Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - Back Before the Storm
There are two kinds of silence in Forks.
The comfortable kind—the one that settles in your chest like a blanket.
And the other kind—the one that makes you wonder if the entire town collectively forgot how to breathe.
That morning, it was definitely the second one.
I'd been living with Charlie for two years now, ever since my dad—his older brother, Robert—passed away. But really, Charlie had been a second parent my whole life. He lived five houses down from us, and between his bad cooking and my dad's worse cooking, I spent half my childhood eating grilled cheese in his kitchen.
Bella and I grew up together that way, too. Summer cousins. Backyard adventurers. Forks' unofficial duo of troublemakers—until she stopped coming.
Now it was just me and Charlie. And the silence.
"Lena?" Charlie called from the hallway, voice scratchy with sleep.
"In the kitchen!" I yelled, fighting with my hair in front of the toaster's reflection. Today wasn't one of my creativemornings—I'd rolled out of bed, saw my braid ideas on Pinterest, sighed dramatically, and ended up with a high ponytail and eyeliner sharp enough to kill.
Charlie wandered in, blinking like the lights were too bright.
He looked at the toast on the counter. "You made breakfast?"
"I made toast," I corrected. "Let's not oversell it."
He picked up a slice, inspected it like it might bite him first, then shrugged and took a bite.
"You look... ready for school," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. "Was that a compliment?"
He pointed vaguely at my outfit. "You know. The... hair. Makeup. Everything."
Translation: You look like someone who does things on purpose.
Charlie still didn't fully understand that some girls actually enjoy getting ready in the morning.
"I'm meeting Jake later," I said, grabbing my bag. "He wants to check the engine again."
Charlie groaned like an old man who'd just heard a ghost story.
"That car is too fast."
"That car is perfectly safe," I lied. "Jake upgraded it. It's practically purring."
"It's a death trap on wheels."
"It's a personality."
He gave me the dad-glare, which I'd become immune to years ago.
My car—a black, slightly beat-up masterpiece Jake and I built out of scrap junk and hope—waited in the driveway. Charlie hated it. Which honestly made me love it more.
When I stepped outside, the cold Forks air slapped me awake. Fog curled between the trees, and the road glistened from last night's rain. Classic Forks aesthetic: depressing but make it sexy.
I unlocked my car, tossed my bag inside, and sat behind the wheel. The engine roared to life the way Jake liked it—loud enough to annoy the neighbors, not loud enough to call the cops.
Charlie opened the door behind me.
"Tell Jake I said hi," he yelled over the engine. "And be careful!"
"I'm always careful!"
A lie so bold even I cringed.
I backed out of the driveway, the familiar route toward La Push unfolding in front of me—tall pines, endless gray sky, the quiet hum of a town that never really changed.
Jake lived in the same house he always had with Billy. I'd known them practically my whole life. Billy called me "another stray Charlie adopted," and honestly, it wasn't wrong.
When I pulled up, Jake was already outside, grease on his hands, grinning at me like I was the punchline to a joke only he understood.
"Took you long enough," he said, wiping his hands on a rag.
"Sorry," I shot back. "Unlike you, I actually attempt to look human in the mornings."
"Yeah, well," he said, leaning against the hood, "your engine sounds weird again."
"My engine," I repeated, "sounds like freedom."
"It sounds like it's begging for mercy."
I rolled my eyes. "Just fix it, Black."
Jake laughed and popped the hood.
Same routine as always.
Same morning.
Same quiet life.
Before everything changed.
Before Bella came back.
Before the world stopped being normal.
Not that I had any way of knowing that then.
At that moment, it was just me, Jake, a half-broken car, and the soft rumble of the Pacific in the distance.
Just another morning in Forks.