The rain outside had softened into a steady drizzle, the kind that turned everything silver under the parking lot lights. My sneakers made soft slaps on the wet asphalt as I stepped outside, pulling my jacket tighter out of habit, though the weird thing was that I wasn't cold, not even a little.
It was Washington in January; the cold was supposed to bite. But all I felt was... fine. Almost warm, even. I frowned, glancing down at my hands, half-expecting to see steam rising from them like I'd developed spontaneous vampire fever.
Before I could think too much about it, a familiar voice called out through the mist.
"Yo, Newton!"
Eric Yorkie jogged up beside me, his hoodie dark with rain, hair plastered to his forehead in greasy strands. He always had that slightly manic energy, like his brain was five tabs open and one of them was buffering.
We performed our traditional greeting, a clap of hands, a brief tug, then a sloppy fist bump. The sound echoed weirdly in the damp air.
The moment our hands touched, Eric blinked in surprise and yanked back. "Whoa, dude, you're hot!"
I stared at him. "Alright, Yorkie, let's stop right there. I don't swing that way."
His eyes widened, face flushing even redder than usual. "What? No! Not that kind of hot, I mean temperature-hot! Your hand felt like a toaster, man."
I frowned, pressing my palm against my own cheek. "Feels normal to me."
Eric tilted his head, squinting through the rain. "Dude, I'm serious. You're, like, burning up."
I shrugged. "Maybe you're just cold."
He blinked. "...You think?"
"Sure. Low blood pressure, wet hoodie, existential dread, classic signs."
Eric seemed to actually consider this. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he muttered, rubbing his arms. "I have been feeling kinda weird since lunch. I should probably head home."
"Good idea," I said, trying not to laugh as he hurried toward his dented Honda, mumbling something about catching the flu.
When he was gone, I stood there for a second, the drizzle soaking my hair, the air cool on my skin but not seeping in. The cold didn't reach me.
That realization lingered like static at the back of my skull.
"Great," I muttered, climbing into my Mercury Mountaineer. "First day in Forks and I'm already breaking the laws of thermodynamics."
The engine hummed to life, windshield wipers sweeping slow arcs across the glass. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, slightly pale, but otherwise normal.
Maybe it was just the rain.
…
The Cullen house was quiet, the kind of quiet that hummed beneath the surface. Rain whispered against the wide glass walls, tracing silver rivers down the windows that looked out into the dark forest.
Upstairs, Edward stood beside his open suitcase. The rich scent of leather and starch filled the room as he folded a crisp shirt with unnecessary precision. His movements were deliberate and mechanical, but his jaw was locked tight, a faint tremor running through his fingers every few seconds.
The scent still clung to him.
Bella Swan.
He could still feel the phantom burn in his throat, like molten glass.
He reached for another shirt, then froze, hearing the soft, graceful footsteps before she even spoke.
"You're really going," Alice said quietly from the doorway.
Edward didn't look up. "It's for the best."
Her gaze flickered toward the half-packed suitcase on the bed, then back to him. "Alaska?"
He nodded. "The Denalis will understand. I need distance."
Alice stepped inside, the light catching in her short, ink-black hair. She didn't sit, just crossed her arms and watched him carefully. "You almost killed her."
He flinched. "Yes, but thanks to Newton, I didn't."
At the mention of the name, Alice's golden eyes snapped up, sudden focus replacing her earlier calm.
"What about him?" she asked softly.
Edward's voice was low, rough with restraint. "He distracted me. Right before I…" His words broke off, the memory too close. He could still feel the rush of venom, the tightening of muscle, the flash of predatory instinct. "He spoke to me. Just enough to give me a moment to think. To leave."
Alice's golden eyes widened, not with surprise that Edward had almost lost control (she'd already seen that possibility before), but with something sharper, unease.
"I didn't see that," she whispered. "That moment… it wasn't in my vision."
Edward turned to her, confusion flickering behind his calm mask. "What do you mean?"
"I saw the classroom, I saw you fighting the urge, I saw the decision to leave, but…" She frowned, her eyes unfocusing again, scanning futures only she could see. "Mike wasn't supposed to speak. In every version, he didn't do anything, he didn't speak."
Jasper appeared next to Alice and wound his arm around her waist. "You're saying the human changed his behavior?"
Alice nodded slowly. "And because of that, Edward didn't…"
"Didn't slaughter half the class," Rosalie finished flatly, leaning against the door, though even she looked unsettled. Emmett stood quietly behind her, looking at Edward with respect, as he'd also gone through something similar but didn't have the strength to hold his thirst back and ended up killing his bloodsinger.
Edward's hands clenched the shirt he was holding. "It doesn't matter why," he said, though his tone carried the weight of doubt. "What matters is that I leave before I test my control again."
The sound of quiet footsteps on the stairs drew their attention. Rosalie and Emmett made space as Carlisle appeared in the doorway, composed as always, his expression calm but concerned. Esme followed, a soft presence behind him, her face etched with worry.
"You're leaving tonight," Carlisle said, not a question.
Edward inclined his head. "I think it's necessary. I nearly lost control."
Carlisle's voice was kind, steady, the same tone he'd used when guiding him through darker times before. "You made the right choice by walking away. That shows restraint, Edward. Not failure."
Esme stepped closer, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "You've always been stronger than you think."
Edward's lips twitched in a faint, grateful smile, but his eyes remained troubled. "If I had hesitated even a second longer, she would be dead. And not just her. Everyone in that room."
Alice exchanged a glance with Carlisle. "But he didn't hesitate," she said carefully. "Because someone interrupted the chain of events."
Carlisle looked between them. "You're referring to Mike Newton?"
Edward nodded once. "He spoke to me. It was enough to… break the trance."
Alice's hands curled into fists at her sides. "That's the thing. I didn't see that. He's gone from the future now, not clouded, not blurry. Just gone. Like he doesn't exist."
Carlisle's expression shifted, faint concern flickering behind his calm mask. "You mean he's outside your range entirely?"
Alice nodded. "It's never happened before. It's as if he's invisible."
A long silence followed. The rain pressed harder against the windows, like fingers tapping glass.
Esme's voice broke the tension, gentle but uneasy. "Do you think something's happened to him?"
Edward shook his head slowly. "No. I saw him after class. He looked perfectly normal. Maybe…" He trailed off, unable to explain the growing unease inside him.
Carlisle's tone grew thoughtful. "Whatever the cause, it's unusual. But for now, focus on your self-control, Edward. We'll observe the situation. If Alice's sight continues to falter, we'll reassess."
Alice's lips pressed together. "It's not faltering," she said quietly. "It's changing."
Edward zipped his suitcase shut, the sound slicing through the still air. "Then something else has entered the equation," he murmured. "Something, or someone, you can't see."
Carlisle placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "Go to Denali. Regain your balance. We'll handle things here."
Edward nodded once. The decision was made.
As he left the room, suitcase in hand, the faint echo of rain followed him down the hall. Alice lingered at the window long after the sound of the car had faded into the night, Jasper holding her from behind in quiet support.
Her vision flickered behind her eyes, flashes of blurred motion, a forest of branching futures, but the more she reached for them, the more they slipped away.
And somewhere, in the dark silence between one possible world and the next, there was a hollow space where a name should have been.
Mike Newton.
She couldn't see him anymore, and that terrified her more than anything, as she's never not been able to see.
…