Okay … so this is my first Twilight fic, just a small one-shot that just hit me. Pretty self explanatory about what has happened, PM me if you are unsure though. Should say that I have hardly read any Twilight fiction, so if there is something similar I apologise. I am interested to hear any comments, whether or not you would be interested in reading more of my work.
Existed
His eyes raise from underneath his bronze coloured hair, he glances slowly, cautiously, with all the grace and skill that he possesses. He has not been noticed yet, no one realises that he is the same teenager that she knew a lifetime ago. For Edward Cullen does not age, but the world around him does.
Even though breathing is not necessary, as the priest stands, he feels it essential to take a sharp intake. Her sweet scent still permeates the air around him, somewhat watered down, and as he sees the brown eyed woman, tears sticking to her perfectly formed eyelashes and cheeks, holding a small child close to her chest. He knows that this is her family, her daughter, her granddaughter. The people who could love her like she was meant to be loved, people that he never could have given her.
He told her that it would be 'as if he never existed' and as he sits here from the back row of a crowded church in Forks, he can see that she managed to live a life away from him.
There is an elderly man, sitting ashen faced in the front row, and he can hear his thoughts louder than anyone else's. For his, are thoughts that Edward has had often, 'How does he live without his Bella?' Edward has no answer to this man's question, for in the last sixty years Edward has not lived either.
As the same brown eyed woman stands and makes her way to the microphone, Edward knows that if he had a heart that beat, it would stop right at this moment. As the words of Bella's daughter Mia trickle through the church, all Edward can see is the woman he left behind, and it feels as if he is burning once more.
He never left her because he didn't love her, he left her to keep her safe, to let her have the life that it seems she was able to lead without him. He left her so that she could become Isabella Parks, wife of Jackson Parks, a man who one day picked up a book for her at college after she had fallen and skinned her knee once again, and after that they were inseparable until now. Mother of Mia Parks, a daughter who gave her a granddaughter and a lifetime of happy memories.
He could have given her none of this, her life would have been in constant danger. But as they carry the wooden coffin out past him, and her family follows after her, each of them sobbing uncontrollably, he wonders not for the first time, should he have stayed with her, and always existed, so that perhaps she could have too.