A/N: Okay, so this is my first fan fiction thing I have ever made so I apologize if this didn't turn out the way you wanted. This is in Kristen's POV. If you`ve read something sort of like this, that would just mean that I read that and got inspired and decided to make my own version. I might have read that thing you may be thinking about in LiveJournal. Hehe. Read on.

MARS.

I loved walking home nowadays. It's more relaxing and it gives you time to think. I shouldn't be walking around Vancouver by myself especially now that I'm a popular paparazzi target. I guess it's inevitable. Even if your claim-to-fame movie were released years ago, you'd still be overexposed. I was comforted by the thought that my close friend—close friend now, after starring in a movie with her—told me that someone called her Rachel. I thought you might have guessed it; she's Jennifer Aniston.

We were halfway into Breaking Dawn. The director sent Rob home already to avoid too much crowding on-set. I was starting to get annoyed with the girls who are still in love with Rob over their heads. I wouldn't blame them. Rob was a really, really nice person and he's an even more beautiful man. It's like he doesn't age. He's already 24; yeah, it's 2010.

That's another issue I have with the studio. What's with the rush? New Moon was shot from March to July. Eclipse was filmed from September to mid-October. Promotional tours and press junkets for New Moon went on from November to February, with a Christmas break. And now, spring of 2010, we're filming Breaking Dawn. I don't know why they're hurrying so much. It's really weird. Eclipse comes out this summer and Breaking Dawn next year. Once we do the tours and whatnot for Breaking Dawn, we'd just think 'We shot this movie last year!'

I got mobbed by the paparazzi when I rounded the corner to my—I mean, our—house. They were waiting up for me. It's sickening to my stomach to get stalked by strangers just to sell. I hate this part of my career.

I put my hood up, as if it were going to help, and went headstrong into the flashing lights. They threw the most unnecessary questions that I KNEW they already knew the answers to; they just wanted to hear it from me.

"Are you pregnant?" one of them asked. That sent Rob and me to a long round of guffaws. It was a rumor that we dismissed such a long time ago and they're bringing it up again, like I said, to sell.

"Are you and Michael together again?" another asked. That one may be the stupidest of all. I'm going to my boyfriend and my house and he asks me about whether or not my ex-boyfriend and I are together again. Some of them just don't use common sense.

"Is it true you and Rob are getting married?" That, I didn't want to answer at all. I wanted to ask Rob that question: Are we getting married or what? Or rather: Are you even CONSIDERING getting married? We celebrated our first anniversary in April and his little gesture of taking me out to my favorite restaurant set my imagination to go wild, thus, giving me the impression that he was going to propose… But, of course, he didn't.

I just kept on walking till I reached the familiar cul-de-sac that we lived in. I went to the porch and stood there before going inside. And, for the first time in a long time, I flipped the paparazzi off. Hah! There.

I went inside, hoping to see Rob at the living room, tunelessly strumming on his guitar. Or maybe at the den, playing a new piano piece he learned from New Moon's The Score book that he bought a few weeks ago. But he was nowhere to be seen. I was paranoid, thinking maybe he hasn't gotten home and that he went to some nightclub or something.

I went to the kitchen; he wasn't there. I went to his music room; he wasn't there either. I went to the backyard, hoping to see him having a drink with one of the Cullen boys but he wasn't there. Bathroom? Nope. Dining room? No. Pantry—don't get me wrong, I saw him there once eating a bag of potato chips--? Not there either. His boys' room? No. I checked EVERYWHERE, and he wasn't in any of those places. That leaves one more location, the bedroom.

I was prepared to see him asleep, face flat on the bed. I was used to that. But that wasn't what I saw in the bedroom.

It was empty. Except for the absolutely colossal box. I was wondering if he was hiding in there, waiting for me to open it then he'll just pounce out to scare the hell out of me. I would not be surprised with that. He loved playing jokes on me even if they weren't funny.

At the front of the box was a huge envelope that had my name on it. It looked like the giant box you'd see in a bachelorette party then when you open it, there'll be an artificial cake that your strippers could hide in.

I opened the envelope and it was a note in his handwriting. Open it, it said. He expected me to open this ginormous package? The thing was almost as tall as me!

When I wretched the cover of the box off, the massive walls of the package collapsed to its side. I was expecting him to be in it, but inside instead, was another box. Oh, god, he was going to tire me out, wasn't he?

I took the cover off that too and the same thing happened. The walls of the second box fell onto the floor revealing a smaller box inside.

I must have opened at least fifteen boxes until the box was as small as my foot. I exhaled, exhausted. What is he trying to do to me? I wanted to just kick the shoebox type of thing in front of me out of the window. I sat on the floor cross-legged and held, hopefully, the last box. I opened it and there was another. I groaned in defeat as I fell on my back to the wooden floor.

"Rob, what the hell are you doing to me?" I whispered to the air. I sat upright again and opened the box. This time, there were three small boxes the size of my fist crammed in the box. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. I wanted to yell profanities out the window. I wanted to just step on these three little cubes and throw it out the window.

There was a note on each one, again in his hand. Choose one, it said on each post it resting on each box. Damn it. Is this one of his games that he wanted to pull on me? I'm not having fun.

I opened the first one with such exhaustion that I was almost panting. It was empty. Sorry, love, a note in it said.

I wasn't going to play by his rules… I opened the second box and it, too, was empty. Sorry, love, a note said again. That just leaves the last one.

I opened it, genuinely excited but, again, it was empty. I knew you'd open each one of them, the last note said.

"ROB! What the hell is wrong with you—" I started to shout.

"You opened all of them," a smooth British accented voice said from behind me. "You are curious, aren't you?"

I turned around, still on the floor, to see Rob grinning at me. "You… told me to open the box… So… I did," I answered.

He smiled at me. It still managed to take my breath away throughout the three years I have known him. "You're amazing, you know that." He held out his hand for me and I sighed, taking it. He pulled me onto my feet.

"Do you have any idea how tiring your sick joke was—" He silenced me with one of his kisses.

"Shhhhh," he said when he pulled away. "It's not a joke."

"Then what the hell is this?" I said motioning to the mess I made with all his boxes. "It's not funny, Rob."

"I know it's not funny. It's not supposed to be a joke. You don't see me laughing, do you?" he said, a straight poker face plastered on his features.

"Then what is this about?" I demanded. I felt the anger radiating off my body and I knew he did too. He jutted his lower lip at me and smiled. "What?"

He patted his pocket and took my hand. "Kristen, you opened my boxes…"

"Yes, I did. But that's not what I'm asking. What is this about?" I said, starting to get pissed.

"You opened the boxes hoping to find what, exactly?" he said, kissing my hand.

"I was… curious. That's why I opened the boxes, okay?" I said. I wanted to cry but I would look like such a sappy girl who got her way in front of Rob.

"You're the most amazing girl ever, you know that?" he said. What is he doing, trying to distract me?

"Answer me, Rob. I am sizzling with anger," I said through my teeth.

"I love that you wear my clothes. I love that you like really old bands. I love how you're so real unlike all the Hollywood stars are. I love how close you are to your brother. I love how you love chick flicks and you're not ashamed to admit it. I love how you put up with Taylor even if he's gnawing on my last nerve. I love that you tell me everything even if it's a secret between you and your friends. I love that you don't care about what people say about you. I love how you wear Converse all the time, not stilettos that we both know are death traps. I love how you love plaid T-Shirts. I love how you knot your shirts when we go out. I love how sarcastic you are when the press asks about us. I love that despite the Twilight Saga popularity you've gained, you still haven't grown out of me yet. I love that you've seen Jungle Book more than fifty times, thirteen of those you've watched with me. I love that you always tell me that I smell good even if I haven't showered in a week. And Kristen, as if you haven't understood yet from what I'm telling you now, I love you."

He wiped something wet from under my eye and I found out I was crying. I was crying… a lot. How could I not have noticed that? "I love you, too," I answered him.

Then all of a sudden, he sank down on one knee. I must have been crying a lot. I was gasping already for dear oxygen. He brought out a ring from his pocket and showed it to me for a second. It was beautiful, obviously. It through rainbows as the light in the room hit it. The diamond was huge. Perfect clarity, at least 22 Karats of gold on that thing. Oh, god, how much did he spend on that? The price was the least I was thinking of.

"Kristen Jaymes Stewart," he said slowly. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and the tears that were pooling in my eyes cascaded down my cheeks like waterfalls. "I love you passed the borders of insanity. I want you more than anything. So much, that everything in the world—or even beyond those boundaries—COMBINED wouldn't be enough to out throw. Please, please, please… Will you marry me?"

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to respond with something witty but when I opened my mouth to speak, I was unable to think coherently. I just stared at him and gaped like a fish.

"Love, you have to say something," he said with a smile on his perfect lips that I love.

"Yes, yes, yes. Absolutely, yes. Without a doubt, yes. Yes, Rob. Yes. Oh, my god, yes. YES!" I said. I wondered if that made sense on his end.

He stood up and took my face in his hands. "Thank you," he said before kissing me. He took my hand, our lips still locked, and slipped the ring on my fourth finger.

I love this man, and I get to keep him forever. I'm sure of that.