Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, because if I did, there prahhhbably would have been some sort of a steamy sex scene in it. Consider this story officially disclaimed.
A/N: Woo, me! It's not the story behind Trick or Treat, oops. This other idea grabbed me by the hair and demanded to be written - blame my stepdad for the reasoning behind it all.
For Kelly and Jay, because they are the epitome of awesome squared times amazing.
I couldn't do this.
I couldn't. Why had I come here? Running from everything wouldn't help me and damnit, I knew that.
Too bad I always seemed to run when the going got tough – too bad I wasn't tough enough to handle it.
While my inner debate raged on, the door I was standing in front of flew open with a bang, and I jumped at the loud noise. Standing at her full four feet and eleven inches was Alice Cullen, hands on her hips, smiling so hugely you'd think she won the fucking lottery or something.
"Edward!" she sang joyously, and her voice sounded like the tinkling of small bells. "I've been waiting for you!"
I sighed in exasperation, running a hand over my face tiredly. "I know, Ally." It was why I hadn't bothered calling to tell her I was coming – my cousin was psychic, the real deal, and I knew she'd See me arriving at her doorstep before I even started on the journey here. "It's good to see you again."
"Damn straight, it's good to see me again," Alice growled playfully, grabbing my two suitcases and hauling them through the doorway, ushering me in as well. "It's been far too long since I've seen you, you know. I kept Seeing you almost calling, but you never did. You should have called." Her glare faded by the end of her tiny speech, and concern leaked from her big blue eyes in waves.
I could only repeat my earlier statement – "I know, Ally" – and pull her into a monstrous hug, crushing her small frame to mine. She sighed and wrapped her arms around me, squeezing tightly. I knew it was her way of telling me she was here for me.
Alice pulled back after a few moments, wiping away tears that weren't there with the back of her hand. "So!" she chirped happily. "You'll be staying in the guest room on the right – you'll like that one better, trust me." She grinned infectiously at me, and I smiled back at her.
"I'm really glad to see you, Alice."
My eyes held the 'thank you' I couldn't say, and I knew she saw it.
"Edward! Edward, come down, please. Tanya's here!"
The young man grinned to himself and stayed where he was. Tanya was a leech, desperate to be the armcandy of the prettiest thing she could find, and he had no desire to see her, now or ever.
He knew his mother would understand. She always did.
"Edward!" His door opened slightly, and Elizabeth Masen poked her head in the room, concerned. She saw him laying on his bed, flipping through one of his recent favorites, Blood and Chocolate, and her green eyes grinned mischievously. "Oh, sweetie," she crooned, "are you not feeling well?"
"Not well at all, Mother," he said solemnly, eyes never leaving his book. "I don't think I can handle any visitors today." He finally looked up at his mother, smirking playfully.
She laughed softly, and he relished the sound; his mother's laugh was gold, the purest symphony. "I suppose I'll let Miss Tanya know that she'll be missing out on your company today, then. Feel better, son." With an exaggerated wink, she closed the door.
He laughed and returned to his book, shaking his head slightly.
He loved his mother.
"Come on, Edward," Alice pleaded. "You've been cooped up in this house forever. You need to get out, see the sights, enjoy life!"
I glared at her and she simply stared back at me, unimpressed. It had been three weeks since I showed up at Alice's, and I hadn't been able to muster up enough energy to at least make it look like I was making an effort.
"Just come with me to work today," Alice continued, ignoring my almost-silent huff of irritation. "You don't have to stay there, you can walk around, explore the city. It's a great place, if you just give it a chance."
I rolled my eyes; she wouldn't give up any time soon. "Alright, Alice, fine. Give me ten minutes to get ready."
Alice let out a tiny squeal – as if she didn't already know I'd concede to her – and bounced over to me, pecking me on the cheek before flying to the kitchen. "Thank you so much, Edward! I just know you'll have a good time. I know it."
I smiled, maybe a little ruefully, and headed to my room to change.
"Edward? Dinner's ready, honey." Liz opened the door to her son's room only to find him laying in his bed, sans book, with the covers pulled up to his chin. His eyes were half-closed, and she could see the sweat collecting on his forehead. "Oh, Edward," she cried, dashing to his side and placing her hand on his cheek, "what happened? You look terrible."
He managed a weak smile for his mother, but the next second found him coughing explosively, leaving no room to breathe. "I'm fine, Mother," he gasped once it was over, tears gathering in his eyes. "It's just a little bug – karma for ditching Tanya today."
Despite her worry, Liz laughed along with her son, though she noticed his laugh was hoarse and almost nonexistent. "Don't worry about dinner, Edward. Sleep for now; it'll do you some good. I'll bring some soup up for you later." She bent down to kiss his forehead, then secured the blankets around him and headed for the door.
"I love you, Mom." She turned back to look at him. His eyes were closed, but a sweet smile played at his lips.
"I love you too, honey. Sleep well."
Alice owned a psychic shop – surprise, surprise. I spent the morning looking around her shop alone, investigating the different books on fate and religion, looking over the elaborate pictures of fairies and toadstools, and sniffing out all the different fragrances of incense.
It was too much. I had to get the hell out.
Without mentioning anything to Alice – as if I needed to actually tell her – I bolted for the door, cringing at the clanging sound of bells when it opened, and relished in the sun shining down on me – in the time I'd been here, this was the first sunlight I'd experienced. I tilted my face toward the sun, soaking in as much of the heat as I could. When I started seeing white spots dance behind my eyelids, I looked down the street, away from the sun, to see if there was anything able to distract me from myself.
A nail salon, a tiny Mexican restaurant, a liquor store…
A small bookstore sat squished between a dance studio and a Starbucks, looking decidedly out of place. Before I knew what I was doing, my feet were taking me to the small store.
I loved books. Anything to help me escape from reality. They were a gift from God.
I crossed the street absentmindedly, ignoring the single car that had to slow down so it wouldn't run me over, and investigated the windows of the bookstore.
They were neat, sparkling clean, with books laid out neatly on mismatching cushions and in gaudy display cases. The rest of the store behind the window was filled with case upon case, row upon row of books, and was dimly lit – in one corner, I saw two very comfortable-looking loveseats, just waiting for some unsuspecting souls to be swallowed up in them.
The store appeared to be empty, but the lights were on, and the door – a heavy, old-fashioned thing – was unlocked, so I went right on in, eager to peruse the shelves for a familiar title.
There was no rhyme or reason to the shelves – books were packed pell-mell onto them, as if a child threw them randomly together. Pride and Prejudice sat next to Interview with a Vampire, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was resting on top of The Fountainhead. Despite the fact that I normally hated anything out of place, the shelves fascinated me as I tried to find any sort of order to the haphazardly-stacked books.
I spent more time in there than I had originally planned, caught up as I was in the variety of books in the tiny store. I was examining one shelf in particular, which hosted an entire collection of Shakespeare, including books on his life and interpretations of his plays, when I tripped over something in the aisle and grabbed onto the bookcase in an effort to keep from falling over, which resulted in half of Shakespeare's plays, including Macbeth and Julius Caesar, to slip casually off the shelf.
"Well, that was far more interesting than I thought it would be."
It was then that I realized that the something I had tripped over had, in fact, been a someone, and that someone was a girl who was peering up at me amusedly from behind glasses and messy bangs.
A/N: Ohbytheway, in case you couldn't tell... the third person POV? Yeah, they're memories. Flashbacks. Whatever.
Lemme know what you think. :]
-Kel
PS. In other good news, line breaks seem to agree with me again. :]