Johnathan White sighed heavily as raindrops began to hit the windshield of his black 1969 Mustang Eleanor. He inherited the car from his mother. When she was still alive, John's mother would let him drive it only occasionally, but now...well now the car was officially his. The rain progressively grew heavier as he continued toward his destination, which was an indication that he was getting closer. Johnathan didn't really want to move to La Push, Washington, but, given his current situation, he really didn't have much of a choice.

John's only living relative was Jason White, a full-blooded Quileute Native, and Johnathan's father. John didn't know much about his father, since his mother divorced him when John was very little, and moved John away to a small town in Southern Oregon called Gold Hill. Of course John's mother, Alexis, told him all about his Quileute heritage, which had always intrigued John-he especially loved the legends about the wolves. John once asked his mother why she left his father, and he didn't exactly like the answer. Jason White was a violent drunk, and he used to beat Alexis pretty badly. So, in fear of not only her life, but the life of her son, she decided to leave. Knowing this information has made John hate his father that he never knew, and is why he was dreading staying with him now.

"Just one year," John said to himself. "Just one year and I can leave." John was seventeen, which meant that he only legally had to live with Jason for one year. He assumed that the man was just as unhappy about the situation as he was, so hopefully they could keep to themselves, and this next year wouldn't have to be so bad.

It was half past midnight by the time John arrived at the address that his mother had written for him on a piece of paper before she died. Alexis died of cancer, and knew that her time was almost up, so she did everything she could to make sure that John would be okay after her death, including leaving him a large sum of money, though he couldn't access it until he turned 18.

The reservation was quiet, besides the rain pounding its way down to the earth. John shut off the engine of his car and sighed. Through his water-blurred windshield, John could see a square of light coming from the house he parked at. Every other house he had passed had been dark, since it was late and everyone was sleeping; apparently this was not the case for Jason White.

John grabbed two duffel bags out of the back seat of his car. The two bags contained all of his important belongings, while a few small boxes in the trunk had things that he wouldn't need immediately (such as books and knickknacks). After putting up the hood of his jacket, he stepped out of the car and quickly ran to the house. Once he got to the door, he hesitated. Should he knock, or just go right in? Jason was expecting him, but it would be rude to just enter the man's house, wouldn't it? John took a deep breath, and knocked on the door three times.

After only a moment, from inside the house John heard a gruff voice say, "Come in."

"Better get this over with..." John mumbled, then he turned the old brass doorknob and entered the small home. The house was much warmer than it was outside; the source of the heat was from the fireplace in the corner of the room. Directly across from the fireplace was an old, worn couch. To the right of the couch was a television, which was tuned into a random fishing show. To the left of the couch and across from the TV was a dark blue La-Z-Boy, and in the La-Z-Boy was a man.

The man in the chair was vaguely familiar to John, an aged version of an old memory. John never got to know his father very well, but he was a part of some of his earliest memories. Jason looked away from the television to look at his son. "You need a haircut." he said. Jason turned his attention back to the TV and took a few gulps from the beer in his hand.

John self consciously tugged on his hair, which was three or four inches past his shoulders in length. He couldn't remember a time when his hair was short, and he wasn't about to change that now. It actually kind of ticked him off that that would be the first thing his father would say to him, but he let it slide. He didn't want to start a fight already. "Um yeah, probably," he said, awkwardly, not knowing what else he could say. What do you say to a father that has had absolutely no part in your life?

"I made up a room for you. It's the one at the end of the hall. You should get some sleep. You had a long drive." Jason said, not looking away from the TV, and finishing off his beer.

"Yeah, okay, thanks." John said, turning away and heading down the hallway. Just as he got to the door at the end, he heard his father call back to him.

"You can do whatever you want tomorrow, but we're having dinner with an old friend of mine and his son around seven, so if you leave, make sure you're back."

"Sure. Goodnight." John entered the room, and shut the door behind him. The room was small, just barely big enough for the queen sized bed and a desk. There was a single window with a black blanket tacked over it as a makeshift curtain, and a small empty closet. John sighed as he set his bags down in the corner of the room, deciding that he could unpack later. He took off his shoes, shirt, and pants and flopped down on the creaky bed in his boxers. The bed wasn't very comfortable, but the blanket was soft, and the pillows were fluffy, so that evened it out a bit. It could always be worse.

After adjusting the blankets and pillows so that he was in a comfortable enough position to sleep, John closed his eyes and went to sleep.

So there's a little intro into this story. I promise that it will get much more interesting after this part, especially when I actually involve Twilight characters. I know a lot of you won't like this story simply because the OC is Male, and there will be homosexuality in this story. Hopefully some of you will give it a chance. Thanks for reading!