A little bit of what's going on in Edward's mind. I hope I didn't make him too OOC. If anyone has any advice on how to get him more in character, please advice, because God know's he's such a...weirdo.

Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Review?


To Blackout~

Would you mind terribly creating an account so we can talk more in depth about your darling Razz and your awesome drawing skillzzz? I'd love it if you'd unleash him on me so I can shower him with lots of love and affection ^.^


Chapter VI - Pink


Her name was Edgar. He supposed that it was fitting that her name would be just as unique she was, to the point that 'Edgar' was typically a male's name. One that had fallen out of fashion many, many decades ago, much like his own. It suited her though, much better than 'Lilian' did, or any other name he could think of. And thinking back to her own opinion of said name, he found that he agreed with her. 'Lilian' was too soft for her, made for a much more…lady-like female. Lady-like in the sense of wearing pink skirts and dresses, and giggling prettily on cue, or fluttered their eyelashes daintily. No, Edgar was far from that. Not with her messy black hair, constantly adorned with twigs and leaves, no matter when he saw her -or her dirty, paint speckled apron she always wore on her with her tools comfortably seated in its pockets, or her nails always filled with charcoal or chalk. In his time, women would gasp in horror at her appearance and quickly shield their own impressionable daughters away from her, with warnings to never so much as look at her.

He laughed slightly at the thought at how he would have reacted; probably much the same as he was now. From what he remembered of his human life, he had always been far too curious for his own good. He undoubtedly would have approached her, heedless of the consequences, just to find out more about the curious girl with eyes like the moon and a voice as flitting as the breeze.

But he was no longer human, and the consequences were much graver than a mere scolding from his mother to 'save face'.

So really, he knew that he should listen to Rosalie and just pretend that the girl didn't exist –and definitely not acknowledge the fact that she was sitting at the back of the classroom, paying absolutely no heed to Mr Banner's lecture on Cellular Structure and instead debating on whether she should paint a depiction of Liberty Leading the People by Eugene Delacroix or Night Watch by Rembrandt van Rijn over the Halloween break for Mrs Nott's History class.

And wasn't that a surprise –finding out that she was in two of his classes and he had never so much as realised her existence. How he had never known before was a mystery to him, because how could have not heard such an interesting mind? Even in the cacophony of mundane thoughts, he would have thought someone thinking about Picasso's Le Reve would have at least attracted some of his attention. And yet, he had been totally oblivious, and it had taken her marching up directly to their table for him to be aware of her. To think, if she hadn't done that, he would have continued living in ignorance.

Which, technically, would have been a good thing actually, at least then he wouldn't have found himself so fascinated with her.

It was frustrating, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was just so different. Like for example how she had been completely immune to his charms. He remembered that one day at the petrol station, how she had indeed acknowledged his looks, compared to him to Adonis even, it had been merely as a fact than anything else. Or how she had forgotten his presence next to her quite quickly, or how she was the one who thought him strange. He wasn't used to that, most humans were immediately enamoured with him, even before he so much as opened his mouth to speak (which only made things worse for him).

It wasn't that he was vain enough that he felt insulted she didn't think much of him, in fact, he was very happy with that. It was refreshing that someone could actually look at him without the risk of going into cardiac arrest –he just wasn't used to it.

…And he really shouldn't –get used to it, that is-, because getting used to it meant actually acknowledging her existence, which was a bad thing if her was trying (and failing) to forget about her.

It had gotten so bad that he was even considering pulling an Alice and maybe switching seats or making up some lackluster excuse just to get the chance to talk to her. Perhaps, if he found out more about her, he would realise that she was just as boring as the rest of the human population and grow tired of her (inwardly, he knew just by listening to her mind, that would be far from the case).

There was a part of him that could acknowledge that technically, his fascination with Edgar Beauregard wasn't really his fault, but mostly the fault of his long, dreary existence. It had been so long that he had come across something even relatively interesting that his mind was desperate to latch on to her, just for something new to occupy it. Cursing one's existence everyday got a little old after a while. Eventually, one just had to accept it and move on, otherwise they'd go mad. God knew that's what everyone else did.

But would it really be so bad just to talk to her? Just one brief conversation wouldn't be enough to automatically get her suspicious. Especially since she didn't think that much of him anyway, so what reason would she have to be wary of him in the first place. He only wanted to understand her a little, just to calm the constant curiosity down. It seemed to him that even if he could read her mind, it didn't help much. It would be easy to get her attention, maybe he could 'casually' come across her working on something, make a nonchalant comment to show her just how art savvy he was too, and it would be simple from there…

No. No, he couldn't. It was wrong, and he should just ignore her. It shouldn't be this hard to forget a mere human teenager's existence, he had done it for decades.

…Albeit he had never encountered one as interesting as she was.

He resisted the urge to groan and kick the desk across the classroom in frustration.

Damn that human girl.


He had failed spectacularly at his goal to pretend she didn't exist. Yes indeed, here he was, actively seeking the girl out, trying to shove the heavily chastising voice in his mind back and pretend it didn't exist. Really, it wasn't really his fault. In fact, it was purely coincidental that he had come across her. All he had been doing was trying to get to his car and spend his lunch break drowning his thoughts in music. He had taken the back route behind the cafeteria in order to avoid as many people as possible, when he heard a familiar mind coming from within the forest, making him pause warily and concentrate on it.

Imagine his surprise when it turned out to be the source of his current problem, fully concentrated on drawing the brown, white speckled bunny currently nibbling on a berry bush.

In hindsight, he really should have just ignored it and carried on his way, but of course he just could resist. And now he was trekking through the dirt path, trying to locate the owner of the mind, and cursing his incessant curiosity to hell and back.

And anyway, the forest was dangerous this time of year, winter was approaching quickly and many animals were stocking up on food to survive through it. What if an angry bear came stumbling across her (never mind the fact that there were no bears this close to town) and she, fragile human girl that she was, couldn't get away fast enough and ended up brutally killed? He was just trying to do the responsible thing and going to retrieve her.

He chose to ignore the fact that he would have walked past quite easily if it had been some other foolish human.

Five minutes later, after walking at a slow human speed (in his futile attempt to stall for time), found him standing behind a tree like a creepy stalker –he chose to ignore that fact too–, observing her hard at work. She was perched comfortably, legs crossed, leaning against a convenient log, trusty black bag sitting next to her with her art supplies scattered around. Her hand was moving slowly, unlike most other times she worked (not that he watched her very often, if at all) and she seemed to be in no rush to capture the sight of the surprisingly tranquil rabbit that was now resting a few feet away from her, watching her curiously with its black eyes.

He knew he should leave. He should just turn around right at that moment before he was discovered and go on about his day, with her being completely oblivious to the fact that he was ever there.

And yet, he couldn't seem to get his feet to move in the direction he wanted.

No, in fact, much to his horror, he found himself moving forward, towards her instead of away from her.

The rabbit being more in tune with its instincts realised his presence first and fled quickly, much to her surprise. She blinked once, before turning her head in his direction, her large grey eyes focusing directly on him immediately.

It was too late to run away now, he thought to himself wearily, staring back at her.

The silence that followed was awkward, especially since he could hear her wondering what exactly he was doing there. And it was a very good question, he could give her that, for he himself didn't have the answer.

He never thought he would find himself uncomfortable by a non-vampire, but that was exactly what he was feeling under her unwavering, unblinking gaze. He could understand why the humans of the town were unnerved by her, it was as if she could see straight through him.

He cleared his throat loudly, trying to break the stifling silence (she apparently didn't realise it; Emmett's observation of her lack of basic social understanding was entirely sound), and tried to look as unthreatening as possible (a bit hard to do when he had just emerged from behind a tree in the middle of the forest), giving her a small smile.

She didn't return it. In fact, it only seemed to confuse her more.

It was during these moments that he wished more than ever that he could be killed. What he wouldn't give to be struck down by lightning at that exact moment just to avoid this whole embarrassing ordeal. He deserved it though, he had brought it entirely upon himself, he should have just left when he had the chance.

She was still watching him, and he fumbled for something to say that could salvage the situation. "Fancy seeing you here." Was all he could come up with. Him, a century old, well-learned vampire, infinitely times more intelligent than a normal human being, who had studied the English language from top to bottom more times than anyone could count, and that was the best he could come up with?

Oh dear God, kill me now, he thought miserably.

Edgar, of course, bless her socially impaired soul, didn't register anything wrong with what he said, much to his relief. Instead, she was merely searching for a correct way to reply to what he had said.

He listened anxiously as she wracked her brain for an appropriate response to his statement, before she simply shrugged "I frequently spend my lunch break in the forest." The black haired girl said, plucking a leaf from her hair, looking away from him and blinking for the first time in five minutes. "Did you need something? You must have actively searched me out since there is no possibly way that you just stumbled upon me within this large area." And her voice was totally calm and serene as she said this, sounding as if she didn't particularly care about his reply one way or another.

It unnerved him even more.

He fumbled weakly for an appropriate excuse, "The forest isn't very safe…You shouldn't stay here alone." He hoped it didn't come off as lamely as he thought it sounded. Honestly, what happened to his earlier plan of cool calm and collected? Of casually showing her that he too was quite knowledgeable in art. Not acting as awkward as a bumbling, nerve-wrecked teenage boy.

She looked at him blankly, far cry from how fast her mind was working, full of information on seasonal behavioural patterns of dangerous woodland creatures, before coming to the conclusion that he was indeed correct, but since she didn't feel like leaving just yet, the only logical solution would be for him to stay with her, that way she wouldn't be 'alone'.

And he of course, knew that he couldn't exactly refuse, since he was the one who told her she should stay alone in the first place, and so when she eventually said, "Then you should stay. I won't be alone then." All he could do was sigh wearily, and do as told, taking a seat across from her, a polite distance away.

She then proceeded to ignore him completely and go back to her drawing, much to his frustration. How could she do so effortlessly what he had been trying (and failing) to do for weeks?

It was done in greyscale, and yet, like always, it looked more like a half-done photograph than anything captured by human hands, and even the fur of the rabbit looked like it had been drawn strand by strand. He wondered if even Esme could do it so well.

"You're very talented." He blurted before he could stop himself and really what in the world was going on with him that day? It was as if his brain had just decided to shut down and leave him helpless.

"I know." She answered, not even pausing in her actions. She didn't say it in an arrogant way either, just in a way that said that she was well aware of her gift, and that was that. Nothing more, nothing less.

Suddenly, he realised that he had never told her his name, and she hadn't even bothered to ask. She was completely at ease being in his presence, the presence of a complete stranger who had followed her into the forest. He could be a serial killer for all she knew!

Had she no sense of self-preservation?!

"Are you not uncomfortable?" He asked incredulously, just so he could gauge her reaction to that, however, her mind clearly showed that no, she was not.

"No." She answered honestly. "Why would I be?" And she was so genuinely confused that he could only stare at her in horror for a long moment wondering how it was possible for someone to be as socially stunted as she was.

"You don't even know my name! I could be a killer for all you know!" He exclaimed. That made her pause in the middle of erasing a little bit off the rabbit's ears, though she still didn't look at him.

Instead, she simply blinked down at the sketchpad as if it were the bunny who had spoken and asked, "Well, are you?"

Her tone was curious, like she was just asking about what his favourite colour was or some other trivial piece of information, and he found himself further dismayed.

"No, but you shouldn't invite random people you don't know to sit with you in the middle of the forest." He scolded and she shrugged, resuming her previous actions and dropping the eraser into one of her apron pockets.

"You're the only random person I've come across in the forest in the first place." She answered simply, before shutting the sketchpad and beginning to pack up her things. He was confused for a moment before he heard the warning bell ring and her thoughts of begrudgingly being forced by her father and Principal Johnson to always attend class or else her supply budget would be cut down by half.

He watched dumbly as she stood, picked up her black crossbag and began floating away, disappearing down the path without so much as a word of "Goodbye".

And she still hadn't bothered asking his name.