𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍
— 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 —

     𝐏𝐀𝐔𝐋 𝐋𝐀𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐈𝐒 entranced by the beauty of Serenity Reagan from the moment she steps from her home and is surrounded by the fluorescence of the effervescent evening sun. The atmosphere feels different, brimming with a pulchritude that he had never before known, but would surely never get enough of. The bond that unites their tethers as one is nearly breathtaking, and he can't help but offer his hand for her to take. The girl gives him a kind smile, and accepts his grasp as a crutch for her own limping figure — although the effects of her previous accident would never truly relinquish due to the physical scars it left behind, one day she would finally have the ability to walk with the stability she once had. The teenage boy beside her doesn't mind the way in which she leans to his side in an effort to regain balance, or the black boot that practically conceals the area from her ankle to her knee. It pained him to see that this was a daily struggle for her, but felt better in knowing that he was there to catch her if she were to fall. He leads her to the passenger side of the car that he had purchased nearly three months ago with his own savings, and gently helps her into the leather seat before securing the seatbelt around her waist.

Her cheeks flush a pale shade of pink as he does so, and Serenity murmurs to him while fighting a smile, "I'm not a child, you know. A seatbelt isn't rocket-science."

"If you insist," Paul chuckles, practically melting at the sound of her melodic laughter that falls in line with his own. After sending a wave to Marina and Laythe, whom reside in the doorway of the cabin while examining the two with eyes of contentment, Paul starts the vehicle while gaging the hidden excitement on Serenity's features.

"Where are we going?" Serenity questions, hardly containing her heart that pounds within her chest. "Or would you prefer that it stays a secret?"

"Even though patience is a virtue, I can gather from your expression that waiting might make you implode." With his eyes focused on the road ahead and one hand placed firmly on the steering wheel, he gestures to the backseat with his free hand. "I packed a picnic basket for the drive-in theater. But since the movie doesn't start until eight, I brought my camera for a walk at the park nearby — assuming photography is in your interests."

Now that he is relaying the plans aloud, Paul begins to worry that perhaps his gesture is too silly. There is a possibility that Serenity is expecting a grandeur restaurant that neither of them could afford. His proposal consisted of laying on a fading sheet in the bed of the aging truck (which he barely managed to purchase with the money from his savings) while dining on curry chicken salad, feta cubes, and raspberry lemonade he had pulled together earlier that morning and stuffed into a basket.

"Are you kidding?" The girl asks as he sinks further into the cushioned seat. She stares at the woven basket that sits in the floor of the extended cab, and pulls the blanket of dimming color into her lap, running her fingertips over the pattern. "This is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me." Her smile is unwavering now, and she wonders how the boy beside her and the one from Emily's cottage could possibly be the same individual.

"Wait, you're okay with it?" The shapeshifter furrows his eyebrows.

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" Now it's Serenity's turn to share her confusion. "You put effort into an itinerary when we didn't have to do anything. We could have baked red velvet cupcakes in the kitchen and I would be content."

Serenity is different from every other girl he has met before; her heart is gilded, though she is broken beyond fixing. And yet he was lucky enough to be destined with her, fated to spend their lives intertwined as one. For now, Paul can only wonder why he previously thought that he would cause any disturbances in her life — apart from her injured foot, of course. Perhaps, he thinks, now that his focus is solely on her protection, his anger will no longer prove to be an obstacle that holds them apart. Maybe there is a higher power above, one that has overwhelmed his fury with the goodness of the girl beside him in order to ensure their future. He can picture her now, ascending a marble alter adorned with rose petals, and a white dress tracing her silhouette with a delicate bouquet in her grasp. And he will be waiting for her . . . perhaps they were always meant to last.

Or perhaps he hasn't realized that this is only the beginning.

"You're values are more simple than what I imagined they'd be," he comments, taking a moment to adore her features. "I mean — not that I thought you'd be complicated, I just . . . "

"Thought that I would be similar to Laythe," the girl finishes for him, understanding the jumbled thoughts that cramp his mind and fall from his lips in the wrong manner. Serenity chuckles, waving her hand as if she had heard that very statement many times before. "I think our personalities are alike, and others mistake it as our values."

"What are your values, exactly?" Paul questions, tapping his fingers against the interior. "If you don't mind me asking."

Serenity hums to herself, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she considers an answer. This silence between them that settles like fresh dew on the morning grass is natural, and light, and different from what she had experienced before. It made her forget about the night that he ripped the fragile heart from her chest, and turned his back the way she feared he would. But maybe this forgetfulness wasn't due to his endearing company, or the way he made her feel when he looked at her with those soft brown eyes. Maybe she had been running from an inevitable fate all along, and now it was demanding her attention. Or maybe Serenity was only imagining scenarios in her head to prolong the answer to Paul's questions — yes, she decides, this is the only explanation. Any other would make her panic, and for now, panic would doom both of the individuals. "I value time," she responds softly, as if she is too tired to elucidate. "Making the most of every moment when you have it is more important than dwelling on the future. We only have so much time, you know?"

With his lips parted in concentration, he voices his notions. "Something tells me that you had to grow up too fast, Serenity . . . and not by choice."

"Life chooses a path for all of us," she shrugs her shoulders, staring at the nature that passes them all too quickly. These fragments of their lives, too, are leaving the pair before they can clutch them. "I'm assuming Laythe hasn't told you about my parents."

Paul Lahote, in fact, had never been present when the death of Serenity's parents was mentioned within the walls of the cottage in the forest. He knew not of what she endured in the past, and had managed to overcome in these painful months of near-independence. And, if Serenity was staying true to herself, she was glad that at least one of her acquaintances didn't look at her with the type of pity that insists she's a bomb of emotions that will explode one day.

"You don't have to tell me." Paul places his hand on top of hers, giving Serenity the smallest of butterflies that dance within her chest. Here, they are safe — teenagers that can pretend their lives aren't just seconds that the self-evident concept of time will forget as it pursues forever.

In this space, she's just a girl, and he's just a boy, and they're just listening to a song on the radio that she remembers.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Laythe Reagan sinks into the plush sectional sofa that occupies the middle of the parlor, keeping an unwavering gaze on his mother. Only minutes had passed since the departure of his cousin, and already he had gathered the entirety of the remaining shapeshifters into the home, with the exception of an occupied Paul. But the unfolding congregation was an order from the alpha himself; in a time of uncertainty, they were due to make decisions. Marina leaves the russet-skinned teenagers with the excuse of making dinner, to which Laythe takes advantage of her absence.

"Why are we here, exactly?" He gestures to the open space around them, "In my house this time?"

"Because if Emily were to overhear us, she would worry. And that's the last thing she needs to focus on," Sam dismisses the comment, sighing to himself. "There is a war brooding, one with newborn vampires that are targeting Bella Swan. While Jacob was attending a graduation party at the Cullen residence, they requested our help."

"You've been conversing with the Cullens?" Jared Cameron furrows his eyebrows, nudging his peer on the shoulder. "Please, enlighten us on your journey with Bella Swan through the mystical world of leeches."

"It wasn't like that," Jacob retorts, folding his arms over his chest to prove defensive. "Bella invited me, and I had a gift for her — but that's not the point. A bloodsucker was in her house last week, and was gone before she got back. We're doing this to protect her."

"And everyone else that lives in Forks and on the Reservation, Jacob," the Reagan boy corrects him, narrowing his eyes in the slightest. "For everyone, everywhere. Bella shouldn't be our main concern, we should protect the safety of all humans, not an individual. Remember that."

Jacob Black's posture goes rigid as he stuffs his hands in his cargo shorts, "You're right, that was selfish. I'm sorry."

But for once, although he wouldn't admit it aloud, Jacob wants to be selfish. He wants Bella Swan wrapped within the protection of his arms with the promise that she could never love another. Their current circumstances, however, were the opposite of what he dreamed every waking moment. Why did he have to fall in love with a girl that he could never have? Why does the brunette have to be a gentle, beautiful girl who hides her emotions behind an uncaring façade? The truth is, Bella Swan is far more exquisite than those around him manage to interpret . . . they would never understand. Though her eyes are dull and her skin is as pale as the clouds in the sky above, her soul is a brightness that kindles something warm within his own chest. But with Bella Swan comes complications and disappointments that she continues to apologize for; despite the many times that he has held her hand through the darkness that threatened her at night, she would never truly love him in the way that he loved her.

So why was he doomed to this, forever delaying the inevitable outcome of her rejection? Sometimes, like this very moment, he wished that he had never met Bella Swan.

"Today the Cullens have requested our presence at their home," Sam begins again, hoping for no further interruptions as he finalizes their schedule. "We will learn the strategies they have to offer for the battle so we will be prepared. We have never encountered a newborn vampire before, nor have we battled a mass as great as the one that is coming. Prepare yourselves, remember their instructions, and stay focused."

"When will you be fighting this army, exactly?" Marina Reagan speaks over the shoulder of her son, forming no apology for eavesdropping.

"In two days," Sam informs the woman, his countenance sullen in their brief second of eye contact.

But they had yet to realize the consequences of volunteering for such an intervention; in less than forty-eight hours, the shapeshifters under the roof of Marina Reagan's home would witness an event far more complex than what they were intending. In this fragment of time, as they step into the property grasp and ascend the forest in which they patrol, they are unaware of the scenes that will unwind before the moon begins to weep again.

They, along with the moon that comes into view from the dimming sky above, will lose much more than they know.

❝ my sam uley fic is published now,
so if you're interested go check it out!
also, any thoughts on the foreshadowing? ❞