Hazardous <<Edward Cullen x OC>>

Chapter 1; Rain

I'm not very good with flights or flying in general, not because the turbulence affects me or because I get motion sickness, but because whenever I fly, a painful little tense rock seems to settle into my brain, not hurting, but making my head ache vaguely nonstop. So you can probably imagine my relief when we finally touch down. Except I'm not quite at Forks yet, I have another flight and hour-long drive to endure before I can finally settle down.

I keep my eyes closed, preferring to be happy I'm finally leaving my homophobic mother, and happy that I get to go to a small peaceful town with lots of rain and fog to keep my plenty of company and I can finally just...relax. The city was far too busy, everyone going everywhere, quickly or leisurely. It got annoying fast. But my mother's confused face transforming to disgust kept intruding on my thoughts, reminding me why I'm moving in the first place. I keep wondering if coming out was really all that good for me. Charlie doesn't seem to mind my not abiding by gender binaries, I'm sure he doesn't fully understand it, but he also doesn't seem to understand exactly how much I appreciate it.

The flights go by so quickly, and I find myself stepping off the second plane and almost directly into Charlie's embrace. He didn't hold it for long tho, and I was surprised he even hugged me fully. Maybe he was trying to convey how sorry he was about my mother without saying it. Which I prefer. I don't need or want to talk about her any more than Charlie probably did.

We drove in his police car, which wasn't very surprising considering Charlie was chief of Police in Forks. Probably not a difficult task with a fairly small amount of people living in it.
Charlie and I didn't say very much for the whole ride, he seemed to want to wait on the "I'm sorry your mother kicked you out. I hope you'll like it here etc" talk I was anticipating until we got home.
Our comments on the Usual weather of Forks and small smiles at how the weather was always the same anyway was probably the highlight of the drive.

When we pulled up to the shabby house I knew and loved, Charlie cleared his throat, and my eyes attached to an old red Chevy in the driveway beside us.
"I uh, I know you have your license and no vehicle, so I thought that this would suit you. It's Billy Black's old truck. You remember him?" He asked me cheerfully.
The name rang a vague bell and I nodded slowly, eyeing the red truck appreciatively. It looked sturdy and honestly I found it pretty adorable, I honestly loved it. I ran my hand over the faded red paint and smiled.
"We went fishing with him and his son Jacob sometimes when you would come over during the summers." Charlie continued, a smile in his voice as I'm sure he was pleased by how much I seemed to like the truck.
"Oh yeah, I do remember them. How are they doing?" I wondered, and Charlie explained that Jacob would be starting high school on the reservation in La Push, and Billy was now in a wheelchair.
I nodded, paying attention to what he was saying, and he grinned at me and tossed me the keys. I grinned in response and pocketed them. I wouldn't particularly hate walking to school, rain and all, but it was nice to have options, especially in winter when it would most likely be too cold to walk. Although this is America, it can't be much colder than where I lived in Canada, I'm well acclimated to the cold.

It took two trips to get my things to my room, mainly because I had heavy suitcases with books rather than clothes, normally you'd think it would be strange to be kicked out but allowed enough time to pack, but my mother blew up at my over breakfast and immediately left me alone with my roughly 1 grand and several hours to pack while she wasn't there.
I think I cried for two hours that night.
I gently touch my eyes, they were still slightly puffy, and my heart ached sharply in my chest and I pushed it away.

Charlie didn't hover while I unpacked, which was fine by me, I had been diagnosed with chronic depression at age 14 when I had tried to commit suicide just to survive and be stuck with a psychiatrist.
Back when my parents loved me and didn't think I was weird.
But a year after my diagnosis I began to feel more and more numb. To the point to where now, at age 17, I can feel emotion for maybe a minute at a time depending on how strong and what emotion. Sadness was difficult for me to feel unless it was intense-like now-and it lasted the longest. Anger being the second longest, and the easiest to feel. So having to pretend to feel emotions made me even more exhausted than it already did.

I pull out a small pack of five Hubba Bubba gum I had bought at the airport and popped three in, saving the other two for when the flavor left.
I love chewing gum but I'm too scared to chew it around people because I feel like I chew too loudly.
I skip dinner, and just look around my room again, feeling vaguely nostalgic.

The walls were a nice sunset orange and my bed was pushed in the corner with a black comforter I chose several years ago and did not regret.
I had a desk with a dusty old laptop and lamp, the processor on it was almost as bad as my grades.
My bookshelf was in the corner, still bubblegum pink from my childhood days and I didn't really mind honestly.

Charlie gently knocked on the door just then, and I plopped down onto bed.
"Yeah?"
"You start tomorrow at the school, do you want a ride?" He asked me and I raised an eyebrow.
"Wasn't the point of my truck that I could drive myself?" I tease, and he cracked a little smile at me.
"Yeah, but I'm just worried." He sighed, and I knew why.
His child, non-binary child, was starting high school in a new place which might not accept them. Sadly he was overestimating my ability to come out voluntarily. Unless someone brought it up, I wasn't planning on saying a thing.
I stand and hug him, he pat my back awkwardly.
"I'll be okay dad." I assure him and nods by my ear.
"Ok, you can take care of yourself." He said, seeming to be at a loss for what else to say, so I said goodnight and he said good night back and went downstairs.
I turned off my light, sighing and laying in bed, not taking my sweater or binder off. The bandages on my arms probably needed changing, but I don't care right now. My hair is short so I don't really need to worry about showering today, maybe tomorrow.

I felt the bed sink with my depression, and I closed my eyes, feeling like I had just been holding the entire planet on my back for a century.
And I fell into a deep, and dreamless sleep easily, very vaguely hoping I put my alarm on.