Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Bottles of Hue

By: The. Unfortunate. Fool.

Color: The quality of an object of substance with respect of light reflected by the object, usually determined visually by measurement of hue, saturation, and brightness of the reflected light; saturation, or chroma; hue.

...

Nobody could figure it out.

Nobody could figure it out; Why they were together, that is - they seemed too perfect, too beautiful, too… in love.

The way she would walk down the hallway with her hips swinging at each step, her eyes glaring for some unknown reason, and her mouth in a slight pout. She wouldn't look at anybody else in the hallway except for him.

Her face would light up every time she spotted him. And if you were lucky, you could see her mouth curve in the slightest notion. Her eyes would soften as soon as his hand would grab hers and drag her into the cafeteria - confidence and allure at his every step.

He would smirk, knowing what temporary effect he had on her. Though, he might tense up when her arm slid through his or whenever she gave him that sly grin because he would be completely entranced.

They were the power pair, the prom king and queen, the destined ones, the runaway models, the it couple.

But, what was their relationship based off?

Sex. Majority of thestudents would whisper, wondering how they handled living together in the same house. It didn't seem like a farfetched idea, this was high school, after all.

No, beauty. Girls would gossip, jealous the way her hair would stay in perfect, golden curls and how she could manage to keep her hot beau exclusively wrapped around her fingers. A woman's power was a man's weakness.

Pain. Was what their family had concluded. Their intertwining paths couldn't have been met if it wasn't for a bloody past or a broken future. They were looking for comfort in each other, for, dare they say, love.

Love where both beauty and desire existed. But for her, it was all nothing but a game; child's play. And for him, it was all about thanking her and just being there. Having a second life to enjoy.

So they inevitably stayed together, falling in, and sometimes out, of love. They were like colors on painting - some which stood out and others that were blended in, creating a masterpiece.

Colors. Is what they perceived, but never admired.

Colors of life.

Chapter One

White: A hue completely desaturated by admixture with the highest value possible; an unfinished state or condition.

...

He didn't know what happened.

He didn't know what happened; the plan for his day was to just take a hike, notably in the mountains of Tennessee. He just wanted a break, some time alone, peace.

He had been working on the railroad in Gatlinburg with his brothers. All day, he dropped pieces of rectangular-cut wood against the rocky earth. Someone would then give him a couple of nails so he could hammer the pieces of wood permanently into the ground. They worked nonstop, building and constructing every inch of the railroad. So when he did decide to run off and take a day to himself, this was nothing like what he had expected.

The town-folks had known him well, so did the ladies. Every day, he would go to a pub and flatter some blonde-haired, tightly dressed, and red lipped girl into his dismay. What he did after… was not something you'd want to describe.

Other than womanizing, alcohol was another stress reliever. He would stay in the pub for hours, sipping and hauling drink after drink until his brain felt fuzzy, felt distorted. To make it worse, he would gamble right after, throwing all his day's earnings onto a table and demanding a crowd to watch him play. Sometimes he won, most of the time he lost. Yet, he would blame it on the bitter alcohol for clogging up his brain and senses. Back then, he simply couldn't think straight.

Then he would waltz and stumble all the way back home, like a complete drunk. His parents didn't care - he was the baby. The youngest, the most handsome, and the fittest of all his brothers. He was Emmett McCarthy and nothing could change that, except this moment.

Because there he was, lying on the ground with his body screaming in pain. His hike had been marvelous, a real time pleaser. But that bear had been angry and seemed to appear out of thin air. He didn't see it, he didn't know. So when he felt claws rip his skin open and leg quickly snap - he knew.

He knew he was going to die.

The torture lasted probably no longer than five minutes. After the animal got its satisfaction, it strolled back into the woods with a significant piece of his skin. His hands were covering his head for protection as he was curled up against the dirty ground, his head pounding with anguish.

He slowly managed open his eyes and felt sticky blood drip down his neck. He gasped for breath, trying to move. He slowly craned over his legs so he could cover his bleeding thigh and punctured knee. However, he instantly regretted his attempt because his broken leg skidded against the rocky floor. He screamed.

He couldn't get up, he couldn't treat his wounds, and he couldn't even call for help. No one knew where he was, no one but him and that bear. After a few moments, his head started to feel light as a numbing pain ran down his body - he was losing blood, fast.

He looked up at the sky and saw clear, white fluffy clouds. They were floating by him as if nothing had happened. Soon, he'd figured, he'd be up there, sitting on top of those cotton like puffs, watching his family from heaven.

He smirked, he'd always been the best in his family - always was the first, so why not die before them all? Heh, he sure was optimistic, even about death.

His breathing got more ridged. His head seemed fuzzier; he would have fainted at that moment if he hadn't heard that branch snap. A swift crack of wood brought him quickly back to his senses.

He forced his eyes open, feeling someone's presence. He groaned, looking to where the sound originated from and saw pearly white shoes instead. They were fancy with high heels, very feminine and expensive looking.

His eyes roamed from the shoes all the up to her face. She was gorgeous. Her blonde hair was pinned on top of her head as a thin veil covered her face. She was wearing a wedding dress; white silk clinging onto her skin, designed with classic gems and stones. But, what stood out most were her eyes. Red and sharp, they pierced through him silently and contrasted perfectly with her white skin.

She was… indescribable; A savior, a guardian, a… angel.

Yes, she was his white angel. She was coming to take him away - take him to heaven. He felt his mouth curve. She leaned closer to him, a scowl etched across her face. She looked at him with disgust, her body tensing as she approached him.

He watched her with calm eyes as a silly grin plastered his face. Her eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. His head kept ringing until he could feel the pounding in his ears. His eyes rolled back, his breathing increased.

The last thing he saw was her face, her beautiful angelic face, before he fainted.

When Rosalie saw him, she grimaced.

He had been slaughtered badly. His knees were both scraped, he had a broken leg, and his head was bleeding uncontrollably. It made her feel alive, feel… instinctive.

Before all this, she had been killing off her ex- fiancée and his disciples. They deserved it; after all, they destroyed her first. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, it was only fair game.

So, after torturing and murdering her pathetic ex-beau, she was running back home, feeling somewhat satisfied. She had been leaping through the forest and enjoying the gush of wind against her face when she smelled something sweet, something sticky, something like… blood, freshly spilled human blood.

And on cue, she trailed after it. The scent became stronger and stronger, until she finally found the source - a recently mauled man.

She could have just turned back, ignoring his dripping blood and alluring scent. Heck, she could have killed him too. But Carlisle's face flashed through her head, his face of disappointment. So, she crept closer, not wanting him to see her. She was about a good three feet away when she stepped on that damn branch - it instantly snapped. She hissed, watching him suddenly move at the sound.

She wanted to turn around and leave. But his eyes eventually found hers and he did something surprising - he smiled.

This severely wounded man that was on the verge of dying just smiled at her, as if he was feeling well and or having the best day of his life. If she could breath, her breath would be stuck in her throat right now.

How long had it been since someone looked at her like that- with genuine happiness? It suddenly made her feel very empty and frozen; she didn't know what to do.

His eyes slowly closed as his grin slipped off his face - he had fainted within the mere seconds of her arrival.

Now, he was better off as a dead man. But, part of her felt complied to do something. She couldn't just leave this man here to die in the woods, she wasn't that heartless. Yet, when she came closer to his body, his scent attacked her. She craved nothing more than to slam her teeth into his neck and suck out all of his blood.

… And then Carlisle's face popped into her head again. She frowned. What would he have done?

"Miss, stay calm. I've saved you…"

She shook her head at the memory - she knew exactly what he would do. He would save this man's life by changing him into a monster, a demon. It made her want to scream.

She couldn't just plunge her teeth into him and do some vampire magic to switch him - she wouldn't. Plus, what if she couldn't stop? What is she just sucked him dry?

"Rosalie, I'm always here for you. Don't be afraid to ask for help in times of need. "

Her mouth was set in a straight line. She knew exactly what she had to do. Forcing her predatory impulses aside, she leaned down to the man and picked him up - carrying him piggy back style. Taking a deep breath (if she could), she ran.

She leaped across trees and rocks, using all her strength to save him. Why? She didn't exactly know, but the way he looked at her with such peace and subtleness, she wanted to do nothing than stare into his vivid eyes. Too bad he had collapsed so quickly.

It made her almost want to laugh, what would he do after waking up? He had no choice left; she was making it for him - like Carlisle had done for her.

Her arms felt like collapsing while his blood was dripping her on silky white dress. White was being stained by red. Her eyes hardened, her mouth twitched. She couldn't give into her instincts yet, she just couldn't.

"Rosalie, I'm sorry… I didn't know that you would come to hate this second life. Please, forgive me."

She screamed and began to run even faster. She could feel his warmth, his heartbeat, his flesh right on top of her. And she would take it all away, as if it meant nothing.

Her brain was filled with his scent as her throat became tighter and tighter. This made her run even faster.

She couldn't save him. She wouldn't save him.

She'd just take it all away.

When he woke up, he had never felt so thirsty in his life. He craved something, anything. He hissed.

"Here, drink this,"

He turned his head and suddenly felt like melting. There she was, his angel. He had remembered her face so clearly that it shocked him to see her there, right in front of him.

Not even glancing down at the drink, he grabbed it and poured whatever liquid she had offered him into his mouth. He was staring at her the whole time.

A sweet and sticky substance slid down his throat and he suddenly felt alive. But, he had finished drinking all of it and quickly wanted more, much more.

He looked at his angel, confused. She was frowning; her lovely white dress was stained with dirt and blood. Surprisingly, the sight of blood made him want to lunge. But he couldn't, he would hurt her.

She had been there to take him away and now he was still very much alive. He wondered if he was in heaven because he couldn't feel his heartbeat.

"I'm glad to see you're awake," a tall, blonde haired man said, "I'm Carlisle. Don't worry, everything is fine - we've just changed you, that's all."

"Changed me?" he questioned.

"Yes sir, you're uh… a vampire now,"

His eyes automatically met hers. She looked away. The only thing he could stare at was her extremely pale skin.

He smiled.

"Thanks."

Author's Note:

Well, how was it? Haha, this is actually my first Twilight fic, ever, so please be nice while reviewing. :]

Um, I hope the grammar was ok - grammar is… not my forte.

Oh, and as for the details of Emmett's past, I found facts about him online so none of this was 'made up'. I just used the details Stephanie Meyer had provided and twisted them to fit the story ~

This is a drabble (involving colors) so I just wanted to make it clear that there's no exact 'plot'. Either way, thanks for reading and remember to review!