AN: A couple of things. Number one, forget everything you know and think about Forks as a place for the remainder of this fanfic. :P It's absolutely butt-ugly in real life as well as in the movies and books, so just… forget it exists. The Forks of this story is a very different place, much more quaint and homey. Still absolutely small, but not as dreary and gross.

Number two… enjoy. :]

Chapter 1: Vast Ocean of Nothing

"We're driving the whole way?" I stopped dead in my tracks, eyeing my father's BMW wearily. Didn't he have anything better to do than drive across four fucking states with the son was kicking out of his house?

"Language, Miles," said my father, looking up at me. Huh? Had I said that out loud? I shook my head to clear it, resolving to try harder to keep my thoughts from spilling out of my mouth like that.

"And stop being so dramatic, I am not kicking you out. It's all for your own good. I think the… slow pacing… of Forks is going to be healthy for you. You've been through a lot the last couple of months, think of this like a vacation," his voice was muffled slightly as he leaned into the trunk to better position some bags. "The city is just too much for you to handle." He clicked the trunk shut and walked around to the door.

I stared at him in disbelief. He wasn't serious, was he? Did he think I was oblivious to the way they had been treating me lately or what? I didn't say anything, though. If he seriously thought I was blind to their hatred of me, I would let him keep thinking that. I was done at this point. Over it. I was leaving them and this whole place behind today, there was no reason to keep dwelling on it.

I climbed into the car after putting my bags into the back seat. I didn't pack much, hell, most of my stuff would be useless in Washington—including the vast majority of my clothes. I had a couple of hoodies that would come in handy, but I figured I would need to do some serious shopping in order to keep my limbs from being totally frostbitten by the first day.

"Stop being ridiculous, Miles. You won't get frostbite," came my father's voice from the left as he climbed into the driver's seat. I huffed moodily at my lack of self-control and just turned to stare out the window. A moment later the engine roared to life, and I stared at the house I grew up in as it moved slowly away. I let myself imagine, for a second, that I was stationary and it was the world that was moving away. I was the fixed point; the house and the neighborhood were the flexible ones, bending away from me as though repelled by my lack of normality. I never felt right living here, in this suburban gated-community of snobs and bitches that put so much stock into material possessions and money and status. I laughed out loud at the idea of all of the buildings and the guardhouse and the gate growing legs and running away, like they were afraid that I would convince them of their superfluous nature just by being different.

I kept laughing until I turned and caught my dad giving me that look, the one that said very clearly, 'I think my son might truly be a psychopath', the one that he had been giving me with alarming regularity lately. I abruptly stopped laughing and snapped my mouth shut with a click. He kept giving me looks, which made me nervous enough to start chewing on my bottom lip—a habit I had kicked several years ago when I realized it had started to leave a scar. I guess I had forgotten, because the last few months the habit was back in full-force.

"Stop looking at me like that," I grumbled, turning away from him and leaning my head against the window to try and catch some Z's. It was going to be a long drive.

True to form, we ignored each other most of the way. I watched as the landscape went from the familiar empty dusty orange of Arizona to green trees dotting the landscape. Hour after hour the landscape progressively changed, and in my insistence upon ignoring my father, I took note of every little thing I could. I tried to document them in my head, and test my memory later on by trying to remember geographical characteristics just by the name of the place. It didn't work, but it kept my mind off of other things, and before I knew it night had fallen and he started looking for a hotel.

"Do you want cable?" He asked, standing at the front desk as a woman typed away mechanically at a keyboard. I stared at him for a moment and turned away, choosing instead to examine a potted plant that was more interesting than him just then.

We got to the room five minutes later, and I instantly collapsed on the bed face-down. After sitting in a car for eight hours my ass and legs felt like jelly. I hoped if I looked asleep he wouldn't try talking to me.

"Hey, I'm going to order room service, you want some chicken?" He asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed. I turned and looked up to glare at him.

"Are you serious?"

"What's the problem?"

"Dad, just a question here. Have you ever paid attention to me, or have you just made yourself forget after I tried killing myself?"

He frowned, still not getting it.

"I'm a vegetarian. I have been since I was fourteen fucking years old. How could you not know that?" I asked, trying hard not to let anger color my voice. "Even Christine cooked special food for me." I felt like I was being a whiny bitch, but he needed to know how I felt about him right now.

"Just forget it," I mumbled, turning over to face away from him.

That was the last time we spoke on the trip. The next day we got to Oregon, and then Washington, and the landscape was completely overrun with green. Water fell from the sky more freely, coating it all in a blanket of glossiness. The green was overbearingly green, it was sense assaulting and dramatic. Even the sky seemed green-tinted to me, and the closer we got to Forks, the more so it seemed this whole place was an entirely different world.

Our car pulled into the driveway at roughly 1:30 in the afternoon on the Thursday after we began our trek. Forks, for its part, was absolutely nothing like I had imagined. In my head the town was a backwater little shithole with a "down-town" consisting of two gas stations on opposite corners, a grocery store, and some rundown trailer parks on the outskirts. So when we strolled through a quaint little town with mom-and-pop shops lining Main street I felt myself slightly warmed up to the place, even though it was a far-cry from my home city of Phoenix.

As we turned onto Independence Ave—despite internally mocking the generic nature of the street name—I was greeted by a sleepy little neighborhood with sidewalks and trees lining the streets, personalized lawns with Rose bushes and picket fences surrounding old-style Victorian homes that felt, well… homey. One of the things I hated most about my old neighborhood was how dead and soulless the houses felt. Everything in my part of Phoenix was pristine and crisp, maintained by a gardening crew that followed generic templates without any personality or heart. Here, on Independence Ave in Forks, Washington, the houses all had character. They had spunk. Some had overgrown lawns, some had blue window trim and yellow front doors, and I even spotted one with a gnome out front. The place instantly endeared itself to me.

"See, Miles. It's not so bad," my father's voice jeered me out of my internal dialogue. I wasn't sure if he was just commenting on his own or if I had said something out-loud, but I didn't care to ask.

We got out of the car just as the front door to the house opened. My flesh-and-blood incubator-style mother stood in front a light-blue house in the same style as the others on the street. Two stories, wrap-around deck, neatly trimmed bushes on the edges. She looked perfectly in-place standing there, as though she was a part of the landscape and architecture—a part of Forks. I was hit rather suddenly with the image of my father, a budding 18 year old with big dreams and an even bigger ego, walking out of the front door and storming away with me in arm. Though realistically I knew that this house probably wasn't where they had lived, it was still as crystal-clear in my mind as the person who was now standing in front of me. I shivered, the image slightly chilling.

Like our other encounter, it was instantly extremely awkward. I had no idea what to say or do, and from the looks of it, neither did Renee. She stood just as awkwardly, scratching her arm and frowning.

We stood for several seconds before dad decided to take the initiative and break the silence with an ever-energetic "Renee! Long time no see!" After that I didn't listen to their conversation, I was too busy looking around at anything except for my mother. This only worked for a couple of minutes, however, until I felt dad's hand on my arm. I blinked myself out of my daze and turned to see his typical concerned-for-my-sanity face. With a small glare at dad, I turned and looked at Renee.

She stood there, still looking unsure. I decided to throw her a bone and went in for a hug, unfortunately at just the same second she decided to keep things simple and reached out a hand to shake. We both smiled a little before I switched to a handshake just as she reached in for a hug. You know, one of those silly things like walking in a hallway and trying to avoid bumping into a person and you both go the same direction at the same time. Renee smiled now, a little bit more genuinely, and took a big step forward and hugged me.

It wasn't exactly like I was expecting, being hugged by my mother. Hugs in the past from Christine had been colder, held slightly at a distance, and ended after a fraction of a second. Renee, by contrast, wrapped her arms around my middle and her cheek brushed my chin. I was hit with a faint scent of cherry-blossom, which wasn't what I was expecting either. Christine always wore an intensely sharp perfume that made my head hurt, something I imagined she did to make herself more intimidating. Or at least, with my now black-colored glasses looking back at all of my times with my family, everything seemed a little more sinister. Everything alternative motives and hidden truths. It was silly, but it made me feel a little better to villainize them.

Renee pulled away and put her hand to her cheek. I looked down at her, being a couple of inches taller, as she bit her lip and smiled again.

"You've grown so much," she said lightly, reaching up to pinch my chin. At first I thought she was doing that annoying relative thing like when they pinch your cheek and squeeze, but instead I realized she was taking note of the stubble growing along the bottom. My cheeks instantly colored red, I could just feel the blood flowing to my face.

"You're a young man, now," she said, moving away and again looking like she was feeling awkward. I was glad I wasn't the only one.

"Well then," she sighed. "Shall we go inside? I'm sure you'd like to stay the night before your drive back, Charlie."

"Kind of you to offer, Renee, but I've already ordered a Taxi," said dad. He looked at his cellphone for a second before looking back up at Renee—I mean, my mother. I guess I would have to start getting used to that, to calling her mom. I wasn't sure how she would take to it, or even if she would want me to call her that, but something felt wrong about calling her Renee. There was inherent warmth about her, about how she was regarding me. I wondered briefly if there was just something in the nature of human beings that feels a connection with their blood, regardless of if they were raised with them. I wondered if it was just natural, if it was meant to be this way, if we're bound to our blood whether we want to be or not. Things like that had always fascinated me.

I was spacing out until I accidentally tuned back into Re—mom and dad's—conversation as he was saying something about a flight leaving in a couple of hours.

"What? You're flying back? What about your car?" I asked, feeling slightly lost. "It's yours," he said, smiling slightly as he reached into his pocket and tossed the keys to me. I was so dumbfounded that the keys just smacked into my arm and fell to the ground. There was no way he was giving me his car, it was like, his favorite thing in the world. He didn't even buy Christine a car like his, she got stuck with a Volkswagen.

"No fucking way," I said, looking at him square in the eye.

"Language, Miles," he said, but he was still smiling. It wasn't a friendly look-what-your-dad-just-did-for-you-because-he-loves-you smile, but instead it was one of his sleazy businessman smile, one of his I'm-making-you-a-deal-right-now-and-you're-going-to-like-it smiles. I couldn't believe he was trying to buy me off like this. I wondered if he seriously thought giving me an expensive car could make up for shipping me away to an island of green hell and basically disowning me as a son.

"No, I don't want it," I said, picking up the keys and holding them out for him, thankful that my inner dialogue remained inside my head this time. Dad didn't seem surprised by this; he just stood there staring at me with an indecipherable look on his face.

"Look, Miles. This isn't easy for me," he said. What wasn't easy for him? Giving away his car? Good, because I don't fucking want the thing.

"Language," he said, his voice sounding resigned. "I meant moving you here to Washington. I know things have been hard for you, Miles, I get that. But it's been hard for us too. I don't like it, but this is the best thing for everyone. I'm just trying to make things easier for you while you're here, can you please just work with me?"

Typical dad. Caring about himself even before his own kid. But I wasn't going to bite. He wasn't going to buy me off by giving me an expensive gift. It didn't really hit home until now, but I was pissed off at him. I was beyond pissed, actually, I was furious. How could he abandon me like this? I was the one that was with him from the start, before he and Christine had more kids. I was his first-born. Shouldn't that count for something? Jesus Christ.

"Save it, I'm done listening," I said, picking up my bag and turning to look at mom. She looked uncomfortable; I could almost see her internal struggle between butting-in and just staying out of it. I'd imagine it would be hard for her, a stranger to her son and his father, not sure where the boundaries were. I felt sorry for her, it wasn't her fault any of this was happening. She shouldn't have to deal with this bullshit.

"Miles, honey, it's okay," mom's voice came floating over as I reached down to sling my bag back over my shoulder. Shit, I did that talking-out-loud thing again. I really needed to work on that. "Just forget it, Renee. Can we go inside now?" I asked without really asking, already heading towards the door.

"Go on ahead, honey, I've gotta talk to your father for a few minutes," she patted my shoulder as I passed. I decided I didn't care what they were talking about, that whatever it might be it wasn't important. Nothing Charlie had to say was important anymore.

I stepped inside for the first time, feeling slightly apprehensive about it. I couldn't pinpoint exactly why stepping into the house for the first time was making me nervous, I hadn't been bothered at all before now. I think it was being separated from dad, officially now, that was bothering me. He was really leaving me here. Up until now it just hadn't seemed real.

Not sure where to go while my parents talked, I sat my bags down on the floor and took to inspecting the room. I almost immediately regretted it, though, when I realized the primary theme of the room was photographs of Renee and her new family. It's not a new family, Miles. This has been her family for the past fifteen years, I reminded myself not without a hint of bitterness. Looking at these pictures I couldn't help but to compare to my own life. I felt sure that dad and Christine left me out of these typical sort of family things that were pictured in the frames I was looking at right now. After they got married they had two kids together, my stepbrothers, Max and Sam. I realized that Charlie wasn't a bad father; he was just a bad father to me. Sitting right in front of me was the picture of a perfect family. Mom stood flanked at the side by who I assumed was her new—I mean, her old—husband. Beside them were three kids probably in their early teens, but I always did suck at guessing age. On the left was a girl that shared my same ivory-white skin and dark brown hair and I knew instantly it was Bella, my twin sister. I was so mesmerized looking at her that I almost didn't notice when I heard yelling coming from outside. Even more surprising, it was Renee yelling at Charlie, not the other way around. I turned and started to make my way to the door but stopped when I heard my name following something that sounded disgustingly similar to "what have you done him" and "what kind of a father are you"—definitely not a conversation I was comfortable walking into. So instead of stepping into the most awkward situation ever, I turned my mind inward to think about what she had just said.

Charlie hadn't done anything to me—not really. Well, apart from ignoring me. But that wasn't so bad, was it? I mean most parents ignore their kids, right? Unless it's some crazy Disney Channel show or a rom-com with a fuzzy warm family made of bubble gum and rainbows. But that shit just didn't exist in the real world.

I think the most disturbing thing that this reflection revealed to me was that in just ten minutes of being here, my mother had already chivalrously jumped to my defense against my father. She had accused him of being the cause of why I was like I was. I didn't really think it was entirely his fault, but I was so upset with him right then that I didn't care to correct anyone on the matter. I had bigger things to think about, like the fact that my mother seemed to be falling into that matrix I had been thinking about before—the one about how parents seemed to just love their children instinctively. I figured it had something to do with preservation of the species, really. An evolutionary trait that makes mother lions protect their cubs on instinct. It was actually really cool; I would have to remember to write it down later.

I looked up when my mother came through the door and closed it behind her, snapping the deadbolt shut without much thought—I preferred to think it was an automatic habit instead of a way to keep my father out of the house. I didn't have to wonder long, though, since just a second later I heard a car door slam shut and drive off.

"Please tell me that was his stupid car and not some Taxi," I said, rolling my eyes. She half-smiled and dropped a shiny BMW key into a bowl on a small table by the door, seemingly placed specifically to collect keys.

"I'm not driving it, mom—Renee. I mean… mom," I felt my cheeks flush again at my stupid blubbering. She stared at me for a moment, but for her part seemed totally unfazed, which was interesting to me. That meant that her awkwardness outside had been more for Charlie's part than my own. Or maybe just being worked up as much as she was, she forgot to feel nervous around me. Either way it helped my nerves a bit—I guess negative energy really is contagious.

"Whatever you want, but it is a nice car," she shrugged. "I'm sorry for yelling—I'm sure you heard us," she said, moving forward and grabbing a couple of my bags before turning and heading up the stairs to the right. "Come on, your room is up here. Are the rest of your bags in the car?" I nodded my response, grabbed what was left, and moved to follow her.

The stars were old, and creaky, and fit perfectly with the rest of the house. Lining the walls were more ghosts of lives-not-had, aka pictures of my mom's family here. I realized, feeling ashamed, that I didn't actually know their names except for Bella. I was sure I had been told at some point but for the life of me I couldn't remember. I decided to swallow my pride and just ask, but mom beat me to it in a way I was quickly beginning to think was entirely intentional.

"Ben is at work for another little while," she said casually, continuing down a hallway past at least four doors. I wondered if they were going to put me in a laundry room or something, and then wondered just how big the house was when we turned a corner at the end and stopped abruptly.

"Chels, Ryan, and Bella will be home from school a bit before that," she said. I wondered if these were technical terms for time keeping she was using here, since I had no freaking idea when they would actually be home based on her explanations. I jumped when she laughed—it was a light, high-pitched giggle that I wasn't expecting. It struck me as being much more real than the one I had heard on the front lawn.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, it drives Bella absolutely crazy when I do that. Eventually, you'll just get used to it. Or, you won't know when to be home, or when dinner is, or what time family night starts, or—well, you get the idea. When you make the schedule, you get to make up the times too." Oh. I must've said that out loud. I smiled at her to show I was listening and worried slightly over what "family night" would entail.

She smiled, reached up and grabbed a string hanging from the ceiling, and pulled. This accomplished exactly two things. Number one, a cloud of dust and plaster came raining downward from the heavens, sending us both into a fit of coughing that lasted a good couple of minutes. With stinging eyes, I took notice of Number two: a set of stairs that came down with the string, leading up into the attic.

"Ben said it should only do that a couple of times," she said apologetically. "It was just so long since we'd been up there, prior to cleaning it out for you—" she must've seen the look on my face, because she quickly added, "don't worry, it's just temporary until we can clear out Ben's study." She said the word with such a hilariously sarcastic inflection that I couldn't help but to laugh.

"He never uses it, it's just going to take a few weeks to move everything to his office. Anyway, up you go," she said, motioning me forward.

For an attic, it wasn't nearly as bad as I would've thought. It was clean, bright, and airy. Two of the walls were normal, dry-walled and painted white, with windows in the middle of each of them. The sidewalls were slanted and more typically attic-like for a Victorian-style house, with wooden-beams crisscrossing and coming to a point at the top. It had potential, that's for sure.

Mom sat down my bags on a decent sized double-bed, said something about going down to get the rest and that I should start unpacking, and left down the stairs.

And so, as I unzipped my duffle bag full of clothes and began to unload them into the old dresser by the wall, I contemplated the idea that this is where my new life began. Right at this moment I was standing on the edge of the life I always wanted, of a new family and new opportunities to make friends, a new chance to be whoever I wanted to be. Looking back on this day a year from now, I wondered if I would remember it as a turning point. It felt, just then, like a great hinge on which my whole life turned.

I smiled to myself, and kept unpacking.

.=o=o=o=o=o=o=.

"So what do you eat?" Asked mom. We were sitting in the kitchen, sipping the tea she had just poured for me. I stalled for a second, trying to stir sugar into my Earl Grey but accidentally pouring way too much in. I grimaced, hoping she didn't notice.

"I prefer vegetables, you know, anything green and… leafy. I don't really eat meat," I said, feeling guilty. I didn't want her to feel like she had to change how she cooked for my sake. Being here was already a burden on their household, I wanted to try to make as little of a footprint as possible.

"That's fine. Bella is a strict vegetarian," she said. I nearly spat my drink out.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, darling," she said, totally unphased. She pulled out a notepad of paper from the small desk in the corner and sat down across from me. "Now, what are your favorite foods?"

I opened my mouth to reply but I was saved the trouble when a loud crashing sound came from the other room, followed by thumping, more crashing, and loud voices. "I'm just saying, that girl obviously has a few screws loose. Did you see the way she freaked out when Miranda Blare dropped—" The voice stopped as the swinging door to the kitchen opened, and the speaker, who I assumed to be Ryan, caught sight of me and Renee sitting at the table.

"Oh," he said, looking between the two of us. "Hey, you're Miles. I'm Ryan," he said directly, reaching out to shake my hand. I stood up and shook it, taking in his appearance. He stood a little bit shorter than me, shaggy hair falling around his ears that framed a smooth face. I could see the resemblance between us instantly; we had the same eyebrows and same nose. He just looked nice, the kind of person who you instantly liked. I smiled more widely.

I turned to the girl standing behind him. "Chelsea. Nice to meet you, Miles," she smiled as she spoke. She had wavy dark brown hair and freckles, by no means stereotypically 'hot', but definitely cute. She had the same warm demeanor as Ryan, that same friendliness that everyone in this family seemed to share.

She moved to the side as the door slid open one more time, and in walked Bella. As much as I could see the resemblance between Ryan and I, it was insane how similar Bella and I looked. Though I suppose it comes with the territory of being twins, our features were so similar I was sure if I chopped her hair short like mine she could easily pass as me. I had never thought of my features as particularly feminine, but nor was Bella all that masculine. I guess we both just shared the same strange androgynous features that easily fit either roll when framed properly by long hair or stubble or whatever other gender-defining characteristics.

Apparently she was equally freaked out. She stepped forward, eyeing me almost cautiously, before smiling hugely and practically mauling me in a hug.

"Wow… hi, Bella," I laughed. I pushed slightly until she backed off, but kept smiling. "It's like looking into a transsexual mirror," I said stupidly, trying to break the ice. She laughed and put her hands on both sides of my face before going in for another hug.

"Having you here is going to be so great," she said, turning to give mom a hug. It caught me a bit off guard, not being used to such open displays of affection with parents. More and more I was seeing how messed up my life with my dad had been, and more and more I was getting excited about the idea of being here with Renee and her family.

"Yeah, having another dude around is going to be great," Ryan spat through a mouth of apple.

"Gross, Ryan," sighed Chelsea, taking a seat next to him. "I just hope you've got more class than that," she said. Ryan laughed and grinned hugely at me, looking the picture of innocence. I couldn't help but to smile back, thinking that I'd done more smiling in the past ten minutes than I had in the last year put together. It was beautiful, the absolute peace I was feeling. It struck me how quickly it had happened, that these people already weren't strangers, but family.

I liked it. Now I just had to meet Ben, and let's just say, I was more than a little bit nervous about it. I had absolutely no idea where he fit into my life. I mean, what was the husband of your mother to you, when you already had a father? And I was going to be living under his roof, so he would be a parental figure no matter what. I knew I would have to respect him for that reason alone, but trying to put another man into that father role was going to be difficult. I didn't even know where I stood in his eyes, either. Would he try to parent me? Council me? How much had Renee and Charlie told him about my life in Phoenix? I guess I would have to wait to find out.

We were all at various places around the kitchen—Bella and I talking about being vegetarians and how awesome it would be if we had some sort of long-distance twin telepathy going on, Ryan helping mom chop up veggies for dinner, and Chels sitting in the corner texting—when I heard the front door rattle open again. I looked up, a knot forming in my stomach. Here we go.

The man that walked through the double door was not what I was expecting at all, his picture didn't do him justice. I was picturing someone old, but he had an energy about him that was just… youthful. He was clean-shaven, had a full head of hair, and he was tall. Really tall. If I had to guess I would say at least 6'4, easy.

The minute he walked in he went immediately to mom, placed a kiss on the top of her head and gave her a hug from behind. It was such a gentle and loving gesture that I think I felt my heart skip a bit, being the silly romantic that I am.

"It smells great in here, miss, what are you cookin'?" His voice startled me with a southern accent. It must've shown on my face because Bella rolled her eyes and said "dad, quit messing with the new guy," smacking his arm as he came over and gave her a kiss on her head too. For the second time in 30 seconds my heart skipped a beat, hearing Bella call him dad. I should've been expecting it, it made sense after all, considering she grew up with him as her only father figure. It was still weird.

"Welcome to the family, Miles," said Ben, reaching out both hands and clasping my one in between. It felt so genuine all I could do was nod; sure I must look like an absolute idiot sitting there dumbfounded. He didn't seem to mind, though. Like Renee, he seemed to have this innate ability to put people at ease. I just smiled at him, tried to mumble a thanks, and pulled my hand back.

Dinner that night was the first time in a very long time I can truly remember being happy, and more than ever I was struck by how sudden and drastic a change that was. Watching the five of them interact was my first glimpse into a true family, my first experience with people who would grow to become so important to me in the years to come. I didn't know it then, but tonight was the first night of the rest of my life.

AN: So. Yeah. This chapter should've gone further. :( But it's okay, plenty for the future, haha.

I'm sorry I do the inner-dialogue thing with Miles so much. I need to find a good balance between that and the real-world, but I also wanna illustrate that that's how Miles really is. Always caught up in his own head. So a story narrated by him is naturally going to show a lot of his inner-workings.

For the record, Chelsea is Ben's kid from a previous marriage, like Miles and Bella from Renee's past marriage with Charlie. Ryan is Ben and Renee's kid.

Oh, in case you're wondering, in my head Miles looks a lot like Logan Lerman, and Bella looks... not like Kristen Stewart. :P

Comments and criticism are always very welcome. :] Thanks guys.