TUS - Chapter Twelve: Method of Secrecy

My mouth dropped open and my eyes widened in shock. His answer was not one I expected to hear at all. "What do you mean 'here'?" I asked incredulously. He continued staring at me, wearing the same expression upon his face. He seemed thoroughly amused by my confusion. "You actually take a bath here?" He shook his head, which only served to confuse me more. "But you just said-"
"Shower, not bath…Bella," he interrupted, cocking an eyebrow while still wearing that little smirk. My eyes widened further at his statement and facial expression. His reactions proved exactly how much of an enigma he really was. There were many layers to Edward; that much I ascertained.
"But I don't…How do you..." I paused, running my hands down my face and shaking my head. I was completely stammering my words, thrown by the fact that he actually showered here. I never in a million years expected that; it just didn't seem probable to me. Yeah, his body didn't appear dirty, so I'd figured he was able to manage some kind of personal hygiene, and I guess I really didn't know what I'd anticipated him to say, but it wasn't that. "Why…I mean, where do you shower in this place?"
He stared at me, eyes twinkling with intensity as his face shifted through emotions. I was trying to read him, trying to understand what I was seeing behind those green orbs, hoping to understand the reason behind his silence and the look he was giving me. And it dawned on me as his eyes roamed my face that he was doing the same, trying to read me. Was he afraid to tell me?
His brow furrowed, eyes finally lowering toward his lap as he whispered, "Where…where I found you."
"What?!?" I nearly screeched. His head snapped up, body tensing, expression fearful. I realized I practically yelled at him, which was a stupid move on my part, one I had to rectify right now because he was afraid, and I never wanted him to be afraid of me. "I'm…I'm so sorry, Edward," I whispered, keeping my tone even, unthreatening. He'd just opened himself to me, allowed me to console him and touch his scars, and I wasn't about to risk him reverting back into himself. "I didn't mean to yell like that. I just, it caught me off guard. I'm so sorry." His eyes scanned my face, contemplating what I said, then his body visually relaxed some and he nodded.
"So you…uh…take a shower in that coed bathroom then?" I asked, biting my lip. His brow furrowed, so I mentally rolled my eyes at myself, realizing the ridiculousness of the question, considering I should have known he wouldn't know what a coed bathroom was. But in my defense, I was discovering you couldn't just assume with Edward. Not to mention, my brain was still stuck on the fact that he showered in a place like this. "That bathroom, with all the showers, you shower in there?"
"Yes."
"But how?" I asked. "I mean, it was a mess and-" I paused, glancing around the room as I ideated that night, remembering I hadn't searched through all the stalls before I heard the bang. My eyes drifted back to him, seeing he was observing me. "Marcus. He made sure one was working for you, didn't he?" Of course Marcus would. When it came to Edward, Marcus did what needed to be done for him. If he couldn't get him to leave as he wanted to, he'd give him as much normalcy as he could, even in a place like this. He'd spent all that time standing outside the door, talking to Edward. He would have told him about the shower. He would have made sure Edward had access to whatever he needed, whether he utilized it or not. That was just Marcus. And apparently Edward did utilize some of what Marcus provided. He was obviously more self-reliant than I assumed. I mean, he obviously wasn't shaggy looking or anything, and that was definitely a topic I was curious about too.
He sat there verbally taciturn, but he did give me a nod.
So that night, when I first laid eyes on him in that shower room… that's why he must have been in there. "You were going to shower when you found me, weren't you?"
"Yes."
Of course, because he'd wait until Marcus left before attempting to leave this room. It occurred to me as I thought about him showering, that I'd never once seen him need to use the restroom. Not at any point in time had I ever seen him out of this room, other than when I first laid eyes upon him. I mean, it was part of being human, and he had to at some point need to relieve himself. I was curious about this, so I knew I'd ask, but I felt awkward doing so. It certainly wasn't a topic you discussed over dinner or anything; it wasn't even one I was remotely comfortable with at any time of the day, and it wasn't as if I was normally interested in someone's bowel schedule, but when you notice the fact that a person never excuses themselves to the restroom in your presence, especially when you're with them for over eight hours a day, there's a cause for concern on that matter. Surely he couldn't be holding it in all day. He'd have to be uncomfortable.
"Edward, can I ask you something?" Once the words fell from my lips, I mentally chastised myself for approaching the subject the way I did. And I did even more so when I saw the fear within his eyes, heard his breath catch, eyed the tremors his body made. "It's okay," I assured him softly. "It's nothing bad."
The trembling his body made didn't completely dissipate, but he seemed to be calming. "I was curious about something, and you don't have to answer or anything, but I just wondered…umm…" I bit my lip as I contemplated how to word my question. "Do you, you know, go to the…uh…bathroom?" I immediately rolled my eyes at myself because I was sounding quite inane. "I mean, I know you go, but I just, I never see you leave this room and I-"
"I wait," he interjected.
My eyes widened. "All that time?" He nodded. "But why?" He just shrugged. "You have to be uncomfortable, Edward."
"I can't-" He paused, shaking his head. His eyes met mine pleadingly, like he was silently asking me to understand what he was trying to say.
I reached out, placing my hand over his in reassurance. I couldn't help but gasp as I felt that intense warm current surge up my arm as my skin came in contact with his. It only seemed to become more acute the more we touched. He inhaled a crippled breath, closing his eyes as he did so. He flipped his hand over, palm up, and squeezed my hand. I'm not sure if either of us would ever get acclimated to that feeling.
It wasn't painful by any means; in fact, it was quite comforting. Truthfully, the warmth felt good. Really good. It reminded me of something, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I could feel the intensity even through my esophagus, so I had to clear my throat before I could speak. "I understand," I told him, and even though I'd cleared my throat, my tone was still coarse. I kept speaking, hoping the grittiness in my voice would disappear so it wouldn't be so obvious how affected I was. Whether I understood it or knew why, touching him affected me and it was beyond confusing. "I know my promising Marcus won't hurt you won't make a difference right now, but I hate the idea of you sitting here uncomfortable. And if it's me, if my being here also makes it difficult for you to…uh…do what you need to do, then I can go and-"
"No," he said abruptly, shaking his head almost violently as his fingers wrapped tighter around my hand like he was trying to anchor himself to me. "Don't go away from me…Bella."
I swallowed thickly, my heart aching over the fear within his voice, the fear that I'd leave him. As if I ever could; that simply was not a possibility now. "I won't go away, I promise." I squeezed his hand back. "I only meant I'd leave the room to give you space until you were done, and then I'd come back. I just don't want you uncomfortable in any way; never for me, never for Marcus, never for anyone. I don't want that for you, okay?"
He sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling in relief. "Okay."
"Would it maybe help if I made sure Marcus wasn't around so you didn't have to wait?" He lifted his head to look at me. "I'd do that for you, he'd do that for you…I mean, if that's what you want. And I can wait here, or I can…uh…I don't know, walk with you so you aren't alone." This was such an uncomfortable subject, but I'd deal with it because all that really mattered was that he was comfortable. Discomfort over subject matter was a lot less traumatic than physical discomfort, and there was no way I believed he hadn't been suffering physically.
His eyes widened, which, of course, spiked my fear. Not of him, but of upsetting him. I was used to gauging his facial expressions now, and with him, wide eyes usually meant something bad. It was so hard to know what to say and do or what not to say and do sometimes. I felt like I was walking on a thin sheet of glass, meant to only step on certain spots or it would shatter beneath me. Each step forward had to be made cautiously. I knew that, but the fact of the matter was I was inexperienced, and with inexperience came mistakes. And there simply was no room for mistakes with Edward, not if I had any chance of helping him; especially since I knew eventually a third party would need to be involved, and I had to have him as emotionally stabile as I possibly could by that time. I refused to entertain the idea that he could be locked away, and I knew that's exactly what would happen if he'd be found right now.
But I also knew that somehow, deep inside my soul, I was meant to be here. He was meant to find me that night, we were meant to know each other, and I was meant to save him in whatever capacity I could. It was like some sixth sense that I could feel throughout me; I just knew.
"Edward, I'm sorry, I only-"
"You'd…you'd do that?" he murmured, his brow now furrowed. I understood then that the wide eyes weren't because he was afraid of my suggestion - it was because he seemed bewildered by it. Obviously, no one had ever offered to do anything for him previously; they'd never wanted to.
I smiled. "I would."
His forehead creased as his eyes moved consistently over the entirety of my face, and his lips twitched as he observed me intensely. He was in deep thought as he gazed at me, the intensity of his thoughts darkening the green of his eyes, and once again I wanted to be a mind reader. It occurred to me that maybe he was searching for something, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. And when he finally came to whatever conclusion he'd come to, his face softened and his lips pulled up into a small smile.
"Okay," he whispered, then gently released my hand and began to slowly stand before me. I watched him with astonishment as he stood upright, then lowered his head, fixating his eyes on me. His body began trembling, but he stood grounded.
My eyes lowered over him in inspection. This was the first time I could legitimately recollect him standing before me like this, other than when I first saw him, and I didn't really count that time because the darkness obstructed my view of him. Besides, I hadn't really noticed much beyond his eyes at that point, I'd been paralyzed by them.
I glanced all the way down to his feet, realizing how desperately he needed new clothing and shoes. Marcus had attempted to give him new clothing, but he never took them, and I couldn't understand why. He was tall, and if I had to guess his height I'd say around six-foot. The pants he wore were tight on his legs and a few inches too short. There were tears in them, the same as his shirt. He was definitely in dire need of new clothing, and that was something I was going to rectify immediately. I worked my way back up his body, ending at his face. I gasped the moment I made eye contact. He'd been watching me watch him.
"Bella?"
His jaw tensed, fear and discomfort palpable upon his face, and his fists were clenched and white knuckled at his sides. I smiled up at him, hoping to ease him because I knew what he was doing was hard enough without my gawking adding to the tension. He looked like he was ready to fold in on himself at any moment. "I was just thinking how I'd like to bring you some new clothing tomorrow when I bring back the iPod."
The moment I mentioned the iPod, the tension in his jaw eased and his eyes actually twinkled. I swear it was like a spectrum of greens. I glanced down at his hands, noticing his fingers had loosened their grip. So the iPod had made a difference, I thought.
"Did you like it?" I asked as I slowly stood up. I made no sudden movements because I didn't want to frighten him anymore than he already was, and I figured talking about music while I stood up might help distract him. "The music, I mean?"
He nodded, keeping his eyes on me. "I did."
"That's good," I smiled. "I'll add more to it so you have a larger variety to listen to. I don't really know what you like, and I know I have rather eclectic taste in music, so if there's anything you don't like, I-"
"I like your taste…Bella," he whispered, his eyes still focused solely on me.
And for some reason, that statement affected me more than it should have. I knew he didn't mean anything by it, and I couldn't rationalize why I was so damn affected, but I was to the point I actually had to look away from him and clear my throat, hoping that once I spoke I'd be able to do so evenly. "Uh…I'm glad."
Not only was my voice shaky, but I actually being less than articulate with my words and I knew I needed to right myself immediately. I didn't want him thinking he'd done something wrong because he hadn't, and stepping away for a minute would help with that. "Were you…Did you wanna go now?" I asked him.
His body instantly tensed again, but he nodded, murmuring, "Yes." as he gazed toward the door.
His reaction was enough to make me forget about my elementary behavior. I didn't want him to push himself if he wasn't ready, and I certainly didn't want him to do it for me or because he thought I expected him to. "Edward," I said as I hesitantly reached for his hand. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to." He flinched when I touched him, so I went to pull my hand back, knowing I'd made one of those mistakes I'd prayed not to. The dread washed over me, rippling through my body and bubbling its way up my throat in the form of a sob, as the notion I'd had a hand in doing something that caused him discomfort settled in my brain. I bit my lip to hold in the noise.
But his fingers clasped onto mine, squeezing as if my touch was the only thing holding him afloat. "Please," he pleaded, his eyes watering over with unshed tears. "I need the warmth. Please…don't take it."
A hot, angry tear slid down my cheek, but I nodded. "I won't," I choked out. "I promise I won't."
Why was he doing this? Why was he pushing himself? Was it because of me? Did he think he had to, that that's what I wanted of him? He had nothing to prove to me. I only wanted him to be comfortable, to know he didn't have to sacrifice and endure physical pain because of me or Marcus…ever. But this, seeing him this way, was unbearable. I ached deeply for him, to the point my chest felt punctured. I wanted to scream and lash out at the man who hurt him, to make him suffer the way Edward was, because going to a damn bathroom should not inflict this much trauma on a person. It was something so trivial, something every human dealt with, but nothing was trivial when it came to Edward. What came easy to most of us meant fear and hard work for him.
All I wanted to do was hold him, which was something I found myself wanting to do so often. There was something I was able to offer him, warmth, and that seemed to alleviate him somehow. I was willing to give it, whatever he needed from me for as long as he needed it, just to catch a glimpse of peace within his eyes, peace he'd been denied but should have had all along. In such a short time, Edward had managed to claim a part of me, and there was no turning back now; I was in too deep.
And I needed him to know that what happened here, it was about him, about his needs only. "Edward," I began softly. "You don't have to go out there if you're not ready. I want you to do this because you want to, not because you think it's what I want you to do. I'm so proud of you, and I'll continue to be proud of you either way. You're so strong for even trying, and if you want to wait longer, we can. We'll wait until you're ready and not a second sooner. But if you want to try, knowing Marcus is here, then we'll do that. I'll make sure he leaves, we'll walk to that bathroom together and I'll wait near the door for you. I won't let anything happen to you. I swear to you I won't."
He inhaled sharply, a tear rolling down his cheek as he did so, then exhaled a quivered breath. He should never be this afraid, especially of someone who would rather hurt themselves than him, but he didn't understand that yet. It didn't matter that Marcus had a kind soul and a huge heart, I guess it only mattered that Marcus was a man and a man had hurt him. There was nothing I could do to change that right now, but I wanted to so badly. If only he knew what he meant to Marcus.
But his pain and fear were ingrained in him, and somehow. in the midst of our time together, his emotions had interwoven with mine. When he hurt, I hurt, and all I wanted to do was make that hurt go away. It had become a need for me, a need that was ingrained in me. So I reached up with my free hand, even though I probably shouldn't have, and wiped away the tear that slid down his cheek. A part of me registered that his breath caught as my fingertips glided across his cheek, removing the tear. "I'm so sorry," I mumbled. I was so engrossed in my thoughts, I began to vocalize them without meaning to. "I want to take away your pain. I don't want you to hurt anymore."
"Bella," he breathed. The way he said my name, extending it on a long breath, snapped me out of my musing.
His eyes were closed and my fingers were still resting on his cheek, the tips damp from his tear. I dropped my hand and began apologizing to him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I should have asked." I felt guilty for forcing my touch on him, knowing he was already emotionally distraught.
I started to pull my other hand free from his grasp, but he squeezed it, letting me know he was alright. "I'm ready," he whispered.
I glanced up, looking him in the eyes. "Are you sure? You don't have to. I would never force you."
"I'm ready," he repeated.
"Alright, I'm gonna go out there and have Marcus leave, and then I'll be back," I told him. "Do you wanna wait here, or walk in the hallway with me?"
"Wait here."
I expected that answer. He may have been behind a closed door, but being in that hallway meant being closer to Marcus, and that was something he wasn't ready for yet. We'd work up to that. I squeezed his hand one more time before releasing it, and gave him one final glance over my shoulder before heading into the hallway. When I entered the boiler room, Marcus was on his way up the stairs, carrying a paint can under his left arm. "Marcus," I called out to him.
He stopped, almost half-way up the stairs, and turned his head toward me. Of course, I was biting my lip the moment he looked at me. His brow furrowed in concern. "Is everything okay?"
I nodded. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I just…I need another favor."
He started back down the stairs. "Of course."
"I need you to leave for awhile," I blurted out.
His eyes widened. "Umm…okay," he stammered. "Why?"
"I'm sorry, that wasn't a real couth way to say that, was it?" I blushed and he laughed. "It's just that I found out Edward doesn't, you know, use the restroom when we're here. I knew he had to be uncomfortable, and I hated the idea of that, but he won't-"
He held up his free hand, smiling. "You don't have to say anymore, Bella, I understand. He's afraid of me right now." He was still smiling, but it wasn't reaching his eyes. "How much time do you need?"
"An hour, maybe an hour and a half. I mean, I don't really know with him."
"You got it." He gripped the paint can within his arm, pushing upward to secure it better. "I've got some supplies to get, anyway. I'll be back later." I mouthed a 'Thank you', and he nodded, disappearing up the stairs.
I made my way back to Edward; he was still standing in the same spot. "He's gone now. Are you sure you sure you still want to do this?"
His trembling increased, but he nodded, saying, "Yes."
"There's no rush, we'll go at your pace." I held my hand out to him, and it took him a few moments, but he gripped onto me, almost painfully. It took us probably fifteen minutes and a lot of verbal reassurance on my part just to get down the hallway and through the door leading into the boiler room.
The moment we reached that door and I opened it, pushing the blanket aside so we could see inside the boiler room, his body started trembling almost violently. The force was actually making my body shake. He stopped at the threshold, his breathing so repetitious he was on the verge of hyperventilating. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't force him through that doorway. He'd been doing this for years, but it was by himself. He'd never had someone with him, and that alone had to be terrifying. But he'd become accustomed to waiting until Marcus left, and now not only was he with someone, but his scheduling was off.
I wondered if he did this every night, having to psyche himself up enough just to go to the restroom. And then I wondered if my going along with him was the best move, but it was what he wanted, and I knew I'd give him anything he wanted. He talked about the warmth, needing it, but holding my hand didn't seem to be enough. Would wrapping my arms around him and holding him against me be enough? Would he let me? Did I even want to attempt it with as terrified as he was?
I had to do something because he needed me. I had no idea if what I was about to do was right, but I had to try for him. So I moved slowly, telling him every step of what I was doing. He didn't pull away from me, but he didn't move toward me either as his trembling persisted. And when the last step was me wrapping my arms around him, I said, "Let me help you. Let me give you warmth, Edward."
I wrapped my arms around him, pressing myself against him.
The sensation I'd experienced before was nothing like this. I literally felt like I was wrapping my arms around the sun, being consumed by it. And instead of pain, there was peace. The sensation was so intense, my knees nearly buckled underneath me. This wasn't what I expected at all. I don't even know what I'd expected, but it wasn't this. And still, I held onto him because I didn't want to let go; I wanted to feel this, and I hoped that whatever I was feeling, he was feeling too.
I wrapped my arms tighter around him, praying he found the warmth he needed, that he was receiving from me what I was receiving from him. I hoped the aftermath of what I'd done wouldn't scar him, because I couldn't live with hurting him ever. The trembling of his body eased, but didn't completely disappear. The warmth increased, surging through every part of me when I felt two arms wrap around me and two hands grip the back of my shirt tightly as he lay his head on top of mine. It all seemed to happen at once, the way he gripped onto me and the crippled exhale from his lips. I had no idea what would happen next, what the aftermath would be, but, whatever happened, I'd become altered, and that terrified me.