Brooding
James doesn’t attend for the next two days after his short-lived debut at Forks High School.
It causes an even larger interest in the boy, as the mysterious new addition to Forks. Rumors sprout amongst the students about James’s previous schools and why he ended up in their small town—a British guy, with his accent so strong it’s obvious he has not been in America long.
His absence for two days causes Edward to spiral in fear of why. He keeps revisiting the visions of James’s deaths, all the possible ways he might be found. He begins to wish for James’s safe return to school. He even goes so far as to consider tracking James down.
Well, he does more than simply consider it, Edward attempts to find James’s house but it ends rather confusingly with him running in circles and forgetting where he is or what he is doing until he returns home.
That brings Edward into another spiral of complex thoughts, one which sends him on a trek up the mountains to his favourite spot. He hasn’t told his family just yet. James could already be dead, after all. But if he isn’t dead…Edward is positive there’s something off about James.
The fact he is unable to locate James’s house is the first bad sign, especially when he considers how confused he gets part-way into the task, often feeling as though he has somewhere to be, someone to meet, even though he doesn’t. Those thoughts are so strong that he often completely forgets he does, in fact, not have a job to get to nor does he have lunch plans with a girlfriend.
But Edward doesn’t want to tell his family, even if James is alive. And that’s what has sent him to the meadow, to mope alone and come to terms with the guilt drowning him. His family has always been number one. The thing he looks out for above all else. He would kill to keep his family’s secret—has killed to do so. He may not be proud of his past actions but knows deep down he will repeat them if it is between his family and one human.
So, why is he hesitating to tell his family about James? He is obviously a threat, with his impenetrable mind, self-aware visions, impossibly hidden house and the lightning scar, missing from his face and all recent visions. It only exists in Edward’s memory now, of those first few visions Alice had of James and him together.
He could let the scar go if it had been something new. A possible future that never came to pass. But the scar is old in those visions—healed and pale in colour, so thin at the edges that tanned skin almost hides the old marks deeper beneath. It is a scar that has settled, healed in place over years. Edward is positive James has the scar—he just doesn’t know how it is hidden so well, or why.
His family is not dumb, by any means. They’ve seen Edward’s moods the last two days. They’ve inferred something is bothering him, something more than simply James’s absence from school and possible suicides. He has been trying too hard to hide from them, scared someone will be able to realise exactly what he’s afraid of—James being someone who knows the truth of their family, or who has the ability to figure it out.
Edward eventually returns home after spending the night in the meadow and hunting a mountain lion for stress relief. His father is waiting for him like an ambush, an intervention in the lounge room. Edward has always been too hard on himself. In his head too much, Carlisle thinks as Edward steps into the living room.
“Carlisle,” Edward says. The rest of the house is empty, a sign Carlisle has requested them to vacate so the two can have a deep conversation on sensitive topics. Edward is instantly defensive.
Carlisle gestures for Edward to sit across from him, glancing over at his son, his firstborn in a way, the first person he dragged into this life. There’s a large amount of guilt that comes with being the one who turned Edward. He’s a person who believes his soul is now damned, after all. Carlisle has learned not to regret the action over the years, but there are times he wonders if Edward would have had more peace in death.
Edward doesn’t acknowledge that he’s heard such thoughts. It’s not his place to comment on the emotional warring of his father and sire, and he cannot truly answer yes or no to such a thought either. Perhaps he would have been more at peace. They will never know. Even if he is to be killed in his current form, Edward fears that death now holds no real significance for him—that death will not be absolution, but oblivion.
“What is keeping you out there, son?” Carlisle eventually asks.
“A lack of self,” Edward replies softly. “I feel I’ve lost it somehow.”
“Is it that you’ve lost yourself, or that you’re afraid you might have found yourself?” Carlisle asks.
“Perhaps it doesn’t matter,” Edward replies. “I do not want Alice’s version of the future.”
“Because of what it means for the boy, or because of what it means for you?”
Edward clenches his fingers together. Slight fissures appear on his knuckles, cracks edging out from his violent strength.
“Because of what we are. I will not damn another to this frozen existence.”
“That does not mean you cannot interact with the boy,” Carlisle argues, but his thoughts say otherwise. They foresee the difficulties of a human-vampire relationship, of the arguments that stem from not turning your mortal lover, the fear vampires have of losing someone they love. His mind considers Edward and his serious, devout personality, and how, if he truly loved a human, he wouldn’t stay alive past their death.
“Do not say things you do not mean, Carlisle. We both know it is not an option.”
It is, Carlisle thinks. If you are willing to lose him, and we are willing to lose you.
“And are you?” Edward asks, releasing the grip on his fingers.
“I am not willing, but I would if it meant you could experience peace and happiness for a few decades. Are you?” Carlisle stares at his son, unblinking, frozen as he waits. There’s no pretense between them here. No faking of humanity.
“…No.”
“Then you have your answer. Do not worry so much, son. It will all work as it is supposed to.”
He considers his father’s words. He is not willing to lose James, even without knowing him. James is the only person besides his family who has ever been in one of Alice’s visions with him. James is someone interesting and, in some ways, predestined. Edward may not be knowledgeable on the teenager, but he still cares for him. Edward has watched visions of James for months, foreseeing futures that may come to pass, that they may come to share. Even if he wishes they don’t ever come true, there is a part of Edward already invested.
There is another part of him that is scared. He is worried for what James might mean to his family, to their dynamic and their safety. He is scared that James will mean the end of the Cullens in some way, that their secret will be exposed.
“He is…different,” Edward finally admits after minutes of silence. “He is not normal.”
“In what way?” Carlisle asks.
“You know I cannot read his mind. But Alice’s visions—they are not normal. If she can see his future, then it always ends with him looking at us, as though he is self-aware to the vision itself, to us watching it.” Edward glides his fingers along the stitching of the couch armrest, furrowing his brows.
“If?” Carlisle’s tone is wary, but intrigued. He leans forward in his chair and Edward is transported back to different times, to hundreds of similar scenes they’ve had over their century together blending over the same movement.
“Many of them cut off randomly, into black,”he explains.
“And from this you have decided he is not normal.”
“And…and I can’t find his house,” Edward admits. “As soon as I am close, my mind gets all confused. I end up returning home without finding him.”
Carlisle nods slowly, considering the information. A slight noise creeps through the window and he stands up, walking over and waving at their family members returning in the distance, heading down from the mountain.
“That certainly does seem unusual,” he replies softly. “But it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a threat.”
“It would be naive to think otherwise. We should tell the family.” Edward joins his father at the window, watching Jasper and Emmett tussle down the hill.
“It is up to you Edward. But I would recommended you reconsider riling up the family before you’re truly sure. It might have unintended repercussions.” Rosalie will be quick to anger and quick to attack. Carlisle leaves, flitting down the stairs, scooping Esme into his arms.
Edward feels somehow more unsettled after the conversation with Carlisle, but instead of running from his family again, he sits at the piano and begins composing, bringing forth the emotions festering inside for his family to hear.
No one questions him just yet, but he knows he doesn’t have long before Rosalie will begin to haunt him for answers. Even Jasper may do so sooner rather than later, as Edward knows his own emotions are charting rather unusually, and Jasper’s thoughts are obnoxiously loud about how curious and concerned that makes him. Edward wishes he could turn off his ability and have a moment of peace. His own thoughts are taxing enough. He doesn’t wish to be subjected to everyone else’s as well.
“It’s a beautiful song,” Esme says from the couch, her hand clasped in Carlisle’s.
Emmett is playing chess against Alice, a regular past time of his even though he’s never won. Rosalie sits nearby, reading, a heavy scowl on her face and glare set on Edward. He cannot ignore her thoughts when she voices them aloud.
“Rather tortured, if you ask me. Why is that, Edward? Something to tell the family?” She narrows her eyes.
Edward pulls his fingers from the ivory keys and avoids glancing at Carlisle.
“What would I have to tell? As you know, he has not attended school,” Edward replies coolly.
“Yes. But what about his house? You did go check, right? To see if he killed himself.” Rosalie says it so curtly, so off-handed that Edward can’t help the hiss escaping. Emmett glares at Edward instantly, his thoughts screaming at him to back off.
Edward doesn’t bother replying to either of them. He forces himself away from the piano with stiff, jerky movements and retires to his room. As he leaves, Carlisle scolds Rosalie for her insensitivity, asking her how she would feel if it had been Emmett. Edward has felt the love Rosalie and Emmett hold for each other, the depth of their feelings that haven’t wavered since the moment they met. What Edward feels for James is not that at all.
What he feels for James is closer to fear than love. More similar to anger than care. He can’t help but feel Carlisle is projecting what he so desires onto the situation—for his eldest son to finally find a mate of his own.
Edward spirals again, under the pressure of protecting his family, avoiding these futures with James, and fighting his desire to know the human more. Jasper sends slight calming energy through the door a minute later, humming along to the classical music ringing loudly from the room.
Edward closes his eyes and lets the calm wash over him, grateful.