Disclaimer: I'm a fraud. Stephanie Meyer is the ho with the copyright. End of line.

I promised I'd eventually write outtakes, and here we go. The tone for Edward's POV is not Bella-funny. Edward really isn't snarky to me. Thus, it is sorta written in vignette-y bits with a lot of irony. Either way, though, writing this was fun for me. I missed this crazy little fic.

Edward Outtake #1: In Which Edward Goes for a Run

Edward was running.

Past Red Alder.
Through Oak Fern.
He hurdled over Rattlesnake Plantain and Coastal Gumweed.

He remembered when they had first arrived in Forks.
He had delighted in learning the names of local flora:

Hooker's onion.
Farewell to Spring.
Bog rosemary.

Then Esme had married Carlisle.
His friends became his family.
And he had Carlisle.
A real father.

The whole family would go on treks through the woods together.
They were so happy then.
Emmett thumping like a grizzly.
Alice climbing trees.
Rosalie carrying a hatchet in one hand and a bouquet in the other.
Jasper with map and compass and Boy Scout manual.

But now, such treks were a relic of childhood.
They never did them anymore.
And why would they?

Emmett had Rose.
Alice had Jasper.
Esme and Carlisle were lost in each other.

But Edward was the outsider.

So he ran.

Just him and the ferns and the moss and the sky.

He ran because it made him forget.

Because when he pushed himself it burned.
His quads on fire.
The sweat threatening to sting his eyes.

Running made it easier.

No one explained to Edward that what it meant for a man to be beautiful.
Not just good-looking.
Nor dashing and attractive.


Edward was beautiful.

He started noticing it around the time he turned fifteen.
Girls started to look at him.
Older girls.
Then girls his own age and younger.
And then women.
Some men did, too.

If a woman was beautiful, men came to her.
She could sit back.
They would woo her.
If a man was beautiful, the order was disrupted.
A man was supposed to use his beauty.
He could be an asshole.
He could ask a woman, and the yes would be implicit.
No one explained to Edward that beauty was to be possessed.

You weren't supposed to ignore your own beauty.

Rosalie was the one he took him aside one day.

"Edward you need to get a girlfriend," she had said.

"But I don't like anyone."

"Well, like someone," she replied. Then she left.

So the girls had come to him.
Tanya was the first.
She shoved her tongue down his throat.
She tasted like baking soda and soy.
Her teeth clicked against his.
A sharp edged tooth caught his gum line.

It hurt.

And then her tongue found his and pushed against it.
He was so shocked he didn't know what to do about it.
He was pretty sure his gum was bleeding.
He tasted blood.
But Tanya didn't stop.
Edward tried not to gag.
Though he wanted to.
If he moved, he'd punch her across the room.
She was as tall as he was, but she still...

He could hurt her.

He would never hurt a woman.
His dad had hurt his mother.
He was not his father.
He wanted to be like Carlisle.
Edward was locked in rigor mortis.

When she pulled away there was a string of spit.
Edward had mumbled something about going to the bathroom.
He had run.

Being the outsider was better than suffering that.

Edward slowed when he entered the meadow.

He bent over.

He clutched his knees.

He breathed.

He let the endorphins do their dirty work.

And he felt it all fall away.

Emmett had left some DVDs on his bed one day.

The first was labeled:
Edward_needs_to_chill_ . avi

Edward hadn't wanted to watch at first.



Eventually he caved.

He slid the DVD into the player.
Edward watched the first thirty seconds with an open mouth.
Then Edward had locked his bedroom door.
And then he had curled up in his bed.
Under the sheets in his bed.
Eyes glued to the screen.
Volume turned low—but not too low.

The girl on the screen.
Black hair. Pale skin. Red lips.
She was wearing a blue dress.
Only a dress.
There was nothing underneath the dress.
Edward discovered this when she collapsed with bad drama on a piano bench.
Her legs were spread wide.
He could see... everything.

Edward had never been so turned on his life.

But then the man had come into the room.
That annoyed Edward.
The brute was blocking the view.
But then the man had grabbed the edges of the woman's skirt.
He had yanked her to the edge of the bench.
Then he started touching the woman.
First just with hands and fingers.
But then he untied the front of the dress.
And began sucking.
And licking.
Down and down and down.
The woman shrieked when he buried his face between her legs.
At first Edward was alarmed.
But then he realized...
It was a good shriek.
The woman moaned and moaned.

God, the… sounds she was making.
Better than Beethoven.

Edward's hand was down his track shorts.

Down and up.

Up and down.

Edward imagined he was that man.

When the woman gave her final cry…
Edward gave an equally long groan.
He speckled his sheets.

But then Edward had put in the second DVD:
Edward_needs_to_chill_2 . avi

After two shocked minutes, Edward left his room.
He went to Emmett's.
He punched him in the shoulder.

"Fuck, man! Just giving you options." Emmett had yelped.

Edward had stopped and stared. "I don't like cock."

Emmett turned back to him with a bemused expression.

"Dude, man, no reason to get all huffy. Just trying to help."

"Fuck you!"

"Well, at least you know you like the pussy, now."

"Very clever Emmett—yes. I like the pussy," he hissed back.

Edward figured out how to navigate the internet on his own after that.
Real girls terrified him.
All eager jaws and painted claws.

But fantasy was to be found in safe places, too.

Edward lay back against a tree at the edge of his meadow.
He was sipping at his water bottle.
The breeze felt good as it fluttered over his overheated skin.
The powdery scents of wild flowers and the clean smell of grass filled the air.
Edward felt free here.

It was so quiet.

He was so relaxed that he'd begun to drift off when he heard the sound.
The approaching padding of feet.
He tensed.
His senses on high alert.
There were some larger predators on the peninsula...

And then he saw the figure moving through the trees.
At first all he saw was the flickering white.
Flashing bright then dark among the trees.
Then pale legs and arms in contrast with dark hair.
And then she emerged at the far end of the meadow.
Running with wings.
Edward stared.

And then just like that, she was gone again.
Fading into the woods on the other side of the meadow.

Edward stood and started across the meadow.
But then stopped himself.

If he found her, he'd probably scare her.
But then, he thought, a lone girl in the woods...

Not safe?

He began to run.
For if he didn't, he might lose her.
He slowed once he entered the forest.

He'd never been to this side of the meadow before.

The meadow had always been his final destination.
It was different here.

Up ahead he heard the sounds of water.

He ground to a halt when he saw the first discarded sandal.
Then its twin three feet up.
At the edge of the wall—a crumpled white dress.

Later he would blame his hormones.

He didn't race ahead but instead moved step by step.
He heard gentle splashing below.
Crouching low in the ferns, he moved forward.
She was wearing a bikini.

This made him both relieved and disappointed.

She was moving around the pool slowly.
Playing slightly.
Humming to herself and trailing her hands in the water.
Bobbing deep and rising above.
It made no sense.
And that made him smile.
The scene was innocent and child-like, he thought.
—though she was no child:
Her lips were too full.
She had a tiny waist but subtle curves.

Fucking beautiful, Edward thought with awe.

He was caught off guard when she stopped swimming.
She pushed off the rocky bottom.
Gliding to the far side of the pool.
To the waterfall.

From his vantage point, Edward could see her profile better.
But the mist was foggier.
He leaned forward slightly.
Trying to see.

He froze when he saw her hands move.
It was where they moved to that made him freeze.
He almost fell over when he heard the first moan.
The moans hit him in his gut and moved straight down...
Edward had never seen, heard anything so erotic in his life.

Fucking beautiful.

But then he adjusted his foot.
Onto a stick.
A mighty crack.

And then he saw her head snap up.
As he threw himself back.
He fell back into the maze of green.

And then he stood and ran.
He ran for his life.
He ran because he was embarrassed.
He ran because he felt alone.

But also, because for the first time...

He didn't want to be.

Real Life Book Rec: If you like vignettes and gorgeous overcome-the-odds, carthartic goodness, then I recommend you read Sold by Patricia McCormick. Yes, it's about child prostitution in South Asia, but it's also a beautiful story. It's not about the pain—although there is pain. It's about the triumph.