Have you ever wondered why Edward was so devoted to Bella? Why he was so crushed when he had to leave her? Why he was reluctant to get close to her? Why he was so protective of her? Why he was so depressed and resentful of vampire life? Why the Cullens were so quick to vote "yes" on her transformation? It's because he didn't tell Bella the whole story. It's because Bella wasn't the first "singer" he encountered. It's because Bella wasn't the first human he fell in love with.
It couldn't be happening again. Not again. He had already been through so much in his too-long life to have this girl move here – and be right here. He knew it wasn't her fault; she couldn't help herself. But he couldn't suppress a black-eyed glare in her direction, which she returned with a timid turn of the head.
He gripped the easily breakable desk to restrain himself. One slip, and it would be all over. He knew that for a fact. Her beautiful chocolate brown eyes, which he had seen for only a second, were comparable to green eyes he'd been lost in so long ago. The scent was too familiar, also.
Memories tried to surge up, memories he'd rather leave in the past. He had been doing that successfully for over fifty years now – had it really been that long? Time went so fast.
Through sheer willpower, he managed to push them back into the deep recesses of his mind, at least for now. He could think about her later, on the trip. He'd already made up his mind to get away from her. He couldn't bear to stay here, with this new girl. This bringer of bittersweet memories.
Did Biology always take this long? A fraction of a second before the bell rang, he was out of his seat, moving a bit too quickly for the human crowd around him. He sensed she was watching, but, like during lunch, he couldn't decipher her thoughts. And maybe that was a good thing. He didn't want to hear what this personal demon had to say.
Thirty minutes later, after dropping his worried brothers and sisters off at home and switching cars with his adoptive father, he sped off to nowhere in particular. Maybe Alaska. Maybe not. He couldn't imagine being near other people right now.
And there the memories were, slapping him in the face. Reminding him of a time when he was happy. Reminding him of how he ruined everything.
If anyone makes banners, I kind of need one. I'd be very grateful. Anyways, leave comments telling me what you think. Happy reading. :)
Wow. After an overwhelming response (thank you SO MUCH to everyone who read/commented) I decided to post the first chapter sooner than I was planning. Consider yourselves lucky. :)
Edward relaxed by the seashore, lounging on a boulder near the sea. The ocean crashed against him, but he took little notice, though it was January and the water had to be freezing.
He didn't have long to relax, however, as he heard laughter coming ever closer. If a human saw him in the sunlight, it would be...bad. And, as there wasn't a cloud in the sky, he figured he should book it.
His favorite thing about this life: the speed. It was beyond enjoyment; it was pure bliss. He weaved through the forest, going nowhere. They'd just moved to New England and he loved it so far. The forests were large, providing plenty of privacy. Plentiful wildlife, too, he thought as he grinned.
He and his family had been moving constantly since he had been...adopted, as he referred to it. He was thankful that they had finally found a place to put down roots. He knew he was being silly, that they couldn't stay here for more than a few years, but he already called it home.
It was 1956, the year of Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe. For Edward, it was just another year in the life of an immortal. They blended together nowadays. It didn't really matter to him; he was just enjoying life.
Unlike most of his family, he wasn't resentful of Carlisle for changing him. Rosalie could gawk at him all she wanted - he actually liked it. The speed, the endless time, the beauty. He wasn't vain, but occasionally he found himself stopped in front of the mirror. Nearly forty years to get used to it, but he still hadn't. He should be 55 and gray, not 17 and inhumanly gorgeous.
The bare trees shook as he flew past them. He didn't even leave prints in the fresh, sparkling snow. Eventually, he found that he was circling closer and closer to his new home.
He skipped up the steps leading to the front door. Inside, he admired the grand foyer. A curved staircase dominated the left side, and the vintage desk, large in any other surroundings, was dwarfed on the right. The dark mahogany wood contrasted nicely with the pale cream walls, a color favored by Esme. He had to admit, she was an amazing renovator. Just weeks ago, this was falling apart. Now it was the most beautiful Victorian in New Hampshire.
He headed to the right, to the living room, and saw Rosalie and Emmett playing a game of tonsil hockey on the sofa.
“Get a room, guys,” he mumbled, though he didn't really mind it. He was happy Rosalie had found someone, though they were constantly at odds with each other.
“Shut up. You're just jealous,” Rosalie shot back in the short moment her lips were separated from Emmett's.
Edward laughed. He couldn't imagine being jealous of Rosalie, especially not for this. His theory was that people searched for love because they weren't content with themselves, and he was incredibly content with his life.
He left the happy couple alone and skipped back into the foyer and up the stairs. He met Alice at the top.
“Hi, Eddie.” They both grinned.
“Off to be unsocial, I see.”
“You're much better?”
“Hunting isn't the same thing. That's necessary.”
“Well, my alone time is necessary, too.”
“Whatever you say...”
She sped down the stairs and out the door, leaving Edward unconsciously smiling. He truly loved his family, Rosalie included.
His piano awaited his return, pulling him to its keys. A song had been playing in his mind that morning, and he was anxious to play it for real. He set his fingers on the delicate keys, and of their own accord, they started to fill the room with a beautiful melody, haunting, yet an underlying sense of happiness.
But something was missing. Songwriting didn't always come easily, he knew. It tugged at the edges of his mind, not allowing him to play anything else. He just had to finish it, one way or another.
Not that exciting, I know. But believe me, it'll get interesting pretty quickly here.