For You ↠ Alice Cullen ✓

12 ; the louvre

Tate sat beside his bedroom window, staring outside as rain dribbled against the frame.

It slid down slowly, diverting in different directions like veins. It was relaxing to watch, especially since Tate could see every molecule that took up the natural moisture.

He'd been watching the rain fall since the sun had risen that morning. Drifting from writing, drawing, and timidly singing to pass the time until school the next morning. Not able to lay in bed and fall asleep like he normally would've.

His feet were covered with socks currently, striped and mustard yellow - they matched his sweater. Despite doing nothing to stop the chill of his body, it still helped Tate feel a bit more like himself in a body that was so foreign.

Being in his bedroom again helped too. He had missed the way his bedroom smelt. A mixture of himself, his parents, and Margaret, his lab. They were all intertwined within one room. In the corner, was the clothing he'd brought from the hospital, which smelled distinctly of the Cullen's.

Every time he caught the scent, he'd remember each of the Cullens in strange type of time-lapse. Of Carlisle, with his bright smiles and patience with Tate's rapid-fire questions. Esme with her motherly facial expressions and heartfelt kisses to his forehead. Emmett and Jasper, who had always fought over who could show the "newbie" how to hunt. Rosalie who was always there to listen, without judgement and without illusions. Edward, with his dry humor and brief overview of what the teenagers of Forks were thinking about Tate's absence. Lastly there was Alice, who had held Tate's hand throughout every battle, who had been encouraging through each set-back, who had been nothing but what Tate had needed at that moment: a friend.

Tate missed them each in waves. However, he had missed his parents the most.

Down the hallway, Tate heard the sound of his mother's thumping heart coming down the hallway. She was yawning softly, trying to sneak quietly by his door, assuming that he was still asleep and not wanting to wake him. Margaret followed after her, tiny nails clicking against the hardwood like high-heels.

Tate could sense his father still in his parents bedroom, his heart still steady with sleep. He'd be awake in a few more minutes, when his hand would fall into the cooling space Tate's mother had left whenever she'd gotten up.

Feeling the familiar well of venom in his mouth, Tate swallowed thickly. His fists clenched in his lap, tightening in a deadly fashion. He removed his ears from his father's heartbeat, choosing to go back to staring at the rain.

In the house next door, a mother was bouncing a baby on her hip. She was making shh'ing noises, soothing her hands through the soft hair at the top of the infant - Sarah's - head. It smelt like baby powder and milk.

The across the street was a single woman, who had two cats. She was getting ready for work, singing along to some song that was playing on the early morning radio. Fruity hairspray filled the air, alongside it was the smell of ammonia - cat pee.

Back inside of his bedroom, Tate heard the gears inside of his alarm click softly, igniting his signature alarm tune into the air. Tate moved with a blink towards the clock, turning it off and huffing out a breath from his nostrils. It was time to play human.

He got dressed with practiced ease, a human pace. Tate knew that if he got downstairs too fast his mother would be suspicious to where he was going. Mostly because Tate was never in a hurry to get to school - no one really ever was. So, Tate put on his clothes normally, before his father's knock on his door startled him.

"Tate, get up kiddo! Time for school." His father's gruff voice said, followed by the smell of sour morning breath.

Tate called out after a minute, "I'm up!"