It all belongs to Stephanie Meyers.

Here's a cute little oneshot that I've been toying with. It's just some random person's observation of Bella and Edward.

Ell-oh-vee-ee

Sarahj259

She smiles up at him and he gazes back like she’s the only other person in the world. He’s holding her to him with an arm wrapped tightly around her waist. The love is just radiating off of them.

I think they may be window shopping, at the cute little stores along the boardwalk. But if they are then they are failing more miserably then my brother’s attempts to beat me at Mario Cart, they only have eyes for each other.

Occasionally they’ll stop at a window or an outdoor table, and finger the merchandise maybe even buy something, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that they only have eyes for each other.

I people watch, and while I do I make up names for these people. The two I’m watching right now, I think their names should be Mesika and Nika Lover, the Lovers for short. Mesika meant forever yours, while Nika meant forever mine in Chinook Indian, which I consider to be my native language. I could decide if he was Mesika and she was Nika or if it was the other way around.

Living in Astoria, Oregon means not a lot of sunlight, which equals a lot of pale white people, but the Lover’s were beyond pale, while such white skin I might have thought them to be sick, or albino. But they didn’t look sick, just blindly happy, and they weren’t albino because he had messy bronze hair and she had long dark brown hair. They were easily the most beautiful couple I had ever seen.

I worked on the boardwalk, selling handmade turquoise and seashell jewelry that my grandmother, a full blood Chinook Indian made. Just little tourist trinkets. I sit behind my grandmother’s booth and watch people that stand out to me when I’m not trying to sell something to a customer.

It’s a slow day, the Lovers are a couple of the few people out today, the weather is a bit harsh, plus it was the beginning of October, nobody wants to come to an already cold beach in the winter.

The Lovers reached the end of the street and then cross it and make their way up my side. I can’t see them and for some reason that makes me sad.

It’s like they’re living proof that there is true love in the world. It seems to take them forever to reach my grandmother’s booth and I am irrationally afraid that they are not real, that they were too good to be real. It makes me think that maybe true love isn’t all that real, and that jerk-off’s like Tim are all there’s ever going to be.

Then they’re at the store next to my grandmother’s booth, and they pause, considering the displays and then dismissing them. They were all just tee-shirts and paraphernalia with marijuana leaves and crude sexual comments on them. Of course the Lovers, Mesika and Nika, were above such disgusting objects.

They pause at my grandmother’s booth now, they’re right in front of me. If I had thought them beautiful from a distances they were stunning up close. They both had identical golden eyes, eyes that shimmering with love for each other.

The weird part of me considered if they were brother and sister because they looked somehow similar, and that brought me to the thought of incest. But somehow, if theirs was an incestuous relationship, it seemed like no big deal, all because of the love that flowed off them in waves.

The man, Nika, or maybe Mesika, looked like he was holding himself back from laughing. He was really really ridiculously good-looking, but some how I thought he would only look so unrealistically godly with the beautiful woman, Mesika, or maybe Nika, by his side.

They finger my grandmother’s jewelry and he picks up a necklace and holds it to her neck.

“What do you think?” She asks him, her voice is like gentle satin or maybe sunshine on a cold day, it seeped into the pores spreading a warmth that indescribable.

“It cannot compare to you.” His voice is like a symphony composed of only bass and cello and viola and velvet, a deep, tenor and smooth, wonderful sound.

Something about the way he said it made me feel uncomfortable sitting just three feet away from them, like I was intruding on an intensely private moment. It had a walking in on your parents kind of feel to it.

This time when Mesika’s face twitching in amusment he did not hold back his laughter. I wondered what was so funny, but I could not ask. It would be like asking God why he chose to bless you, you didn’t do it.

He bought the necklace for her and then they continued on down the boardwalk. As they walked he bent down slightly to whisper in her ear and I realize that there was only one word that I could name them.

Nesika, we, us, ours forever.