Chapter Text
There had always been an impenetrable performance about the Cullens at their lunch table: smiling, joking, friendly, sure―but still, like you weren't supposed to interrupt. A smoothly running machine, where jumping in the gears meant you’d just get ground up. It’s like night and day, one week to the next, when one afternoon Rosalie sits there alone, looking decidedly out of place. Glaring at her book, no show and no pretense, but mustering up enough impenetrability through force of sheer hostility to be worth five Cullens anyway.
Word had gotten around fast. With Edward gone too, leaving a "devastated Bella in his wake" (the words of onlookers), it was kind of hard for it not to. Doubly so since Rosalie had stayed, making it impossible for the family as a whole to simply fade out of existence. Because for some reason she alone had wanted to finish high school in Forks, she who more than anyone else seemed like she didn't have any shits to give about this town and its school and its people, so no one could figure out why on earth it was Rosalie of all people who had stayed.
Bella asks her why, more than a week later, breaking some sort of silence: it’s the first time she talks to her since the others left. They’re in the parking lot and Bella has just cut between her and the door of her cherry-red convertible.
“The others trusted you to keep the secret and I didn’t. That’s all.” And Bella looks at her and doesn’t need mind reading or any of that other nonsense to know she’s not telling the whole truth. So instead of giving up, she hangs on to that missing link like a lifeline, one final mystery to keep her turning the pages.
~~~
“Do they know you’re here?” They’re lying under some tree in the fields behind the school. Well, Bella is. Rosalie is sitting up, one leg crossed over the other, leaning back on the rough bark. Sunglasses up on her head, getting tangled in her hair.
They’ve started hanging out more. Which is probably the most perfect way to describe it―they’re not particularly friendly or active or chatty or really anything in particular. They’re just there, hanging, although who knows onto what. Existing, as if they just happened to be in the same place by coincidence, which may or may not be too far from the truth.
What? Rosalie says, putting her book down, and she repeats the question.
She makes a face at nothing in particular. “Even if I didn’t throw a huge fit about it. And I didn’t call them all irresponsible and stupid and cruel. And make them undo all my new bullshit fake paperwork. They’d still know. Obviously.”
Bella looks up at the low, dense cloud layer, weaving a blade of grass back and forth between her fingers. It’s like she’s been given a huge clue into the puzzling significance of Rosalie’s continued presence, but she doesn’t really feel like thinking right now.
Twisting on her side to look at Rosalie. “Why did you bring those? The sun’s not even out today."
It seems like Rosalie’s met her speaking quota for the day, and her attention stays with the pages.
“Relating to a pair of glasses,” she says softly, a silly joke just for herself, but Rosalie catches it and this time the glare is directed full on towards her.
“Look at me,” she says, flatly. Like she's gearing up for a pep talk, but instead, she continues―“Look. I haven’t eaten in a while.”
Now that Bella really looks, her eyes do seem darker than normal. They’re not that different yet, and she says as much.
Yeah, but I couldn’t know that, now could I, Rosalie had countered. It’s hard to really predict how long until it’s noticeable. So it’s just good to have as a backup.
~~~
Hey, she says, appearing in front of her before Rosalie can pass through the double doors out of the cafeteria. Like the only way she knows how to start a conversation is by surprising her with one.
“I just wanted to say thanks.” It goes like this: It’s like. I mean I’m glad we’re friends. I haven't really been present as a friend to anyone for so long, while I’ve been working through my own shit. So I was thanking everyone for like, being patient with me. And I was thinking, well honestly you’ve been the biggest stabilizing presence here. So yeah. Thanks.
“I didn’t know we were friends,” Rosalie says. Distance. A force of habit. But part of it also genuine surprise, and not in a bad way, more in the “now that my family isn’t here and they’re the only people I’ve really had any meaningful relationships with in decades, so I guess it is kind of nice to have the social contact” sort of way. Either way the words fly out before she can stop them, and Rosalie wants to hit her head against the wall. Instead, she just bites her lip and avoids eye contact.
Bella just looks amused, like she can see right through her. It reminds her of how Alice looks at people. Maybe it’s the first time she’s seen Bella look that way. Or at least the first time she can remember it. She wonders what future it is that Bella sees in her.
The next day she sits at Bella’s table with her (other) friends without prior warning, remembering their names and faces from somewhere. Somehow dragging them out from the fog of apathy in her mind, where they had languished for three years. Everyone’s really surprised, Bella most of all, and no one knows what to say or do. It’s incredibly awkward at first, but not actually that much more awkward than when she’s glaring at them from her own table anyway.
~~~
Her locker has a visitor today. Rosalie's leaning on it, levying a challenging stare towards the boy who has the one next to it, daring him to get close so he can get his things (he chooses the equally irritating option of hanging around awkwardly, waiting for her to leave). Bella rolls her eyes and pulls her off so she can spin the combination. The visit is to inform her that they’re working on homework together after school. She leaves without waiting for a response and Bella mumbles out a confused okay towards her back. Visits to the school library together are not uncommon these days, attention half focused on their papers and half caught on something in the middle distance. So it’s odd she would even ask her in advance.
She’s waiting by the door after her last class. When she sees Bella, she sets off purposefully towards her car, leaving her to chase after her in a half-jog. Rosalie starts the engine without a word, and it’s only when they’ve taken a turn into the hills, when she realizes where they’re going.
“Haven’t been here in a while.” Even with the roof down, she doesn’t make the effort to shout it over the wind whipping past them. If Rosalie wants to hear she’ll hear. She does, but she doesn’t say anything until they’re walking up the stairs to the front door.
“The house is too damn big now,” she grumbles. Bella doesn’t respond, instead choosing to skip up a step to catch up to her side. If she’s here to keep her company she might as well do it right.
Rosalie lounges on the couch, eyes closed, while Bella sits on the floor, tracing lines on the textbook with her finger. Mug filled with tap water from the sink―without Esme's influence, it's basically the full extent of what her gracious host is able to provide, as far as refreshments go.
“You used to hate me,” she states, then decides very bravely to voice the obvious. But you don’t anymore?
Rosalie huffs. Not really, ever. Well, like. I thought you were way too reckless and you didn’t care about your life and I hated that. And you worried me senseless. Mostly for our sake, to be blunt. But for your sake too. At least a bit. Maybe it was just that you showed up and everyone around me started making decisions I didn't understand or trust and it felt like everything was all upside down.
“Oh. Sorry." Rosalie could be pretty direct when she wanted to be.
“Honestly I hated Edward a lot more for it. And you were always with him. So. I guess you got caught in the crossfire sometimes. I'm sorry.”
“Does Edward hate me?”
Rosalie stares upwards at nothing. “Nah. He loves you.”
It’s not a romantic thing when she says it. She says it all dry and factual, as if reading from the textbook Bella currently has open on the coffee table, indexed somewhere between liver and lymphatic system. But even so, Bella seems to lighten considerably. Rosalie notices and breaks eye contact with the ceiling to scowl at her.
“Why are you making that face at me?”
Rosalie stretches her neck back and forth and flops back down again. She reminds her of a cat, always twisting around, coiling and uncoiling like she’s never entirely comfortable. “It’s not my place to say.”
Bella scoots to the other side of the table and rests the back of her head on the arm of the couch, craning her neck upward to keep the other girl in her field of vision. What if I asked you to say?
She considers this. Fine. I think he’s a patronizing and controlling piece of shit. And I know he’s my brother and I love him but I think he gets so used to knowing exactly what people need because he hears people’s thoughts and doesn’t understand the meaning of privacy and autonomy and anything and even if he doesn’t know what you’re thinking he still acts like he thinks he does or something.
Stops. Pauses for a breath that isn’t needed but speaks more gently after the hesitation.
“He loves you without a doubt. But honestly, I think love can be a really horrible thing sometimes. It can be possessive and violent and drive people to do terrible things. Not that he’s necessarily like that but. Ugh. I don’t know. He is, kind of, maybe. It’s hard to be objective when it comes to Edward. For me.”
Bella doesn’t say anything for a long time. “What do you mean it’s hard to be objective?”
“If I’m telling you this much I might as well tell you everything.” She slides off the couch to sit next to her.
“I was changed for him.”
“What?”
“My last day as a human was hell. I was assaulted and dragged out onto the street. And I was there, like, basically numb and dying until Carlisle changed me because he thought I would be good for Edward. A group of men who took everything from me except for the one thing that I had left. I came into this world as a human and the one thing I had left was that I would leave it as a human and Carlisle came and saw that there was one more thing to take from me so he took that away from me too. For the sake of yet another man’s love.”
Oh, she says. Oh. And tears spill from her eyes, openly, tears that Rosalie couldn’t shed for herself. So she follows the ones sliding from Bella’s jaw onto her lap and imagines the tears shattering like tiny beautiful pieces of glass instead of blotting on her jeans.
“It’s okay,” Rosalie whispers, almost in a rasp. And it’s for the both of them. “We're okay. That was a long time ago. We’ve had decades. They’re my family. And I'm here now because of it. It’s okay.”
Bella just shakes her head. She cries for a while, so she pulls her onto her shoulder and pats her back and waits, awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say.
~~~
“Let's go to the ocean today.” It’s a Friday. They’re walking from the parking lot to their morning classes; if the sun were visible it would have just barely started to reach over the sloping line of trees.
“Can we go tomorrow? I need to eat.”
Bella shrugs. “Want me to come with you?”
“You want to come with me?”
Bella seems like she’s made up her mind anyway. Yeah, she says. Thought you might be sick of eating alone.
She is.
Later that day they hike partway up the mountain, just to have something to do. After a while Rosalie carries her the rest of the way, until they reach a solitary clearing. She tells her to wait and she’ll find an animal to bring back, and Bella only nods, lost in phantom flashbacks. Deja vu, or something, although she thinks Rosalie would find it weird if she told said anything.
Rosalie brings back a deer. It’s a surprisingly gentle sight, the deer held limp in her graceful hands. Even so, Bella wrinkles her nose, stomach churning, heart pulsing with anxiety.
“Did you forget that you hate blood or something?”
What? “Edward told us about that day you left Bio. I thought it was the most hilarious thing when I heard. Like, that’s the peak of irony.”
“Oh yeah.” Bella is perched on a rock in the sunlight, twisting her hands together. “I think I mostly got over that when I almost… yeah. Desensitized by near-death experiences, I guess.”
At that, Rosalie looks sad, or mad. Bella thinks it’s about a 70-30 split. She’s gotten way better at telling the difference between the two.
Bella’s still not a fan of blood, but to her credit, Rosalie is pretty good at keeping her distracted, more talkative than normal, occupying her with the chitchat, listening to her responses as she drinks.
The next day, they go out by the seaside, and Bella digs her toes in the sand until Rosalie pulls her out knee-deep to watch her leap into the freezing water, confronting the waves headlong, wildly shaking her hair about every time she resurfaces, sending droplets everywhere but mostly in Bella's direction. Laughing at her affronted, playful screams, swallowed up by the roar of the ocean. Bella laughs too, once, then again, harder, freer. Not that she’s counting.
~~~
Bella’s glad for the ride home. Both her and the seats are wrapped in soft lengths of towels, so thoroughly that it feels like rolling around in the blankets in her bed. You get one grain of sand anywhere near her and you're dead to me, she had said regarding the car, so Bella does her best not to fidget too much.
“Want to come in?” Bella says, when they get there. It seems like the thing to say.
Rosalie accepts, which seems like the thing to do.
Charlie is home, and greets Rosalie, mentioning something about how he’s glad she decided to stay in Forks, how she only had one year of high school left and it probably made the whole college applications thing simpler to stick it out anyway. Bella shoots her a grim smile and gracefully takes her arm, steering her towards her room away from the dad-talk.
When they get there, she starts looking awkward. “I asked you to come over, but I’m realizing I should probably rinse the ocean off first.”
“Take your time. I’ve got nothing going on,” Rosalie says, about more than just today.
When Bella returns, Rosalie’s lost in the photos on her dresser, gently holding them by the edges of the frames. Some of her and Renee, some of old friends in Phoenix. “That one’s me and my grandma,” she says of the one she currently has in her hands. “To be honest, I half expected that you would have already seen those.”
Why? Sharply, knitting her eyebrows together and putting the picture back down.
“You said you were suspicious of me? Like I might snitch on you guys? Which I wouldn’t, but still. I kind of assumed you were like, keeping tabs on me.”
She looks stricken. “Well, okay,” Rosalie begins. “Let me clear a couple things up. Firstly, I wasn’t really that suspicious of you. That’s kind of what I said to my family so that they’d have a reason to let me stay. But I was more wording it like, it’s best to be prudent and not let a potential ticking time bomb go unchecked. Ugh, no. Okay. That’s not really what I saw you as, those are just how I said it to them. I guess it was kind of a half-truth, like enough to convince myself. Because Edward would have known if I was fully lying, you know. I’m pretty good at keeping my thoughts from him but there’s no getting past that.”
“But also, more than that, it just felt like such a horrible thing to do to you, to leave, out of some misguided sense that it would keep you safe. Like we’re the only beings who could come and hurt you and leaving would mean you could just pretend this whole world didn’t exist anymore, and then that world would ignore you too. That just doesn’t happen. I mean, another vampire almost killed you. But yes. I don’t want you to think that I’d just break into your house. Sorry if I was kind of prickly about it at first.”
You’re still prickly, Bella reminds her, bumping a shoulder into hers. But I like that you try not to be.
She takes a while more to process everything. “Edward used to watch me sleep. I thought, well maybe it’s just a normal thing vampires do.”
“No. God no. That’s weird. No, I really hate that. That’s not normal at all.”
"I think I knew that," she says in a sort of faraway way, sitting on the bed and humming from the satisfaction of being freshly showered. “Maybe I kind of gave up feeling entitled to normal when I got caught up in this vampire thing.”
Rosalie wilts. “Don’t,” she says. She’s got the sad and mad thing going on, but there’s something else too―she almost looks hurt.
She stands up. I’m going to go. And let you rest.
She doesn’t show up to school tomorrow, and her loss is keenly felt by Bella’s table―they’ve actually gotten pretty used to her presence, even though she spends the hour abstaining from food, instead turning the pages of her book and looking up here and there to insert the occasional haughty turn of phrase into the everyday flow of conversation. Bella avoids as much work as she can, dwelling on her absence the entire day.
~~~
Immediately after school, she hops into her truck and tears up the road into the hills and rings the doorbell of the Cullen house, finally exhaling a sigh of relief when the door opens. Without wasting a moment, Bella collapses into her. Rosalie smells sharply of the ocean even still. Not the water, not anymore, more like the ocean air. Bright and vast and lovely, the sort of air she’d like to soar through and feel stinging against her face.
“Everyone missed you at school today. Well, I missed you the most, obviously, but I’m not even kidding. It really wasn’t the same without you.” She’s realized over the days how much easier it has become to express her fondness for Rosalie than with other people. Rosalie might not seem to reciprocate all that much, but she's become hyper-attuned to the small ways she accepts the sentiments, the unspoken intricacies of their call-and-response. Bella happily goes through it dozens of times a day because sometimes what she needs the most in her life is for something to just be predictable.
Rosalie hasn't caught up in this particular moment, not really softening into the hug but not stiffening from the sudden contact either. She’s mostly just standing there in neutral confusion, so Bella keeps talking into her ear. “You’re right and I’m glad you helped me come to terms with it. That I shouldn’t let myself get swallowed up by other people and I deserve whatever kind of life I want and all of it. And so do you. Okay? So do you.”
Slowly, Rosalie’s arms reach under her own to wrap around her, looking past her through the still-open front door towards the hills, blanketed with tall, ancient trees. She’s not sure how much Rosalie believes her, but it seems to be enough. They hold each other like that for a while. There's a little step up to the threshold. They sway a little bit, in tandem, in the unfamiliar difference of height, to avoid losing their balance and tipping over towards either side.