The drive from Forks High to La Push was the kind of familiar that settled into my bones.
Gray sky. Wet road. Trees blurring past like they'd done a thousand times before. The ocean smell started creeping in before I even saw the water, salt and cold and something ancient underneath it all. Every time I came out here, my shoulders loosened without me meaning them to.
Today, Leah and I were staying at her parents' place.
At this point, it barely registered as her parents' house. It felt… shared. Lived-in. Mine, in the way places become yours when you're welcome without question.
I parked out front and didn't bother knocking.
The door creaked open under my hand, the familiar warmth rolling out to meet me, wood, old furniture, coffee that had probably been reheated at least twice.
"I'm home," I called out casually, toeing the door shut behind me.
No answer.
Instead, I was greeted by the unmistakable sound of chaos.
Explosions. Crude singing. Something that sounded suspiciously like an opera about bodily functions.
I followed the noise into the living room and immediately snorted.
Seth was sprawled across the couch like gravity had personally offended him. One leg hung over the armrest, the other bent awkwardly under him. A controller was clutched in both hands, thumbs flying with intense concentration.
On the TV, Conker's Bad Fur Day was in full swing.
A giant, singing pile of poop with corn for teeth filled the screen.
Toilet paper arced majestically through the air.
"Wow," I muttered. "Truly peak gaming."
Without looking away, I greeted him. "Hey, Koda."
Seth's eyes flicked up for half a second, just long enough to acknowledge my existence. "Hey, Kenai."
Then he was right back to it, mashing buttons with renewed determination.
"Die, you disgusting abomination," he muttered at the TV, hurling another roll of toilet paper with expert precision.
I dropped my schoolbag by the wall, the familiar thud echoing softly, and sank into the opposite couch. The cushions dipped just right, worn in from years of movie nights, naps, and family arguments that never quite turned ugly.
I leaned back, arms crossing as I watched Seth play.
The kid had focus when he wanted to. Tongue slightly poking out of the corner of his mouth, brows furrowed, shoulders tense like he was fighting for his life instead of a foul-mouthed cartoon squirrel.
"Where's Sue?" I asked after a moment.
"Grocery shopping," Seth replied automatically, eyes never leaving the screen.
Another explosion. Another musical number.
I winced. "She brave enough to go alone?"
"She took the car," he said. "So yeah. Probably."
Fair.
I tilted my head, listening for footsteps, the familiar sound of boots being kicked off, the sharp commentary that usually announced Leah's arrival.
But I got nothing.
"…Leah isn't back yet?" I asked.
Seth smirked, still locked in battle. "Nope. The gorilla's still at work."
I snorted despite myself. "You're gonna get murdered one of these days."
He shrugged, finally glancing over at me. "Worth it."
On-screen, Conker pulled a handle and the giant poop let out a dramatic final note lamenting its demise as it got flushed away.
"Yes!" Seth punched the air triumphantly, then slumped back into the couch, breathing hard like he'd just won a championship.
I laughed quietly, shaking my head.
Outside, the rain finally decided to commit, tapping against the windows in a steady rhythm. Inside, the house hummed with that quiet, lived-in comfort—TV static fading, the smell of old wood and sea air, and the sense that, for now at least, everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
Leah would be back soon.
And knowing her, she'd have something to say the second she walked through that door.
…
I barely waited for the victory music to finish before leaning forward, reaching for the second controller off the coffee table, the plastic still warm from being left too close to the TV. "Alright," I said, rolling it in my hands. "My turn."
Seth's head snapped toward me, eyes lighting up immediately. "Multiplayer?"
"Obviously."
He scooted upright on the couch, suddenly energized, and started clicking through the menu with the enthusiasm of someone who had been waiting for this exact sentence all day.
"Cavemen versus raptors," he announced proudly. "No mercy."
I smirked. "Bring it on."
The selection screen popped up.
Without hesitation, I chose Caveman.
Seth didn't even glance at the other options before slamming his choice. Raptor.
"Of course," I muttered. "Fast, annoying, and bites things."
"Strategic," he corrected smugly. "Also I get to eat you."
"Not if I stab you first."
The match loaded, the screen filling with prehistoric chaos, tribal drums pounding faintly in the background, dinosaur screeches echoing from somewhere too close for comfort.
The countdown hit zero.
I moved immediately, hugging the terrain, slipping behind rocks. Cavemen were slower, clunkier, but they had range. And knives, I thought as I picked up the throwing knives.
Seth charged around the map like a menace, claws slashing, tail whipping as he laughed to himself.
"Come on, Kenaiii," he taunted. "Where you at?"
I waited.
Listened.
Then I saw him, big, scaly, and completely unaware.
"Found you," I murmured.
I popped out from behind a boulder and unleashed a storm of flying knives into his back.
Seth noticed from the split screen and tried to turn around, but it was too late.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
"HEY!" Seth yelped as his raptor staggered and collapsed.
First blood.
I pumped a fist. "Yes!"
"Cheap!" he shouted, staring at the respawn screen. "You stabbed me in the butt!"
"Skill issue," I said smugly.
With the raptor temporarily off the field, I bolted toward the nest, eyes locked on the glowing egg resting in the center.
"Alright," I muttered. "In and out."
My caveman grabbed the egg… and immediately got tackled from the side.
The screen shook violently as the raptor respawned and lunged, jaws snapping shut around my character.
"PAYBACK!" Seth roared, mashing buttons like his life depended on it.
My caveman screamed dramatically before being swallowed whole.
I dropped my controller back slightly. "…Wow."
Seth cackled, throwing his hands up. "That's what you get for being sneaky!"
"You literally ate me."
"Predators do that."
Before I could respond, the front door opened.
The sound cut through the game music instantly.
Boots thumped against the floor. Grocery bags rustled. And then…
"…Why," Leah's voice said flatly, "does my house smell like Seth's stinky feet and digital violence?"
I glanced toward the entryway just as Leah stepped into view, still in her work clothes, hair pulled back, expression already tired but sharp as ever. Sue followed behind her, arms full of grocery bags, looking amused and slightly exasperated.
Leah's eyes dropped to the TV.
Then to the controllers.
Then to Seth, grinning like an idiot.
Then to me.
She looked at the clock on the wall and crossed her arms. "You've been here for ten minutes."
I gestured weakly at the screen. "It escalated quickly."
Sue smiled warmly. "Cavemen and dinosaurs?"
"Raptors," Seth corrected proudly. "I ate him."
Leah snorted despite herself. "Of course you did."
She shook her head and headed toward the kitchen with Sue, muttering, "I leave you alone for one afternoon…"
Seth leaned back, smug and victorious. "Told you. Worth it."
I laughed, grabbing the controller again as my caveman respawned. "Let's keep going, we still got two lives each."
He grinned. "not for long."
And honestly?
This was exactly how it was supposed to be.
…
Tuesday, September 6, 2005
The next morning, the halls of Forks High were exactly what you'd expect, lockers slamming, damp jackets brushing past each other, the low hum of half-awake conversations echoing off the walls. I was halfway between classes, mentally sorting through inventory orders and employee schedules like a responsible adult (still not used to that, my parents had returned, but I was still helping at the store from time to time), when a familiar blur of motion slid neatly into step beside me.
Alice Cullen.
She matched my stride perfectly, hands clasped behind her back, eyes bright with that particular intensity that usually meant something was coming.
"Next week," she said lightly, "is Bella's birthday."
I glanced sideways. "September thirteenth. Yeah."
She smiled, pleased. "Good. That makes things easier."
I slowed my pace slightly, and she adjusted without missing a beat.
"We're planning a small party," she continued. "At our house. Just family. A few friends."
I stopped walking.
Alice stopped too, turning to face me, head tilted expectantly.
"And before you say anything," she added, pointing at me, "you're not allowed to miss it."
I exhaled slowly. "Alice…"
"No excuses," she said cheerfully. "I already know you're going to try."
"That's the thing," I said. "You don't."
Her smile faltered just a fraction.
"…What?"
I lowered my voice as students streamed past us. "You can't see anything that involves me. You've told me that yourself."
She hesitated, then nodded. "That's true."
"And your visions are based on decisions," I went on. "Not accidents."
Her eyes sharpened, already understanding where I was going.
"And Bella," I finished, "is basically an accident generator."
Alice grimaced. "Mike…"
"I'm serious," I said. "You know how clumsy she is. She doesn't decide to get hurt. It just… happens."
Her gaze drifted unfocused for a second, like she was testing the future and finding only fog.
"…You're right," she admitted quietly. "I can't see sudden accidents. They don't register until after they happen."
"And that's a problem," I said. "Because a single drop of blood in a house full of vampires…"
"Is a disaster," she finished, jaw tightening.
We stood there for a moment, the noise of the hallway washing around us.
Then Alice straightened, resolve snapping into place.
"Okay," she said firmly. "Then we control what we can."
She started ticking things off on her fingers. "No sharp objects. No glass bowls. No knives anywhere near the food. Decorations will be fabric only."
"Paper," I added.
She frowned. "Paper?"
"Paper cuts count," I said flatly. "Bella would find a way."
She let out a short huff, half-laugh, half-sigh. "Fine. Rounded edges only. Napkins included."
"And keep her away from anything she could trip over," I continued. "Rugs, cables, stairs…"
Her lips twitched despite herself. "You're exaggerating."
"I am not," I said flatly. "I've seen her trip over flat ground. In daylight. While standing still."
That earned me a quiet laugh, one she tried and failed to suppress.
"I'll rearrange the entire house if I have to, baby-proof the whole thing," Alice said, already mentally redecorating. "Esme will help."
"Good," I said.
She looked at me then, really looked at me, something thoughtful and serious in her expression.
"You worry about her," she said softly.
I shrugged. "Someone has to. Edward's too busy brooding most of the time."
That earned a small, genuine smile.
"Alright," she said. "You'll be there. You'll help keep things boring and safe."
"Boring is ideal," I replied. "No blood, no hospital visits, no family-wide feeding frenzy."
She shuddered. "When you say it like that…"
"Someone has to," I said again.
Alice nodded once, decisively. "Then it's settled."
She stepped back, smile returning, lighter now but still edged with concern.
"And Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
I watched her disappear into the crowd, then let out a slow breath.
Because Alice couldn't see accidents.
And Bella?
Bella was practically built out of them.
…