#i got a pair btw similar clasp just on the back of the wrists

[a-flickering-soul]

need people to know that in 2020 in the depths of my hux insanity 2 electric boogaloo i scoured the internet looking for black leather gloves that had the same slutty little clasps at the wrists as hux wears so i could get a pair and i could literally only find that detail on womens' gloves

[jessicanjpa]

"Give me a prompt and I will turn it in Edward's worst day" ok, here is one: It's Esme's birthday and Alice have decided to throw a party. I think this is a pretty happy setting, let's see how you manage to turn it into angst 👀 I love your writing btw!

This is a tough one… challenge accepted!

Maine, 1992

Edward POV

Telepathy had its uses. I was carrying a stack of boxes that piled more than a foot above my head as I followed Alice around the living room, but looking through her eyes made it easy enough.

“I still don’t understand why we’re doing this,” I said, mumbling into the cardboard mashed against my face.

Alice plucked another string of lights out of the top box wobbling above me. “Because it’s been far too long since this family had a party! Two inches closer, please.”

“No, it hasn’t. You threw Carlisle that Doctor of the Year bash in November.”

“Exactly! And what better reason to celebrate than our mother’s birthday?”

I snorted into the cardboard. “If you haven’t noticed, birthdays aren’t particularly meaningful around here.” I sighed as the world went black again. “Alice, would you please keep your eyes open so I can see?”

“Hold on.” The blackness swirled into color as she focused on a new vision. The colors gave way to a frothy swirl of white, polka-dotted by the glaring brightness of electric light. “Tulle!” Alice gasped, jumping off the ladder and landing in the hallway at a run. “Come on, help me find it! I know Rosalie packed it when we moved, it might be in that big trunk with the Christmas garlands…”

I shook my head and set the boxes down. When Alice got like this, it was best to just follow orders and keep your head down. Her visions were going a mile a minute by the time I met her in the attic. Tulle and twinkle lights, deep orange roses clustered in each corner of the ceiling—

“Good luck getting those in February,” I put in, only to be shushed.

They’d go perfectly with the wrapping paper, and they must be available somewhere, otherwise I wouldn’t have seen it, thank you very much.

“Hold on, what wrapping paper?” I asked. “We’re doing presents?”

She rolled her eyes and threw open the nearest steamer trunk. “It’s a birthday party, Edward.”

“What are you giving her?”

“I’ve had my eye on this darling pea coat that’s just right for her. Emmett’s out picking flowers, Rosalie already wrapped hers—oil paints and three new canvasses—hmm, maybe the canvasses should be from Jasper…”

I stood up, nearly bumping my head on the roof beams. “Why does everybody know about this but me?”

“Because you never come up for air when you’re at the piano these days. It’s not my fault you’re a lazy telepath.”

“What should I give her?”

Alice began pulling a length of sheer white cloth out of the trunk. “Ah, here it is!”

“Just tell me, Alice. What am I giving Esme?”

“Jewelry again. Only not that hideous turquoise brooch, if you please.”

Jasper came home soon afterward, relieving me from décor duty. I retreated to my room to pick out the jewelry. I wouldn’t be able to do this much longer, shelling out Elizabeth Masen’s heirlooms to my mother and sisters; there wasn’t much left. Besides the turquoise brooch, there was a pearl necklace in need of repair, the oval engagement ring, a bracelet with a little emerald flower charm, a few gaudy rings that would probably never be fashionable again, and a tangled pair of necklaces. I sat down on my leather couch and carefully began to pick at the knotted necklaces, studiously ignoring the shining diamond heart wedged in the corner of the jewelry box beneath them. It wouldn’t do to get wrapped up in that again.

Surely this wasn’t all that was left? The jewelry box was more than half empty now. Most of the pieces weren’t truly gone; I saw them occasionally, adoring the throats, wrists, and fingers of the women I dearly loved. But it was sad to see how little I had left. This jewelry was all that remained of my human mother, a woman that felt more distant with each passing year.

The truth was that I rarely thought about her anymore. It had all been thought, after all, a hundred times over. I had pored over the mismatched handful of memories, straining to finding more details… aching to remember more about the mother who had been so fully displaced in my heart by Esme. How long had it been since I had thought of her as “Mother”? She was Elizabeth Masen now, when I thought of her at all. “My human mother” sometimes, though how much of a compliment that was, I wasn’t sure.

How would she feel, if she knew how little I had left of her? How seldom I thought of her? One thing was crystal clear in my memory, and that was that I had been the center of her whole world. I was sure she had loved my father, but we had been kindred spirits in a way he could never have been a part of… at least that was the impression I seemed to remember. I had meant everything to her. It seemed wrong that I should repay that singular love so cheaply, to parcel out the last of her memories to the women who had taken her place in my heart.

.

.

.

Esme was quite surprised by her birthday party and enjoyed herself immensely. I gave her the necklace when my turn came, and I kissed her cheek like the others. I smiled and laughed when I was expected to. Parties were dull things without food, so Alice had decided that we should play charades and a board game that involved drawing instead of acting. Once the evening began to die down, I went upstairs, ready for the relative quiet of my own room.

With the cheerful buzz of everyone’s thoughts still ringing in my mind, I crossed the room to my bureau, digging under a stack of papers to unearth the framed picture. It had adorned my wall in past decades, but for reasons I didn’t care to dwell on, it tended to stay in a drawer these days. I stared into the unsmiling eyes of Elizabeth Masen, tracing the shape of her face with my fingers, but the picture was so unlike the vivacious woman I remembered. She looked as flat and lifeless as the man and half-grown boy beside her in the picture. With a sigh, I laid the picture frame face down and went to put the jewelry box away. It was lighter than ever now. I would certainly keep the engagement ring and the diamond heart for myself, leaving only the bracelet and the last necklace in good enough shape to give away. I would have to decide if I wanted to.

What was the matter with me? I should be grateful to have inherited such a rich collection… that Carlisle had thought to save it for me. I should be grateful that I had a mother and sisters, such as they were, to give them to. It would be a shame to let those memories stay tangled and forgotten in box, unwanted and unloved.

But an ancient rebellion stirred in my chest nonetheless—one I’d not felt in a long, long time. I loved Esme so very much, and her mothering had meant the world to me over the years, but it had been hard for me that first year. Accepting her new role as my mother had felt like a betrayal of sorts at the time, despite my happiness for her and Carlisle. In a few private, ugly moments, I had, in my heart of hearts, accused Esme of usurping my mother’s place—of daring to put herself on the throne of my heart, to say nothing of stealing away Carlisle’s attention. I had laid those shameful thoughts to rest on the day I had given her the first piece out the collection: a necklace, strikingly similar to the one I had given her today. And yet here I was, some part of me wanting to take back all those loving gifts… angry all over again at how one mother had so completely overshadowed the other. Ironic.

“Now there’s something I haven’t seen in a long time.”

I whirled around to face Esme, flushed with guilt over what I had been thinking. I followed her gaze down to the jewelry box in my hands; I had been standing frozen in the middle of the room, unable to put it away.

“Did you enjoy your party?” I asked her, going into my closet to finish the task.

“Very much.” When I came back out into the room, she was standing at my bureau, studying the old picture. She tilted the picture to examine it from another angle, wrinkling her brow. “It’s not a very good picture, is it?”

A surge of protective anger rose and fell in record time. Esme was an accomplished photographer now; it was only natural for her to critique these kinds of things. “I suppose not,” I said drily, reaching to take the frame out of her hands.

She pulled it away again, laying her fingers on the image of Elizabeth Masen as I had done earlier. “I know it was the style at the time, and shutter speeds were so slow… but doesn’t do her justice at all. At least not from what you’ve told me of her.”

She looked up at me with such a soft, generous love in her eyes that all the cruel thoughts were instantly washed away. How could I begrudge her the place in my heart that was rightfully hers now? How could I be so selfish as to think of snatching back the most meaningful gifts I had ever given her, just so I could hoard them in a dusty box?

Esme laid a gentle hand on my arm. “Edward? What is it?” I shook my head, unable to speak for the moment. Her other hand crept up to her necklace, fingering the delicate chain in worry. “This was your hers, wasn’t it?” I nodded. “Is it very hard for you to think about her, even now? You could have it back, of course…” She moved to undo the clasp behind her neck.

“No, don’t.” I stopped her, reaching up instead to adjust the necklace so that it lay in perfect symmetry. I fiddled with it longer than necessary, finally drawing my mother close in a crushing hug of silent apology. She had been the victim of so much cruelty in her first life; the least I could do was protect her from the inhuman jealousy that plagued me in odd moments like this. It was a poor excuse, but it sounded far more gallant than cowardice. I closed my eyes against the soft caramel waves of her hair, smothering her so tightly it would certainly have broken a human.

Edward, I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset… I wish I could have known her. She must have been such a wonderful person.

“You’re both wonderful people.”

“And you are the kindest, most thoughtful son a mother could ever hope for,” she said firmly, holding me out at arm’s length to look up at me again. “And you know I’ve never wanted to replace her, don’t you?”

“I know. It’s just… I have so little of her left. And like you said, the picture is so unlike her.”

“Well… why don’t you let me try?”

“What?”

She picked the picture back up, studying it again. “Let me try to paint her portrait. This is a starting place, after all; surely with your memories and a little imagination, we could improve upon it quite a bit.”

“I would like that very much. Esme… you’re a wonder. One I don’t deserve.”

She shook her head, reaching up to touch my cheek. “You deserve every kind of love this world can give you. Someday…” Her thoughts trailed off into the familiar image: the usual imaginary girl with a nondescript face, sitting next to me on the piano bench and watching me with adoring eyes as I played.

“Yes, someday,” I said dutifully, giving her the teasing grin she liked most. As she turned to go, I gave her another kiss on her cheek. “Happy Birthday, Mom.”