"No!"
Noah was leaning over the side of the truck bed, glasses askew with his cheek pressed to the metal. An arm dangled off to poke his sister's shoulder as she passed. He'd been laying in the back since the end of 7th period, waiting for Bella, who'd had to change after her gym class; as the car was locked, the bed was the only option.
"I don't understand why you won't just come with me. By the time I take you all the way home, and then drive to the Cullen's, it'll already be time to head back." Bella tossed her backpack in the middle of the cab. "Get out of the back, you can't ride there. It's illegal."
Swinging his legs over the burnt-orange siding, Noah rolled his eyes. "Our dad is the chief of police. They're not gonna get me for riding in the back of a pickup truck, Bells." He paused to check his reflection on the window, smoothing a strip of dark hair sticking up in the back, before sliding into the passenger seat.
"Besides," Noah continued, "I can cook dinner! Just drop me off at home, and I'll have everything ready before Charlie gets back from work. That way, you can spend more time with your boyfriend ."
The car engine slowly rumbled to life.
"You won't cook meat," Bella pointed out.
"It wouldn't kill either of you to eat vegetarian with me, just for the night."
Adjusting the rear-view mirror, Bella snorted. "Nice try, but Charlie would never. Just come with me for the afternoon, and then we'll go home. You can do your homework anywhere."
"What if I miss a call?"
Noah turned to his sister, suddenly and clearly agitated. "What if Renee calls?"
Bella closed her eyes, inhaling slowly, collecting her patience. "Noah, we've been over this," she said softly, after a moment. Reaching over, Bella attempted to smooth her brother's cowlick, herself. He wilted away from her touch, mortified. "She's not going to call and apologize."
There was a sudden, startling knock on Noah's window. "Apologize for what?" Alice grinned.
"Jesus, Alice," Bella groaned, turning car off again. "You scared me."
Noah cranked the window down. "Bella's forcing me to go to your house."
Alice pouted. "I don't understand why you never want to hang out with us." She opened the car door, beckoning for Noah to slide over; he shifted onto the center console, as Bella restarted the car.
Pressed shoulder-to-knee, Noah wasn't sure if it was an appropriate time to tell Alice that they never 'hung out' at her place, anyways. Invariably, she got distracted by something (or someone), and he was left to his own devices. Most of his time at the Cullen's was usually spent trying to stay out of the way.
"Okay, how am I allowed to sit here, but not in the back?" Throwing the car into reverse, Bella rolled her eyes at her brother's dramatics. He looked ridiculous, sandwiched between the two girls, forehead practically bumping the roof of the car.
Alice adjusted her sunglasses, as the car pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm driving with you because Emmett insisted on playing his Smash Mouth CD, and I refuse to partake. Now, who is apologizing for what?"
"No one is apologizing for anything, right now." Bella gave her brother a pointed look.
—
The past few times Noah had been dragged to the Cullen's house, he'd developed a spot: curled up on the floor by the glass doors, behind the couch in their living room. With his legs tucked beneath him, he was appropriately out of the way, and could appreciate the scenery.
Sometimes, Noah sketched. Charcoal drawings on the pad he kept in his backpack, to occupy himself. At heart, he preferred painting— Charlie had found him a full, new set of brushes at a yard sale the week before Noah and Bella moved in— but it wasn't exactly a portable hobby. Forks High School didn't have a dark room to develop photos like his old school, so using up the film in his camera was currently out of the question.
No matter the medium, Noah itched to capture the view from the Cullen's back window. The glass-panelled walls opened out onto the edge of the forest; the shadows caught reflections of green, in addition to the hues of the setting sun. Hence, his favorite spot in their house.
"You can sit on the couch, sweetheart." Startled, Noah looked up to find Mrs. Cullen standing in the doorway. Esme , she'd instructed him to call her, but it felt so weird to call respectable adults by their first name, and—
"Sorry," Noah stammered, putting down his drawing pad. "I can move, I just— some people are picky about getting furniture dirty, and I don't mind the floor, so…"
Esme frowned slightly. "You're welcome anywhere in our home, Noah. It would be a long eternity if no one sat on the furniture." She offered him a warm smile, stepping into the room. "We want you to feel comfortable here. I promise— we don't bite."
"Oh, yeah, of course, Mrs. Cullen— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to… I'm like this at everyone's house, not just vampires— shoot, I mean—"
A booming laughter echoed around the open-concept first floor. "Mom, I think you broke him," Emmett called from the other room. Curse their enhanced vampire hearing. There was a long pause, in which Noah caught his breath, heart pulsing in fear of his own awkwardness.
"I'm sorry that Bella keeps dragging me here," Noah said quietly. "I don't mean to intrude, or anything, and I know it's probably hard having… humans, in your house." He averted his eyes from her gaze as he replaced the pad and pencil in his bag.
"Do you like to draw?" Rather than address his insecurities, Esme nodded towards his now-zipped backpack. Still, her face read nothing but kind.
He looked down at the pad. "It's a hobby."
"Bella mentioned you paint, too?" Again, Noah had trouble meeting her golden eyes; he chose instead to focus on the black smudges staining the pads of his left-hand fingers.
He shrugged. "Any kind of art, I guess. I'm not that picky."
Esme perched herself on the edge of the couch nearest him. "Next time you come over, let me show you my studio," she suggested. "I think you might like it. You're welcome here anytime, Noah."
Fiddling with the strap of his backpack, finally Noah looked up at her, smiling shyly.
"And stop calling me Mrs. Cullen! You make me feel old." The vampire winked at him.
"You're 110!" Emmett laughed again from the other room.
The knot in Noah's stomach unclenched, just a fraction.
—
"This is good, Bells," Charlie complemented, around a mouthful of lasagna.
Per usual, Noah was occupied by removing the chunks of ground beef from his noodles with surgeon-like precision. The sounds of forks scraping plates echoed through the otherwise quiet house.
"Noah, Billy mentioned you hung out with Jacob last weekend?"
Instantly, Bella's attention was caught; she stared intently at her brother, confused. "When did you hang out with Jacob?" Her tone bordered on incredulous. For a moment, Noah almost wished they had hung out, if only to warrant such a reaction; Bella was sometimes quick to point out his solitary tendencies, to his discomfort.
"We didn't really hang out," Noah insisted. He hoped that a mouthful of lasagna would afford him a reprieve from answering truthfully: I was just buying cigs off of your best friend's son, Charlie, since they're basically legal on the Rez . "Jake took me for a ride in the rabbit he's refurbishing. It was pretty cool."
Charlie grunted. "You should both really spend some time with Jacob. He's a good kid. It would do you all good, to be friends with each other." He speared a noodle on his fork. "The Clearwaters are good kids, too— Seth, and Leah."
"You just want us to be friends with your friends' kids," Bella dismissed.
From his spot at the kitchen table, Charlie offered a rare half-smile beneath the thick, black mustache. "What's wrong with that?"
"Anyways," Noah said, aiming to change the subject. "Does anyone know if Renee called today?"
Bella inhaled sharply, shooting a desperate glance
"Noah, we've talked about this. I don't think your mother is going to call, just yet." Placing his utensils down, Charlie wiped his mouth, thoughtfully. "Or for a while. I think you need to fixate on something else."
Under the table, Bella placed what she hoped to be a reassuring hand on her brother's knee. He'd been asking after the call biweekly since they moved back in January; it always seemed to be on the back of his mind.
"I was just hoping," Noah conceded, voice cold. "You'd think she'd care a little bit more, considering her husband recently evicted her son from her house. You'd think maybe, she'd apologize."
Placing his napkin down on the table semi-forcefully, Noah rose from the table. He carried his plate to the sink, scraping the meaty remains into the garbage disposal, before washing the flatware clean. Each motion was methodical, practiced; he could feel his sister's eyes on him.
On the way upstairs, Noah took the steps two-at-a-time. Tears burned the back of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall, opting instead to push his glasses out of the way, and rub the sting. Halfway to his bed, where he planned on planting face-first until Bella would invariably attempt to placate him later in the evening, Noah again spotted the family picture atop his desk.
The wooden frame didn't even splinter, as it rebounded off the wall.
When Noah Swan was a kid, during the summers he and Bella spent in Forks with Charlie, he thought his father's house was a palace. Two whole floors, plus a semi-functioning basement, were a lot more spacious than Renee's two-bedroom apartment. Even when their mother moved into a 'real house,' the tiny ranch that bordered desert lands, Charlie's house was still Noah's preferred concept of home.
The older he got, the harder it was to find glory in the house on St. Helens Street.
However, there were a few sweet spots the 15-year-old still found appealing. His room, for one— all his own, unlike the bedroom in Renee's old apartment, which he was forced to share with his sister.
And the roof, of course. Not the shingles at the front of the house, which were inaccessible, and too steep to mount. To the left side of the house, there was a small entrance into the kitchen, which jutted out off the main foundation. As it was added onto after the original construction, the entrance was given its own roof— complete with its own shingles, formed to a miniature apex.
Upon relocation to Forks, Noah had rediscovered this portion of the house. More specifically, he'd discovered it was accessible by climbing out the bathroom window.
It had become his spot, in the weeks since they'd moved. With no flat surface, Noah was forced to straddle the surface, resting his lighter and American Spirits on the windowsill. If he timed his relaxation correctly— after Charlie retired for the night, and Edward arrived to occupy Bella's bedroom— no one would bother him.
By far, his favorite part of the palace.
He hadn't started smoking until freshman year. All of the kids who hung around the art studio painted with slims tucked between their lips, laughing and puffing and passing. In a desperate attempt at securing new friends, Noah let the older students teach him how to inhale, and hold it.
It wasn't a hook, yet. Not for a lack of trying.
Self-destruction wasn't a learned skill in the Swan household; it ran gene-deep, alongside dark hair and an affinity for Italian cooking. The claim could be back with evidence through Renee's poor choices in men, or Bella's gravitation towards vampires, or even Charlie's preference for solitude and Vitamin R.
Noah often wondered if his sexuality was the destructive path he'd been born for. He certainly hadn't chosen to be gay. Nor had he chosen for his gayness to lead him here— to the roof, yes, but specifically to Forks. Self destruction, to prevent the destruction of his sense-of-self. A payoff. And, eventually, a 1,500 mile move, courtesy of his homophobic stepfather.
He stubbed out the cigarette on a cracked shingle, and watched the smoke. His eyes followed it upwards, past the taller gable of Charlie's house, and the treetops beyond the house, all the way to the starless sky.
—
"You're so lame."
Noah shrugged Alice off. "I know nothing about baseball, and I don't have super speed. Or super strength. Or human athletic skills, honestly." The pair were seated side-by-side in AP US History, at a desk in the back for optimal chatting.
"That doesn't matter," Alice argued. "You can still watch! I'm pitching, it'll be exciting."
"When's it gonna thunder, anyways?" He flipped open his textbook to the page Mr. Murphy had written on the board. The War of 1812. "Were you alive for this?"
Alice pulled the book towards her. "Jasper was. Weather report says Thursday night, but I haven't seen the storm until Friday afternoon." Though the rest of the class was discussing the War, the pair had no intention of studying.
"That's cool."
"Why do you hate hanging out with us?" She fixed him a pointed look, in response to his apathetic tone.
Suddenly on the spot, Noah shrugged. "I don't," he said quietly.
"Bella says you do."
He rolled his eyes. "Of course she does. She blows everything out of proportion. I don't hate hanging out with you. I just… Edward mentioned that it's, like, hard for you to come out and be near people— humans— all the time."
Alice frowned. "So you're afraid to come over?"
"Dude, no!" At his outburst, several nearby heads turned. From the front of the classroom, Mr. Murphy glared.
Flipping the page, Alice pretended to read the textbook until Murphy looked away again. "Then why do you always ditch us?" She accused under her breath.
"If it's hard for you to smell us or whatever when you come to school, I kinda just assumed you wouldn't want to… I dunno, suffer in your own home, too… Plus, you're Bella's friends And it's weird to follow my older sister around." Noah took a deep breath, unable to make eye contact with Alice.
Under the desk, she reached over to grip his hand. "First of all, you're an idiot. A considerate idiot, but an idiot. Don't worry about us being hungry, Noah. Also, you're not following Bella around if I invite you. I want you to be just as much my friend. Especially since she spends all of her time with my brother, anyways."
The bell rang. "Do you know anything about fashion?" Her tone was playful now.
"Not that kind of gay, Alice. I dress like a grandpa."
—
So, Noah found himself back in the Cullen's living room. On the couch, this time. Alice had deemed it progress. The pair sat side-by-side; Alice reading the latest issue of Cosmopolitan, and Noah with his sketch pad.
"Bella said you're a vegetarian?" Alice flashed a toothy grin.
"It's pretty common in Phoenix. My friends back home were, too. Meat freaks me out." He made a face.
Alice examined her new friend with intrigue. "We're vegetarians, too."
Noah looked up from his drawing (a hemlock tree, from the woods). "Like, you only drink fruit blood, or..?"
"No," she laughed. "Most of our kind only subsist on human blood, but we abstain, and drink animal blood instead."
Before Noah could respond, Rosalie's voice carried from the doorway. "Trade secrets, Alice?" Per usual, she spoke with a thick air of disdain.
"It's not as though he doesn't already know we aren't human," Alice shot back.
Perching herself on the opposite arm of the L-shaped sofa, Rosalie folded her legs, narrowing her eyes. "That's why I came downstairs," she began. "I want to know how you found out. I want to know who told you. And I want to ensure you won't… put us at risk."
Noah shook his head. "I won't tell anyone. Even if I wanted to, it isn't as though I have anyone to tell. No one told me y'all were vampires, though, don't worry."
Rosalie's lip curled. "Came upon it by coincidence, then? Sure that your sister didn't tell you?" It felt as though she was fishing to find wrongdoing, which made anxiety itch below the surface of Noah's skin.
"Actually, yeah. Coincidence. Saw Edward come through Bella's window, figured it was some kinda superhero shit, or something." He shrugged, again. "I'm sorry."
The blonde appeared momentarily confused. "Sorry?" Even the apology sounded venomous from her mouth.
Again, Noah shrugged, nonchalant. "I dunno, yeah? It's stressful to worry about a secret, especially when you're afraid the wrong people know. I know what it's like, so I'm sorry."
Abstract memories from Phoenix rushed to the forefront of his mind. Even now, over a year later, Noah could remember exactly the direction each head turned to stare in the school hallway, after he'd been outed. He understood Rosalie's fear, more-or-less.
"Sorry," Rosalie repeated, after a beat. She stared pensively at him, before leaving the room without another word. Unlike her siblings, Rosalie moved at a human pace; her footsteps echoed up the stairs, one by one.
Alice exhaled slowly. "I think she likes you!"