So I've been stuck in my house this week (sprained ankle) and felt the overwhelming urge to write a story about Edward and Bella, so here it is.


Edward Cullen was a man who liked his routines. During the week, he got up at exactly 6:30 AM. He showered for exactly twelve minutes, munched on his usual bowl of shredded wheat cereal for exactly seven minutes, then worked on the crossword puzzle in the Seattle Times , which took no longer than seventeen minutes.

He left the house at 6:53 AM every morning and blared classical music in his trusty silver Volvo during the twenty-two minute drive to the Volturi Preparatory Academy. He taught various levels of music and composition classes for the first seven classes of the day. During lunch he diligently scanned the cafeteria for the tell-tale signs of trouble brewing, and during his free period, the final class of the day, he ran errands for any teachers or administrators. Although the final school bell rang at 2:20 PM, he stayed everyday to help any students needing it, leaving at exactly 3:30 Pm.

After the sixteen minute car ride home (classical music still blaring), he sat in his office and worked on any and all things related to school for exactly one hour and fifteen minutes. Then he changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt and ran on his treadmill for forty-five minutes while watching the local evening news. After a quick nine minute shower, he went to the kitchen and prepared dinner. He ate slowly for twenty minutes while watching the national evening news, and then cleaned the dishes. He watched various television shows until 10:15 PM. Fifteen minutes were spent preparing for bed, followed by settling into to bed to read until 11:00 PM, at which time the lights were turned out, and by 11:10 PM he was asleep.

His weekends followed in the same manner, but he volunteered at various organizations instead of working at school on Saturday, and Sundays were spent at his childhood home with his parents, siblings, and their significant others and children.

His life was scheduled to the minute, and he liked it that way. No, variance led to the shuffling of his schedule, which led to time for him to just sit and think. His days were strictly scheduled to avoid this activity, and he dreaded it so because whenever he started to think, the memories trickled in. Glimpses of long mahogany hair, of chestnut eyes, of a rosy pink blush overshadowing dainty cheeks crept into his mind unbidden, which led to the floodgates being opened. Every single interaction, no matter how seemingly trivial, would overwhelm him, and the tears would fall as he clutched a worn photograph in one hand and a silver locket in the other as memories of what once was smother him.


So I'll try to have more chapters up soon, but this is my first multi-chapter fic and I do have quite a few obligations so it might not be as quick as I would like. Reviewing is appreciated but not necessary.