I know I'm a day late (it's not Midnight just yet, MWAHAHA) and I do apologise for that, but I was really busy this weekend and I was far too tired to write anything noteworthy. Ha. Funny. Amirite?

*cough*

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and woah, you guys seemed to like Daniel huh? I admit he and Edgar would make a good couple, however this is strictly Edgar...Or is it Edward? Their ship name just translate to one of their names in the end, lmfao. Anyway, we WILL be seeing quite a bit of Daniel, since his purpose in this fic is to become Edgar's best and only friend. Maybe he can have a little crush on her if you guys REALLY want, but it won't amount to anything in the end. It would probably only be for humorous effect.

I started the chapter off in Edgar's perspective but it kinda changed into Dan's and since I really could find no good way of changing the first part, it's gonna stay like that. We also see what another person thinks of Edgar too, so I suppose that's interesting?

Long AN, I know. Sorry, but they're always important sooo.

How many of you guys actually read my ANs anyway? Write "Green" in a review if you do. I'm curious.

Okay, I should stop now.

Hope you all enjoy the chapter :)

Constructive Criticism (and isn't word hard to write?) is much appreciated!

Review?


Chapter VIII - Green


"So, um…Your name is Edgar?" An unfamiliar voice asked, interrupting the black haired girl as she set up her Canvas Stand on the green, paint splattered plastic now set on the Smith's living room floor. She looked up from where she was crouching next to one of the wooden legs to see a fidgeting…David? At least she thought so, she couldn't remember his name properly. Either, he was leaning against the arch that served as the living room entrance, shifting from what foot to the other every few seconds, seemingly nervous for some reason. He held his textbooks and schools things in his arms, so she assumed he was about to go upstairs and had stopped to inquire about her name for some reason.

She blinked at him once, before going back to setting up the stand, making sure it was stable. "Yes it is. Yours is David?" She asked half-heartedly, standing up and putting pressure on the stand to make sure it was sturdy and wouldn't collapse as she worked.

"Daniel." He corrected awkwardly. She nodded in acknowledgement but didn't otherwise reply. He coughed. "Isn't Edgar a boy's name?" He asked curiously, watching as she moved her basket of paints next to her intended work station.

"Yes." Edgar answered simply. Daniel stared at her incredulously. Couldn't she see he was at least trying to be friendly? She wasn't making anything easy, since she was basically ignoring him. He felt annoyance start to creep in. He didn't want to talk her all that much either. His mother had immediately scolded him for his standoffishness (Nevermind the fact that he was just naturally quiet) as soon as the girl had left the kitchen and had forced him to at least make an effort to talk to the person who had 'gone out of her way'. He had resisted the urge to say that it wasn't him who requested to have a portrait done.

He contemplated heading upstairs right there and then, but an image of his mother glaring angrily at him floated around his head and he sighed, knowing that he would at least have to try, but really, she wasn't making it easy for him. "It's not very fun talking to a brick wall, you know?" He said irritably. He watched as she merely shrugged, not even bothering to look at him.

"I can't imagine that it would be." She agreed looking at him from where she was sitting on the stool in front of the Canvas Stand, placing her pencils and other drawing items on the small table that had been positioned earlier. She looked so utterly nonchalant, her face matching her tone completely, and Daniel couldn't tell whether she was being serious, sarcastic, or just plain joking.

He frowned thoughtfully. Was she always so utterly blasé? He couldn't imagine what having an actual conversation with her would be like. Probably terrible, if her reaction (more like non-reaction) to his annoyance was so uncaring. She just seemed like the type to take even the most absurd things with ease. As if nothing could even create a slight bump in her path. Daniel squinted at her carefully, and decided to test his new found theory.

"I like dogs." He declared suddenly, gauging her reaction carefully. She wasn't looking at him anymore, but he noticed how she didn't even pause slightly in her actions of sharpening her pencils.

"That's nice." The black haired girl answered. And it wasn't even in the normally condescending way it would have come off as had someone else said it. No, she stated it as a fact, like she was thinking "He likes dogs. That's fine." And not "I really don't care that he likes dogs". He tilted his head curiously, his interest peaked.

"Do you like dogs?" He tried again. She shook her head and placed a pencil down before reaching for another.

"No." She answered simply. Blunt, straight to the point, and yet, not mean or derisive.

"Why don't you like dogs?" He asked, and still, she didn't look at him.

"Because I find them too noisy and eager." Okay, Daniel thought to himself. That was a legitimate reason. Though she still didn't insert any more detail than necessary. Time for the next question, he decided.

"Which animal do you like?" He tried again. This made her pause mid pencil twist and blink thoughtfully down at the sharpener.

"Domestic or Wild?" She asked for clarification and he found himself frowning slightly because of course she would ask that. She just came off as that type of person. He supposed though, it was his fault for not clarifying what he meant in the first place.

"Domestic." He clarified.

"Cats. I like cats." She said eventually.

"Why do you like cats?" Daniel asked, really getting into things and finally, finally she looked at him, large grey eyes staring right at him. He squirmed slightly. He had heard the rumours about the weird artsy girl through the town, though most people thought she was blind. Seeing her for himself, obviously this was not the case. But he could admit that she was slightly unnerving.

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" She retorted, making him chuckle slightly. So she did eventually have a limit. But yet again, she didn't sound annoyed, just curious. Much like himself.

"I'm testing out a theory." He told her honestly, shrugging. She stared at him for a long moment, before looking away, and setting the last sharpened pencil down on the table in the neat row she had created. He noticed everything was neat on the table, placed properly in their assigned spots.

"Have you confirmed anything noteworthy?" She asked, making him think. Had he? He supposed so. In a way, what he was doing was weird. Something he wouldn't have normally have done. The girl had just come to his house to paint a portrait of his mother, and yes he had been forced into talking to her, but the impromptu experiment was entirely his own idea. In his defence, how could he have not wondered whether or not she was always so unaffected by everything? Her replies were just asking for it.

He remembered that he answered her question, and so he shrugged again. "Maybe."

He heard his mother coming down the stairs, and he saw her dressed in a fancy black dress with his grandmother's pearls, her makeup done up primly and her hair in a tight bun, obviously intending the portrait of her looking her best. Subtly he rolled his eyes, and looked back at Edgar who was idly taking in the details of their living room, now that she had all her things prepared.

"That's nice." She said again. He watched her for a moment, sitting in the middle of his living room on a small wooden chair brought from the basement, looking utterly at ease with her surroundings. She didn't seem nervous or anything. Most people were uncomfortable the first time in a stranger's house, but she looked perfectly fine. It was weird, he thought.

"Oh great! You've already set everything up!" His mother exclaimed happily, entering the living room with a big smile on her red painted lips. Edgar nodded at her in confirmation. "I'm sorry for taking so long, but I just had to get dressed up, Dear. If it's going to be something captured forever, I have to look great, don't I?" She asked.

"I suppose." Was the only thing the grey eyed girl said in response.

Daniel shifted slightly, applying his weight to his left leg and holding his things tighter to his chest. He watched as his mother took her place on their red couch as Edgar explained what they would be doing and his mother nodding along in understanding. Sighing wearily and tucking an errant strand of blond hair behind his ear, he spared the…unique girl one last glance before turning on his heel and heading upstairs. Seeing as his Mum had entered the premises, and he really had nothing more to say, he decided to leave before his mother could rope him into doing anything else.

Like becoming friends with the girl.


Angela Weber didn't particularly like Forks High all that much. Though, since it was the only High School for miles other than the one on the Quileute reserve down in La Push –and outsiders weren't very welcome there-, she had no choice but to attend. She was just happy that she was almost finished and only had her senior year left.

It wasn't that she was being bullied or anything like that, in fact, she did have a few close friends. How could she not when most of the students were all born and raised in Forks, and everyone basically grew up together? It was just that she found the place…superficial. Fake. Since there was no drama at all within their small town, obviously the resident teens took it upon themselves to make some, if only to shake things up a little, meaning that almost every week there was a new rumour about so and so doing such and such during this and that. Luckily, she herself had never been subjected to such rumours, since she was the general blend into the scenery kind of girl, but she knew quite a few people who had.

Including one such Edgar Beauregard.

Especially after the whole thing with the girl marching straight up to the Cullen table, and actually sitting there. Sure, she hadn't done it for long, but the fact remained that she had. And according to the rest of the school, that was enough to warrant a whole lot of attention. And not necessarily the good kind.

Now, Angela personally never paid much attention to rumours, because as the daughter of a Priest, she was taught to never judge or criticize others, but she did hear quite a few. She knew of Edgar Beauregard, everyone did. She was the strange and supposedly blind girl (though Angela didn't know how in the world anyone could believe that since her obsession and extreme talent in art was even more famous throughout the small town than she was, and how could she accomplish such awe-striking pieces if she couldn't see?) which all of their parents told them to avoid under all circumstances as children. Well, her father hadn't said it in those words exactly, but she knew that he hadn't wanted her playing with the girl either. Of course, Angela had always wondered why none of the adults liked her, because sure, maybe she was a little different and had creepy eyes, but that was no reason to ostracize her. Not that the girl in question ever seemed to have a problem or be affected by their actions. That was really the only reason as to why Angela had never disobeyed her father's orders and become friends with the girl –because Edgar herself had seemed perfectly fine and content being alone. Angela had watched her when she was younger (and like now, still did so sometimes), watched as she floated through town happily, lost in her own little world and Angela had wondered numerous times how one could be so utterly happy being all alone. She herself had been painfully shy as a little kid, and until Jessica had gone out of her way to talk to her when she was nine, had always felt so sad and lonely. She couldn't imagine how someone could feel content all alone.

She had been surprised to see that the other kids didn't bother asking themselves that question. In fact, they didn't bother paying Edgar any attention at all. If they were playing tag and Edgar was in the vicinity? No problem, they just carried on as if she wasn't there. In Primary school and they had to work in groups? No problem, there were an odd number of students anyway. There was one last pillow left during reading time in Kindergarten? No problem, it was already taken by Tommy.

Nevermind the fact that Tommy didn't even exist.

And through all of that, Edgar would simply shrug uncaringly and find somewhere else to explore, or just work alone, or find somewhere else to sit.

That's what Angela hated. The fact that the girl just didn't care. Either that, or she didn't seem to recognise anything was wrong. Nevertheless, Angela loathed it. She loathed the fact that one person could just be so okay with being alone. With being shut out. Never once had she seen the girl cry, or complain, or get angry. All she ever did was stare at you for a long time (and really, how could someone go so long without blinking?) with a blank face before carrying on as if nothing had happened. Angela had always been taught to be kind to others, and to treat them how you yourself wanted to be treated. And she knew for a fact that she would never like to be treated the way everyone treated Edgar.

It was something that a part of her would always regret –not having enough courage to at least talk to the other girl. Maybe if she had, she could have found out why nobody seemed to approve of her, and then she too could've joined the 'ignore-Edgar-Beauregard' train.

She wasn't about to kid herself though. She wasn't going to suddenly going to declare her new found determination on becoming friends with the girl, because she knew she'd never be able to do it. Because even if her dad had indeed allowed her to associate with Edgar, she wouldn't have had the guts to approach her by herself. She was too shy for that. Jessica had been a life-saver, because she probably would have ended up lonely and sad had the bubbly blond not approached her. It might sound weird to others, especially the victims of said blond themselves (Jessica was a main player in the 'create-a-new-rumour mill'), but she honestly was Angela's best-friend. Sure she could be mean and maybe a little conniving towards others, she was never like that to her own friends. She protected her friends and defended them always. She was reliable and always ready to help when needed. That's what really mattered in the end.

Angela wished she could've been that person to Edgar. A person the other girl could rely on, smile and laugh with (to that day, Angela had never once even heard her laugh, and it had gotten worse after the incident in which her mother died –from then on, the girl had basically stopped genuinely smiling entirely, and if that wasn't sad, then Angela didn't know what was), or at least be able to have a conversation with.

But she wasn't that person, so she couldn't be any of those things.

And so all Angela could do was watch as Edgar Beauregard continued to float around aimlessly and live inside her own little world, completely separated from everything, and everyone else.