I'll try and keep this short and sweet. First time writing fanfic, so be as harsh/critical as you can. This sort of has a slow start, but I've got big plans in store.

Another thing: If, at any point in the story, it seems as if I'm borrowing elements from Alicorn's Luminosity, it's because I probably am (character personalites, mainly). As such, give credit where credit is due, and if you haven't read Luminosity yet, do yourself a favor and do so (amazing story).

Enjoy!

I've never considered myself a particularly ambitious person. I never wanted fame, fortune, or attention. All I've ever wanted was to live. Not to excel, overcome, or prosper. But to live. I just wanted to live.

Rain has been comforting to me for as long as I can remember. No matter the season, temperature, or time of day, rain just seems to make the day better. I can't say that my family feels the same, however, as they had planned this vacation to Florida in an attempt to escape the sporadic weather patterns of our home state, Ohio. It made the fact that we'd spent the last 3 days down here under constant gray skies pretty hilarious. Nonetheless, we'd managed to make a good time out of sight-seeing, landmark-visiting, and people-watching.

Plus, I'd convinced my boyfriend, Isaac, to tag along. That was really all I needed to come on board for this trip.

Isaac is 5'10" and about 150 lbs., with a physique that never ceases to amaze me. Everything about his figure just screamed, "Athlete!" Male pattern baldness, which has run rampant in his family for generations, took its toll on him during his late teens. As such, he's sported a shaved head for the last few years, and is all the better for it. It allowed whoever was in his presence to focus on his eyes, which are a deep, rich blue. Put simply, the man was gorgeous. Personal bias be damned.

At 6'0", I had him beat by 2 inches, but we were at about the same weight. I have dark brown hair, brown eyes, brown everything, really. It is to be expected when one is of biracial heritage, though. I've got a light tan skin tone, with a slender and slightly toned build. My hair becomes too much to manage when given any length, so I typically opt for a plain buzzed cut. In fact, that's exactly the word I'd use to describe my self: plain. Just a plain guy who lucked out and came across a remarkable man.

Back home, we live in a modest 2-bedroom apartment, and both work at a nearby grocery store. And by "nearby", I mean a block down the street. Obviously, the distance between home and work has been very convenient. Going from the bed to the time clock takes, on average, no more than 15 minutes. I was a part-time student in college, also, which made the weekdays quite busy. Outside of work and school, we mainly stayed home, being the like-minded shut-ins that we were. Video games, movies, sex, food, loud music. Pretty standard fare for a couple of homebodies. We'd made a habit of saving as much of our earnings as we could, and had acquired a decently sized bundle of savings over the last two and a half years. We'd taken small but steady strides towards building a solid future, and were rewarded with an enjoyable, peaceful life from day-to-day. It wasn't necessarily exciting, but it was ours. It was safe.

Towards the end our third day in the sunny state of Florida, we decided to stop at a grocery store near the hotel we were staying at for various odds and ends. But I wasn't interested in "odds and ends". I was craving a bag of roasted, salted, overpriced almonds. With this dominating my thoughts, I broke rank with the rest of my family and headed over to the snack food aisle. I skimmed over boxes of crackers, bags of potato chips, and beef jerky before finally reaching the nuts. I grabbed two bags of almonds, and just as I was about to return to the rest of my group, I got a strange feeling: that sense that someone is behind me. I turned around and, sure enough, there was someone standing no more than ten feet away, staring daggers at me.

Now, I'm not entirely sure what this implies about my character, but the first thing I was aware of was that this man was beautiful.

And when I say "beautiful", I mean unearthly so. He had mid-length, curly, light brown hair, with an eye color that can only be described as "golden". I took a split second to debate with myself as to whether or not they were contacts, but ultimately decided that it wasn't particularly important. What stood out the most about him is how perfect all of his features were. From where I was standing, his face, nose, ears, chin, eyes, and everything else was angled perfectly and devoid of any and all blemishes.

The man looked positively statuesque. A perfectly sculpted statue, brought to life by some otherworldly magic.

It's a shame that his facial features were twisted into this picture of pure rage-all directed at me, it seems. His ridiculously good looks did nothing to detract from the fact that I felt very threatened by his glaring. He was looking at me as if I'd killed his mother. I couldn't seem to find the strength to move away from him, and I'm quite certain that if I did, he'd match me step for step. I managed, after what seemed like several minutes of me shrinking underneath his gaze, to speak in an attempt to dissuade the situation.

"H-hey, man. Is there a problem?" I stammered out as best I can.

His expression did change: he went from angered to straight up annoyed. As if my speaking had somehow broken his concentration. Still, I considered it an improvement. Perhaps more words would help?

"Seriously, if I bumped into you or something, I'm sorry. I was just looking for some almonds," I held up one of the bags, hoping that small talk would have an effect, "and I admit that I was in a bit of a rush, so-"

He snarled.

This guy just snarled at me.

I was silent once again, thoroughly convinced that my "more words equals less angry" hypothesis was wrong. This entire situation was incredibly odd, and I was getting pretty annoyed, myself. Who was this man to walk up to me and give me attitude without giving nary a peep in the way of an explanation? Who the hell did he think he is?

"Found you, Jasper!" chimed a small, high voice from behind him. A woman appeared from behind "Jasper" and quite literally danced to his side. She was very short, standing at maybe an even 5', and shared Jasper's level of beauty: same golden eyes, same perfect features, same flawless movements. "Now can you please come on, already? Bella's attracting a lot of attention, so we really shouldn't stay any longer."

At this, he seemed to genuinely calm down. He didn't smile or express joy, or anything of the sort. He simply relaxed his posture, loosened his expression, and softened his eyes a bit. He did not take them off me, though. The tiny woman next to him noticed this and started tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, while wearing a mixed expression of worry and confusion. I'd surmised by now that the two of them were a couple. Just these last 30 seconds of interaction between the two of them made that fact obvious.

"Ay, Chris!" I heard Isaac call from further down the aisle behind me. He'd caught up to me, with the rest of the family waiting up front.

Two things happened at once: the tiny woman on Jasper's arm gasped, her expression changing from slight worry to full-on panic, and Jasper snarled again, louder than before-this time at Isaac, who was standing mere feet behind me.

Now, I like to think of myself as a peaceful, logical man of reason. One that doesn't pop off at the slightest thing, and is willing to use words to resolve a conflict. However, one scenario that is guaranteed to send me over the proverbial edge every time is when Isaac is threatened, harassed, accosted, or snarled at in my presence. I'd already tried words with this man, and those were brushed off pretty quickly. I decided to end this ridiculous in the simplest way possible. Handing my almonds to Isaac, I closed the distance between Jasper and I in 3 steps, brought my right fist back, and snapped it forward with as much force as I could muster.

There was a dull crack, and I was on the ground.

I blanked out for the next few seconds, and found myself sitting Indian-style on the ground when I came to. The rest of my family had made their way over to the four of us, and there was yelling coming from both sides. My attention was directed at Jasper.

Actually, that's a lie. I was mainly focusing on the fact that my goddamned hand was broken, and I was in a considerable amount of pain. Tears filled my eyes and clouded my vision, but I was surprised to find that I didn't have the urge to cry out or scream. Shattered bones aside, there was something that kept my eyes glued to the man I'd just unsuccessfully tried to knock flat. He looked no worse for wear, and yet here I was, with a broken hand. Had I missed something? Did he happen to have a steel plate underneath his skin, located exactly where my fist had landed? No, that couldn't be it. A surgical procedure like that would have left a noticeable scar.

What was it, then? Why was my hand broken, with Jasper left unaffected-much less visibly hurt-by my swing?

While my thoughts waged war with one another, someone scooped me off of the floor. Isaac. After placing me on my feet, he helped me to the store's exit. I didn't necessarily need help walking, but I appreciated it, nonetheless. We drove here separately from my parents and younger brother, and he had explained to them that he'd take me to the nearest hospital. The would meet with us there later.

I still found it very odd that I wasn't doubled-over on the ground, clutching my now baseball glove-sized hand, screaming in pain. The pain was absolutely there, but it didn't seem to affect me as much as it should. I was downright calm, in fact. Before walking out the door, I looked back at the clustered mess of people behind me. The small woman who I assumed was Jasper's girlfriend stood in the middle of it all, no doubt trying to calm the situation with an explanation that seemed plausible, because what had actually happened didn't make one bit of sense. Jasper still stood in the same spot, not having moved an inch since I first laid eyes on him. I imagine the entire scene looked rather ridiculous from an innocent bystander's perspective. It was still raining when we stepped outside, and I was thankful for small favors.

Almost immediately after pulling out of the parking lot, I noticed that the pain in my hand was getting worse. Whatever defense-mechanism my body had activated to dull the pain seemed to have worn off, and I was now feeling it in its entirety. I started squirming in my seat, and had to bite my lip Isaac noticed this and all but sped to the hospital.

The hospital visit went as I'd expected. I was fussed at doctors and nurses for fighting, first and foremost. There was no compound fracture, so I'd only need a cast. I was fussed at by Isaac, who kept asking every few minutes if there was anything that I needed. I didn't need anything at the moment, but I was starting to wish I'd bought those almonds before taking a swing at the man of steel. I was fussed at by my parents, who had arrived about an hour after we did. They both scolded me for trying to fight someone, and coddled me because I would forever and always be their "little boy". My brother stood off in a corner, giving me a sympathetic look. He'd sprained his ankle two years prior, and knew exactly what I was going through at the moment.

All things considered, it went quite smoothly.

What I hadn't been expecting, however, was a visit from Jasper's girlfriend while I was filling out my release forms (left-handed, so I could still write just fine). We'd promised to meet with the rest of our family back at the hotel later that day, as we'd hoped to have a few moments to ourselves to talk. Having her with us might help clear some confusion. She made a beeline for us right as she entered the waiting room, grabbing a pen from the receptionist's desk. The girl didn't look any older than 17, but had an air of maturity and grace about her.

"Chris, Isaac! Glad I caught you two!" She trilled.

I stood up, met her halfway, and offered her my non-broken hand. "Nice to meet you, Ms..." I trailed off, realizing how odd it was that she knew both off our names, yet we didn't know hers.

"Cullen. Alice Cullen," she said, introducing herself and finishing my sentence for me. She was grinning from ear to ear for some reason. Given what had happened earlier today, it should have been unsettling. But Alice was damned adorable, and her smile was quite contagious. "Now, I imagine you boys have some questions. I'll be happy to answer them all, but first thing's first: Mind if I sign your cast, Chris?"

I blinked, completely caught off guard by the request. "Um...sure. Go right ahead," I replied.

Impossibly, her smile grew even bigger. She popped the cap off her pen, and went to work with her message. I glanced over at Isaac, expecting to see something along the lines of "Get well soon!3" when I turned back to my cast.

Isaac's reaction to our exchange was priceless. He was trying to stifle a fit of laughter, but he was also staring at Alice in wonderment. This resulted in his face being beet red, with his eyes bulging in Alice's direction. I don't think he noticed, but I mouthed the words "I love you" in his direction before turning back.

Alice had finished writing her message, upside-down, and eagerly shoved it in my face for me to read.

"Don't let a broken hand get you down. You're going to live forever!"