Disclaimer – Original characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, plot lines and characterisations all belong to Aurora18, copyright November 2015.

Wow! Thank you so much for the reviews and positive feedback, it's much appreciated and really spurs on the writing, I want to get a 1000 word ish chapter out every few days. Short and sweet ;)

And now, we continue…

Chapter 2

BPOV

I start to feel just how cold it is on this autumn, but nearly winter, morning as I walk the two minutes back to my apartment from the end of my running route. I'm covered in a light sheen of sweat despite the cold temperature and my relatively thin running gear, five miles in less than forty minutes is my daily goal. This gives me a sense of control and purpose in the morning and also helps me to not linger too long on the fact that laying alone in my big bed will only serve to remind me of the fact that I am exactly that, all alone.

The city is waking up, people are walking to work, I wager some people are even just coming home at this time and then there are the stragglers of exercise fanatics like myself rushing home to turn around and look somewhat presentable in time for work.

My route home, as it has every day this week, takes me past the homeless man again. I usually stop to buy people food on the way home, not everyday but most of the time, sure. There is so much waste in this city it disgusts me. These people look starved and cold and whilst I can't warm them all up and give them a hot meal, and even if they sell it in exchange for something else, caring for someone else feels…good. So good in fact that I have to check myself lest these little tendencies of mine become too obvious and I'm scrutinised for them.

Like the way he used to tell me I was too much, that I was suffocating, that he had no space, that he-

Stop, breathe.

It's not often I let those painful memories cloud over my thoughts but I must be less focussed this morning than usual. My eyes drift back to the homeless man and while he's arguably a lot better fed that twelve hours ago; I made sure to wait to see if he inhaled those sandwiches - which he did – he looks so cold. He's clearly asleep but I can see his teeth chattering and his jaw clenched, I'm only just warm enough because I've been running – I can't imagine how he must feel.

I spend a few minutes rifling through my attic when I get back and find the pile I was looking for. I haven't looked at these in so many years and I push the emotion that they trigger straight back down before I become overwhelmed.

Get a grip, Isabella.

Gritting my teeth and slipping my feet into my pumps I'm out the door only a few minutes later than usual. Getting ready in the morning never takes all that long, and I'm usually able to sit down to a bowl of cereal of grab a slice of toast before I get in to work

I pass him, drop the bag on his side facing away from the sidewalk and stride away without looking behind me. This is my indulgence for the day, what I have given this man will look after him and keep him warm. This way I can pretend I actually have someone in my life for whom I can do exactly that.

EPOV

Usually I'm just cold when I wake up but today I'm completely thrown.

One: - it's pretty light, usually I'm awake before anyone is even going to work and now it looks like the whole city is alive.

Two: - having missed the morning commuters means I've missed my opportunity for both money and fodder for making up more stories about them. Crap.

Three: - there's a bag next to my head hidden out of view that definitely wasn't there when I went to sleep.

Also, even before I was homeless I was lucky to get more than half a dozen hours sleep per night but now it looks like I've slept for half a day. I'm certainly not missing the empty feeling of hunger in my stomach in the morning either, seems like being well fed agrees with me. If only the angry beauty would stick around then I'd have a great night sleep all the time.

I can't put off looking in the mystery bag any longer so I make sure no-one else is waiting to come up behind me to steal something, which happened three days ago, and take a cautious peek to see what's inside.

I don't think I've ever been so happy to see clothing before, especially since these look like thick ass sweaters and thermal leggings. I figure the leggings are men's because they'd be way too long on the average woman but I still feel a little effeminate even considering putting them on. Then the rational side of my brain kicks me in the balls for questioning a source of potential warmth.

The sweaters are almost new though, they barely look like they've been worn. Hell most of the stuff I used to buy never looked this good when I first bought it.

It isn't until later that I give some thought as to who the mystery donor might be, honestly I'm far too enamoured with the almost forgotten feeling of being warm that I decide; who the fuck cares?! I've got sweaters and I couldn't give a rat's ass if they were pink and fluffy, well – I kinda might, but I am freaking toasty on this October day and it's the best feeling in the world.

Of course the fact that I probably look like the Michelin man with three sweaters on and a parka doesn't bother me, I don't think I stand much chance with any of the women in this city anyway being homeless.

I've just moved three blocks over to outside a café, a pretty good spot for catching change from passers by, when I see her. She's dressed in black and wearing her favourite scowl as always but she's with another woman – something I haven't seen before.

I try not to listen, well that's a lie, I try not to appear like I'm listening but figure that no-one's watching me anyway so it really doesn't matter.

"I said I was sorry Rose, what more do you want?"

"A little humanity Isabella, or maybe just a way of showing that you're not a fucking autobot who forgets their goddaughters birthday – but oh wait, you did."

"I sent a card ok, and the gift is at home I just forgot to put it in the mail."

"Well you could have made some time to stop thinking about yourself and drive over to ours to drop it off. Did you ever think about that? Sophie was so upset that you didn't get her anything."

"No, Sophie is a good, well mannered child. Considering she is yours we'll consider that something of a miracle. You're the one that's upset because you're used to only having you and your family to deal with but news flash Rosalie, some of us go to work for a living, work more than a hundred hours a week and don't bleed their inheritance dry to avoid actual work."

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that?!" Part of me was hoping the exchange would go on for longer because it was fucking entertaining, the other part of me wanted to slap the blonde bitch for being so fucking insensitive. As it happened she left with a huff and barrelled several pedestrians out of her way as she manoeuvred her huge shopping bags around with her.

The dark beauty stood there with her fur lined coat protecting her against the harshly cold air and her right hand gripped in a fist at her side.

"Rough day?" At the sound of my voice her head whipped around, stared at me and what I was wearing for a second, grit her teeth with her brow furrowed and continued walking down the street, presumably back to her office and life that by the looks of things, really doesn't make her happy.

Happy Saturday night you beautiful people!

Leave me some love, I will get back to all of these pretty soon but would love to hear what you think, there will be a lot more dialogue soon.

-Aurora