A/N: Welcome everyone to my newest writing adventure! I hope you all fall in love with my versions of these characters, just as I have. A few things: the song in this chapter is the ever wonderful Lana Del Rey's 24 - I'd recommend giving it a listen. Also, I have drawn inspiration for this plot from Chandler1200's EverClear, a fanfic I most definitely recommend you read! (I have borrowed the basic idea but not the plot or the characters so there won't be any spoilers for my story.) Finally, I don't own the music used or the Twilight universe and will be gaining no money from it. That all said, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think I did well and what I could improve on. :)

Momentary Relapse Chapter One: Remind Me Why We're Here Again?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*BPOV*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The flowers danced and the wind rustled through the trees, as we lay there, hands entwined through the grass, the sun warming our faces. We didn't talk, we didn't move – aside from our chests rising and falling as we breathed in unison. It was these moments, the small, simple, silent ones that were the most meaningful, the most deeply passionate. A small smile danced on my lips, one that I knew without looking also crossed his face, except his would be crooked. And I turned towards the sparkling angel lying beside me in the dirt and the grass, tracing the features of his face with my eyes – the ruffled bronze hair, the piercing eyes, the perfectly straight nose, and that gentle, crooked smile –

The bus screeched to a stop and I bolted upright.

"Wake the fuck up, sleeping beauty!" Michael laughed, "We're here, so bundle up, princess!"

Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I raised my head and glanced out the window to see a world of white. The snow lay heavily, blanketing the ground. Hell, even the buildings were white. The sign for the Fairbanks Princess Riverside Lodge graced my eyes and I realized that tonight I was going to get to sleep in a proper bed for once. We'd been on tour 6 weeks already and it was getting exhausting – we'd started in New York, then worked our way through Canada to Alaska. Two gigs in Fairbanks and then 6 more weeks of travel, working our way to Florida and then home to Seattle. And when we weren't playing a gig in a town, we got no hotel and no bed (aside from the one at the back of the bus that Michael usually stole) meaning uncomfortable sleep in our seats and constant fast food. We'd been driving two days straight since our last gig and the thought of a bed and some personal space was enough to get me up and swiftly moving out of the bus.

But the second I stepped outside, the wind hit and I remembered why I was dreading coming here… who the fuck goes to Alaska in January?

"Bands who need gigs to keep the lights on?" Michael quipped sarcastically at my side – apparently, I'd spoken out loud.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go guys – I'm in desperate need of a strong, hot drink and our shit won't unload itself!" I led the charge, grabbing my duffle bag as the guys all grabbed their bags and the gear that they wanted overnight. As we shuffled into the quaint though large hotel, Emma began passing out room keys, having somehow slipped inside without me noticing… not that I was going to complain about not having to deal with the annoyance of checking in. We packed into the elevators, headed up to the fourth floor and split.

The second I was in my room, I threw the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door and locked it, relieved to finally have a waking moment to myself. Throwing my bag on the desk, I grabbed one of the tiny bottles of whiskey out of the minifridge, and turned on the kettle they had graciously added to my room. I flopped gracelessly onto the bed and flicked through the TV channels, settling on TMZ, volume turned low. The kettle clicked off and I quickly poured the boiling water over my teabag, letting it steep for a moment before pouring in a generous helping of the whiskey. Their whiskey was shit and so was their Earl Grey but it was too warm and comforting for me to truly complain as I relished the peaceful moment.

Unfortunately, as with all peaceful moments it was bound to be disturbed. My tea was almost finished when the photo flashed across the screen. It was me. It was me. Why the fuck was I on TMZ? How the fuck was I on TMZ?! I wasn't even on our album cover! Momentary Relapse was gaining traction, but we weren't famous by any means, we weren't even well known! The mug slipped out of my hand, splashing the remainder of its contents on the bedspread but I didn't care. I slammed pause on the remote and ran out the door. Banging on the doors that I guessed the others were behind, I ran down the hall, stopping at Emma's door.

"Emma! EMMA! Open the goddam door! You won't believe what –" The door opening stopped my banging.

"Chill the fuck out, girl. What's wrong?" Emma's face was creased with worry.

Without hesitation, I pushed my way into the room, quickly turning her TV to the right channel just in time to see the end of their heated discussion about Momentary Relapse's upcoming performance. Unsurprisingly, the whole band had followed me into Emma's room and the group had absolutely packed the tiny room… yet despite all the people, you could have heard a pin drop in that room – well for about ten seconds, then all hell broke loose.

Above the noise, I heard two voices. Michael, by far the loudest, pushed his way to me, and grabbed me in what must have been the world's biggest bear hug, lifting me off the ground in the process.

"We did it, baby girl. We fucking did it!"

To my right, Emma dropped to the floor, her mouth hanging open. She just kept repeating, quietly: "How? Why? What? How? Why? What? How? Why? What?"

And then came the knock on the door, and hotel security politely shushed us and ushered us all back to our rooms. And still, we were all stunned. Somehow, our band, born out of mutual depression and one too many drinks had gone national overnight for something as trivial as our wardrobe.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*EPOV*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It had been six years. Six years since I gave up my love, my life. Six years I'd spent feeling depressed, tired, and alone. In these moments, I cursed my immortality – what I wouldn't give for just one night's sleep, one night's reprieve. Music was my only solace, though I didn't play anymore. I couldn't bear the thought of playing or of composing without her by my side as she had once been. But listening? Listening to music was pretty much all I ever did anymore aside from the occasional and necessary hunts – and even those I had to be dragged on.

There's only 24 hours in a day
And half as many ways for you to lie to me, my little love
There's only 24 hours in a day
And half of those, you lay awake
With thoughts of murder and carnage

The simple orchestration and clear, perfect voice rang out through my room, reminding me of what I'd done. It was as if this song were written just for me – so many of Momentary Relapse's songs were. For once, despite my depression I was feeling mildly excited. Alice had gotten me tickets to go and see them perform tomorrow – the whole family was going, though to be honest I'm not sure why. Either way, the prospect of getting to see the people who had written songs that spoke so much to me perform was the best thing that had happened to me in these six long years.

There's only 24 hours
And that's not enough
To lie like you lie or
Love like you love

Give me your heat
Give me your diamonds
You hit that street
And my crooked lust
You count to three
While they're all dying
You're hard to reach
You're cold to touch