Hey everyone. This is my first Wizards of Waverly Place fanfic. I've written many others under a different name but I'm not going to tell you what it is so that you have no prejudgments before reading this story. I really hope you enjoy it and please give me any ideas!!
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to this show. Except for maybe a life-size cut out of David Henrie. (Just kidding...or am I?)
The Heart That Shines
Prologue
"Unrequited love, forbidden love, true love: all things I experienced the summer before I left for college. While I was nursing a broken heart my first semester at NYU, I would not have given up those three months for anything," the young author read from the prologue of his manuscript to the crowd of fans standing before him. He looked out at the audience and closed his book, smiling, "Thank you."
He stepped off the stage and a burly man took his place behind the podium, "Please give a round of applause to Mr. Russo." When the clapping died down the man spoke again, "He is very grateful for the wonderful fans that turned out today to hear this reading of his new book, The Heart That Shines. He will be available to the public for book-signing and questions at the table in the back and then available for the press in about an hour. On behalf of the Three Winds Bookstore, I thank you all."
The novelist took his seat behind a small wooden table and prepared himself for the impending meet-and-greet. After Mr. York, the owner of the Three Winds Bookstore, finished his speech, there was a loud rustling as people rushed to get in line to meet the ingenious writer.
"Hi," the first girl in line said, "I'm Amanda. I love your book. I've already read it three times."
He smiled up at her as she handed him her copy of his book and he wrote inside the front cover 'To Amanda, Thank you so much for being such a devoted fan. It's people like you that inspire me to keep writing. Love-'
He didn't get a chance to write his name before Amanda ripped the book from his hands, "Ohmigod! He wrote 'love'!"
The next person in line was a teenage boy with wire-rimmed glasses. He held out the book wordlessly. The writer quickly signed his name in the book and handed it back.
Next was a woman much older than himself who smiled down at him adoringly, "Oh, Mr. Russo, you're book was just a thrill to read. The young love between a brother and sister was just riveting. Especially the part about them being wizards! I just loved it. I've recommended it for my book club to read next month."
"Thank you," he said as he wrote a few words inside her book then signed his name.
She grinned at him flirtatiously as he handed the book back, "I sure hope no part of that romance is true."
He just replied with a polite smile. If only she knew how wrong she was. He realized that her interest in the validity of the story had nothing to do with the legal or moral aspects, but more that he was available.
The next hour was filled with generally the same type of fans: love-struck high school and college girls, shy boys, and overly adoring women.
When it was finally time for his press conference and interviews, he was almost relieved. Almost. Press conferences were the worst. He stood in front of a crowded room while over-excited journalists shouted questions at him.
"Now," Mr. York said, "I introduce Mr. Russo, the talented young author who has wow-ed this city's literary world with his story of a taboo love that readers can't help but root for."
Another thing about the press that he hated was that they never applauded or welcomed him to the stage or gave him a chance to thank whatever establishment that was hosting him. They just started barraging him with questions the moment his was in eyesight.
He pointed to one reporter and the rest settled down to here the question and answer, "Fred Kutcher from the Chicago Times. Mr. Russo, in your book the two main characters, Caleb and Sam, are brother and sister who have a secret love. Does this mean you support incest relationship?"
He laughed, "No. That was just the dilemma I had chosen for this couple in this story. My next book may be about a man and a woman who are madly in love but both married to other people." Lying and twisting tales to hide the true nature of his story had become second nature.
The men and women in front of him began screaming again until he pointed at someone else, "Sally DeJolie from the Sterling Gazette. Mr. Russo, are any of the characters in your book, specifically Sam and Caleb, based off of anyone in your own life?"
"No," he replied, a rehearsed answer, "They are just figments of my imagination."
Next was a man from some literary magazine, "Mr. Russo, it has already been established that the characters are entirely original. Does that mean the story is entirely fictional as well?"
His breath caught in his throat for a moment, "Yes that is true. No part of this story has any truth behind it. Except, of course, that broken hearts hurt like hell."
The congregation laughed at that but soon continued shouting.
"Mr. Russo, have you ever been in such a deep love like the characters in your story?"
"Not with my sister, but yes. In fact, my wedding is scheduled for two weeks from this Friday." He knew that as soon as that information was printed, more than half of his fan-base would be displeased. After all, he was a very attractive man in his mid-twenties who had already had his book on the New York Times best sellers list five months in a row and many offers to turn his original story into a feature film.
"When you first started this story, did you plan to have it end so terribly?"
He had to think about that one, "If it had been my choice, it would have ended much differently."
No one knew what to make of that.
He continued, "I-I mean, before I sat down in front of my computer to start writing this book, I already had the entire storyline in my head: brother and sister in a magic family would fall in love, terrible things would happen, and they would not end up together, but when it came time for me to actually write the ending, I couldn't bare breaking the hearts of these two characters I had grown to love so much. In the end, though, I decided it was best to just stick with my original idea." Nice save, he thought to himself.
"Where did you get the idea to make the Jenkins a magical family?"
He laughed and responded with another rehearsed answer, "I had been watching a marathon of Charmed re-runs when I first started formulating this idea."
The rest of the press conference continued with questions he had prepared himself to answer with responses that would not give away the truth of the story, both the magic parts and the relationship parts.
Afterwards he had interviews with different journalists who had special deals with Three Winds Bookstore for exclusive meetings with the artists they presented. The questions about the book were pretty basic, much like the questions asked during the conference. The harder ones were about his personal life. Answers to inquiries like those were much more difficult to give with a straight face.
"So tell me about your wife-to-be, Mr. Russo."
"Oh," he said. These questions were easy to answer. There was nothing to hide about his fiancée, "Sophia is amazing. She's an artist. She owns her own gallery downtown."
"How did you meet?"
"I had gone into her gallery to find a present for my sister." At the sight of the journalist's eyebrows raising, he added, "No, not a sister I had a forbidden affair with when I was 18. Anyways, I went into the gallery to find a present for my sister and I was having a really hard time finding something perfect for her. Then, just when I thought I would never find anything, a beautiful blue-haired goddess, she'll like that I'm calling her a goddess, stepped out from behind a curtain.
"I swear my heart skipped multiple beats when I saw her. Now, I realize blue hair might not sound beautiful or sexy, but she totally pulled it off with flying colors. No pun intended. She asked me if I needed any help and when I told her what my problem was she led me right to a section full of big, gaudy jewelry. I don't know how she did it, but the goddess with blue hair knew exactly what my sister would like.
"I chose a pair of earrings and when I went to pay for them at the register, I realized I had no cash on me. At that time, a few years back, I was in some major debt and I was trying really hard not to use my credit cards. But I just had to get these earrings for my sister, so I decided what the hell? I'll use the credit card. Good thing I did, because I wouldn't have gotten a receipt if I had paid with cash and when I did have my receipt handed to me I realized that on the bottom of the slip of paper, the blue-haired beauty's phone number was written."
"What a heartwarming story," the journalist said, but he didn't really sound at all like his heart had been warmed, "Can you tell me more about this sister that you didn't have an affair with?" His words sounded like he was unconvinced.
"Yes, of course, her name is Alex. We grew up together with our other brother on Waverly Place. Although there is a two year age difference between us, it never really felt like we were that far apart."
The reporter rapped up his interview within in the next few minutes and before the author had a chance to breath he was approached by another journalist, "Hi, Sally DeJolie from the Sterling Gazette. I was the one who asked the question about characters being based off of anyone in your own life."
"Oh, yes, right," he said, remembering who she was, "Did you have more questions?"
"Yes, actually, I was wondering if you and I could discuss the origins of your characters."
"Of course, what would you like to know?" he asked, taking a seat and gesturing for Sally DeJolie to sit across from him.
She sat down and promptly began her questioning, "I believe that characters don't just come to authors out of thin air. Even if they aren't based off of one individual, maybe their traits are a combination of many important people in the author's life. Would you say that is true for you?"
He laughed, "I guess it could be a little true."
"Would you like to embellish on that?" De Jolie asked, obviously slightly annoyed.
He opened his mouth to answer but something he spotted over DeJolie's shoulder stopped him. He regained his composure and turned to look at the reporter, "Could you excuse me for a moment?"
She didn't have a chance to protest before he stood and made his way across the room where he stopped behind a tall brunette with her back to him. He gently tapped the woman's shoulder and she turned around with a start but then smiled as she recognized him. She pulled him into a hug and whispered, "I missed you."
As they pulled away he looked at her and said, "I missed you too, Alex."
Five minutes later they were stepping away from the bookstore's coffee bar, each nursing their drinks of choice. "I read your book," Alex said.
He nodded, "What did you think?"
"I thought it was fantastic. You really have talent. Your words, the story, everything. I felt like I was there."
He chuckled, "You were there, Alex."
"Well, yeah," she shrugged, "But now I'm observing my own story as a third party. It's…enlightening."
"I thought you would be mad," he said sheepishly.
She smiled a bit, "Well, at first I thought that I would hate to see my story splayed out for all the world to read, and then when I read it for the first time it was a little difficult to get through."
"And now?" he asked, genuinely hoping to hear his sister's review. Ever since they had been children, he always cared about what she thought.
"I've read the book almost fifty times since I bought it the day it was released six months ago. I can't get enough of it. Every time I feel some different emotion: anger, remorse, hatred, sadness, so much pain."
"I'm sorry," he murmured
Alex shook her head, "No, don't be. You did what you had to do to cope with everything. I did what I had to do."
"I wish it wasn't so," he couldn't find the right word, "complicated. I wish it wasn't so hard for us all to remember."
"It's been ten years," she sighed, "And it's still hard to re-live that summer."
He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it as he recognized the distant look on her face: Alex had more to say.
She gave a wry laugh, "Is that really how everything that summer happened? You know, I think back on it and only remember the end. I don't really remember all the good stuff."
"Well, your heart was broken," he supplied, "So was –"
"I know," she cut him off, "I know. Everyone was hurt that summer."
"Alex," he took her hand reassuringly, "None of it was your fault."
She stood up outraged, "How can you possibly say that? If I hadn't instigated…if I hadn't pushed…God, it's all my fault."
He tried to calm her down but wasn't finding himself to be successful, "Maybe we should take this outside."
"No, no. I think I should just go. It was really great seeing you again."
"Yeah, it was Alex. We shouldn't wait so long next time. I've missed my favorite sister."
She smiled slightly and pulled him into a hug. Before she pulled away, he heard her whisper so quietly he almost didn't catch it, "I'm so proud of you, Max."