DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight or anything associated with the saga.

Here. Have a filler, because I want you to.


Chapter Three

"The scars of your love, they leave me breathless, I can't help feeling - WE COULD OF HAD IT ALL! ROLLING IN THE DEEEEEEEP! YOU HAD MY HEART INSIDE YOUR HAND AND YOU PLAYED IT TO THE -"

"Excuse me? Would you mind not making my ears want to shrivel up into my skull?"

The man - a boy, more realistically - drops the duster in his hand and flips around to stare at me with wide, shocked eyes. It's comical, the way his mouth flounders up and down, and I have to laugh because honestly, it's the funniest thing I've seen… and heard… all day. And it's been a really fucking long day.

"Getting ready for this year's American Idol, then?" I ask, strolling over to the leather love-seat and dropping my minimal baggage there. I wonder why I'm not telling him in that cold voice of Aro's that I'm so good at to get the fuck out of my new penthouse, but I decide it's been far too long since I've had a normal conversation with someone I didn't want to either kill or fuck. The thought makes me snort.

Jesus. I really am fucked up.

"Oh sweet peanuts," he says, placing a hand over his heart. "You scared the bejesus out of me."

I appraise him from my position by the little cluster of couches and armchairs that make a semi-circle around a grand fireplace. He's tan skinned and on the small side, with shortly cropped, black hair and dark eyes. He fidgets slightly under my gaze and leans down to pick up the bright green duster.

"Uh, I'm Seth," he says as he straightens. "Nice to meet you?"

"Why are you in my home?" I paused, glancing at his feet. He was surrounded by an army of cleaning supplies.

"Oh, right. I'm your cleaning lady, minus the lady bit. At your service, sir! Except for, you know, the whole seducing the sexy maid part, because although I may be sexy, I'm really not into that kind of-"

"Jesus, I get the point, kid." I say, and because he's the first person I've warmed up to in a long, long time, I offer him a crooked smile. He grins toothily back at me and looks around the room.

"My dad's the head janitor of this apartment complex," he explains, his hands on his hips. "And this is kind of my summer job."

"It's January," I say pointedly, glancing out of the large windows, looking at the sleet of rain crashing down on the city.

"Yeah, I know," he says sadly, following my gaze outside. "It was just supposed to be my summer job. Two summers ago." He shrugs and runs the duster along the edge of the coffee table absently. "It's been kind of rough at home, so I've had to push college back and help my dad and sister out. But, you know how it is." He laughs. "Family first, priorities after, huh?"

I don't know how it is. Maybe I did, once, but not anymore. Not since I realized Aro was nothing like my father.

I wonder why the kid - Seth - is telling me all this. Is he always this trusting? This open? Trust will get you killed, in the world where I've been living for the past fourteen years. Then I realize I'm not in that world anymore. I won't be for a while - if I do my job. And suddenly, the sky doesn't look so grey.

"I'm Anthony," I say, because for now, I am. Seth nods. I wonder how much he knows about me. I wonder how much Aro knows about him. I sink into the largest of the armchairs. "So, is there is shortage in Seattle of French maids or did you volunteer yourself for the job?"

"Ha!" He rolls his eyes and throws the duster into the bucket of other cleaning supplies that I've never had to lay a hand on before in my life. "My dad volunteered me, thank you very much. Apparently the more expensive bookshelf you're dusting, the better the pay." He tosses a lopsided grin in my direction and plops himself down on one of the couches.

I know he's way out of line to be sitting down on the job, let alone when I'm in the room, but there's something about this kid that I like so I don't boot him through the door and fire his ass to a crisp and instead prop one leg over the other and watch as he slumps and spreads his legs wide, sitting in a way I haven't been allowed to in a long, long time.

I miss it; sitting like a boy, acting like a boy. Not like the nephew of a more prestigious version of a mob boss.

"You're different."

I look up at him, having been lost in my thoughts, and frown.

"Excuse me?"

He lets his arms spread across the back of the couch and he cocks his head at me.

"Well, most people would have fired me by now. But you haven't."

I laugh humorlessly.

"Are you trying to get yourself fired?"

He shakes his head earnestly, his eyes wide.

"No, not at all. Only now, thinking about it, everything you've seen me do, heard me say, since you walked through the door should have made you want to get rid of me, ASAP." He pauses, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I guess I just can't help it. I'm like some freak of nature that needs to be friends with every person who crosses its path. The Friendimisser. The Friendanator. The Friend-"

"Yes, I got the point the first time." I say, before he can launch himself into trying to think of a name for his friendly nature. "And I'm not going to fire you." I don't offer him a reason why. I'm guessing it would sound stupid if I told him he is already the closet thing I've had for a friend in a long time and I've known him for less than twenty minutes.

Dear Lord, I'm fucking pathetic.

He nods and yet another grin cracks across his face.

"I can wear the dress that the French maid I'm replacing left, if that'll make you feel any better."

For the first time in fourteen years, I guffaw.

Okay. There's must be something in the rain that seeps through your clothes and into your skin and makes you fucking crazy because nothing else explains why I feel so goddam… easy.

It's easy to talk with Seth. It's easy to laugh with him.

There's no reason I can't a few friends this year, right? Besides, if I wanted Isabella to trust me, it'd probably be better if I don't give off the vibe of being a friendless man who holes himself up in his apartment when he's not doing something with her.

Best if I appear normal, even though I'm really fucking not.

"Hey, Anthony?" Anthony? Anthony... Oh, right. I glance up at him. He's got his phone out. "Wanna go out for a drink? You're new to this town, right? I could introduce you to some of my friends."

I snort. "Christ, are you even old enough to go to a bar?"

Seth rolls his eyes and types a reply on his phone. "Yeah, I turned twenty-one a few months ago."

"Bullshit."

"Really, I did!" He whips out his wallet and tosses a little card at me. I catch it between my pointer and middle finger. My reflexes have been perfected over the years. When you're a part time hitman for a man like my uncle, they have to be.

Seth doesn't even look impressed. He just nods eagerly at the ID and I look down at it.

"Seems legit, yeah?" He says, getting up from the couch and gathering his cleaning supplies. I nod, holding it out to him. He snatches it and looks at me with a smug twinkle in his eye.

"That's because it is, you old fart."

I wonder if I should pin him to the ground for insulting me. But really, it wasn't an insult. Not coming from him. No, it was more of an endearment, as strange as I find that.

I guess I won't break his arm. This time.

"Do you always speak to your superiors that way?"

He laughs and stops at the door.

"Hey, man, you're just the dude who owns the stuff I clean. You should be thanking me."

"I believe that's called a paycheck."

He chuckles.

"You're right. Let me try again." He clears his throat and speaks in a haughtily manner, as if he's a slowly decaying butler. "Master Anthony…"

"Cullen," I reply after a moment.

"Master Anthony Cullen," he begins again, smiling widely. "Would you like to accompany me and my chums this lovely, rainy evening for a drink or six at the bar down the road? Or would you like to stay here and think about your freak of a cleaning lady and be alone for the first night of what I assume will be many in this beautiful city of Seattle?"

And because for whatever odd reason I like this kid, and because I was to start this new, short life of mine off right, I rise slowly, loosen my tie, grab my coat, slinging it over my shoulder and walking to the door, leaving my new home unexplored, and follow my first almost-friend for the first time in fourteen years out.


Questions, problems, concerns? Just drop me a note and I'll be happy to answer them for you.