Spring 2005
"Ugh," Alice's mental voice came from the top of a tree in the dense woods surrounding the patio. It was a dark, dreary day. Identical to the last. Not enough rain to drive Edward under the awning, but still enough to darken his hair and dampen his coat. "Why do you smoke?"
Typically, Edward's dearest friend would be in high school alongside him. The only one of his siblings that looked young enough to play a student. However, because of recent circumstances, Alice spent all her time providing whatever comfort she could to her isolated partner. A gesture Edward once would have scoffed at. Jasper made the mistake. He was nearly two hundred years old. Surely, he could pull himself up by the bootstraps.
After his short summer with Isabella Swan, Edward understood why Alice could not bear to leave Jasper's side when he was in distress.
"Several reasons," Edward pulled the cigarette back to his lips. "First and most importantly, it gives me a reason to stand out here, rather than suffer inside with them," he nodded his head toward the crowded cafeteria.
"Second, it keeps them from coming too close. Third, it gives me a characteristic for them to fixate on that has nothing to do with my appearance. Lastly," he took a long drag, "no one would ever expect a vampire to pretend to have a smoking habit."
Edward didn't even have to see her to know that Alice held her petite nose in the air. "I think it's because you have always had a flair for the dramatic."
He hummed thoughtfully.
"Don't you know what they're thinking about you?"
Edward quirked a brow. If there was one thing a telepath knew, it was what others thought of him. They came up with this persona of his, after all. It just so happened that the first weeks of school were sporadically sunny. Edward was forced to cut more classes than usual. Rumors spread, and suddenly, he was a delinquent. He didn't have the heart to fight it, so he leaned into the new character. Added a smoking habit and a constant scowl. It suited him just fine. He was in no mood to smile and play, regardless.
"I'm sorry you have to be here alone." Alice continued from her hiding spot. Through her eyes, he could see the top of his head and felt her desire to arrange the locks back into place as if it were his own. Being in someone else's head was still a bizarre sensation.
"I'll survive," he assured her in the lowest voice she could hear.
Inside the cafeteria, Bella's name spread like wildfire. More attuned to her than he had any right to be, Edward immediately found the source. He clenched his teeth.
Apparently, Mike Newton discovered that Tyler Crowly asked out Isabella Swan, though Mike had already staked his claim over her. Whispers spread that he was going to challenge Tyler to a fight after school. Neither deserved her. Especially if they thought a spectacular display of aggression would win her fair heart. For one, brief second, Edward toyed with the idea of joining the fray to show both boys who she truly belonged to.
That brief second was a second too long.
Alice sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly overcome with visions of the future. The future in which Edward let his feelings be known, and Bella fell into his arms.
"That's what this is about," Alice realized. "The brooding, the solitude. You're not mad at me. You're in love with her."
Edward said nothing. He had done such a good job hiding Isabella Swan's existence and her permanent hold over him from the family. He solidified his resolve to stay away from her and Alice's visions blinked from reality, no longer a viable future.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because there's nothing to tell."
"Bullshit, Edward." She flipped through the visions of the future, each more horrifying than the last. Edward holding her in his arms. The two of them walking hand-in-hand on a beach. Bella pale and cold and red-eyed. "God, there's so many…"
"Stop," he commanded.
Naturally, she didn't listen. She never listened. Edward squeezed his eyes shut, trying very hard not to think about the other girl who never listened to him.
"Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. You are going to tell me why you are pushing this girl away when you are so clearly in love with her, or I am going to tell your secret to Esme. And god help you if Esme finds out you fell in love and did nothing about it."
"I am pushing her away because I love her," Edward hissed. "I would not wish this life upon anyone, especially someone with so much to offer."
To turn a heart of sweet summer sunshine into ice would be unforgivable.
"I met her in Alaska," Edward told Alice. "Her mother made a mistake, and she spent the summer stuck in Sitka with me. I hoped that I'd never see her again."
"But she's here…"
Edward knew that. He had never been so painfully aware of anything in his life. Her nearness was a constant siren call. "I need to stay away from her for only a few months, then she will be gone again to continue her life without me. Just as it should be."
Alice longingly looked through the visions of Edward and Bella together, loudly wondering if 'just as it should be' was the correct turn of phrase.
"I love Isabella Swan." The words fell from his tongue with unearned comfort and familiarity. "Please, let me love her as I wish. And I wish to see her grow, far beyond what I could offer her."
"Edward…"
"Please."
Alice had another lecture brewing, but inside the cafeteria, Mike approached Tyler. A vision flickered in Alice's mind. Edward watched Tyler punch Mike in the nose, right where he stood. Apparently, Tyler wasn't going to wait until after school to fight. He was going to instigate it immediately.
Alice blinked away the vision. "You're going to want to get out of here," she instructed, needlessly. Edward could see exactly what would happen if he were caught in the middle, and he wanted to avoid that future, if possible.
Pleased to be free of this conversation, Edward pushed through a side door into the school's music room. Only two classes were held in this room in the morning, and the teacher always left before lunch to teach at the elementary school. Edward often came to this room, sat at the old piano, and played to an audience of darkness and solitude. He attempted to play an accompaniment to the sounds of the fight, but there wasn't enough action for a composition. Mike and Tyler mostly hurled insults at one another, neither daring to get too close to the other.
The object of their desire slipped into the room. With her back to the door, she sank to the ground. To see her in pain and not offer comfort was agony. But a moment of agony was preferable to a lifetime of agony, so Edward maintained his distance from her.
"I believe it is customary for the fair maiden to watch her dashing knight fight for her honor."
Bella gasped. Her hand settled over her heart. Her dark eyes searched the room until she spotted him. They widened, then narrowed.
"What are you doing here?" she seethed.
Instead of answering her question, Edward played the piano.
Undeterred, she marched right up to him. It was one of Edward's favorite things about her: her unshakable quest for truth.
"Shouldn't you be at Dartmouth right now?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. "Or did you flunk out of high school so badly that they pushed you back?"
Edward bit back a sigh. When he told her those things, it had been the truth. He truly was going to meet up with Jasper and Alice at Dartmouth.
Then, disaster struck.
There was no plausible excuse he could give her, so Edward continued to play.
"You said your parents died, yet from what I heard, your mom is alive and well. Dead to you, I suppose? Because she was tired of putting up with you?"
"You've been asking about me?"
Bella sucked in a deep breath. "You said your adoptive family was all you had in the world, but now you're living with your aunt and uncle. How does that work?"
"What sort of questions have you been asking about me?"
"You said—" she sucked in yet another shaky breath. "I suppose it doesn't matter what you said before, because from what I can tell, you are nothing but a dirty, rotten liar. Stay away from me! I never want to hear you speak again because everything you say is—."
A small hiccup escaped her lips. An unfortunate reaction to all her deep, calming breaths. Her hands flew to cover her mouth. She glared at him, as if it was his fault.
It charmed him further.
"Don't laugh!" she demanded, releasing another hiccup. She covered her face in shame. "Oh my god. I'm so unbelievably useless I can't even yell at someone."
"I feel properly reprimanded."
She removed her hands from her face. Her warm brown eyes swirled like melted chocolate. Her pale face was flushed. As inappropriate and inopportune the thought was, all he could think was how pretty she looked in this particular shade of blue.
"Why didn't you call?"
"I couldn't."
Another hiccup. "What was it then? You broke both your hands? You were cursed by a witch to parish if you lay a finger on a payphone?"
"Landlines, actually."
"Why didn't you call?" The beseeching tone in her voice was a lance through his heart. "Give me the reason and we can try again. Please. Just give me the reason."
She wanted to forgive him. After what he'd done to her, after all the lies she thought he told, she would let them start over. He wanted it. Lies bubbled to his tongue. Half-truths that could keep her by his side. He could not voice any of them.
"What would you like me to say, Bella? That—like the men in all your romance novels—some great tragedy kept me away. And all this time we spent apart, the only thing that kept me going was the hope that someday, against all odds, I would see you once more."
He watched helplessly as her features hardened; the warm chocolate of her eyes tempered.
"There is no reason," he concluded, his tone distant and matter-of-fact.
Outside on the patio, the students cheered. The fight was over. Bella turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. His feet followed her of their own accord.
He slouched against the frame of the door as Bella pushed through the crowd of students. She continued into the center, where Tyler stood victorious over Mike, who was clutching a bloody nose. The coward only got one punch in—most of the fight was spent with them just out of the other's reach, too afraid to get too close. Bella grabbed Mike's face and kissed him. Never to do what was expected of her, Bella honored the loser. Mike wrapped one arm around her waist, and another cupped her cheek. Edward found it particularly insulting that the stupid boy did not take the opportunity to weave his fingers through her hair. Allow the silky soft strands of her mahogany hair to spill between his fingers, as Edward would have.
Edward thought he experienced true pain.
The transition from dying human to vampire was one he could never forget. Venom replaced every fluid in his body, leaving a trail of burning heat that made it feel like he burned from the inside out. The flames lingered for three, torturous days.
Years after, he endured the pain of what it meant to take a human life. It was the opposite of his transformation. With each life he took, his insides froze as the final dregs of humanity slipped further away. To this day, he carried a frostbitten heart in his chest, throbbing and aching.
Watching Isabella Swan kiss someone else was a pain like no other. His frozen heart shattered. Its shards painfully pierced his lungs with every breath he took, until he was forced to stop breathing entirely.
Summer 2004
There were usually warning signs for cataclysmic events. Receding ocean water before a tsunami. An eerie green sky before a tornado. Hollow ground underfoot before an avalanche.
There was no warning before Edward's life was irrevocably altered.
It was a typical Monday morning in his music shop. The Weir boy was in for his weekly trumpet lesson. Edward didn't think anything would come from it when he hung the poster announcing lessons in the shop's window. Sitka was a small town—he didn't expect a large artistic community, if at all. Within the week, all the spots had been filled. He had two lessons each day of the week with rowdy children, aspiring teenagers, and eager adults.
He was thoroughly enjoying himself. Edward almost regretted his inevitable departure in the fall.
Just as Miles finished his piece in the soundproof room where Edward held his lessons, a clatter sounded in the space, followed by a feeble apology. Edward decided he would take care of whatever it was later and instructed Miles to start again from the top.
Then, the sweetest smell wafted into the room.
One so deliciously enticing, venom flowed into his mouth and his muscles tensed, ready to pounce.
Never had the smell of blood had such a grappling hold on Edward. Not since his early days as a vampire.
He immediately stopped breathing. Using his last bit of air, he told Miles Weir that he could leave his lesson early. Edward was lucky the boy was shy. He didn't look up to see the bloodlust that twisted Edward's face as he packed up and ran out of the room.
Alone, Edward braced against the wall, curling and unfurling his fingers into fists. He was stronger than this, he knew. He could sit in a hot, cramped little room with a human without the smallest trace of bloodlust. Edward poked and prodded the store with his gift and found no one. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, only to regret it. He cursed between gritted teeth. The smell was sweeter and stronger than before. He listened with his ears rather than his gift to discover a gentle heartbeat and short, shallow breaths.
Curiosity dulled the fire in his throat.
Right above where he stood, was a person who blocked his gift. Not a vampire with a gift like his, but an average human. He didn't understand how that could be possible. Unless, his gift was beginning to fade. He heard the thoughts of the Weir boy perfectly fine. His father bought him a new video game and he was excited to play it after dinner.
Edward reached for the doorknob but stopped himself.
As tempting as it was to sit and talk to someone without their thoughts invading his mind, the blood was much, much more tempting. Edward was not sure he could resist. There was no one else in the shop. No one to serve as a barrier to stop Edward from tearing out this person's throat if the scent overpowered his control.
He should wait. Eventually, this person would leave, and Edward could follow them outside, where the whipping Alaskan winds could dilute the scent.
They did not leave. Spending an hour in the small, cramped room, Edward grew restless until he had enough. He opened the door and let the scent overwhelm him. He sucked a deep breath through his mouth, forcing himself to acclimate. Then another through his nose. Fire trailed down his throat in a blaze. It was nothing he couldn't handle. Edward experienced worse pain before.
He followed the scent up to the loft where it emanated from a girl around his human age. She was tucked into one of the lounge chairs, lost in a book. Her legs were folded under her, and she rested the book on the arm of the chair. He watched her warm, chocolate eyes travel across the page, her full lips slightly parted. Her rich brown hair was pulled up into a knot on the top of her head, with a few stray pieces framing her delicate face and falling down the back of her neck.
She looked as divine as she smelled. Edward wondered if this girl was crafted to perfectly suit his taste, down to the literal sense.
He thought of leaving her to read in peace, but he came up to the loft to experiment. Their brief conversation revealing nothing, gave him no answers. He had no idea why he couldn't read her thoughts. Eventually, he decided she wasn't an anomaly. Edward probably encountered dozens of silent minds, lost to him in crowds. However, there was something about this girl that made him offer the loft for her use. That same something inspired joy when she accepted. Even though he learned nothing about his gift or why her mind was quiet, their conversations became the highlight of his day for weeks.
"Now, that is an excellent book." The piano lesson with the Carter twins had gone longer than he expected. By the time their parents collected them, Edward was almost shaking with desire to get up to Bella.
Bella sighed, deeply. She looked particularly lovely that day. She rarely let her hair down—complaining the rain and humidity would only ruin it—but it swirled around her shoulders. A cascade of browns and reds.
"What?" Edward asked, already amused.
"I know what you're going to say," Bella began without looking up from her book.
He collapsed into the chair at the opposite side of the loft. He would never allow himself to get closer. Everything about her was far too alluring to keep anything but a room's length of distance between them.
"Let's hear it."
"You're going to say The Princess Bride is the one romance you can enjoy, and you're going to feel clever and cheeky for saying so, knowing that you enjoy it because it is satire."
Edward raised his eyebrows. It wasn't entirely true, but he was too entertained by this little rant to refute it.
"And you would be correct. We would agree that the familiar fairytale archetypes are over-exaggerated. The characters are basically caricatures of themselves. Buttercup is so dumb, it's sometimes painful. But who cares because she's the most beautiful girl in the world, right? And you," she pointed the book at Edward, "are going to say this satirical version of a fairytale extends to the element of true love."
Edward pursed his lips and said nothing, allowing Bella to complete the conversation between them on her own.
"And I'm going to remind you that in satire, while the storytelling elements are mocked, the theme of the piece stands true. And the theme of this book is that true love conquers all."
"Well, you got me there."
Bella raised her chin. "Told you."
Edward smiled in return. He was beginning to adore the rose-tinted color in which she saw the world. After decades of living in shades of grey, it was refreshing.
"It's hokey and over-the-top and ridiculous, but so sweet and genuine," she continued, fondly caressing the pages. "I love this book. How could anyone not love it? More problems should be overcome with the simplicity of true love."
"The person who holds your heart must be superhuman to have you speak of love with such high regard."
A lovely shade of pink darkened her cheeks. "There isn't anyone," she admitted, after a few moments of silence. "There never has been."
He had no right to be as pleased with her response as he was. There was to be nothing between them—Edward would never let her settle for him. Yet, he could not get it out of his head that her heart was available to earn.
"Then, what makes you so certain romantic love would be able to solve every problem in the world?"
"Perhaps I refuse to be thwarted," she said, referencing the quote, 'Cynics are simply thwarted romantics'. "The person who broke your heart must have been a supervillain," she fired back, "to have you treat the mere concept of love with such disdain."
"There hasn't been anyone for me, either."
This shocked her, "How is that possible? You're so…" She tucked her lips between her teeth.
Edward's eyebrows raised to his hairline. "Yes?"
Her cheeks grew redder. "You know I really should get back to my book."
He smiled, enjoying her evasion more than any possible conclusion to her statement. It was far more charming to see her at a loss for words than to hear her speak flowery declarations.
"Because you don't have the entire thing memorized quite yet?"
"Exactly."
He got up, knowing he'd check back up on her in thirty minutes.
"Oh, and Edward?" Bella called when he reached the top of the stairs.
He turned, resting his elbow on the railing. "Yes?"
She faltered adorably under his playful gaze. She looked down at her book to regain her composure. "Please prepare a better argument next time. I would like a challenge when we discuss Jane Eyre."
They smiled at one another, delighted with their mock debates.
"As you wish," he muttered under his breath.