A/N: Welcome to the twilight remix, where we say "Fuck Smeyer and write what you want to". Anyways, this is just self-indulgent nonsense, but hopefully some of you guys are on my wavelength. Enjoy!
Beau
I'd never given much thought to how I would die—though dying in the place of someone I loved sounded good. Almost noble in a way I didn't know I could be. I stare across the room at my doom and watch the Hunter smile his charming smile, advancing on me slowly.
We're standing in the middle of the Phoenix Airport and my mother is crying. She'd cried the way up here, open windows blowing her tears into her own hair, whipping wildly in the wind. The sun, scorching even for January, had dried them momentarily, but she cries anew, clutching my hands.
"You don't have to go," she reminds me. I smile ruefully at her, kiss her cheek gently.
"It'll be good, Mom, you'll see," I say gently, like I'm talking to a child. It's always been this way with my mother and me. I'd always been the one taking care of her, making sure her wild personality didn't carry her off to the sun. "You'll get to travel with Phil and I'll get to spend time with Dad."
Phil claps my shoulder, hand resting heavily on my shoulder blade. He smiles at me kindly, a silent assurance that he'd look after my mom. She chuckles through her tears.
"Say hi to Charlie for me," she says, enveloping me into a tight hug. It's awkward, as I'm too tall for her to fold me into her arms. At 6 foot, I tower above my mother and even Phil.
I wave to them as I board my flight. I don't mind the trip, which will take me first to Seattle, then Port Angeles, a town I remember vaguely from my childhood. Charlie will meet me there. We'll drive the forty minutes to Forks, a town hidden away in the Olympic Peninsula, covered in clouds, and saturated with rain.
I spent a month there every summer since I was a child, until I turned fourteen. After that, my father spent two weeks with me in California. It wasn't that I hated Forks, not particularly, but I hated the small town full of small-minded people, the kind who were born and would die in the same house.
The flight wasn't bad, but when I step out into the Port Angeles airport, I notice it's raining. It's just as well, I've already said my goodbyes to the sun. Charlie waits for me in the baggage claim, dressed in his uniform. He smiles at me wanly when he sees me, folding me into a quick hug.
"Good to see you, son," he says gruffly. Charlie and I are a lot alike in our mannerism, if not in our looks. We aren't particularly loquacious people and we don't really let our emotions out. Nevertheless, I know Charlie's pleased to have me. He's already registered me for the new semester and is going to help me get a car.
"Yeah, dad," I tell him. "You too."
I don't call him Charlie to his face, but I can't help it in my own head. My mother had never called him anything else.
As predicted, the drive down to Forks passes in uncomfortable silence. Charlie looks at me often but doesn't say anything, though I can tell he wants to. The drive is beautiful, even I can't deny that. Bare trees glitter with icicles, dripping artfully down. The snow is pearlescent, glinting in the late afternoon sun. Still, pine trees line the roads, a constant reminder of the greenery that is Forks.
The house is the same as I remember it, though I haven't been here in three years. It's a small two bedroom my parents bought when they were young and in love. When my mother left, she seemed to take all that love with her.
Charlie helps me take my sparse things upstairs, to the west room with the blue walls. It's the same as it's always been, old artwork tacked onto a corkboard above the desk. The computer that sits there looks old, but serviceable. The bed is done up in dark gray sheets, with a matching comforter. I expected it all, except one thing.
There's a rainbow flag hanging next to the cork board.
I came out to my father two years ago, years after telling my mother. He'd frowned thoughtfully when I told him but clapped my shoulder regardless and told me he was proud of me. Nothing more, nothing less.
I hadn't expected this silent show of support.
"Thanks, dad," I tell him sincerely. Charlie's lips quirk up in a thin little smile.
"Well, you settle in. I have a surprise for you later," he says, ducking out of the room. The best thing about Charlie? He doesn't hover.
I unpack, putting things away neatly. There are a few shelves cleared out in the bathroom, but I don't have anything other than the essential toiletries. It's not like sharing a bathroom with my mother, who let her things pile and pile until I'd forgotten what the counters looked like.
There's a deep rumbling outside, so I peek out the window. There's a huge orange truck in the driveway, and out of it climbs Billy Black and his son. Technically, Billy's my godfather, but I don't remember much of him outside of fishing trips I tried to repress. I remember even less of his son.
I head outside, standing beside my father to greet them.
"Beau," Billy says pleasantly. "Good trip up?"
"Yeah, thanks," I say, smiling politely. Billy's son looks at me anxiously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He's young, maybe a year or two my junior. He's got gorgeous copper skin and silky dark hair, falling down to his elbows. He looks a lot like his father.
"Well?" Charlie says, jerking his chin to the truck.
"What?" I ask, feeling like I'm missing something.
"The truck," Charlie clarifies. "I told you I had a surprise for you."
"This is for me?" I ask, dumbfounded. I'd expected to have to buy my own car, but I'll take this. Besides, I weirdly already love it. It looks sturdy, like if I'd ever get into an accident, nothing would happen to my car.
"Late birthday present," Charlie says, ducking his head.
"I love it," I say sincerely, running my hand over the wall of the bed. "How old is it?"
"The engine's all fixed," Billy's son pipes up. "I did it myself, so really, it's only a few years old."
"Technically, it's from the sixties," Billy says apologetically. "It'll run just fine though. Bring it to Jacob if you ever have a problem."
Billy's son—Jacob, I remind myself—puffs out his chest proudly. He's sweet, in a boyish way, like a little brother. I vaguely remember stumbling after him and his older sisters on one of La Push's beaches, where the Black's live.
"You like cars?" I ask him, nodding my head to the truck. Jacob nods eagerly, eyes wide.
"I'm going to be a mechanic," he says, pushing his dark hair behind his ears. "Come on, I'll show you the tricks to get her to run."
I follow Jacob into the cab of the truck. It's been cleaned up, obviously, but it still smells like cigarette smoke, peppermint, and gasoline. It reminds me of being nine and dragged on fishing trips. At least the twins were just as uninterested in it as me.
Jacob explains the car, pointing out various features with an apologetic smile. He beams when I tell him I love the truck, warm like the sun.
"So, are you high school now?" I ask. "At the reservation?" I hope he says no, it'd be nice to have someone to hang out with school tomorrow.
"Yeah," he says. "Sophomore year."
I run my hands over the steering wheel, over the dash, and over the old radio. Jacob smiles apologetically again.
"Doesn't have an aux cord, though," he says. "Actually, there's no way to plug in your phone."
"Doesn't matter to me," I assure him. "I like the radio anyways."
"Hey," Jacob says hesitantly, pulling out his phone. It's an iPhone, but it's an older model than mine. Still, it's in perfect condition. "What's your number? You can call or text if you need help with the truck.
I pull out my phone, blushing at the cracked screen. I'm as uncoordinated as they come, which really doesn't help my phone situation. I pass it over, taking his in return and typing my number in.
"Jake," Billy calls. "Charlie's going to give us a ride back."
"Better go," Jake says with another sunny smile. "I'll see you around, okay?" We slip out of the car and Jake helps load his father into Charlie's cruiser, stowing the wheelchair in the backseat. I wave as the three of them head off.
I wander through the house, taking everything in. There's not much on the first floor, just the living room, the kitchen, and the mudroom. They're all exactly like I remember them.
It's funny to walk through this house and think of my mother, just because she seems too far away, but I can't help it. There are traces of her everywhere, like Charlie never really got over her. It hurts to think about.
Even in the kitchen, I can feel my mother's presence, even though it's usually her least favorite room in any house. She's not a very good cook, too dreamy to focus on what she's cooking. I made up for her lack of skill as soon as I was old enough to use the stove. The cabinets are sunny yellow, something my mother did when they moved in. There's a sticky note on the one closest to the fridge.
Wifi: Swan wifi
Password: Beau913
I can't help but frown at Charlie's choice. This whole place feels like an ache, an open wound that won't heal.
Still, I suppose it means he missed me.
A quick rifle through the fridge proves there's just enough to make spaghetti tonight, so I make a mental note to go grocery shopping after school tomorrow. Dinner doesn't take very long, so I have it ready on the table when Charlie walks in, shaking rain off his jacket. He looks surprised to see it.
"You didn't have to cook," he says, that same, thin smile quirking the corners of his lips. When he smiles, I can sort of see the man my mother fell in love with, the handsome officer who helped her with her flat tires.
"I'm used to it," I tell him. "You know how mom is."
Dinner's pretty quiet, but it's not uncomfortable. Charlie doesn't a have dishwasher—old house—so we do the dishes by hand, working silently, side-by-side. He reaches up to ruffle my hair at the end of the night, wishing me goodnight.
Upstairs, I finish unpacking, laying out my things for school tomorrow. Charlie'd already laid out the important paperwork I needed to take to school with me on my desk, so I stow it in my backpack. Idly, I turn on the old computer, checking my email. Surprisingly, there's one from my mom.
Beau,
I can't believe you're making me send an email, like it's the nineties or something. Why didn't you call or text me when you landed? Please call!
Love,
Mom
I frown, pulling out my phone only to notice I'd never turned it back on from airplane mode. I sheepishly turned it back on, tapping on my mothers name to call her.
"Beau!" She answers on the first ring, sounding relieved. "You made it okay?"
"Yeah, mom," I assure her. "No worries. I'm settling in fine."
"Are you sure about school tomorrow?" she asks me anxiously. "Maybe you should wait."
"It'll be better to start on the first day of the semester," I tell her. "Listen, I'm going to go to bed, but I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Sure honey," she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. "Talk to you tomorrow. Love you, baby."
"Love you too," I say, hanging up. I lay back in my new bed, pulling the blankets up around me for some warmth. I'd have to learn to get used to the cold.
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed! Updates will come on Wednesday's, so long as my schedule allows. A good chunk of the rewrites are done, but I do have to edit each chapter. Let me know what you think, or if you have any questions.