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Called Beautiful

They cannot change- but she can. Will that alter her frozen perfection? What does it matter if she's called beautiful? Rosalie/Bella. One-sided. One-shot.

NOT MY IDEA. Blame Abby, not me. It was a challenge. And I don't own the characters, I just force them to fall in love with each other.

2. Alice

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She’s beautiful.

I know what beauty is. It is not me. I have perfection of futures, but, unlike Rose and even Esme, as a human I was nothing exceptional. I am not beautiful.

I am frozen, crystallized. Like a diamond.

Diamonds are made out of really old dinosaur poop, by the way…

An even better metaphor than I intended. Or was it a simile? They don’t have language arts classes in insane asylums.

She, however, is beautiful. In a way that has nothing to do with rock hard sparkling snow white skin over features shrunken and twisted to perfect monstrous points and everything to do with the warmth of her.

It isn’t the warmth Edward’s always on ago, not the heat of her skin or the racing pulse of her heart, her heart… No, it has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the smile that’s only for me, the bright laughter, her sweet tender gentleness, her impulsive embraces, her sudden forgiveness even after I was stupid enough to let Edward be stupid enough to leave her behind for what he said would be forever.

Edward wasn’t strong enough. And neither was I. Without her… I was empty. Not all because of her, partially because my family was falling apart, but mostly because of Bella.

Bella- it means beautiful in just about every language. I speak most Romance languages.

Not from any human experience, not that it was ever a part of my “real life” brief as that was, just because eternity gets tedious.

Could that be it? Could all this… desire… be from nothing more than boredom? I’m happy, blindingly happy, with Jasper, and I know, absolutely, that it will never change- I can see the future, remember?

And for some reason that depresses me, this surety that I’ll always be happy skippy Alice with my morose beloved Jasper at my side. I don’t want to remain the same forever. I don’t like my unchanging eternity. I wish to return my happy ending in exchange for something more, a struggle, a fight, something.

Bella is a fight. An epic battle to win the unconquerable. She’s a modern maiden, yes, very much a child of this new century.

She’s also, and how to put this without admitting to myself something I don’t wish to consider, straight. She is clearly interested in men, not women.

And she’s in love with Edward.

And I’m married.

And she’s my sister.

This is one of the situations in which one realizes a relationship is simply not meant to be. No, Bella is my best friend, and she’ll never be anything more than that. No matter how many times he calls her beautiful, she never believes. She has to hear it from his ears again and again… but still can’t convince herself.

Sometimes I wonder if she’d believe it if I told her.

“Bella, you’re beautiful…”

The words die on my lips. Even though I am alone in my room, I can’t form the whisper. The air and the despair swallows it up, snatches it from my mouth, crumbles the delicate hope into dust.