All I Want to Hear - Ch11

Ok, I know I know - I've been AWOL for too long. I will continue to keep plugging away when I can because these boys have a few things to sort out before this story wraps. I hope to update again soon.

Beta'd by mxpi1970

As always, I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer owns all. 

Meanwhile, back in New York...

~o.O.o~

Chapter 11

Edward holds Carlisle in his warm, safe embrace, his head waging war on the people responsible for his pain despite knowing that there is nothing he can do about the past. It’s over – done. It is time to move forward, to build a new, strong future without fear, without looking back.

When Carlisle is cried out, he lifts his head a fraction, enough to meet Edward’s concerned gaze. His own eyes hold a hesitancy in their depths that can only be dispelled with the reassurance of love and trust. Their lips meet in a fleeting kiss, followed by another until Edward hears the rough, indrawn breath signalling understanding. All is forgiven between them in that moment, all can be healed and mended with time and love.

An unspoken affirmation passes between them to never allow another to hurt or part them. From now on they will travel the wild seas of life as a team, anchored together against the storms and currents.

~o.O.o~

“Home tomorrow.” Edward’s words are a statement, not up for discussion.

Carlisle nods. Edward surveys the apartment.

“How much of this is yours? Furniture, I mean?”

Carlisle shakes his head, a quizzical look furrowing his brow.

“None. Well, the painting over my bed is mine, and then it’s just my clothes and books.” He exhales hard. “The place came fully furnished. I paid extra so I could just move in. Why do you ask?”

“So a few boxes should do it, plus a mover’s truck.” Edward speaks his thoughts aloud, planning on wasting no time. “Can you get out of your lease? At short notice, I mean?”

His face is questioning, eyebrows raised and awaiting an answer.

“I can speak to my landlord? If you want me to?”

“Tomorrow?”

Bewilderment evident, Carlisle nods.

“Okay then.”

“Then you’re coming home with me – for good.”

He watches, a little anxious, hoping that his assumption, so clear and obvious to himself, will be what his lover is willing and able to do.

Carlisle’s face lights up, his smile one of surprised, unrestrained joy.

“You and me – living together? At your place?”

“Of course at my place. I’m not leaving you here. Time to move forward. You and me.”

Carlisle is overjoyed at this demonstration of their commitment to each other. He feels the veil of confusion that fogs his brain shimmer, the sun coming out to dispel the grey mist that has plagued him for so long. He knows it cannot happen tonight, but he realises now that it will dissipate, that the healing has begun with Edward’s heartfelt acceptance of his shameful past.

Edward takes his hands in his own.

“Shall we grab a bite to eat? That slice of pizza seems an age ago.”

They both smile, the energy in the room flowing and free.

“Can we order in? Is that okay?”

Edward strokes his tear-stained face, the gesture tender and loving.

“Definitely. It’s been quite a day. Italian? That food was amazing.”

“It always is! I will miss Casa Nonna. How about that – I will miss one thing about the Big Apple.”

Edward’s smile is slow and seductive.

“We can always come and visit. Anniversaries are always a good excuse. Plus we can stay in a hotel and be waited on. It’d make an interesting change for me.”

Carlisle feels lighter than air, lost in his partner’s sea-green eyes, riding the wave of love that engulfs and claims him.

“I like the sound of that.”

~o.O.o~

The next morning dawns bright, the air fresh with possibilities. Carlisle wakes first, opening his eyes and simultaneously remembering that his life has changed. The light plays across the room, the sun’s rays dappling the pale wall with dancing patterns. Edward’s breathing is deep and even, his face smooth and peaceful. Carlisle gazes down at him with wonder, his heart glowing. There is much to do today before they return, and he should be rising, yet the need to take in every delicate feature from eyelashes to the cheekbones that slant across his face is too important. He swims in the beauty before him, feeling thankful and blessed.

“You’re staring.”

The voice, deep and rough with sleep, makes him jump.

“I didn’t know you were awake. Sorry.”

Edward stretches, the movement luxuriant and feline. “Why are you sorry? You can look - you can more than look. After all, I’m in your bed, all yours to do with as you please.”

A shiver caresses Carlisle’s skin at the blatant offer. Leaning in, he presses his eager lips to Edward’s with a helpless groan.

~o.O.o~

Carlisle walks around his small apartment, home for so long, yet lacking any real emotional attachment. He hears movement in the bathroom, water splashing in the basin with regularity, the rhythmic tap of the razor against the basin after each sweep across his jaw. In a moment of revelation he understands why Edward doesn’t fit in here, why he struggled to make the two images mesh: this place, this life, is emotionless and static. Loving Edward is the glowing EXIT sign to this life – the wondrous open road to a new fulfilling future. His apartment now feels stale and claustrophobic. He has locked himself within these walls for safety and they have trapped him, the restraints tightening day by day until someone threw open the doors to his prison and let life, - beautiful, technicolour life - flood back in.

He can’t wait to leave here and not look back.

NY is not home; he feels the strong pull to return to Maine, to the calm, peaceful town that promises a future.

His first virgin steps towards a future with Edward.

The morning passes in a blur of phone calls and arrangements. The last one is to his agent to advise him of his new address and to suggest that non-essential meetings be conducted via Skype, with Carlisle only making the trip to New York if needed. To his surprise, his agent agrees to this mutually convenient arrangement. Edward smiles while he packs.

By mid-afternoon, all of Carlisle’s belongings are in brown boxes, his clothes packed into his carry-on luggage. It is no surprise that he has few clothes; the few items he possesses are good quality and well looked after, but take up little space in the closet. The only remaining item is the painting above his bed. At the last minute he decides to leave it there. After all, it matches the décor and looks good, but he has no need of it in Maine. It would be completely out of place, a piece of his past.

Edward calls the airline, checking for a later flight to give them enough time to cross NYC and get checked in. They are lucky – there are seats available. Everything is falling into place. Looking out of the apartment window one last time, Carlisle feels as if he may float away if he doesn’t concentrate on staying grounded, the blue sky beckoning him onward. He is a kite with the wind in its tail, ready to soar heavenward.

The landlord is stunned when Carlisle hands back his keys and promises the return of his security deposit once the apartment has been inspected. He hardly recognises the man standing before him – animated, exuding energy and vitality – so unlike the quiet young man who moved in five years ago. He asks no questions, merely completes the formalities and wishes him luck for the future.  He wonders if he will ever again find such a problem-free tenant.

They sit in the cab, the drive interminably long. Edward’s fingers creep across the seat and lace with Carlisle’s, a secret display of support. He receives in return a heart-stopping smile, his fingers squeezed in grateful acknowledgement.

Progress.

They watch the city flash past the windows, each ready to leave and both saying a silent farewell to the city that never sleeps.

~o.O.o~

The flight feels longer, the urgency to be back in Maine again making them feel like children eager to see the ocean for the first time. It is early evening when they land in Portland, the air holding a chill. After a short wait at the quiet luggage carousel, Carlisle hefts his bags, his clothes a symbol of his new life, the new road ahead. He entrusts Edward with his laptop case and together they walk toward the exit, their faces lit from within; to the outside world they could be mistaken for honeymooners. The taxi driver helps with their bags, loading the trunk while they slide into the warmth of the back seat. The soft crooning of Elvis spills from the small door-mounted speakers. The driver takes the address and pulls away from the kerbside, smiling into the rear view mirror.

“Good holiday?”

Edward looks at Carlisle, his lips curving upward without his control.

“Glad to be back home,” he tells the driver, knowing in that moment he has never said a truer word. He feels a hand on his own in reciprocation.

The drive is short, the evening traffic light. In minutes they are standing on Edward’s stoop while he rummages for keys. The door open, they lug the bags inside, dropping them in a heap beside the stairs. After always travelling with a small overnight bag, to see the pile of stuffed bags in an untidy heap makes Carlisle acutely aware of the enormity of this decision. Looking around, he sees the warmth, the comfort of his surroundings, with fresh eyes.

I’m home.

NY seems like a bad dream, the austerity of his life there mocking him, chiding him for taking so long to realise how trapped he has been, how lost until Edward entered his life.

“Welcome home.” His love smiles and blushes, suddenly shy, his eyes full of happiness, yet downcast in a demure stance, embarrassed.

Why?

“I’m so happy you’re here - properly.” His voice is husky, and it is apparent now that Edward is nervous. This is a big deal for him too.

Carlisle is overwhelmed; the lump in his throat makes speech a struggle.

“I’m really here.” He marvels anew at the concept, unable to stop his smile blossoming. “I’m home.”

Gazing at each other with tender, adoring eyes, the two of them are struck by the notion that they will never have to feel alone again. It feels like the first time when they find each other, hands reaching and stroking, a thumb rasping across a cheek roughened by five o’clock shadow. Breathing deepens when fingers trail down necks, lips part, cheeks flush, both holding back until the moment is near pain. With moans of surrender, their lips meet and all thoughts disconnect, lost in a maelstrom of emotion. Each sharp breath illustrates their desire, a signpost on the journey to the next pained gasp. Pulling apart for a second, Edward takes his lover’s hand in a wordless gesture and leads him up the staircase to the room that is now theirs.

Edward’s hands, sure and true, unfasten his shirt buttons, his gaze never leaving Carlisle’s. The purr of his zipper, the clink of his belt, are sounds both lewd yet honest in this private space. His pants now open, he pushes them down with his underwear and steps free of them, two high spots of pink in his cheeks betraying his shy modesty. He hears his lover’s heightened breaths and knows that he will soon be rewarded for his brazenness. Feeling a hand graze his hip, he quivers, his erection hardening further at the fleeting touch.

Seeing Edward reveal himself fuels the craving residing deep inside Carlisle. He allows his eyes to feast, fingers reaching out to touch the pale beauty of that lean body, skating along the hipline. He is torn between watching his own fingers caress this body he adores and wanting to sink into the pools of green that silently plead for more. In a dream, he unfastens his own clothing, loosening and releasing buttons and buckles, his skin burning for the touch of another, for Edward. In moments he stands naked, feeling a momentary lapse in confidence and understanding Edward’s nervousness. What they are about to do feels like a commitment, the threshold to a new future – a big step on both their parts. In reality, one small step brings them together in a tight embrace, their hands caressing and grasping, lips and tongues silently declaring their love whilst pressed together, moving together, their breath noisy and hot, drowning in need.

Falling backward, Edward scoots himself onto the mattress, pulling Carlisle down until he is hovering above him, knees and elbows planted, reddened lips just within reach. Straining upward, he claims them, these lips that feel like home, forcing Carlisle down until he can feel his weight on him and the rightness of it. Each breath is dragged from the other and returned, a never-ending cycle of giving and receiving in perfect symmetry. Edward’s fingers grasp the wonderful hardness that promises such pleasure, his thumb caressing the proud head already wet with fluid. The gasp in response tells him what he needs to know. He reaches for the drawer, fumbling inside for the condoms and lube. Carlisle sits back and Edward raises his legs, offering himself to his lover. With careful fingers, Carlisle opens and readies him, loving the uninhibited joy he takes in being pleasured, his mewls of frustrated ecstasy. When the moment comes to enter him, he pauses just long enough for Edward to meet his gaze before pushing inside, their mutual euphoria reflected in each other’s darkened eyes.

~o.O.o~

They sleep, exhausted and replete, until dawn’s early light paints the sky rose-pink. Edward wakes, lifting his head from the pillow to see Carlisle sleeping beside him. With a relieved smile, he watches him sleep, remembering the previous day’s sadness and joy.

I will keep you safe. Those storm clouds that have haunted you for so long will fade to clear, bright skies, I promise.

He looks at the clock, remembering that he has to work tonight, and creeps out of bed to make coffee. No time to lie around, not if he wants to sleep again later. At the bottom of the stairs he pauses, smiling again at the haphazard pile of bags that clutter the floor. He helped pack them so he knows what they contain. After coffee he will set to making room in his closet. He makes a pot of the good stuff – today is certainly not the day for mediocre – and scrutinises the book shelves. They were going to be a problem: both men love their books and Edward has no plans to get rid of his collection. He decides on a different tack and measures the free space on the wall; new shelving is definitely the way forward.

With a grin, he pours the coffee and heads upstairs, veering around the bag mountain with the practiced efficiency of a true professional. His love is stirring, seemingly knowing that there is coffee in the offing. Edward places the cup down and sips from his own, watching Carlisle‘s sleepy smile spread when he sees him.

“You’re too far away.” His almost petulant pout makes Edward grin all the more.

“I have to work later, so no, I won’t be climbing back in there with you. Things to do today. I want to go see Kate and take her her present. Plus, you know, tell her about us.”

Carlisle swallows his mouthful of coffee and considers this.

“What do you think she’ll say? I don’t think she liked me a great deal.”

He sounds sad. For the first time in a long time wanting to be heard, wanting to be liked, is important to be him. Edward sits down then, taking in the weight of his words.

“I’ll tell her what you’re happy with me telling her, no more. I think she’ll be impressed with your decision to move here. She worried…” he pauses before continuing, “she worried you wouldn’t commit to me, that you’d ultimately hurt me by hiding yourself from me.” His gaze is steady, needing Carlisle to see the truth in his words. “She loves me too.”

“I know she does. I got warned pretty hard to walk away if I couldn’t promise not to hurt you.” He smiles a little at the memory. “I hope she starts to accept me. Do you think she will?”

“Let me deal with Kate.” Edward drains his cup. “You need to get up, get dressed and come with me. We’re going for breakfast.”

The café is quiet at the early hour. They find a table and wait for Kate to appear from the kitchen. She spots them and walks over, pulling a pencil and pad from her pocket.

“Morning, boys, what’ll it be?”

Edward grins – even Carlisle proffers her a small smile.

“Usual for me, and a coffee.” He looks to Carlisle and cocks his head.

Carlisle clears his throat and orders pancakes with bacon, and coffee.

“And can I have the rocket fuel rather than the placebo this time?”

Kate’s smile almost touches her ears at his brazen assumption, loving the change already evident in his demeanour.

“Done. Coming up, boys.”

Despite Edward’s fast head duck, she still manages to ruffle his hair, walking away chuckling.

Edward raises an eyebrow. “’The rocket fuel?’ What was that all about?”

With a straight face, Carlisle tries to explain. “She gave me decaf last time. I can’t have the same thing happening again today. I have work to do. Plus I feel I need to make my point or she’ll keep doing it.”

“Not after that, she won’t! She was impressed – I can tell. She’ll be ruffling your hair before you know it.”

Carlisle pats his blond hair, feigning terror, and Edward laughs so hard his eyes are still sparkling when their breakfast arrives. Edward invites Kate to take a seat and she does so, looking from one to the other, waiting for one of them to speak. Of course it is Edward who does, swallowing a mouthful of pancake, watching Carlisle for signs of discomfort.

“So – we have news.” He can see Kate’s expression, her eagerness to know, but staying silent. “Carlisle and I spent the last couple of days in New York while he met with his publisher.” Every part of him aches to take his lover’s hand, but he resists. “The upshot is…” Kate’s expectant face is comical, “…Carlisle has moved to Maine. As of today we are living together.”

Carlisle has stopped eating, his eyes fixed on Edward while he delivers this momentous news. He can hardly breathe, fearing disapproval from Kate and the subsequent sadness it would cause Edward if she has concerns about this development.  At that moment all he sees is his lover’s flushed and happy face, shining with love and excitement. He turns to Kate, ready to defend their choice, to stand his ground at last, and instead receives an encouraging nod and a warm smile in return.

“Maine got you good, huh?”

Carlisle’s fingers reach across the small table and come to rest on Edward’s knuckles for a brief moment before retreating.  A huge leap forward and so very telling. Feeling overwhelmed, he clears his throat, but is unable to utter more than a whisper.

“Not just Maine.”

The heat between them is palpable and undeniable. Kate feels tears prick her eyes and blinks them away before they can be seen. Her doubts are dissipating, the truth of their love hard to deny. The moment is broken when Edward fumbles in his pocket.

“I got you something from New York.” He places a small package in front of her with a grin. She opens the wrapping to find a snow globe with the Empire State Building inside. “We went up there and the view is spectacular. It’s… uhm… very romantic.”

A blush heats his cheeks. He chooses not to mention the incident that had followed it – they have dealt with the whys, and the pain it brought up. Edward has no desire to betray Carlisle’s love and trust by retelling his private life story. He has the memory of the Empire State and the momentous decision to move Carlisle to Maine to make a future together. From now on, he wants them to focus on the positives. Let life deal the cards where they may – they have a foundation to build, a strong bedrock to last a lifetime together. His finger caresses Carlisle’s hand for a second before withdrawing. He is rewarded with a smile of gratitude before they both resume eating their breakfasts, and Kate has to resist the urge to kiss them both.

~o.O.o~

New nominations!

Carousels & Wishing Wells is up for best Ficlette & best LBGTQute in the TwiFic Fandom Awards. This is the first time these boys have been nominated so it's very exciting!

Voting is daily for the next few days here:

twificfandomawards.blogspot.co.uk/p/vote.html 

Help us reach round 2! If we are lucky enough to get through, I will post when the next round of voting begins.

Thank you!
~KC

All I Want to Hear - Ch10

Huge thanks to my friends mxpi1970 and loopylou992 for their support and guidance. To all my readers and reviewers, I say thank you and apologies for the delay. This chapter was a challenge,; if I've done my job well I hope it helps you understand why Carlisle is so damaged.

More to follow when I can.

Stephenie Meyer owns all.

~o.O.o~

Chapter 10

Carlisle’s face is pale, twisted with remorse.

“I'm so sorry, Edward. Please, please believe me. I never meant you to feel abandoned. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.” His words are rushed, desperate to take what he perceives to be his one last chance to make amends. “Forgive me… please?”

He finds peace in Edward’s company and in his arms. The very real thought of losing him, the only person that has shown him the beauty of the world outside the walls of his prison, is paralysing.  He wonders if he is destined to stay cold and detached, not a part of the world.  He wants to be able to trust, to be able to drop his guard for good and not just after sex. This need for self-preservation is strong, but to be with Edward he knows he needs to let him in, to confide and trust in him. He needs to learn how to deal with his traumatic past and to leave it behind him - cast off the shackles and move forward into his and Edward’s future, for surely they are meant to be.

Edward stands silent, taking a moment to find the right words. His lover’s face is anguished, fearful, teetering on the brink of lost hope. Edward knows the emotional self-flagellation that is taking place in Carlisle’s psyche; he understands his pain, but is understanding it enough? Can it ever be?

“You left me. Alone. In a strange city.” His voice is modulated, the words carrying a sting nonetheless. Carlisle flinches beneath their perceived weight. “What’s going on, Carlisle? Deep down, what’s really going on because I think I deserve to know.” He fists a handful of his hair, his eyes pinched shut for a moment before he walks, his gait stiff, to the sofa. He is unable to settle and begins to pace the small space.

Carlisle feels the emotional devastation emanating from him in powerful waves and knows in that moment that their relationship is hanging by a fragile strand of silken hope. If that thread were to be severed, he fears he would never find his feet again. His shaky indrawn breath whistles through his chest; the words, when they come, are broken.

“What do you want to know?”

Edward looks up, meeting his gaze, seeing the raw vulnerability behind those blue eyes that have stolen his heart.

“Do you want to be with me, Carlisle?”

His answer is ragged and choked with emotion.

“Yes – more than I've ever wanted anything else in my life.”

“Do you love me enough to share both your past and your future with me?”

Edward sees the reaction, knows his words have cut deep, and hopes that emotional bloodletting will help heal Carlisle’s deep-seated pain. Unable to answer the question, Carlisle nods, his hands clenching and shaking. Edward reaches for him, but he pulls away.

“No – you don’t know… you won’t look at me the same way again.” He refuses to make eye contact, his guilt engulfing him.

“Did you … did you hurt someone?” Edward can’t comprehend this gentle man ever committing such an act, but the question stands as a starting point. He jumps, not expecting the shrill, hysterical laugh that fills the room, the sound both alien and unnerving before it cuts off a second later.

“No, no, I really didn’t.”

“Then it can’t be so bad that we can’t get past it. Nothing can stand between us except secrets, and I've had enough. Tell me – tell me everything. Purge it all, I can take it.” He is aware that he is begging, anger abating now he is facing the truth at last. “Then watch me stand by your side, because that’s where I want to be if you’ll have me.”

The air around them is thick, nebulous; Carlisle struggles not to choke. Edward is shaky, but determined; the past has to be exposed and the time is now.

~o.O.o~

Carlisle perches on the arm of the nearest chair. He tries to ignore the audience in the room, talking to himself at the start.

“I grew up in California; my parents own a vineyard. I was a loner, and spent most of my time writing one thing or another. As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to write. When I was very young, I wrote silly little poems about my surroundings, my family and my life. As I grew, I started to write stories and to enjoy history. My parents encouraged me the whole time, although it was understood that this was a hobby and I would take my place in the business one day.”

His thoughts are far away, lost in the mists of time and memory, back when he was happy.

“It didn't go down well when I announced in my senior year that I wanted to study creative writing and journalism at college.”

Edward stays silent, watching Carlisle’s face change when he recalls what appears to be a painful memory.

“My parents sat me down and gave it to me straight: I was to join the company and learn the wine business to one day take over the family empire. I’d always known this, but I guess I thought they’d support my dream, my ambition to be a writer and to be heard out in the world. I had never envisioned myself as a salesman, securing deals with distributors and suppliers. It wasn't me.” He falls silent for a moment, gathering himself to carry on. “I kept calm, tried to explain my desire for my chosen path, but my father went crazy, shouting and gesticulating as only an Italian really can.”

“Italian?” Despite himself, Edward interrupts.

Carlisle nods, but does not elaborate.

“My mother was more reasonable. I like to think that she recognised early on that I would be different to the rest of my family, that I would have different dreams. She dealt with my father while he raged, calming him down just enough to listen to her. I can’t say I know what happened exactly, but after a few hours she came to my room and said that I could attend college. The deal was that if my grades were good I could continue, but if I could not garner acceptable passes I was to return home and continue with my training in the wine business. I accepted, thanking her over and over, promising I would make her the proudest Mama in the world.” He is clearly overcome, his face twisted in self-hatred. “How could I have known then…?”

Carlisle craves the comfort of Edward’s loving embrace, but maintains the space between them, unwilling to allow him close.

“College was hard, but I loved it. I had no friends as such – my time was spent in the library studying for the highest grades I could. I lived on campus and rarely went out other than to class. I didn't go to the bars with my classmates and I didn't date. The others thought me cold, and despite being lonely, I found it impossible to let them in. We were nothing alike – there was no common ground to be found with them, and so I kept to myself.”

He stands and walks to the window, looking out over the park below. Edward watches him.

“You told me that your first kiss was in college. I'm guessing then that you met someone later on.”

“Yes. At first it was nothing more than a few words after class – an appreciation for something I had written or an opinion I had shared. Innocent enough, especially for a young, quiet student who was unused to anyone praising him, encouraging him. I held those compliments to me as I would a coat in winter – they warmed me. I felt for the first time that I really could succeed – that I could become a serious journalist. His support became vital to me, as necessary as the food I ate, the water I drank.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? That you finally met someone who cared about you? Who… wanted you?” Edward finds the words hard to say – irrational jealousy flaring in his chest for the boy who had first introduced his Carlisle to the joys of love. The air between them grows brittle with mutual anxiety.

“I thought so. I believed that he cared for me. Perhaps he did, or perhaps I was just one in a long line. He knew just what to say to seduce me and he waited until I was primed. I was so trusting, I would have believed anything he said to me.”

Edward sees the scenario spool before his eyes: a passionate affair - a young, quiet student, flowering into his first sexual awakening with another man; sweet talked and coerced, awkward and inept, but with growing feelings that are all so new and unexplored. Forcing his gaze back to his lover, he focuses.

“What happened?”

“It was late and I was heading back to the dorm. He offered me a ride – it was quite a walk and the wind was biting.” Carlisle is powerless to stop the memories unravelling now. “I remember thinking that I wanted him to kiss me. I had no idea if he planned to or not, but I wanted him to. When we stopped, he killed the engine and turned in his seat to face me. I sat there struck dumb, wanting him so much that I thought he must've been able to tell. My breathing was uneven and I remember his smile then. He stroked my hair, and I think I moaned. That was all it took; then his lips were on mine and I finally understood why the other students spent more time in each other’s rooms at night than they ever did studying. I know I was hard from that first touch, and he knew it too. When he drew away from me I was panting for more. He said goodnight and his hand left my hair to glance across my groin, an almost innocent brush that confirmed my arousal. From then on I was his and his alone.”

Edward’s eyes are closed, anger rising. He knows this cannot have ended well. Carlisle is struggling to continue, the need to finish this sordid tale absolute. Standing by the window, he cannot bring himself to look at his lover’s face.

“We began to meet up and go driving on a regular basis. It’s such a cliché that we went parking, but we did. We found quiet spots where we wouldn’t be disturbed and I let myself be seduced.”

Shoulders cowed, he finally turns to Edward, eyes downcast. “Do you want to hear all of this or should I skip forward?”

“Just tell me so that this can be over.”

“Very well. The first time he touched me I lost all control. I remember both the ecstasy and the mortification hitting me all at once. I felt I had let him down, but he seemed oddly pleased. My innocence pleased him. He unfastened his own pants and showed himself to me, hard and ready, knowing of course that I would be aroused again almost immediately, and he was right. He taught me how to pleasure another man and he showed me how good sex could be. What did I know? I thought he loved me.”

His mouth is dry and with weary steps he fetches a glass of water from the kitchen. Edward waits, hoping it is almost over, yet fearing the worst is still to come. Carlisle downs half the water in two strong gulps before placing the glass down on the counter. He wipes his mouth with a shaking hand.

“One night, we were in the car wearing nothing more than our shirts, kissing and stroking each other when the flash happened. I was too shocked to realise what it was and for a moment I believed it to be from a torch. When it happened again we both saw it was the flash from a camera trained at the car, at us, capturing our exposed bodies. We panicked, trying to cover ourselves, but it was too late. The car was a giveaway, even if we had hidden our faces. He was mortified and swearing, whereas I was cold and fearful of what this could mean for us.

“The reality of it all didn’t take long to surface. Photographic evidence was presented to the Department of Education showing both of us in a state of undress and kissing, our bodies clearly in a high state of arousal.”

Carlisle is shaking now, his arms wrapped around himself, reliving the memories he has tried so hard to bury.

“I had no idea he had a wife, a family. He never spoke of them, he wore no ring. Without warning, he quit his teaching job, leaving me confused and alone. The Dean informed me that his wife had suspected an affair, had arranged to have him followed to find out who he was seeing. She was waiting for me that afternoon when I tried to leave campus. She showed me the photographs of our tryst and coldly informed me that I was nothing more than a fling, a pathetic mid-life crisis that ended now. She blamed me for the affair; my seduction of a married man a deliberate act to lure him from his family and the marital bed. To my chagrin, I blurted out that he loved me and that I loved him. I remember her bitter laughter at that; she called me naïve, which I was. He had played me when I had believed his affections were genuine, that I was special and that he cared for me. I was devastated. Now I look back and wonder how I could ever have believed that a man so many years my senior would want to be with a teenager.”

“Because he could.” Edward’s voice is steady, belying his hatred for the man who has caused so much pain. “Because it bolstered his ego to seduce a young student and to be desired in return. Don’t blame yourself for naiveté, Carlisle. You were young and inexperienced with relationships. Someone took your trust and exploited it – there is no way that was your fault. You know that – right?”

“It gets worse.” The words fall like stones into a well. When they hit the water it is with deep resonance.

“A professor suddenly quitting, mid semester, tends to be noticed by the student body. I’ll never know how, but it got out and the whole sordid affair was leaked to the local news. I couldn’t cope with the whispering and the stares in the halls, being so publicly outed. They openly speculated reasons for the affair, of how and why; the obvious answer was for grades. He was known to be harsh with his marks – they all believed I did it to pass the semester. They weren’t shy with their judgements – they called me disgusting and desperate, willing to sell myself to pass his class. Of course, they then turned their attention to my other professors to see if I was whoring myself to the entire faculty.”

Carlisle’s eyes are bleak. It is painfully apparent that he has not moved past this incident, that he finds himself unable to face the world again for fear of being recognised. It is all so clear now – the inability to touch Edward in public, his terror of showing affection is a deep seated fear of being ridiculed and judged. Despite the likelihood of this ever happening again being so very low, Carlisle has an insurmountable fear in his mind and needs to push himself, to break down the walls he himself has built.

The humiliation turned a shy, introverted young man into a recluse, terrified of the outside world, convinced as he was that everyone he met would know about the disgrace of his having an affair with a married man, his own professor. It was inevitable that he blamed himself, of course, his fragile self-esteem in tatters, beyond repair.

“My parents… they were so ashamed of me. Their friends asked questions – questions my parents couldn't or wouldn't answer. They contacted me one last time to tell me I was cut off. They wouldn't return my calls, my letters came back unopened. I needed them, I wanted to explain, but my family are proud and I had brought nothing but shame and dishonour. My grandparents still live in Italy, and I pray they have no idea of what I have done to the family. My father disowned me, he spoke for both of them. I have no idea what my mother wanted. He didn’t leave me to starve – he released my trust fund early and deposited the money in my account. Mama may well have agreed with his decision, but I’ll never know now. As they ended all contact, I did the only thing I could do – I changed my name legally to bury the scandal and to release them from the burden. I transferred schools to New York and used my trust fund to pay for the rest of my education.”

“So Cullen isn't your real name?”

“Yes – now it is, legally. People assume it’s a pen name and I don't correct them. My former name was Benefici.”

“Oh.” Realisation comes as a hard blow to Edward. Benefici. The name is synonymous with quality and culture. Edward recognises the name from the wine list at the Dragonfly – it is what most patrons would call a ‘considered purchase’ for a special occasion. No wonder he can afford to live here. His trust fund must have been substantial to sustain this lifestyle.

“You've heard of it of course. Everyone has.”

Edward chooses his words carefully.

“Yes, I'm familiar with the brand. But I've not heard of what happened. And back in Maine you can be whoever you want to be – this incident can’t continue to shape your entire existence.” He crouches before Carlisle and takes his hands, begging him to understand. “I need you to forgive that young man who believed the best in someone. He didn't do anything wrong. The best medicine is to put it behind you. It was a youthful error in judgement that hurt you so terribly at the time, but which time has cleansed and all but erased from the collective memory. I can't imagine the pain you've been through, of losing the love of your family, but I need you to look forward now, build a future… hopefully with me. I’m here for you. Let me help. I love you.”

Edward will do whatever it takes to protect Carlisle in his new life if he chooses to move forward and leave the pain in the past where it belongs. Once he comes to terms with both the lack of gossip and the acceptance of their relationship, he can begin to heal and be able to accept the love offered to him without malicious intent or ulterior motive. In time he can finally know true love and feel worthy of it.

Unburdened at last, mixed tears of embarrassment and relief trickle down Carlisle’s face when he sees Edward’s sincerity, understands that he will not run, will never leave him broken hearted and alone. He slumps down onto the sofa.

“This place... I ran here to hide, to blend in and become a shadow. It felt like the right thing to do. I could disappear for good, change my name, and forget my past – move on. But it didn't happen.”

“It ate away at you like a cancer, a little more each day, and so, instead of healing, you withdrew from everything until you couldn't face the world anymore.”

He nods in silence. Edward wipes away the tears with his thumbs in a nurturing gesture.

“And you miss your family.”

“Yes.” The whispered confession breaks Edward’s heart. He folds him in his arms and rocks him, kissing his hair and feeling the hot tears of long-repressed pain spill out unchecked at last, safe in Edward’s arms.

Edward understands now. Carlisle had no friends, no one to help him heal; as a result he didn't date again, making little contact with the outside world after graduation. His only presence in the world was through the written word, finding his niche as a successful writer in his field.

Until he came to the Dragonfly Inn that fateful day.

And so it has come to this.

Two nights in NY.

It started out as an adventure, but now everything has changed.

All I Want to Hear - Ch9

Huge thanks go to my friends, in particular mxpi1970 (my awesome beta), loopylou992 for her help and handholding with this chapter while I beat at the wall called writers block , and to my readers and reviewers, in particular the lovely CentauRita who never gave up hope.

I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer owns all.

~o.O.o~

Chapter 9

The flight is short and filled with trepidation.

Carlisle’s world is changing with every minute that passes. When the plane begins its descent, instead of staring straight ahead, his posture stiff, he concentrates on the feel of Edward’s fingers wrapped around his, the steadying warmth of his touch keeping him fixed in the here and now.

They disembark at Terminal B, bypassing the busy luggage carousel, their meagre carryon in their hands. The airport is bustling with passengers, shouting over each other and waving at happy faces there to greet them. Some are striding through the crowds, briefcases in hand, an air of authority all around them that seems to clear their path, or so it appears to Edward. He stays close, knowing better than to show affection out in the open – especially here. This isn’t home – this feels strange, exciting, and almost alien. The building isn’t as grand as he expected, it looks outdated and tired, and yet all his head can think is ‘This is New York! I’m here!’ He is reminded of the last time he came to an airport and the heart-stopping reunion they had shared right there in front of the world and yet unnoticed by other oblivious individuals. The memory stirs his heart into overdrive.

He stays tight to Carlisle’s shoulder, and they make for the taxi rank outside. No sooner have they arrived then an empty cab jerks to a stop. In a flurry of movement, Carlisle has the door open and the luggage inside, not willing to take the risk of having to wait longer. Edward scrambles in and Carlisle follows, leaning forward to speak to the cabbie, only breathing easy once the door slams closed.

 “You don’t use the shuttle buses then?” A smile quirks Edward’s lips until he sees his lover shudder. “Sorry – I was just thinking how much it must cost to take cabs everywhere.” His thumb rubs a comforting rhythm around Carlisle’s knuckles.

“I’d rather use cabs. I like the anonymity of them.”  To Edward, Carlisle seems tightly wound, uncomfortable here on his home ground when this must surely be more familiar to him than Maine. Or was that now no longer the case? Is there a chance that this place, the specific place where he has chosen to hide away, has become unfamiliar territory, with strangers around every corner and no friendly faces to be found?

Edward’s eyebrows pinch together, fresh worry blossoming anew for the first time since leaving Maine.

The cab ride is long and quiet, Edward studying Carlisle’s unhappy face and wanting so much to reassure him. He does not want to overstep the mark and hopes that his presence alone is enough to offer some comfort until they arrive at his apartment, close the door on the outside world, and relax. He wants to burrow under the surface a little and learn more about the New York Carlisle he first met in that dark hotel room, the lost and lonely man who chooses this busy metropolis in which to hide away.

The cab pulls to a stop outside one of what seems to Edward to be an endless sea of tall, imposing buildings. The blue awning over the lobby door bears the address; Edward smiles to himself. Do rich folk get lost easily or does every street, and every building, look the same here?

Carlisle is paying the driver and climbing out, Edward hot on his heels. No time to look around, they enter the building and head to the elevator.

“So which level is...?” Edward doesn’t finish the sentence, seeing Carlisle press the button for the ninth floor. Door closed, the elevator begins its ascent and Edward feels his lover relax in the confined space, the outside world no longer able to intrude. The doors slide open and Carlisle exits, key in hand. Edward glances around.

“It’s quiet.”

The door opens and he is ushered inside.

“My neighbours only live here for part of the year. It’s pretty perfect. I don’t know where they go – it’s not like we talk.”

Edward drops his bag inside the door and walks through the living space to the large window dominating the room. He points to the trees far below, people the size of ants walking even smaller dogs.

“Is that Central Park?”

Carlisle is still at the door, trying to process what he sees.

Edward. In my apartment.

“Yes.”  Struggling to make the images meld in his distracted mind, he heads away from the man he craves, the world around him becoming blurry and indistinct.

Edward turns to see him walking away carrying their bags. He follows him into a white room, almost empty save for a large bed and closet. Carlisle looks round to see Edward behind him, worry etched on his beautiful face. He hates that he is still causing him pain, but he is disoriented, out of focus and floundering. The words are soothing, yet hold an undertone of fear.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me, Carlisle. Are you regretting bringing me here?”

“No, of course not... No.” His buckled brow mocks his words, his eyes tight.

“Tell me about this place; did you deliberately set out to live so high up? It must be a nightmare if the elevator breaks down.”

“I-I... I like to look down on the world, literally speaking. I don’t feel a part of it anyway and this way it’s almost like I’m not...  a part of it, I mean. I watch the world go by, the day to day business of the city happening beneath me, and I feel numb.”

Warm hands clasp his, holding his balance. He looks into concerned eyes, full of love – love for him.

“This isn’t healthy. You need to be part of the world. If you can’t do that here then why stay? It’s poisoning you a little more every day – it’s killing the man I love, and I can’t bear that.” He rests his cheek against Carlisle’s, closing his eyes in the moment, feeling soft, rasping breaths against his ear, arms winding themselves around him in a fierce embrace.

They stand, wrapped around each other, both afraid to let go. Edward’s whisper breaks the silence.

“Take me to bed; I want to hold you.”

Together they shed their clothes, not hurrying, a simple exchange of power in the act of mutual unfastening and disrobing. Clothes fall to the floor, the sharp clatter of buttons, the clinks and whirrs of belts and zippers. The curtains are open, weak sunlight throwing gentle shadows across the wall. Edward gazes into Carlisle’s eyes, gauging his discomfort, before reaching for him, feeling the pounding of his heart against his own chest. His hands ghost down the soft skin of his back, feeling the sheen of nervous sweat.

“Relax.” His lips find the sweet hollow of his lover’s throat, feeling the answering shudder ripple across his skin.  “It’s just us. No need to close the curtains up here. No one can see us.”  

Together they sink down onto the bed, kissing and stroking, each finding home in the other’s comforting touch. 

~o.O.o~

Edward pushes himself up on his elbow and looks down at his lover.

“This is a nice bed.”

“I prefer yours. It has you in it.”

“I’m here now though.” His fingers caress the line of Carlisle’s jaw before kissing him long and slow. “Where can we go tomorrow after your meeting?”

“You choose.”

“Can we do the touristy thing? I’ve never been to the Big Apple.”

Carlisle heart races; his casual response takes herculean effort.

“Okay then.”

“Show me your city.”

Carlisle has expected this.

“I hardly know it.”

“Then let’s discover it together.”

The soft sounds of kisses fill the sunlit room.

~o.O.o~

Edward wakes to find the sunlight gone, the room darkening into early evening, and for a moment he is disoriented. A contented smile spreads across his face when he hears Carlisle’s even breathing beside him, the novelty of waking up together always a wonderful experience he feels he will never tire of. Watching Carlisle sleep, he indulges the secret fantasy he holds onto tight during those times when they are apart. He sees them living together in Maine, where he has been promoted to day manager, working regular hours and spending all his free time with the man he loves. He sees Carlisle’s name across the spines filling his bookshelves, his success their shared joy. He sees their friends’ happiness at...

No.

He can’t allow his mind to go farther than that, to build up hopes beyond those that have any possible potential. He loves this man so very much and cannot allow himself to push too hard, too fast. He fears even now that Carlisle will panic and run at the thought of major change. Edward wants a future with Carlisle, sees them as a couple, but has to have him on board, fully committed to wanting the same thing, to being together and seeing where it takes them. Carlisle’s fears are huge barriers, his past a roadblock to their happiness. The demons must be exorcised. 

Slipping out of bed, he makes his way to the spacious bathroom, catching sight of himself in the mirror as he turns to leave. Leaning in close, he sees the hickey low down on his neck, a memento of their shower the previous afternoon. His fingers touch the mark, loving the unbridled passion it represents, seeing his own eyes shine at the memory, his face flushing. The sound of rustling accompanied by the creaking of a wooden bed frame calls him back to the bedroom. Carlisle’s face is sad and somehow vacant, his head registering his surroundings and believing himself to be alone. His sudden surprise when he sees a naked Edward is comical until he remembers where he is, where they are, his face now alight with the happiness that only love can bring.

Edward grins, lounging against the door post.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I’m guessing any food you might have had here would have walked out on its own by now. Where can we eat?”

Carlisle’s face is frozen. Edward’s flow is flawless.

“Or we could cook something. Is there a grocery store nearby?”

“The next street over has one I use. Or we could order in; delivery is fast. I have menus in the kitchen.”

“Sure. “ He disappears and returns within a minute, his hand clutching a sheaf of menus. “I could go for Italian... or maybe Chinese? What about you?”

Carlisle relaxes. “The Italian restaurant down the street is good. I’ll ring through when you’ve decided.”

Thirty minutes later, Carlisle answers the door to a delivery guy with a paper sack full of cartons of steaming food. Edward is quick to empty the bag whilst Carlisle tips the man. He receives a friendly grin in return; it appears that Carlisle is well known to the delivery staff at Casa Nonna. They eat with enthusiasm, the food tasting like heaven after both the flight and their recent exertions. Clearing away, Edward comments on something he has noticed.

“Do you cook much here? You seemed to enjoy it so much back in Maine.”

Carlisle gives a crooked smile.

“Shopping here is a little different from what you’re used to. Lack of space means regular visits to the stores, and most of the time it’s easier to just order groceries online than face the crowds. Plus, ordering in from restaurants is simpler. I do cook, but only when I’m not working.”

“But you’re always working.” Edward’s tone holds a mild admonishment. “You need to make time for yourself.” He crumples up the empty paper sack.

“I do – it’s the time I spend thinking about you.” Carlisle’s voice is soft and vulnerable. Edward stills, looking over at his lover.

“Then think of me more often.” His words are whispered.

Carlisle draws him into his arms, holding him close and inhaling the scent of his skin.

“When I think of you I’m inspired to do things other than cook.”

Edward’s soft moan is all the food that Carlisle’s soul needs.

~o.O.o~

Carlisle is up early to prepare himself for the meeting. Edward stays behind, not wanting to venture out into the city until they can do so together.  He knows that Carlisle will be back soon and fills his time with a hot shower and a look around the apartment now that he is alone. He has no intention of snooping, looking only at what is on display in the open space. What he realises is that there are no photos on display, no indication of family or childhood. He wonders if Carlisle has lost these items along the way, perhaps in a move. The picture on the wall is abstract, just colours in a pleasing sweep across the canvas. The bedroom is sparsely furnished, looking more like a hotel room than a personal refuge, the walls all white save for one, a restful blue above the head of the bed. The living space is dominated by a sofa and chair, the coffee table piled with aged books. A desk sits by the overstuffed bookshelves, an empty space in the centre the size of Carlisle’s laptop. A phone, notebook and pot of pens all sit off to one side and Edward can see in his mind’s eye the hours Carlisle spends in this space, finding the words to express his passion for the subject matter. Running his fingers across the chair back, he knows that if he were sitting here now he would be bringing him coffee and rubbing his tense shoulders.

He hopes the meeting is going well.

~o.O.o~

Edward is gazing out of the living room window when he hears the elevator stop outside. He is there to greet him the moment the door opens.

“Well? Is it all good?”

Carlisle nods, filling a glass with water and downing half in a couple of noisy gulps.

“He’s happy with the book which is a relief. A few minor changes to make, but nothing I can’t finish in good time.”

Edward beams. “Fantastic! So does this mean you get to take a break before starting on the next one?”

Carlisle’s chuckle is a joyous sound.

“Yes! I can have a little downtime before restarting. Not much though; you’re only as memorable as your last book and I don’t want to have too long a break between releases.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m in love with a workaholic?”

“I’m afraid so. The upside is that I get to spend my free time with you.”

“Now you’re speaking my language. So what are we doing today?”

“I thought you wanted to see the Empire State Building and Central Park?”

Edward lights up. “I do!”

“Then I’ll book tickets so we don’t have to wait in line. We should do that this evening – the city will look spectacular.”

For Carlisle, the thought of fighting his way down Fifth Avenue through the crowds leaves him in a cold sweat, the later booking enabling him to breathe easier. Now he just has to face Central Park during the height of the day on a glorious, sunny Saturday.

Hell on earth.

“Just a thought, but would you like to take the ferry over to Staten Island? You get a great view of all the Islands that way.”

Edward thinks for a moment.

“Sounds fun, but I’d rather just walk and take in the sights if that’s okay; maybe I’ll get a souvenir for Kate too.”

Carlisle psyches himself up.

“That’s a great idea. Let’s get started. I’ll book the tickets.”

He hopes his smile does not look forced, his love for Edward driving him forward. The booking completed, he sees Edward’s outstretched hand and takes it; together they catch the elevator and head outside for the park across the street. Carlisle’s overriding instinct is to let go of the warm hand he is holding the minute they are on the sidewalk. Edward has expected this and hopes to persuade him that they are doing nothing wrong. He whispers to him, a mantra to keep him relaxed. 

“It’s okay - just breathe. No one knows us. No one is looking at us. But if they were - believe me - they’d just be jealous of me being out with you.”

He feels Carlisle’s grip loosen on his, not pushing him away exactly, but making the contact appear casual and inconsequential. Edward does not fight him, but does not let go until his fingers slip free. They cross the street and enter the lushness of the park, walking for a few minutes in silence until they stop at Strawberry Fields to look at the monument strewn with flowers. While they stand together, Edward feels Carlisle’s tentative touch, his fingers capturing his own and interlacing. Edward senses the hesitation in his demeanour when people approach, also looking at the mosaic; Carlisle is tense, fearing a confrontation.

Looking at his profile in the dappled light, Edward sees his expression change to confusion when the other people walk away, no sign of disgust or disapproval on their faces. Edward gives his fingers a light, reassuring squeeze.

“We both know this is perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of. You’re not ashamed of loving me, are you?”

He waits for an answer, his anxious eyes trying to hide their need for acceptance. When Carlisle turns, Edward holds his breath.

“I could never be ashamed of how I feel about you. But being open around other people... it’s so difficult – almost insurmountable.”

He shakes his head. The heavy weight in Edward’s chest shifts. There are many hurdles to overcome before their relationship can ever be celebrated.

The park is busy, the meadow full, and they walk on, their bodies almost touching. It is a telling moment when a couple of teenage boys walk by, arms wrapped around each others’ waists, their faces wreathed in smiles for everyone to see, their love radiating outward in a joyous fog that could be felt by anyone close to them. One of them looks up and nods his head to his lover. They pause and turn to Carlisle and Edward.

“Hey. You guys look good together. First date?”

Their friendliness touches Edward deeply and he is compelled to respond, hoping that Carlisle will also stop.

“First time in New York; we weren’t sure how open we could be, you know?”

The young men nod in understanding. “There are haters everywhere; it’s how you choose to deal with that. A few people could use a reality check. We get our own back at Gay Pride – then we can kiss and cuddle and no one can do anything about it. The rest of the time...” he shrugs. “They can’t stop me loving him so I choose to ignore them. Gotta go – have a good day, guys.”

They continue walking, their path taking them towards the street and the promise of lunch. Both are thirsty, breakfast a distant memory. A short walk down the street, a bar promises free pizza slices with every beer; Edward smiles and points.

“Let’s go kill two birds with one stone – beer and pizza!”

He heads off, looking back to see Carlisle hesitate before following. He notices the tight posture, senses the warning signs, and returns to his side, his presence offering security and protection from the world around them. Together they walk toward the sounds and aromas of the bar, seeing the place is not overly crowded, the lunch rush having already passed. They walk in, finding empty seats near the door, and claim the table. A waitress appears and they order drinks and food, Edward taking the lead, Carlisle sitting white-faced and quiet. Beneath the table, unseen by anyone who cares to look, Edward stills his lover’s jigging knee, his anxieties leaking out into plain sight. He turns as if to make casual chat, his manner unobtrusive yet vital to their situation.

“Just imagine we’re in Maine and Kate’s about to come through that door with our order. She’ll be missing us, you know.”

The sharp inhalation beside him betrays the effort Carlisle is putting in to keep it together. It is only moments before their drinks arrive, along with paper plates bearing huge slices of pizza.

“Enjoy, gentlemen.”

The pretty waitress tosses them a smile, open admiration for Edward written all over it. He chooses not to notice, both charmed and amused by her interest. Taking a bite of his food, he chases it with a mouthful of ice-cold beer and sighs. Beside him, Carlisle has reached for his own drink, taking frequent sips, his food as yet untouched. Under Edward’s watchful eye he takes a bite of steaming pizza. He has to admit to himself that it’s very good and he keeps at it, hunger registering for the first time since they sat down.

“What time did you book the Empire State tickets for?” Edward puts down the rest of his slice to swig his beer.

Carlisle checks his watch.

“We can go in an hour. It’ll be dusk and the view will be amazing.”

“So time for a bit of shopping before we go? Any ideas what I can buy Kate? I was thinking of something fun like a key fob with the Statue of Liberty on it – something like that. She won’t expect anything, but I want to do it.”

“I’m sure we can find something for her. She’ll love anything you get because it will be from you.”

His words raise a happy smile and he marvels at how lucky he is to have Edward at his side. He hadn’t noticed the waitress at first, but the looks she is throwing their way now are unsubtle at best. He finishes his food and drains his beer, ready to leave.  Edward stands and before he can make a move for his wallet, Carlisle has laid more than enough on the table, his gaze levelled at the hopeful girl across the bar, the message clear.

He’s mine. Back off.

He almost feels bad for her when she looks defeated, but knows that given the chance she would only try again. It was the nature of the beast in NY – the single girls were always on the lookout for fresh meat.  Standing on the sidewalk, he feels his brief control begin to slip and makes a decision. He hails a cab and they climb in, giving concise instructions to the driver. Edward is gazing out of the windows trying to take it all in, and before long they are at the epicentre of life in NY – Times Square. The bright lights are dazzling, the crowds a seething mass that have no beginning or end. The cab slows in traffic and Carlisle turns to Edward.

“This might be a good place for souvenirs.”

Edward frowns, seeing the sheer volume of people in the square.

“It’s a bit crowded.” The understatement under any other circumstances would be laughable.

“It always is.”

No more is said and soon Edward is seeing Bloomingdales outside his window, its windows lit with vibrant displays to entice shoppers. Up ahead he sees the Empire State Building and stares in awe.

“Wow! I can’t believe we’re going up that! It’s incredible!”

His hand finds the one he seeks and he squeezes tight, communicating his enthusiasm. This will be a first for Carlisle too, this tour of New York introducing him to new experiences in the same way as Edward. The cab driver has to wait, and horns honk when he tries to pull in, the car in front refusing to move. A heated exchange through rolled down windows follows and Edward shakes his head.

“This place is crazy!”

Carlisle can’t help but agree.

“We’ll get out here, thanks.” He checks the meter and pays, adding a healthy tip which Edward notices. He leans in and whispers in a confidential tone.

“I wish clients at the Dragonfly tipped half as well as you do.”

They climb out and stand at the bottom of the famous landmark before heading for the lobby. Edward’s head swivels to take it all in, their feet taking them to the elevators, a quick stop first through the metal detectors. Carlisle speaks to the operator and they head in, on their way to the 80^th floor. Edward watches the floor numbers rise, excitement building minute by minute. When they land they find there is a wait for the second elevator to take them to the 86^th floor and the observation deck so they opt for the stairs. Five minutes later they arrive. There are a lot of people, jovial jostling seeming to be the only way to acquire the best view. The crowds thin out somewhat a few minutes later, the cold air driving them inside once more and Edward makes the most of the opportunity to take a couple of photos of the city spread below them. Turning his back then he takes a smiling selfie before looking at Carlisle for permission. Leaning in, Carlisle allows him to take a picture of them both, secretly loving the gesture. Their first photo together as a couple; it’s an auspicious moment.

Stepping off the elevator back on the ground floor, Carlisle cannot put off the moment he has dreaded any longer and they are soon in a cab headed back to Times Square for Edward to do his souvenir shopping. Edward is wide eyed and keen to look around, knowing this is his last day in New York and wanting to explore and create memories of them together. It is therefore unfortunate that the events that follow are not the kind he would ever want to relive.

Amid the bright lights and sounds that dominate the famous tourist destination, they leave the cab and join the stream of tourists mesmerised by the giant screens and seductive lure of Broadway. Edward spies a flower and gift store and heads in to find a cute memento of their trip for Kate. He checks that Carlisle is with him, keeping him close by while he makes his purchases. However, it is when they step outside again that trouble hits. Carlisle is surrounded by people in every direction and it is now that the suppressed panic attack he has managed to hold at bay suddenly grabs hold of him. The crowded, unfamiliar places he has avoided since living here become overwhelming, oppressive, the teeming streets and crowds closing in on him. He tries to communicate this to Edward, but finds it hard to breathe. Edward registers his terror and tries to dispel it, tries to focus him by holding his face in his hands, encouraging him to ignore everything else.

Carlisle’s breathing escalates and Edward realises too late that he is losing him. He tries again to ground him in familiar things, to talk him down from his metaphorical ledge he is balanced on.

“How do you ever go out if you can’t face being around all these people?”

Through gasps, Carlisle tries to answer.

“I shop at night when it’s quieter. This... this...” he gestures around him, his face white, “is too much.” He turns to bolt and finds Edward’s arms around him, his words encouraging him to breathe, just breathe. No one is looking; they are both jostled and ignored, the incoming tide of people pouring around them in wide, sweeping ripples.

“I can’t do this, I can’t.” For a second he is held, safe and protected, his head buried in Edward’s shoulder; he finds the strong, reassuring touch of his lover to be a tower of strength. Then he remembers where he is and shoves Edward aside, his hysteria increasing, his imagined fears of ridicule escalating in the face of perceived public disgust. Without thought, driven by blind panic, Carlisle hails the nearest cab and jumps in, giving directions to the driver before slumping back in the seat fighting for breath. Edward stumbles, caught off guard, saddened yet not surprised at this outcome.

I pushed too hard.

He stands alone in the unfamiliar, crowded square, his lover already lost to view.

~o.O.o~

He paces up and down, making a conscious effort not to worry about Carlisle and failing in spectacular fashion. His mind skitters, unsure of his next move, not wanting to inflame an already delicate situation. He stills, turning to look at the passersby, searching for a familiar face in the vain hope that Carlisle will return for him. The early evening glow from the store windows illuminates the sidewalks, spilling shadows where the light cannot reach. It is cold and Edward is growing scared that he will not be able to find his way back to Carlisle’s apartment, having no address in his head to give to a cab driver other than the upper west side. He checks his phone at regular intervals, but finding no messages he heads to a store where he can at least stand still without being swept along.

He messages Carlisle, hoping and praying for a response:

*I don’t know how to get back. What is your address?*

When no answer comes through, he tries again:

*Carlisle – please answer me. It’s cold out here and I’m lost.*

It is with some relief that his phone pings a couple of minutes later, a simple address appearing on the screen. Tucking his phone into his pocket along with his souvenirs, he hails a cab and heads back to the apartment to deal with whatever awaits him.

~o.O.o~

Carlisle arrives home and heads straight up to his floor, driven onward by the need to be in safe surroundings. It is a sad truth that he has forgotten Edward in his panic, remembering him only when the door closes and his phone chirps. The crashing realisation of what he has done sends him into a temporary stupor, his eyes staring at the message in his hand with no idea of what to do. Returning is unthinkable – he can no sooner return than fly to the moon – but his whirling mind struggles to find a solution. The second message galvanises him into action; his Edward is scared and alone and it’s his fault. He pulls himself together and sends him the address, desperate to have him home yet having no clue of how he will ever be able to apologise for such an action.

Minutes later he hears the elevator and opens the door to let his lover inside. Edward wants to rail at him, to ask him how he could just abandon him in a strange place with no way of finding his way back, but he stays silent and waits. Carlisle is expecting anger and is unprepared instead for this reaction. In all honesty, he expects Edward to want to leave both New York and him, to forget about them and get on with his life, to live his own dreams without being weighed down by the problems of another.

Edward stands just inside the door and watches him with sorrow, seeing the plea for understanding in the depths of those forlorn eyes, and cannot find it in his heart to lose his temper. It is clear to him now that Carlisle had simply reached his coping boundaries while trying to give Edward everything he wanted. In that moment, Edward feels gratitude that Carlisle has tried no matter what it cost him, and conversely feels guilt at having allowed things to progress so far, in not truly seeing just how much of a struggle it had been for him to do what regular people take for granted. He knows how far Carlisle has come since they met, but today’s setback has been hard, Carlisle’s panic attack a shock to them both, and Edward realises more than ever that he wants to get him back to Maine and never let him return to this place that scares him so.

That night they bare their souls to each other, all painful truths broken open in the hope that healing can finally begin.

~o.O.o~