Hey everyone! I hope you all like this. I have it posted over at twcslibrary too and I wanted to see what you guys thought of it!

(Edward's POV)

Oh sweet notes of soft and heavenly bliss. How they danced and fluttered about my head. My constant companions always swimming through the vast planes of my mind. While everything else in life was an eventual dissapointment, my music never failed me. It was always there, urging me on. And through those notes of generous and sincer emotion, I spoke to others. I spoke from my heart, about things I knew and things I didn't understand. I spoke of my own life, my pain. People didn't know where my inspiration came from, and the fact was that I didn't want them to know where I pulled the music from. But I figured that as long as I touched someone else in some emotional or mental way with my music, I was satisfied.

I had been playing the piano since I was little. When I saw my grandfather playing when I was about 5, I knew then that all I would ever want to do would be to play the piano. I remembered watching his incredibly long fingers glide of the snow white ivory keys in a rythmic patter. It fascinated me to no end. I told him of my want to learn to play and he eagerly agreed to teach me all that he knew. We worked our way through the lessons together and he taught me everything he could.

By the time I was ten, I won a prize for being one of Chicago's youngest and most talented players. They told me I was a prodigy and I was pretty damn proud of that fact. Then when I was 15, I was the winner of an Illinois state youth musical championship. I went on from there and got a full ride through Juliard. I graduated as the most inspirational and most promising musician of my class. I was immediately offered a job to teach at Juliard, I happily agreed to a part time position. My family had been so proud of me. I was known nation wide as the next Mozart, I took the title with pride. It was a high position to live up too. I played for Broadway, the Phil Harmonic, I even directed my own raphsody back home at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Everything was going wonderfully, until my family was struck by tradgedy.

I was 22 when my grandparents were in a car accident. My grandma died a week after the accident, it tore my grandpa up. He never touched a piano or listened to music again. My parents urged him to come live with us in Chicago, he refused saying that he wasn't going to let go of his wifes memory by moving from their house they lived in their whole married lives. When he was diagnosed with dimensia, Carlisle, my father, wanted to make him move so that we could take care of him. My dad was a very prestigious doctor in Illinois and would have been able to easily care for him. My grandpa just couldn't let go of his memories though. I decided I would move and stay with him at his house in Seattle. He was happy that he wasn't being pulled from his home. I wondered how long he would remember the memories of the house though. And slowly but surely, they started to slip away from him.

What hurt the most though was when he started to forget who we were. He didn't know that Carlisle was his son, he didn't remember Emmett or Alice anymore either. He completely forgot Esme, the only people he remembered was his dead wife and me. But then the day came where he forgot me too. I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw me in the morning. He looked so scared.

"What do you want? I don't have anything!" He cried helplessly. I was confused and sad.

"Grandpa... its me... Edward." I tried to tell him as I started to walk forward. He got scared and ran away from me. That was the day that we decided to put him into a home. People would be able to take much better care of him in a secure and inclosed invironment, as much as I hated it, it was for his own good. I still visited him every chance I got. He thought I was his piano instructor most of the time.

"This seems so familiar to me." He said to me one day as we played the first piece he ever taught me together.

"Its because you taught it to me grandpa..." He looked so helpless. Some days it would come back to him who I was and he'd ask how the family was but more often then not, he only knew me as Mr. Cullen, volunteer piano teacher from the Seattle Symphony Orchestra.

I had taken a job at the Seattle Symphony Orchetra when I moved here. It was a great job, it paid well and had good benefits. I was happy with it. I also helped coach vocal lessons at Benaroya Hall.

I spent six days a week there, helping anyway that I could in any musical department when I wasn't playing the piano or with my grandpa.

In all honesty, the vocal lessons usually bored me to death, it was the same people time and time again, usually girls too. Girls who couldn't keep their hands to themselves or act professionally. It wa irksome when I tried to instruct them and play the piano at the same time when all they wanted to do was seduce me. Sure some of them were fucking gorgeous and looked like they could handle themselves, I kept my work relationships separet from personal relationships (which I didn't have time for.) I do admit thought that, in my heart, my music wasn't enough. And like every great writer or composer, they had the greateset of love to inspire them. And my heart longed for that overpowering passion with someone. Physically and emotionally, I wanted it.

And while the vocal lessons were slightly painful for me, I was happy I did them. If I wasn't being a vocal coach, I would never have met her. The girl that awoke a fire in the pit of my stomach when she walked into a room. The up and rising professional singer, Isabella Swan.

There is the first chapter! Hope you all liked it. Review friends!