Chapter Seven

Vic lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He blinked twice, and then got up from the bed with a big sigh. He feels like he isn't doing anything with his life right now, and it's frustrating him so bad. He just wants to run and … do something. Anything, instead of just laying here.

You've always been good at drawing, while I do the charm. Mike had told him that.

Maybe he should head back to the window, just to try and rust up his skills. Vic walked towards the big window and drew open the curtains, revealing a night starry sky with twinkling lights. It was actually the first night without clouds and a bright moon. He readied his hands and frosted his fingers, then started to sketch.

As he drew the hair and jaw, he realized that the drawing looked vaguely familiar. And what made it look familiar was the jaw; it was Leah. He'd be embarrassed about having her on his window, drawn with frost, but it wasn't like nobody would see it, right? So he continued, perfecting things that were already perfect. He never did self -portraits of other people, but he pushed himself in this one.

Finally, he was standing in front of the window, with the moon illuminating the sketch. It looked like a glittery drawing as the moon reflected the small icicles. There was a small tug on the corner of his lips. Maybe he should make this a living.

He decided to not close the curtains, to just let the moonlight shine on the frost. He returned to his bed and grabbed his journal from inside the box. Occasionally looking at the portrait of Leah, he wrote down lyrics and sometimes guitar chords with it.

Stay young at the top of our lungs,
O
ur hands are free,
Our lives has just begun.

He stopped there, because he started writing on something else.

And I can't wait to see you again,
And your two faces are locked on mine,
Had the worst time chasing the thought away,
No hope

There was a knock on his door, and he looked up, "Come in."

Alice stepped in with a grin. She gave him a light wave, "What are you working on?" she asked as she came nearer.

He snorted softly, "I think you already know what I'm working on, Alice." He closed the journal and dropped the pen then looked at her.

"Doesn't mean I can't be a civilized person, now can I?" she smiled and crossed her arms. She was about to say something when something caught her eye. Vic got up swiftly and hastily closed the curtains, and he just stood there with his arms wrapped around himself. Mike would be laughing his ass off by now.

"I was … I was a little bit busy." He shrugged and looked at her, and then he sighed. "You already know what's behind the curtain, huh?"

She gave him a sweet smile, "It'll stay between us." She said. Alice looked at the door then at him, "You should come downstairs. We don't want you to stay here – in this room." She corrected her sentence.

"I don't want to intrude." Vic said.

Alice scoffed, "Intrude? If you're staying here, we need to at least get to know each other." She walked over to him and grabbed his hand. "C'mon."

He followed her – he really didn't have a choice – downstairs and into the living room. When he entered the place, he saw the whole Cullen family sitting and talking to each other. Renesmee had a glass of lemonade and she sat next to her parents. Carlisle and Esme sat next to each other, just like Rosalie and Emmett. Jasper was standing, grabbing Alice's hand as she neared him.

"Victor," Carlisle said. "So glad you could join us, have a seat."

"More like Alice made him," Emmett said loudly with a big grin.

Vic sat down on the fluffy carpet next to a loveseat that Renesmee was sitting on.

"Shut up Emmett," Alice stuck her tongue out playfully. "And don't bother, he feels comfortable where he's sitting at."

"Oh dude," Emmett leaned forward and clapped his hands together. "We're going to have so much fun telling you –"

"No." Edward deadpanned.

"But –"

"No, Emmett." Bella said.

He huffed, "You guys are no fun."

"I want to know." Vic spoke up. He shrugged, "I'll tell you some of mine and Mike's escapades." For the first time, he actually felt happy about remembering his times with his brother. He didn't feel as sad as he would have, he felt a little bit excited about telling them about the time when they dressed up as old men and then ran around like teenagers.

"See, he wants to know." Emmett protested. "It won't be good of us to act like mysterious creep-os with him."

"I'll start," Carlisle said.

"Everyone knows if Emmett starts, he'll start with the most embarrassing to least embarrassing." Bella said, almost as if she had personal experience.

"I'm not sure how it went," Carlisle began. "But I think it was Bella who intrigued him."

"You have no idea." Everyone heard Edward mutter.

"He wouldn't stop talking about her, you should've seen it. 'I need to go because I have to protect her', and all that crap." Emmett spoke with a laugh, ignoring the glares Edward gave him. "But, he was like a brother to me, so I tried to make him go through it."

"He's the one who suggested that I go hunting." Edward said.

"Since, he was addicted to the scent of my blood." Bella explained. "If only Emmett would have suggested it earlier, Edward wouldn't have scared me."

"Sorry, love." Edward chuckled.

"So," Vic said. "That's how it started? Edward liked the smell of Bella's blood?"

"Yes," Esme said with a kind smile. "And then he stocked up on animal blood. When he returned to school, he talked to her."

"Which," Bella said. "Confused me a lot; it's like he forgot all those times he glared at me."

"Things just started to progress after that," Alice said. "We became best friends, they started dating; Bella kept being a disaster magnet –"

"Okay, that's stretching it." Bella said.

"Well let's talk about you," Emmett said. "We can talk about Bella and Edward after."

"Preferably never," Bella murmured.

Emmett ignored that. "So your brother's name is Mike, right?"

Vic nodded, "Yeah, my younger brother, actually."

"Can't you control the ice?" Renesmee said.

Vic almost forgot that she was there. He looked at Renesmee. He thought this conversation was about him and my brother, not him.

Sometimes I need to take a break from the spotlight, bro. He imagined Mike say.

He cracked a small smile and nodded, "Yeah, just a little. I mean, not a little little, just, I'm not that good at it yet."

"What do you mean by that?"

He shrugged, "I didn't really think I'd need to … progress on it."

"You guys were busting out at parties?" Emmett grinned.

Vic had to laugh at that one out of utter embarrassment. They weren't just parties. "You can say that. It was … Mike that usually took me to them. He was the party type."

"Tell me, which one was the wildest one you've been to?" Renesmee asked excitingly.

"I –I," Vic didn't think that telling a couple's daughter that his wildest party was that he bit most of the girls there – he wasn't poisonous – while having some physical activity.

"I don't think that's a really appropriate question for now, Nessie." Esme told her, already knowing the problem Vic had in his mind. He was embarrassed too, because he probably had some flashbacks about the party and Edward saw them.

"Maybe I'll tell you later," Vic told her. He and Mike did go to a little kid's party, where they volunteered to dress up during the summer as Spiderman and Wonder Woman. Vic was Wonder Woman, of course. Because he had long hair. He told Renesmee that instead.

Everyone in the room laughed, and Vic chuckled along with them. He felt good about the fact that he made everyone laugh, I mean, who wouldn't feel good?

"They appreciated it," Vic said. "But I don't think the dad really did."

"Why?" Emmett asked with a wide grin. Vic realized that Emmett never really frowned; he always had the light humor with him. And that's what made Vic feel at ease.

He shrugged, "Well, he had a wife that had a thing for guys with long hair."

They spent the rest of the night like that, until Renesmee had to go and sleep at the cabin. It was only Jasper, Emmett and him left in the living room. And he had to say he had never felt happier and a little bit guilty in his time with them.


Who is even going to read my story, when I have a BLANK, BORING canvas as the book cover?