Song belongs to Halsey

Chapter 1 - Is There Somewhere?

"But your lips hang heavy…underneath me. And I promise myself I wouldn't let you complete me." Closing my eyes, I can hear the crowd goes crazy. I smile, a sad one, I must refocus uncountable times tonight, not allowing this shitty melancholy feeling crawl out of its hidden place.

"I'm trying not to let it show that I don't wanna let this go. Is there somewhere you can meet me?" My voice is smoother when I continue, as to the sound of pray. I look down towards the audience, gloomy, holding the stand mic as if I will fall anytime. "Cause I clutched your arms like stairway railings. And you clutched my brain and eased my ailing."

"You're writing lines about me, romantic poetry. Your girl's got red in her cheeks, 'cause we're something she can't see." Mind is flooding with the images of him, the reason I wrote these damn lyrics in the first place. Man, I hate singing this song. "And I try to refrain but you're stuck in my brain. All I do is cry and complain because second's not the same."

I take a deep breath, ready for the very last lines. That is, always being the hardest part to sing, seeing my current situation, trapped between memory and reality. Till this point, I'm still the same miserable woman I once had. "I'm sorry but I fell in love tonight. I didn't mean to fall in love tonight. You're looking like you fell in love tonight. Could we pretend that we're in love?"

Fucking finally.

"Thank you! Thank you so much, Vancouver!" I shout, but it can't beat the cheer of the crowd around me. "I love you guys! Thank you for coming!"

I exit the stage wearing this wide smile on my face. Alice hands me a white towel as soon as I hit the backstage. "Oh goddamn it! You killin' it!"

"Thanks." I smirk as I take a gulp of water on the table, curing my thirst. She lifts an eyebrow, and I just know what to come from that poisoned mouth.

"Almost slip a tear, though." She snickers evilly. I roll my eyes in annoyance. We had this conversation at every show I held, but I can assure her she won't have it this time. Not that she will give in. For all I know she is a persistent motherfucker. "He called?" Her tone was thick of curiosity, but I also could hear concern in it.

"Not that it's your business, Mary-Alice." She huffs loudly of the name. Calling her like that means you have declared the flag of war. And shit, silly me, I just realized it the moment it escaped my lips. I'm damned.

"Well, I take it as a no. Have you seen the news?" Alice asks innocently. We know where this talk goes to. And I'm fully aware what her true intention is. The more her words hurt me, the more she cares. She just wants to slap me as hard as possible, pulling me out of this stupid hope. Telling me he is up to no good since the day I met him. "He confirms to the media he has dated Tanya for six fucking months." I close my eyes briefly. This lump in my chest is throbbing in agony.

"I know, Al. I've seen it." Her expression is almost sorry.

"He's a bastard, Bella. And will always be. Don't let him toy you any further." It's still the same advice, and still merely in and out my ears.

"I need a drink." She shakes her head sadly.

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I'm back to New York not after two other gigs. Alice hasn't mentioned him again since that night, probably because she didn't want to open the old scars. Or I was that pathetic she didn't have the heart to add more damages. I drag my feet to the elevator in my building, physically and emotionally exhausted, eager to make it to the bed soon. I once shared the apartment with Alice, but about three months ago she has moved in with her boyfriend, Garett. I thank God for this little peace. Unlocking my door, I step into the room and turn on all the lights. I always hate darkness.

My apartment isn't too big and far from luxury. But it doesn't mean to be bad, though. It was clean, tidy, and consists of two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a small living room. The decoration is minimal, nothing extravagant. White is all I can see. I love it. I like neutral colors. Boring, I know, but it calms me, especially white. The only things that aren't white are the electronics, couch, and my kitchen. They are black.

I sit on the sofa, then untying my sneakers. It has been a long tiring week and I get no work until the day after tomorrow. Yeah, I can absolutely sleep for hours. I wash my face and brush my teeth. Taking off my jeans, it joins the mountain of dirty clothes from my suitcase. I only wear loose tank that barely cover my panties. The best sleepwear ever.

The second I open the bedroom door, my hand immediately goes to turn on the lamp. The sound of groan is the reason why I stop dead in the halfway. I'm so near to scream. But I don't. Because I know, my body always knows, we're like the opposite of the poles, pulling at each other. At least, he is to me. I just stand dumbly at the sight until he finally opens his beautiful shade of green eyes and meets my gaze. He rustles between sheets, trying to get up from his shirtless glory. I can't help but stare. His naked tattooed torso is the best healing of my tiredness. The crooked smirk appears.

"You home?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" is all I can say. It sounds weak and frustrated, not the way I intend to.

"I want to meet you." He replies simply, no trace of lie on his face. I don't know, maybe I can never detect it. Or I'm just slave to his game.

"You didn't call." I state to no one particular. My voice betrays me.

"I'm here now." Always doesn't have the care in the world, the selfish bastard. He runs a hand over his bronze hair. My eyes follow the movement. It has grown much longer he can use a hair tie. "Come." He pats the empty space of the bed beside him. My bed. But he seems like he belongs there. "Save the fucking talk in the morning. It's two a.m. and you look like you'll collapse in a second."

He's right. When is he wrong in my eyes?

The words that come out of his mouth never fail to compel me.

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I wake up alone at twelve thirty. He has done this million times but it always takes me by surprised. No notes, no calls, no texts, I was just left there, hurt and confused. But I'll welcome him again, no matter what. He knows I can never resist him. Alice will flip if she knows about him coming last night. Not to mention she'll likely label me the fool of the year for not taking back my apartment key from him. The universe knows I won't do such a thing.

After I open the curtain, I go out of my bedroom, towards the kitchen. My eyes widen to find him sitting on the barstool, only wearing black and white Mickey Mouse boxer. But believe me, seeing him like that, won't lessen his manly charm. The inks all over his muscled body stand out beyond anything. A cup of tea on his hand, while the other holding a cigarette. His mother is English. And he lived a couple of years there, enough to make it a habit.

A childlike grin spreads across his handsome face as he acknowledges my presence. I want to kiss him. "Had a good sleep?"

"You're still here." It's not a question.

"Of course, I am. Where would I be?" he turns his head to the side. I inhale sharply, holding back a bitter laugh. His sweetness never fades. He could tell any girl they would be together forever and she would believe it. Never realized he intended to leave her the moment he said the words.

"Did the papz—"

"No." He cuts off before taking a long drag. "I wouldn't mind if they did, though." Nothing in this world is worth his mind. Sometimes I wish the papz found their way to photograph him enter my building just to see if he'll remain this calm. Unluckily for me, the bastard has everything on the map. It's all covered. No one ever knows. It's just us and Alice.

"Oh."

"You don't seem happy to see me, Ysabel." I cringe as he calls me by my stage name. "C'mere." Butt out his cigarette and gesture me into his lap. "I'll be out of states until next month." Of course, being a Hollywood heartthrob right now, he should be in the other continents, doing some world tour. His second album has been a massive success and critically acclaimed, making him a sudden millionaire in a week. I could remember he was so busy, headlining the stage here and there. Award after award were collected. Fame kisses him in the face. Since then, the papz barely leaves his side. And just three months ago, he dropped his third one and has had four songs on the Billboard Hot 100 chart so far. When I'm struggling to get one.

"You can't be here, Edward." I say so low I'm sure he can't hear me. Eyebrows furrow, daring me to continue. "You're with Tanya." He chuckles, darkly.

"Which shitty gossip website you're reading right now?"

"You confirm it." I accuse harshly, out of the frustration. He shakes his head, laughing.

"I don't do it. I have told you those website aren't more than fucking trashes, Bella. Stop reading them." I step back as I watch him get up from the barstool. The closer he is, the stronger he can affect me. Which means the easier I trust his words. Although deep down I know it seems a bit untrue. "Many women have thrown themselves at me, but I keep coming to you for all these four fucking years. Only you. Before and after the fame comes between us, it's only you."

But you also keep leaving me as you like and will be spotted kissing the other woman the next day. I'm scared I'll be crying if I say it out loud.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why you keep comin' to me?"

"You want me to stop coming to you?" typical Edward, answering a question with a question.

"Then, deny the fucking rumors." I say instead, escaping the previous question. He's quiet, keeps his mouth shut. The bastard will never do that, I know it very well. So, why I do bother asking him in the first place is beyond me. I'm a fool.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks after minutes of silence. I'm not aware he's in front of me now. His knuckles graze the side of my face. Greens meet blues. I part my lips slightly as he closes the gap between us.

No permission needed, he's always allowed to do anything to me. The kiss is slow at first, but turns wilder the moment I moan. He grabs my ass and lifts me as I have no weight, makes me holding his shoulder before locking my legs around his waist. Our lips are getting hungrier, full of yearning. I yank his hair backward when he starts kissing down my neck. We stop in the mid air. Those greens are searching for something in mine. I know he can find it, but he doesn't say anything. "Edward…" I choke out pathetically, holding back a cry. "I'm in pain."

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I wake up alone for real in the morning, naked, a mess. He leaves again without a single word. My eyes are fucking puffy, like someone just punched me on the face. Poor me, it's a lot damn worse than that. I'm shattered. Crying doesn't help anymore. If not because Alice has warned me to come to the studio, I wouldn't have come. I have lost my mood, but we're between talks of my second album.

I relax a little after the cold shower. Wearing the best white shirt, faded blue jeans, and a pair of black suede boots, I'm heading to the studio by taxi. It isn't too big in the middle of New York. Still, it feels like a second home to me. I composed and recorded most of my songs here, drowning my wounds in lyrics.

"You're late." Alice crosses her arms over the chest as soon as I enter the room. There are some new faces I don't recognize sitting beside her.

"My bad, sorry." I apologize.

"Something happened to your eyes?" the look on her eyes is suspicious, find me have my shades on. I shrug casually.

"Long story."

"Okay." She finally sighs. We surely have unfinished business here. She won't let go of me that easily. "Bella, let me introduce you to Jasper Hale," she gestures to a blond-haired man on her right. He is lean and tall, charming, calming. His blue eyes are paler than mine, remind me of the sky. "Amber O'Neill," she has this unique short platinum blonde hair with some dyed pink strands. "And Leah Clearwater," Alice mentions the long black hair woman with the cold look.

I shake their hands one by one. "Nice to meet you, I'm Bella Swan." I may not know the faces, but these familiar names catch my attention, specifically Jasper Hale. And I nearly pass out when the realization comes to mind. They all are those talented songwriters, the ones who produce albums for big recording company and mostly, famous singers. How can they be here, in Cullen Records, some random independent label? It's impossible they want to produce an album for indie pop artist like me, right? Don't get me wrong, I have a strong fan base and have already held concerts in many cities, but this is just… unbelievable.

"Yeah, Bells, they come to produce your new album." Alice grins wickedly.

"Holy fucking…"

"I'm looking forward to work with you." Jasper laughs at my expression.

"What have Carlisle done to make you agree?" I ask him, still shocked and all.

"I don't do anything!" Carlisle Cullen, the owner of the label, yells from outside the door.

"Like hell you…"

"Actually I was the one who wanted to meet him first." The blonde man clarifies. "I greatly put interest in your songs as soon as I listen to them. I hope to make it more beautiful." I stare at him like he grows two head. Alice smacks my elbow.

"Thank you, thank you very much. It'll be a pleasure to work with you." I think I wanna cry again.

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"So." Alice starts. I know what's coming next. "Something's off."

"What?" I don't turn to her and busying myself on magazine I'm not honestly reading.

"I don't want to ruin your happiness, but I must ask you this." Her gaze bores to me through the mirror in front of us. I flip the page as if I didn't hear her. "What happened to your eyes back then you were wearing the shades all day?"

"Dark circles."

"Yeah, dark circles, how stupid I am really!" she spoke out sarcastically, throwing her hands in the air like crazy. A man that does her hair huffs impatiently as she can't stay unmoved in her place. I exhale deeply. "You didn't meet him, did you?"

"No." My response is almost immediately.

"You're a bad liar, Bella."

"Look, I don't want to talk about this anymore, okay?" I almost beg.

"Fine." She crosses her arms. I never feel this grateful in my life. "You know I do this because I care, right? It bothers me a lot when you have this little sadness in your eyes. And I just hate myself for not do anything."

"It's okay." I smile genuinely, trying to ease her worry.

As if mocking my words, the presenter on the tv brings the hot news. I look up to see. There, clear as day, both of them on the yacht in the middle of the sea, her with small bikinis, hugging him from behind.

I'm ruined.

:)