So, what did you all think of Erin's little issue there? XD Predictable? Surprising?

Anyway, so... chapter nine... I'm hoping this one will be updated rather soon (since I'm only starting it right now as I type this, and really have no idea when it will be finished)...and...erm...yeah.

Carlisle Cullen

Oh, God. My first kiss. I'm having my first kiss... with my best friend. That's pretty awkward. For a few seconds, I let Erin just kiss me without making any moves to pull away. I didn't kiss her back, though, and she must have noticed this when she pulled away, her eyes completely filled with shock and embarrassment as her cheeks flushed a bright red.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Carlisle, I-I... I shouldn't have, please forgive me -" Erin pleaded, before I yet again cut off her sentence with a raise of my hand.

"Don't be sorry for how you feel," I replied softly. "That's nothing to apologize for."

"But... but... I kissed you – oh, dammit, what are Clark and Ryan to think? Jesus Christ, they're gonna kill us! Damn, I'm so stupid -"

"You're not stupid, Erin. You did what you wanted to do on an impulse and it turned into... that. If Clark and Ryan get upset over it, well, sucks to be them," I replied calmly, trying my hardest to keep my voice from breaking as I was still in shock from the few moments before. Erin still had her gaze fixed on the ground, kneading her hands together.

"I, um... I should get home. I told my dad that I'd be back in half an hour. Uh, see you at school tomorrow," she replied quickly, avoiding my gaze that I knew she could feel settled on her still. She hastily stood up and started off in the opposite direction, leaving me sitting dumbfounded on the grass under the tree. I sighed lightly and pulled myself to my feet, beginning to walk towards the town park. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I trudged through the new spring grass towards the playground inhabited by a few of the smaller kids from the manor school. I watched them out of the corner of my eye, watched as they ran around, giggled, and played, without a care or worry in the world. I thought of how much easier things would be if I could go back to that age, if I could go back to being six or seven years old and my biggest concern was whether or not I was going to get the newest super hero action figure for Christmas or my birthday. When I didn't have to worry too deeply about the emotions of others, when I didn't have to concern myself with future plans, friends, work, grades, and most definitely not what others thought of me, if you know what I mean. I sat myself on one of the unoccupied swings at the end of the swing set, gently pushing the swing back and forth with my foot on the ground, my hands still in my pockets. If only.

I sat on that swing for quite some time, contemplating the whole encounter with Erin. Though I had dismissed it as nothing, she was right about one thing: what would the other two think? As I was brought up, I'd been taught to not give a care as to what others thought of me, to continue with my own life and leave behind anyone who dared try to stop me. See, that was what made my father such an amazing man. For the eight short years that my mother and I had lived with him, he'd taught me so much about life, how to live, how to deal with things. When my parents divorced the couple years before my mother and myself moved to California, it was extremely difficult for me to cope with. My mother had never been the best parent in the world – don't get me wrong, I still love her unconditionally, but she's most definitely not the type of mother that a young child would wish to have. My father, on the other hand, was an amazing person. For year after year, we would spend every free moment we had together. Whether it was playing baseball outside or simply sitting in the basement while he tried to teach me simple techniques on that old, roughed up acoustic guitar of his. I don't think any young boy could have loved his father more than I did; he was my role model, the one person in the world that I strived to be just like. He was always smiling, and the way his eyes wrinkled when he smiled at me couldn't help but make me smile myself. Whenever he had to work weekends, he'd let me tag along with him. I even knew every one of his colleagues and knew my way around his work place like the back of my hand. He had even gotten me my first animal companion; a young golden retriever named Jasper, that unfortunately was hit by a car within the next year after we had welcomed him into our family.

Then the drinking started.

I had noticed the he and my mother had begun to shy away from each other, almost, whenever home together. After I had gone to bed every night, I'd lay awake and listen to the two arguing with each other over a number of different subjects; my father's work, the house, money, me, and countless other things that I've nearly forgotten about over the years. I'd gradually noticed that my father would start working later hours into the night and go into the basement where he had his bed set up as soon as he returned home from the long hours he worked. I barely got to spend much time with him anymore; my routine consisted of going to school, hanging around with the few friends I had back there in New York, then coming home, eating dinner with only my mother, and then going to bed and, night after night, listening to the arguments that took place downstairs. Then, one night, my father never came home. I laid awake in my bed for countless hours, and when I knew that my mother was sound asleep, I crept down into the pitch-black basement to explore around the makeshift bedroom that was set up down there. Turning on a flashlight, I had opened drawers, looked under the bed, and taken books off the shelves, only to find in each of these places a stash of empty beer bottles and packs of cigarettes. I had bitten down on my lip, remembering everything we had been taught in school about smoking, drugs and alcohol. I dropped the flashlight on the floor, not bothering to turn it off, before silently running back up to my room and lying awake for the rest of the night, thinking endlessly about why my beloved father would do such a thing, how he could bear it to betray his wife and son in such a way.

A few more days had passed after my encounter in the basement, and he still hadn't returned home. The first night of his disappearance, I had simply thought that he had to work the night shift for overtime. As day after day passed and there was still no sign of him, I began to worry. I repeatedly asked my mother if she knew where he had gone to, and her answer was the same every time: 'No, Carlisle, I have no idea. He'll come back eventually.' About a week had gone by since he disappeared, and just as I was about to ask my mother yet again if she had heard anything from him, the phone rang. I hesitantly answered it with a shaky voice, only to hear a voice asking for my mother. I handed the phone to her, and anxiously waited for her to hang up with whoever was on the phone so she could tell me what the whole thing was about. Her eyebrows knitted together a few seconds after I had handed her the phone, and the next few minutes of the conversation on her end consisted of many 'okay's and 'uh-huh's and things of the sort, before she finally said, "I'll be right down there. Thank you." I looked at her worriedly as she grabbed my arm and towed me towards the coat closet, grabbing my coat and handing it to me hastily as she grabbed her own.

"Mom, what's going on?" I had asked her, biting down on my lip.

"We've gotta go down to the hospital. Apparently they found your father and brought him there."

"Is he hurt?"

"You'll find out when we get there, honey," she replied, before towing me outside and into the car.

The car ride to the hospital had been one of the longest I had ever experienced in my short lifespan of around ten years. I had stared out the window, thoughts constantly running through my head about what could have possibly happened to my father that he was in the hospital. When we finally pulled into the parking lot, I jumped out of the car and began running towards the nearest entrance, before my mother caught me by the wrist and told me to slow down. I nodded shamefully, following her into the lobby and waiting as she asked what room my father had been placed in. A nurse pointed us in the right direction, and I again started running down the hallway, anxious to get into the room to observe the condition my father was in.

I burst into the room, and was greeted my the beeping of a heart monitor and the quiet dripping sound of an IV. I stared at the bed my father occupied, watching as he opened his eyes into the slits and gave me a groggy smile.

"Hey, bud," he had rasped, obviously fighting to keep his eyes open.

"What happened? Are you okay?" I inquired, walking up to his bed to stand at the edge of it. "Where've you been for the past week?"

"I've been... out." Just as I opened my mouth to ask where it was that he was 'out' to, my mother put her hand firmly on my shoulder and pulled me back a little bit.

"Carlisle, sweet heart, why don't you let me talk to him for a little while? There's a vending machine down the hall a little ways, go buy yourself a bag of chips or something," she told me, slipping a few quarters into my hand. I nodded sadly, trudging out of the room. Instead of following my mother's orders and going down to the vending machine, I hid outside the door, just around the corner so I was still in earshot of their conversation.

"Where the hell have you been, James?" I had heard my mother demand, "Your son has been worried sick. He probably thought you were dead!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Amy. I had gone out with a few friends to this bar and I had a few too many beers, then I -"

"Please tell me you didn't get behind the wheel of a car. Please tell me you didn't drive like that."

"No, I didn't drive, Joe did. I thought he'd had less than I did, but apparently he didn't and we got into a little accident..." my father's voice had trailed off at that point.

"Little accident? You went missing for a week. They said on the phone that they had found you unconscious on the side of some curb. How the hell is that a little accident, James?"

"Fine, so it wasn't little. I was conscious after it happened, but I didn't want to go home and face the consequences of what I did, okay? I just kinda started walking, then I tripped and fell and... well, I blacked out," my father responded.

"Well, you obviously woke up, cause there's no way you were passed out on a curb for a week. You could've at least called," my mother retorted. "Carlisle was asking me every day where you were. He was terrified. He didn't know where his dad was. Now we find out that you're in the hospital because you got in a car accident cause you were drunk, and you expect me to just let it go?"

"No, I don't expect you to get over it so easily -"

"Good, then. Because I'm not going to get over it. I'm letting you sneak your way out of this one. You fucked up big time on this one, James." I heard my mother turn on her heel and begin to walk out towards the door, before my father's voice started again.

"No, Amy, don't go! I said I was sorry, what else do you want from me?" he nearly yelled to her.

"Divorce papers. That's what I want from you. I'm done with you, James, and so is my son." At that, my mother came out of the room, slamming the door behind her and grabbing onto my arm, "Come on, We're going home."

I hadn't realized until I nearly fell off the swing I was still sitting on that I had blanked out for the past thirty minutes or so. There were still a few children playing outside, and I blinked a few times, clearing my head.

That was one week that I would never forget. That week, up until now, was the most stressful, worrying week I had ever experienced in my life. I'd always thought that it would be, until, that is, Esme went missing in the forest about a month ago.

I stood up to begin walking back home. My legs had fallen asleep during the time I had been sitting on the swing, and it took me a few moments to regain my full balance.

Those short few moments I had spent in the hospital room was the last encounter I had ever had with my father. I hadn't seen or spoken to him since. Thinking about that subject made me wonder what he was up to in present day, made me wonder whether or not he was even still alive. I knew perfectly well that my mother hadn't spoken to him in the past five years, either, so I didn't bother to ask her what she thought of the whole situation.

I sighed to myself as it began to lightly rain, sloshing my way through the puddles to the small ranch house on the edge of the village that I, unwillingly, called home.

Okay... so... that chapter took an unexpected turn... honestly, I had no idea it was gonna turn into a chapter about Carlisle's past...

oh well. I guess you all have some info on Carlisle's parents now xP

… so... what didja think? Reviews make me a very happy person ;D