I updated and rewrote the first half of this chapter after posting it, so if it's different than you remember, that's why.

Non-movieverse. Edward doesn't look like Robert Pattinson in my head. I dunno why, but for some reason while writing this scene I imagined him like Dez Duron from The Voice, but paler. Mmmmm, probably because Miles' reaction was pretty much MY reaction the first time that boy sang. Whooooo.

Chapter 2: Sweet the Feet of the Dove

My dreams were plagued that night by strange nightmares involving the past—only, they weren't scary, just telling. It started out in the old movie theater I worked for a summer in. There was a visit by some big corporate manager, so we were all freaking out and trying to clean and scrub everything. I, being the tallest, was given the wonderful task of cleaning the dust and dead things out of the ceiling vents. Only, when I got on the ladder to reach them, the vents had big teeth and evil eyes that were laughing and staring. I was trying to clean the vent when it told me that that I was doomed to freeze to death in Forks, and as if to hit this point home, it spat a steady stream of ice cubes at me while I tried to clean it.

I woke up freezing, and spent a moment mentally berating myself for not thinking ahead and realizing it was going to be positively arctic sleeping up here. I made a mental note to ask Renee for extra blankets for the future.

Getting out of bed had always been an enormous process for me. I knew from reading books and seeing on TV—and to a lesser extent I guess human interaction—that getting out of bed was supposed to be akin to pulling teeth, that everyone hated it and would prefer to just stay in bed lazily for a few hours. For me, though, I think it went deeper than just being tired.

I'd thought about it before, probably a little bit too deeply, and came up with a couple of possibilities. Mostly I attributed it to the warmth and comfort that being wrapped up in your blankets afforded. Soft pillow, thick blankets weighing heavily against your body… it was just human nature to want to say comfortable, right?

But another part of me, the part that tended to think too deeply about these things, also saw the potential for it being an escape from reality. In our sleep we're free to experience worlds that are entirely our own. As the great Albus Dumbledore once said, we may swim under the deepest ocean and climb over the highest mountain. For a boy who so desperately hated the real world, the promise of that alternate world was a hard thing to surrender. Leaving bed was, as a result, always tough.

Still, I managed it. And I only barely regretted it, even when my bare fit connected with the ice-cold wooden floor I managed to control my impulse to dive back into the blankets.

I made my way down the stairs and through the halls, being quiet with a museum-like air that I knew wasn't necessary, as everyone in the house had already woken and left earlier in the morning. Being here was brand new, I was walking around a stranger's house, amongst a stranger's things. It was an odd feeling, and a hard one to reconcile with the knowledge that it was my house now, too.

The bathroom all of us "kids" shared was unnaturally clean, considering its occupants. No dirty clothes or towels laying around, the counter was clear of debris and toiletries… I wondered briefly if Bella was as much of a neat freak as I was about the bathroom.

I finally stopped stalling and turned to look at myself in the mirror. Over the months I'd gotten gradually better at training my eyesight away from things I didn't want to see, be it my pale and ugly face or the thick reddened scars that ran along my arms. Getting ready in the morning was an unfortunately stressful situation because of those scars, and they were hard not to see. Each time I reached out to open the medicine cabinet, reach over to grab the tooth paste, reach out to turn on and off the faucet—there they were, staring right at me. Mocking me. Making me feel the most intense regret I'd ever felt in my life.

I averted my eyes as much as possible, brushed as quickly as I could. Took a piss at the toilet, and turned to leave. Rounding the corner thinking about what to wear out, and by doing so avoiding thinking about the scars, I wasn't exactly looking where I was going—instead of meeting with open air like I had expected, I ran headfirst right smack-dab into a warm body.

"Oomph—oww," he winced, rubbing the spot on his forehead where my chin had collided.

"Oh dude, I'm sorry, I totally didn't know anyone else was here…" I trailed off as I noticed his eyes scanning across my inner forearms. Ryan, for his part, was classy about it. He didn't stare, but he wasn't quick enough to mask the slight curiosity and pity in his eyes.

I folded my arms over in a pretty much useless attempt to cover up. No real point, he'd already seen what I didn't want him to see. I wondered if Renee had told her kids about what had happened to me back in Arizona, or even how much Renee herself had known. I knew Dad had told her about the Ambien, but did he also tell her about my little attention-seeking stunt with the razorblade, too?

"No, it's uh, it's cool," he said, his eyes now looking anywhere but at my arms. "I have a free period on Friday so I just sleep in. I guess mom didn't tell you that," he laughed weakly, not really sounding very amused.

We stood in awkward silence for a couple of seconds before Ryan reached up, patted my shoulder in a friendly brotherly manly sort of way, and weaved around me to get into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, and a moment later I heard the water running.

I sighed. I had gone through similar things with people before, but this felt different. I supposed it was because I was looking forward to starting fresh here. I couldn't explain it, but being here just felt different. All of the color that I couldn't see in the world before seemed especially vibrant here. It was like I had gone to sleep in one universe and woken up in an entirely different one.

My scars were like an annoying pesky tie to that old universe. I looked down at them and loathed them, wishing they would just leave me alone and let me live in my new world in peace.

Deciding I wasn't going to convince them, I returned to my room to change into something decent for going out. I dug through what little clothing I had brought and only managed to find a thin sweatshirt that had been more for style than for function back in the desert, but it would have to do.

Making sure I had a notepad and my camera in my backpack, I swung it on and went back down the stairs and down the hall.

The water had stopped, but the light was still sneaking through the crack at the bottom of the door, so I knew Ryan was still in there. I was hoping to make it past without having to talk to him, but the door swung open almost exactly as I walked by.

"Oh no, not again!" He cried, flinging up his arms in mock-hysteria, pretending to shield from me crashing into him. I laughed, and he lowered his arms and laughed too. The awkwardness from before was suddenly gone, and I felt good. I let myself be amazed for a minute at how easy going these people were, how we could go from completely awkward to just fine with the easy transition of a joke. Were people back home like this, and I just hadn't given them a chance? Or was Forks really just a special place where people were less judgmental, more forgiving, and easier to socialize with?

"You're going to come home an ice cube if you go out in that, and mom will totally blame my ass for it," he said, interrupting my train of thought. "I have a hoodie hanging from the peg by the door. The black one. Go ahead and take it for the day, save both of our asses," he laughed.

I started to protest, but he just gave me non-compromising look and walked away down the hall. I didn't ponder this too much, just let it fold into the intricately weaved profile of him, and the rest of this family, that I had going in my head.

Ten minutes later when the rain started pouring down I almost regretted my decision to go out. Almost. Still, it was strangely soothing to be out there in the rain. It was so heavy it created a sort of veil around the world, staring too far off into it felt like looking into a foggy mirror. Trees and buildings were fuzzy. Less real. It felt like I could fade away into it and nobody would be any the wiser.

I wondered why anonymity was so comforting. Was it because I felt so wrong in my own skin? Did just being me bother me so much that I didn't want anyone to see?

I pulled up my camera and snapped a quick picture of a white dove sitting on a mailbox across the street. The bird stared me down, as though it was mocking my need to be hidden. Ha. I see you. You're trying to hide, Little Human, but you can't hide from me, it said. I lowered my camera after taking another picture, and the bird was gone.

I shivered. It felt creepy and real, in a weird way. Like I really had heard the bird speaking in my head. I pondered this as I kept walking, too used to the question of am I really crazy? to bother asking myself again. There's only so much wondering you can do before you stop wondering and just accept it. It becomes a natural part of your psyche, as valid or as truthful as your hair color or your love of strawberries. It just was.

A little bit further down the road and I reached Independence Ave, where the quant little neighborhood began. Renee's house—well, mine too, I suppose—was isolated on its own long driveway, tangling through wild trees and up to a small hill where the house was perched. It was part of the neighborhood, but slightly isolated from the rest of the house. Just like me. Miles Swan, part of humanity, but separated from the rest in my own little bubble of weird. Oddly fitting.

I turned the corner and started the walk downhill towards the town its self. The little quant neighborhood of houses was situated on an incline up the mountain that ran up before evening off, and the main street of the town was at the foot of it. Covered in misty rain and fog, it made quite the sight as you came down the hill—I snapped another picture.

I decided, somewhere between my soaking wet sneakers and catching sight of the warmly lit windows of a small coffee shop, that this was a beautiful place to live. A beautiful place to be alive, so different and separated from everything I knew before. I spared some thought to whether or not it was because it was everything opposite of what I knew before, or if it was standing on its own merits. The sun, the heat, the orange mountains of Phoenix… it all represented the life I had before. It made sense to me, in my limited understanding of psychology and my overly poetic mind, that I would find the opposite of it to be beyond gorgeous.

Had I grown up here, would I have had the same problems? Would existing be as much of a chore as it was in Phoenix? Would I have tried to kill myself, and if I had, would Renee have sent me to live with Charlie in Arizona? And if I had gotten there, seen the big city, the orange of the rocks and the blazing heat of the clear blue sky, would I have thought it was beautiful as I now find it repellent? The thoughts buzzed around in my head like a swarm of bees, but one was most prevalent:

Humans were such fascinating creatures.

I reached the little coffee shop and took a minute to appreciate it visually. The building was flush with the others along the street, the style left over from the days when main streets were all just one long building with different facades to distinguish different shops. The café, for its part, was painted a deep brown that made a perfect pair to the warm glow from lanterns hanging by the entrance. The windows had frost along the edges, and as cold as it was, I'm pretty sure it had to have been painted on. Still it was a nice touch. Across the top of the door in arching gold letters were the words "Morgan Muffle's Coffee & Cakes," with slight peeling along the edges. I smiled, and instantly I knew I had found a second home.

I pulled my hood down and shook my hair slightly to lose any wetness left over, and stepped through the door. A small bell chimed above head just as a girl behind the counter near the back looked up. She smiled, waved, and turned back to the espresso machine she was manning. Must be part of the job description.

The wind blew behind me, nearly pulling the door handle from my grasp. The cold air hitting me from behind and the warmth from inside the café blanketing me from the front created a strange sandwiching effect. I felt like a cumulonimbus cloud in the making.

People were seated around the place, going about their business. Some were sitting at tables with laptops or iPads, typing away or playing Angry Birds or doing whatever it was that people did while sitting on laptops or iPads. Others were sitting on big plushy couches and chairs, situated in a half circle around a big fireplace that crackled happily in the corner. Chatting with their friends and sipping lattes, looking for all the world like they were the happiest people alive. I envied them and their simple happiness.

At the counter, the girl working the bar smiled again, this time a little wider and maybe I was imaging it, but with a little bit of curiosity coloring her eyes. I'm sure in a town as small as this she must be wondering who the stranger was. I doubted they got a lot of newcomers, but wondered if there's any good tourist spots nearby, or if anyone came through here while driving north or vacations or anything. I can't be the only new face, right? I got nervous thinking about it.

"Hey there. Want to try one of our pumpkin chai lattes?" She chirped, happy and light. She was pretty, in a girl sort of way. Her hair was curly and dark blonde and pulled back into a bun, a few strands of it hanging out wildly near her ears. Which, I realized with a grin, held two pink-frosted donut earrings hanging from them.

"Part of the dress code?" I asked, tapping my own earlobe for clarification. She laughed, seeming to not mind me ignoring her attempted up-sell of the pumpkin thing.

"Part of the Aly-code, actually," she said, and I looking down at her name badge—Alyson. Cute name. "But it might be part of what got me the job here, to be honest. I definitely couldn't make coffee very well—" I gave her the best skeptical-apprehensive-maybe-I-WON'T-get-coffee face—"but I've gotten much better!" She added quickly, bouncing slightly in place and gesturing around with both hands as if to say look at all of the happy, non-complaining customers! to prove her point.

"Right…" I laughed, surprising myself. Being in Forks felt like being painted into a portrait of a happy little town with happy people, and expected to play a part. Morose as it sounds, I never laughed. Never. And yet here I was, not even 24 hours in Forks and already the simple happiness of a café barista had become infectious. It swirled around in combat with the negativity I inherently felt about life, all of those feelings were still near the surface. The loneliness, the desperate desire to talk to someone—anyone—was bubbling in me like red-hot magma, contained for too long and ready to erupt. It occurred to me, distantly, that maybe changing your environment really did matter as much as psychologists and doctors and my parents had said it did. I think Forks is going to be healthy for you, Miles, he had said. Sitting in that coffee shop felt like a world away from my dad and his words, but they still made me angry even now.

"So… no pumpkin chai?" Asked Alyson, biting her lip. I caught myself frowning, wondering if I had let my dark thoughts about my dad show through on my face. She must've been thinking I was the biggest dick ever.

"Oh, uh… yeah, one of those," I said, trying to smile, but I was still huffy because dad being right was just so wrong. So I chose to ignore it, buried him and his words deeply away and forgot they were there. For now.

"It'll be $4.50," she said, and tapped a button on the register.

"What! For coffee?" I yelped, indignant at the thought.

"Times are tough, this stuff isn't cheap you know. Especially hauling it all of the way up here to Forks. We pay a premium on the coffee beans," she said, looking happy at knowing the logistics.

"But… isn't chai made from tea?"

She deflated slightly.

"Well yeah—"

"It's okay," I laughed, handing over the money. "I'm sure it'll be great."

As I took a seat in this little coffee shop in the middle of nowhere, somehow I felt more alive than I had in the entire year and a half before moving here. What was it about Forks that was so different? The very air I was breathing in seemed to tingle with possibilities for the future. Back in Phoenix it was a chore just to exist. I didn't bother trying to be a part of anything because, for some inexplicable reason, life held no spark for me. Now, swimming in green and gray in the little town of Forks, everything felt different. The idea of starting school the next day was somehow exciting, the idea of meeting people and having friends was suddenly something I was looking forward to. Back home I wanted nothing to do with it, but here…? Here just felt different.

I was stirring the bits of pumpkin spice into my chai, contemplating what it meant about the psyche that the chance at a "fresh start" was such an enormous emotional lift, when I heard the bell above the door ring and instinctively looked up.

If asked, even years later, to define exactly what I felt in that moment… I wouldn't be able to. I couldn't explain it to myself, let alone anyone else. It started in at the tips of my toes and fingers, like dipping your hands into warm water after playing in the snow. It spread up my arms and legs, spread across my chest and my stomach and spun and curled like warm honey. Butterflies didn't even begin to cover it, I felt like I was high or drunk or had just been told the world was ending, that the stars were falling from the heavens as I was sitting here.

It was the first time I ever saw Edward Cullen.

My heart stopped. The blood in my veins slowed to a lazy haze, the whole world fell away and right in the middle of it was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my entire life. I stared at him shamelessly, probably with a dumbfounded look on my face, but I couldn't look away. Even as he ordered at the bar—and I saw, in a distant way, that Alyson also seemed flustered—and as he sat down at a table in the corner. If he noticed me, he tactfully wasn't making it apparent.

It was some time later that I finally broke my gaze from his flawless, pale face. Discretely, and trying not to think about how creepy it was, I ever so slightly rotated my camera on the table so that it was aiming at him.

I snapped a picture. Click. In that very second, his eyes shot up and met mine, and his expression changed from mostly blank to curious and amused. Instantly I felt my heart speed up and my face flush red—he couldn't possibly have heard the sound from all of the way over there, could he?

I quickly averted my gaze down to my notepad in front of me, and began to doodle to seem less conspicuous, all the while mentally berating myself for being such a creeper. The only saving grace was that he looked older than I was, so he probably didn't go to my school. I did wonder, briefly, why such a handsome, young guy was hanging around Forks—I doodled a couple of forks on my paper—when he could be modeling in Los Angeles or something. He definitely had the looks for it.

I doodled the Hollywood sign.

"I can't seem to recall seeing that around Forks," said a silky smooth voice. I felt myself freeze, looking up to see the object of my attentions standing a couple of feet in front of me. He smiled a flawlessly dimpled smile and sat in the chair opposite. I scrambled frantically in my brain for something to say.

"You uh, you mean me?" I said, and twitched at how stupid it sounded. I had meant it as in oh you haven't seen me around Forks?, but it had come out as are you talkin' to me? I wanted to curl up and die.

My misery must've shown on my face, because Mr. Smolder laughed a deep, melodic laugh that sent chills down my spine. Oh man. What was going on with me?

"Well, I haven't seen you, either. Allow me to introduce myself," he said, never losing his slight smile, but he didn't extend his hand for a shake like most people would have, either.

"I'm Edward."

Thump thump thump. My heart was beating a million times a second, my thoughts coming in jumbles and alternating between trying to convince me to put my tail between my legs and run, and trying to form a coherent sentence. In the end it was kind of a combination of the two:

"M-Miles," I stuttered out, simultaneously getting up and banging my knee into the bottom of the table. The whole thing shook, sending waves of my poor pumpkin chai over the edge of the cup onto the paper.

I grabbed my bag from the floor and raced out the door, bell chiming softly behind me as I stepped out into the rain.

How embarrassing! He must be thinking I'm a total nutcase after that episode. What kind of a person introduces themselves and then runs away? Especially after spilling their drink all over them? I felt like such a mess, but more than that, I was trying to clear my head. Trying to understand why Edward had made me feel so out of phase.

I couldn't imagine it being just normal attraction, but then, everything I felt here in Forks seemed to be amplified for some unknown reason. If I believed in God, I would think there was some sort of divine intervention going on in some effort to endear me to my new home.

But I don't, and there isn't. So I kept walking.

AN: Long time. Chapter title is taken from Swinburne's Hymn to Proserpine. That genius.

Saw Breaking Dawn part 2 and it got me all inspired and such.