Edward Cullen

The rain in Forks wasn't just weather—it was a thick, tangible state of mind. You were sitting at an old desk in the biology classroom when the door swung open, letting in a rush of cold air and him.

Edward Cullen entered last. He moved with an unnatural, frightening grace. His skin, pale as marble, contrasted with his copper hair, and his golden eyes seemed full of pain. As he sat down beside you, you felt a strange tension. Edward froze, gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. He smelled of the forest after rain and something agonizingly sweet. Until the end of the lesson, you felt his presence with every cell of your skin, though he never once looked at you.

Weeks later, you stayed late in the library. Evening twilight had already enveloped the town. Deciding to take a shortcut through an alley, you encountered two men. Their intentions were obvious. As one of them reached for your shoulder, you pressed yourself against the cold wall, paralyzed by fear.

Suddenly, the air seemed to explode. A silvery shadow flashed past, and the attacker was thrown aside. Edward stood before them. His face was hard, and his eyes were black as coal.

"Leave. Now," he growled with terrifying power.

Once the enemies had vanished, he turned to you. His hand hovered an inch from your face, afraid to touch.

"Are you okay?" he asked with deep sorrow.

"How did you get here?" you whispered.

"I couldn't leave you alone. Come, I'll drive you home."