Disclaimer: -snifflecrysob- I don't own Final Fantasy X. Square Enix does.

A/N: You remember me? I don't think you do. I'd assume that's because I've neglected this fandom for so long that I feel guilty about it. But I think this short lil' fic threw me back into the swing of things. Anyways, it's Aurikku, the one I've been promising for ages. And I dedicate this fic to ScreamingHeartstrings and Ari Elisianete. ScreamingHeartstings because she was the one who got me back into the fandom and Ari because it was actually her fic that inspired me to write this. So... read, review, enjoy!

Somehow, Rikku had always believed that he would come back to her. Forget the fact that he’d actually died--that he’d lived as an unsent for ten years. Forget, even, that he’d chosen to be sent himself. She had really, truly believed that he would come back. Even if it was only for her sake.

That day Tidus returned and everyone had gathered on the beach, she’d cried out to them in hopes that she’d see a flash of a crimson coat or a face shrouded by a cowl and, for a split second, she really thought she did. But even after the excitement died down--even after Tidus and Yunie had unexpectedly decided to rush off to Zanarkand--she was still absolutely alone.

Only Lulu had the heart to ask her about what was troubling her and by then, Brother had returned with the airship and she’d quickly suggested that she was tired. She’d then left the village in a daze and let loose the tears she’d been wanting to let out for hours as she walked to where the airship had landed on the beach.

Had she really been that stupid?

Why would Auron come back? Those meaningful glances, the simple moments shared between them, they’d meant so very little to him. He was merely entertaining a fifteen-year-old girl with an innocent little crush. She realized that now.

Rikku wanted to forget that any of it had happened. That she’d ever met Auron; that she’d ever felt anything for the gruff man in the crimson coat. It was painful to remember without him there to remember with her and she’d rather forget than live with those memories in her heart. They were like thorns on a rose: the rose--the memory--itself is beautiful, but the thorns make it dangerous to hold. To even touch, really, unless you were very careful.

There was no such thing as very careful in Rikku’s case. Her roses were covered in thorns. She couldn’t enjoy the flower without ripping it from its stem and if she did that, it would only wither and die. None of it was any fair. If she couldn’t have everything, then she didn’t want anything.

Because Auron was gone, never to return, and memories just weren’t enough.