbeat, and the rushing of water into the bed of a small stream. Then there's the way Wallace's eyes can track every line in the ceiling, can point out every single beam in the overhead lights, each piece of lint floating in the air towards the ground. Everything seems to be mating with one another, creating one terrible headache.
"Wallace?" This is a soothing voice, husky yet musical.
Wallace snaps his head towards the sound and instantly is greeted with a dazzling face. Ivory skin, without any blemishes. Dark ember eyes. Bronze hair like the flickers of flames. Sharp cheekbones and matching broad shoulders.
Edward. That's Edward.
At the recognization, Edward's face blooms into a wide smile. He has one crooked tooth for an incisor on his top row of teeth. Wallace thinks it's endearing. Edward smells like honeysuckle and something metallic.
"You haven't said anything," Edward states, and then his hand is reaching out towards Wallace. Strong fingers. A thumb that juts out a bit awkwardly. Dark, lifeless veins protruding from underneath his skin and around the sinewy muscles of his forearm. Masculine.
Feminine. Bella. Wallace's brain seems to be caught up in speaking like a caveman.
"Bella is going to wake up in a few minutes," Edward soothes, and then his palm makes contact with Wallace's face. His skin feels smooth, slippery, comforting. Like when you rub a piece of silk in between your fingers. Satisfying.
"The venom took ahold of your system faster because your heart was stronger," Edward explains and Wallace wants to bathe in his voice. This thought must reach Edward because the male is smiling and there's a faint dimple in his right cheek that Wallace had never noticed before.
As Edward's words register, Wallace remembers Bella's bloody face. It's blurry, almost like it's being shown to him through a veil of vaseline. But Wallace remembers the sound of a squalling infant and the terror he had felt.
"Veran?" A voice asks and it takes Wallace a moment to recognize it as his own.
His voice is strange. It sounds like an echo of what he remembers it previously being. Almost like he's listening to his voice being played on a recording. It's his voice, there's no denying it, but something about it is off. Not bad, but not familiar.
"Veran is upstairs with Rose," Edward states and then he's laughing. Honeysuckle ignites in the air and Wallace smiles faintly. Edward rubs a thumb against Wallace's cheekbone, "Of course he'd be the first person you'd ask about."
"Is he safe?" Wallace finds himself asking and the more he speaks the more he can understand his voice. The notes of it that had once been broken up with voice cracks are now molded over with marble. Seamlessly perfect without any of the hard work.
Edward nods his head, bronze hair flickering. "He is safe. In fact, he's asleep right now. I can tell by his heartbeat,"
A heartbeat. Veran has a heartbeat. Wallace wants to ask about it aloud but almost like a sixth sense, Wallace can feel that Bella is awake. It takes less than a moment before Edward noticed, and he's gently turning away from Wallace and towards Bella. Though his hand strays from Wallace's face, it still gently presses against where there had once been a rampant heartbeat in Wallace's chest.
YOU ARE READING
Still In Bloom ↠ Twilight ✓
Fanfiction❝Our capacity for love increases with each person we cross paths with throughout our lives, and with each moment we spend with those people.❞ ~ Growing up, Wallace McAtee wasn't what you'd call a "logical decision-maker". He did what he pleased whe...