This is the first part of a two-part one shot.

To my Emmy, for being my voice in the dark. Thank you for everything! I hope you enjoy :)*

~*~

Bella

It's past 10 pm on a Sunday, so I'm giving up.

I posted the add on last Friday's newspaper - but still, I got a handful of answers, mostly callers. Only one girl had actually come to see the apartment, and her seedy looks and general disregard for hygiene made me think twice about sharing the house with her.

In all honesty, you can't even call it a house. That's probably the reason why I can't find anyone to split it with.

The overall state of it isn't so bad, as the old landlord keeps trotting up and down the stairs with his toolbox and, occasionally, some paint. But still, who would want to share a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with a closet-size kitchen?

Not just one bedroom - technically, one bed. Isn't it sad that I can't even afford the smallest apartment in Chicago? That I have to recur to renting vertical space I don't have?

The bunk beds came with the place - as, according to my landlord, it used to be the home of two sisters that had married their way into wealthier neighborhoods.

Note to self: start wearing things with plunging necklines. And shaving more often.

Sitting at the bottom bed, which I'd always occupied, I start taking off my jacket, shoulders sloping. When I'd left Phoenix in search for greener pastures, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. A full time job and some serious expense control are barely enough to make ends meet.

I'll have to take up a second job, I think to myself, defeated. And just after I lean back to go to sleep, without the strength to change, I hear a knock at the door - something I'm not completely sure didn't come from my imagination.

~*~

Edward

Seven days. Seven complete days, from start to finish, were spent running around this city, trying to find a roof to crawl under. I tried everything - newspaper adds, word of mouth, agencies... And nothing.

Out of the hundreds of homes available, there wasn't one that I could simultaneously afford and actually believe I could live in.

I know it's late on a Sunday and I know I'm not even supposed to be answering this add, but, at this point, I just need somewhere to sleep. I start a new job tomorrow morning - if I don't get things straightened out tonight, I won't make it. Which means I'll have to start looking for something else entirely.

I can't afford being unemployed for another week.

I'm doing this because I'm desperate. There's no other way. Just be honest, and if it doesn't work out... I'm screwed.

Shrugging, I suck it up and knock. For a couple of seconds, there's no answer, but then I hear it, just a whisper of hope.

"I'm coming."

The door opens in front of me, bathing me in a strong stream of yellow light, and I recoil instinctively, blinking to protect my eyes. There's a small woman at the threshold, which is about as much as I can distinguish, and it's her voice I hear.

"Yes?"

"I'm here because of an ad... To share a one bedroom apartment?" I start, as more of a question, embarrassed.

"Well... yes, come in," she invites, and I step inside, immediately taking in the place with my eyes.

It's a small space, just a room with one south-facing window, a small kitchen to the left and two doors in the wall opposite, probably the closet and the bathroom. It's very well kept and has a cozy feel to it, so unlike most apartments I'd visited.

Please make this work, I plead to myself, eyeing the bunk bed and dreaming awake of a sound night's sleep.

I turn to find the small woman examining me, a crease between her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry about the time, I've been looking at places all day..." I address her, thinking being kind won't get me in any trouble.

"Oh, are you helping out a friend or family member?" she inquires, rightfully, and I bite the inside of my cheek.

"No, it's... Listen, I know the add said women only... But I'm beyond desperate at this point, I have to start working tomorrow morning..."

Her eyes widen and she just starts shaking her head.

"No. Absolutely not."

~*~

Bella

What?!

If that wouldn't make me look like a complete idiot in front of this man, I would be shaking my closed fist at the skies.

I know I said I needed a roommate - this is not what I meant, though, damn it!

There are just too many things wrong with it.

Sharing a bedroom with a perfect stranger is bad enough, but a man? A good looking man, at that?

"Please listen to me," he asks, running his hand through his savage mop of hair. "I swear I am good for the rent. I'll spend my days out working, I just need a place where I can have my things and sleep. I won't be noisy - I don't even snore - and I always pick up after myself. I'll take care of the cleaning, whatever you want. Just think of me as a really tall woman with big feet and a need to shave. Please."

Contrary to what I should be doing, I laugh.

"It's just... It's a bunk bed. You won't have any privacy..." I counter, but he just waves his hands in front of me frantically.

"That's not a problem. I can see you took the bottom one - I'll take the top. No running around naked, and of course I'll respect your space."

In spite of his assurances, I have my doubts, and he can see me waver.

"Look... worst case scenario, you kick me out in a couple of weeks, right?" he asks me, all big green puppy eyes and manly smell.

"Well... I'm Bella Swan," I give in, extending my hand.

"Edward Cullen," he smiles in charming relief, encompassing my hand in his.

Good. Always a positive thing, knowing the name of the man I'll be sleeping under.

~*~

Edward

It's been four weeks since I moved in, just the clothes on my back and a gym bag full of dirty laundry, and it looks like my life did an 180. Working on the little blues bar downtown won't turn me into a millionaire any time soon, but I'm a diligent worker and I can tell my boss is impressed - enough so to dangle a management position in front of my eyes.

That's a first.

It's also a first to come home every night to a warm, sweet smelling apartment. Granted, I'm on my best behavior - Bella didn't deserve to live with the asshole who didn't care enough to change his sheets every week. I even made it my mission to keep the bathroom spotless and occupy only a portion of the space she designated for "my stuff."

She leaves every morning for work at the ungodly hour of six, something only half my brain registers while the other one shushes me and tells me to go dream some more. By the time I come home, at half past two am, she's sound asleep in her nook below my bed, dark hair spread on her pillow and the soft breathing sounds of a cat.

Sometimes she mumbles in her sleep - something I'll never mention, or she'll throw me out on the grounds of being creepy.

It's nice to see her, to exchange a couple of pleasantries about my day, or even just discuss practical stuff surrounding the bills. The company, above all, is wonderful.

It doesn't hurt that she's beautiful.

The thought makes me pause, key on my hand as I'm ready to open the door. I can't think about her this way, or it'll mess up the light, easy relationship we have. It'll mess up the relative happiness and stability I've so recently achieved.

Taking a big breath and shrugging, I walk in, and am immediately surprised to see the lights on.

"Hey."

~*~

Bella

I'm never actually awake by the time he comes home, which is good. I've handled enough of his shirts to know what they smell like after he wears them to work - the dull and acrid smell of smoke, not quite enough to erase the fresh hint of his soap.

It's just about enough to make me want to hop up into his bed in his absence and wrap myself with his blanket. Which I don't do, no matter how much I need a pick me up. No matter how many times I got yelled at, working at the hospital.

In a good day, family members lose their temper while waiting for news and I try my best to be proactive and calm them down. But certain days... Certain days I get yelled at by the doctors, the nurses, my co-workers, and just every unhappy bastard that suddenly remembers he can dump his anger on the unsuspecting receptionist.

I'm thinking about quitting - an idea I've toyed with for quite some time - and work less hours, dedicate myself to writing. My manuscript is as complete as I'll ever deem it, just a document on my laptop's desktop, reminding me of how much of a chicken I am for not submitting it to someone who might actually consider publishing the damn thing.

Today was a bad day - in fact, I think I need to see the doctor myself. My hearing might have been permanently impaired. And all I can do to wash away the poisonous memory of long hours in a hideous uniform is write away. Just write my guts out.

And, apparently, I'm absorbed enough to still be writing by the time he comes home.

"Hey," he greets me, smiling. And there's that smell...

"Hi," I answer, a bit self-conscious about being caught in my pajamas, lying on my stomach and typing away. "How was work?"

"It was nice, actually. We had a lot of dinner reservations, so we closed the doors as soon as the floor was filled."

I frown.

"Then what was left for the expert bartender to do?" I ask him, wishing he won't tell me that doing nothing is his idea of a good day at work. I hate lazy men.

Not that he falls into the category of men I could actually like to begin with. Not in that way.

~*~

Edward

Sometimes, I'm sure I can't read this woman, and this is one of them. I told her my night was nice and smooth, uncrowded, and she just frowned up another question, as if disgusted by the perspective of standing still.

I'm in the bathroom, just a crack of the door is open and I can see through it as I take my shirt off - she's dangling her pale legs in the air, all nervous energy and sparks, even though it's three am and she needs to be out the door in three hours. And I know she was up at six this morning as well.

"I played," I finally answer, the sound undoubtedly muffled by the door and the t-shirt as I slip it over my head. "They have a little piano there..."

"You play the piano?"

This question is shy, and the laptop is abandoned over the bedspread - I can't hear her nimble fingers' incessant attack on the keys anymore.

"I had daily lessons when I was a kid. I enjoy it, even if I'm not very good."

I leave the bathroom, shutting the lights behind me, as she puts the old, scratched laptop away. Time to sleep.

I'm immersed in soft cotton and the sweet burn of exhaustion between my shoulders, not to the point of discomfort, tells me it should be easy to fall asleep.

But it isn't.

She's not asleep either, I just know it. She's unnaturally still, unnaturally quiet, and the lulling kittenish breaths aren't there.

"Edward?" I hear her voice, just a whisper that wouldn't even reach my ears if I weren't already hyper aware.

"Yes?"

"Why do you spend your nights pouring whiskey and mixing Cosmos?"

I'm caught off-guard, and stare at the ceiling as if, suddenly, I could read into the non-existent patterns the right answer to give her.

"Just forget who I am. Just think of me as a voice in the dark, nothing else," she insists.

A voice in the dark. I like the idea.

~*~

Bella

He breaks through his hesitance - or, at least, that's how it seems - and starts talking.

"I was this... alpha-geek in High School. Focused, completely self-absorbed - I just wanted to get into a nice College, show my parents I could make it. I was so focused on grades I never really noticed they had stopped talking to each other."

I cringe, at ease, knowing he can't see it.

"They got a divorce?"

"Worse. They didn't. I had to walk into a coffee shop near my house and see my father with his girlfriend to finally notice something was wrong. And then, it just... stopped mattering as much as it had. My grades... my chance at a good university. It came to a point where I honestly didn't know what I was doing."

"You didn't go to college," I state, understanding what he's telling me.

"No, I didn't," he answers me, and there's a smile somewhere in his words. "And I don't regret it, either. I discovered more about myself this way than I would have in hundreds of keg parties."

"How about music? You seem passionate about that."

"Music doesn't pay the rent," he proclaims, the sound of defeat if I ever heard it.

I recognize my own dilemmas in his words, mirrored back to me with frightening precision, and I reach up to touch the wooden boards, running my fingers through them, wishing I could touch him.

"One day," I whisper.

"Maybe," he whispers back, surprising me. "Go to sleep, Bella. I'll see you tomorrow."

~*~

Edward

Opening up about my life, no matter how briefly, leaves me strangely calm, and I'm asleep before I know it.

I'm brought back to consciousness against my best efforts, because something feels wrong. Too much light...

There's too much light in the room and I haven't woken up yet. Which means...

Giving myself whiplash, I sit in bed and grab the edge of the wooden structure, looking down to Bella's.

She's still asleep.

It's probably mid-morning, and the realization that she's missing work hits me in the gut, along with the guilt for keeping her awake for so damn long yesterday.

I jump down, landing badly on one foot and letting out a string of profanities. Bella remains deep asleep, completely oblivious, face turned to me.

"Bella... Bella! Wake up, you're late... Oh, shit," I add, seeing the time on her little cell phone. "You're really, really late, you need to wake up..."

My yelling is pointless, as she keeps on sleeping right through, a cute little pout on her lips.

How mad can she be about me touching her? How mad will she be if I don't and she misses work?

I hold a breath and lean on top of her, my hands on her flannel clad shoulders, and I try shaking her a little.

She just slurs something about horses and smiles, twisting her body beneath me.

Oh, boy. She'll definitely be mad at me for this.

~*~

Bella

I'm dreaming of a redheaded man, just hoisting me up to his saddle, as if I was made of feathers, so I can go riding with him. I can feel the warmth of his hands, and I smile, thinking of how wonderful this dream is.

All of a sudden I can feel him kiss me - a touch that was meant to be brief - but I won't let him slip away. I put my arms around his neck and hold him there so I can enjoy his plump lips at will.

In my dreams, I can do as I wish.

But something is wrong, he's not cooperating. I can feel his hands trying to pry my arms away and he's pulling back.

I frown. This isn't going according to plan.

I open my eyes against my will, and there he is. The redheaded man.

Only he looks scared shitless, there's no horse, and I'm lying down... In my room?

Edward! Oh my God!

I shriek and jump towards the wall, as fast as my still latent body allows.

He steps away, covering his eyes with one hand, another one on his hip, and sighs loudly.

"I needed to wake you up. You're late for work," he tells me, and even if this isn't quite enough to break through my mortification, it surely helps with getting me to move.

"I am?"

I move to check the time, hurrying, grab a few pieces of clothing and lock myself inside the bathroom, hyperventilating.

It's not that bad. It was just the most... embarrassing situation ever, and I'll get to relive it every time I come home. Great.

~*~

Edward

I knew kissing her was a bad idea. A very bad idea. But you still went through with it, genius.

At least she's awake now, I can hear the shower water running.

She has good reason to kick me out.

The thought makes me sad beyond belief, and it doesn't even have anything to do with the way she kissed me, dripping sweetness and roaring demand of a tiger in a kitten's body.

Go ahead, tie that noose a little tighter, asshole.

I crawl back into bed, wide awake, trying to hide, and she leaves with nothing but a mumbled goodbye my way.

~*~

Bella

I end up catching a cab to the hospital, wanting to get there as early as possible so I can hear my shouted admonishment and go back to work.

Not daydream about that kiss. At all.

I'm two hours late by the time I get to my workstation, which, all considered, isn't so bad, and I just immerse myself in it, hoping no one important noticed.

No such luck.

"It's always exciting to see such a dedicated worker show up, Ms Swan," I hear, and close my eyes, a feeble attempt at willing him away, "whichever time you decide to visit, of course."

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Jackson," I start, bowed head and begging. Screw pride. "It will never happen again, I'll make up for the two hours this afternoon."

"I have a better idea. Shelley called in sick, so we're short one person on the afternoon shift. It's yours."

I just look at him, mouth agape.

I missed two hours of work and you're making me work a double shift?

Everyone comes in late once in a while. Everyone but me, until today. And no one ever even offers to compensate for the delay - I did, and this is how I'm rewarded.

I can see the guy in the mustard-colored jacket, his weasel-like eyes already aimed at me, and I know what's coming. In about eight seconds, he'll start ranting about the enforcement of visiting hours. He's done so all week, ever since his wife was admitted with a broken pelvis.

I'm seething. All the hateful words every idiot has ever spat at me come boiling to the surface.

That's it. I'm through.

I don't even care if writing is what the future has in store for me or not. Honestly, at the moment, I don't care.

"Hey, Dr. Jackass," I spit, standing up. "I quit. No two weeks notice. Sue me."

The man turns to me, stunned and blinking. My coworkers are silent and gaping.

I step from behind the counter, my bag in hand and chin held high. That's right, bitch. I'm taking my pride back.

"Miss Swan..." Jackson tries, but I don't give him a break.

"Just tally up all the overtime you had me doing this year - you know, those hours I never got paid for. You'll find your two weeks, I'm sure."

With that, I get inside the elevator and wait for the aluminum doors to close before bursting into laughs.

The weasel in mustard actually clapped.

~*~

Edward

Yet again I hesitate as I'm about to open the door. Instinctively, I know she's awake - I better go inside and apologize, in the hopes that I don't find my stuff packed in a corner already.

She's sitting on the floor, back against her bed, hands hovering over the computer resting on her legs. Looking straight at me with a calm expression I can't decipher.

That's it. She's putting an end to our bunk bed relationship.

"I'm glad you're home," she starts. "Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened this morning, I just... I was asleep. I got you some dinner, I know you never get to eat properly at work..."

I don't know how to react, so I just close the door behind me.

"You don't need to do that. Truth is, I shouldn't have kissed you in the first place. It was a stupid idea," I tell her, and finally see what she got me. Lasagna, my favorite, something I wouldn't have expected her to remember.

"Truce?" Bella asks me, as if she'd ever need to ask.

I just smile at her and sit to her left, at a respectable distance, eating my late dinner.

"You know, if you keep this up, you'll have a fat house mate and you might have to surrender your bottom bunk," I joke, something I would say to her before this whole mess started, and her attempt at a laugh is ridiculous.

In fact, she starts crying.

"Bella, what's wrong?"

She doesn't answer me, just shaking her head and busying herself with putting the laptop away. And I remember something that might help.

I help her with the laptop, get up and hit the lights.

"What are you doing?"

She's sitting down in the dark, probably confused. I can still hear her sniffle.

I don't touch her, no matter how much I want to, using the little built in steps to hop up so I can lie down and face the ceiling.

~*~

Bella

Before I can ask him another question, I hear his voice:

"Tell me about it. I'm just a voice in the dark."

I blink through my tears, eyes readjusting to the dim light that the small windows allows entry to, and climb up to my own bed.

"You're not a voice in the dark, Edward. You're the guy I live with."

"So?"

"You'll see me differently."

"Have you seen me differently since I told you I didn't even go to college? Do you see me as less... intelligent, less worthy of your friendship? A loser?"

"No!" I yell, shocked that he even asked.

"That's what I was afraid of. And it didn't happen. If you had the guts to kiss me, you have the guts to spill. Do it."

I blush, glad that he can't see it.

"I didn't have the guts to kiss you. I did it in my sleep."

"And was it me you were kissing in your sleep?" he insists, probing, and I groan.

"You suck at the voice in the dark thing, you know that?"

~*~

Edward

I have to laugh, even if disappointed that she wouldn't tell me.

Maybe one day you'll know. Earn her trust.

I truly want to.

"I'll try harder. What happened?"

"I quit my job," Bella sighs beneath me.

"That's good! You were always talking about how much you hated it."

"Yeah, well... It still paid my bills. I have no safety net."

"You do. Your writing. You should get a professional to look at it..."

"What if I'm no good?" she asks, suddenly, despair and anger. "What if all my English Lit degree has qualified me for is to answer phones and schedule appointments?"

"I believe in your abilities. And if you're that... afraid of it, then go back to your job. I'm sure they'd take you back, you're the rock star receptionist."

"Not after calling my boss Dr. Jackass."

She didn't...

I imagine her for a couple of seconds, eyes blazing, standing up to the good doctor, and something inside me splits.

"Stop laughing!" she yells at me, kicking my mattress. Hard.

"Hey! Stop that!" I ask her, still trying to reign it in and sound a little more serious. "And come on, that was funny. It wasn't that embarrassing."

~*~

Bella

Not as embarrassing as kissing you in my sleep? Got that right.

"As if you had a worse work-related tale..."

"I do, actually," he contests. "One summer, I got tired of all the crap in Chicago and decided to spend two months away. In California."

This should be interesting.

"What did you do?"

"I worked as a lifeguard," he stated, and I tried to ban all the Baywatch-ish images of a tanned Edward running around in red shorts. Tight red shorts. "First week there, I noticed this guy was struggling against the waves, sometimes disappearing under the water altogether. So I set off running, of course, and pull him out. He seemed unconscious at that point, so I... gave him mouth to mouth."

"Well... It's got to be an awkward thing to do to another man, but still, you probably saved his life," I counter, impressed.

"Not according to him. He punched me."

I find myself laughing as I try picturing the scene.

"And then I got fired. He told my boss I slipped him tongue."

"Did you?"

"NO!" he yells, and I roar in laughter. "My point is," Edward continues, in a cute annoyed voice that doesn't help me with calming down, "we all go through our share of embarrassments. It's perfectly natural. At least you got back at him for being a dick."

"I don't think I'm going back to that job," I admit, lighthearted and lightheaded. "Thank you, Edward."

"My pleasure," he answers me, extending a hand from his top bunk. I take it, letting the contact last and tracing his knuckles with my fingertips.

I fall asleep wondering when he stopped being a voice in the dark.

Tight red shorts...

In my dream, he's holding one of those white surfboards, stripped red to match his "work uniform" and running along the side of the beach.

"Your back... You should get out of the sun for a while, or you'll get burnt," he tells me, squatting near my towel. Such a cute lifeguard...

"It's a beach... any suggestions to where I might find some shade?"

The sunlight is strong in my eyes as I turn to see him, hovering over me with his hands on either side of my head.

"How is this?" Edward asks me, lilting voice barely over the sound of the waves, not far from us. I sigh, wanting to reach for him, but he's not there. What the hell?

I open my eyes, blinking against the strong light coming from the window. I'm hot and bothered, so I kick the sheets back in blinding frustration.

Not nearly enough.

"You... Idiot!" I yell, delivering a strong kick with the sole of my feet to the wooden structure that supports the top bed. The bed where Edward must have slept peacefully this night before going to work, completely unaware of the effect his little tale had on me. "You wanted to help me get over my embarrassment, was it?! Well, there you have it," I spit out, purely venting, as I get up. "You've successfully managed to turn me into a horny mess! You and your stupid Californian tight red shorts, Mr. Mouth to Mouth!"

I get up, still fuming, but am suddenly frozen by the distinctive sound of a creaking mattress.

No no no no nonono... Just no.

"Bella?! Why the hell did you kick my bed?" Edward asks me, and I turn to see him, rubbing away sleep from his eyes, red hair sticking in whichever direction. "What were you ranting about?"

"Nothing," I squeak. I could have sworn it was late enough for him to be at work!

"I distinctively head the words "horny mess" and "californian tight red shorts", Bella, don't lie to me..." he continues, in a sing-song voice, mocking me. "Did you dream about me again?"

I don't answer him, scurrying to hide in bed. With my sheets over my head, intending to stay that way for a very long time.

"You did, didn't you?" he teases, apparently having fun. Idiot... "Tell me, it's alright."

His patronizing behavior is making my skin crawl. Who does he think he is to treat me as if I'm just a silly girl with a crush?

The thought alone is enough for me to emerge from my blankets.

"Go to work, Edward... before I decide to make my dreams come true and tie you to that bed," I tell him, winking at him and enjoying his confusion.