He's perfect.

At least you think so. Whenever you see him walking in the hallways, or think about him (which is quite often) you get shivers down your spine. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier and you try and force yourself to calm down. It's not his fault he's so perfect. It's not his fault he's rich, smart, and handsome. It's not his fault he hates you. It's your own fault. All your own.

You took your father's advice to heart, you stayed away from him. Oh how you regretted that. The first few years were fine, you beat him in everything, just as you were told. You kept your distance, just as you were told. The first few years you were a robot, doing exactly as someone else told you to.

Fourth year came and you started to notice him. You started to notice him as more than someone to beat in every test, more than someone to be your enemy. But you knew it was too late. You had already made it clear that you hated him with a burning passion, how you didn't like him and didn't want to be in the same room as him. Everyone knew that. You were scared, weren't you? Scared of rejection, scared of what people might think if you did say you fancied him. You didn't want to fancy him, didn't want to at all. But no matter how much you tried, he was always on your brain. Everyone always compared you to a rose, and they would be right. On the outside, you were beautiful and always perfectly put together. But you had those thorns, those pesky little thorns that wouldn't go away.

You're insecure, and that's to be expected. You're only fourteen, already caught up in unrequited love. You're fourteen, scared out of your mind about what people might think if they knew about your secret. If they knew about your thorns. But you could do nothing but continue living, continue on and act like nothing had happened, like you didn't have any thorns. Like you were the perfect little Rose everyone expected you to be. You kept up the fa├žade. You were too afraid to do what you really wanted for the fear of what others would say. Because when you're fourteen and insecure, what others say matters to you. What others say becomes you.

So you watch.

You watch him snog other girls, fancy other girls, and fall in love with one special girl. You're jealous of her, insanely jealous. But you can't do anything about it, can you? You had your chance, and you blew it. You let other people control what you said and did. You let other people become you. You let other people mold you into a perfect little Rose. You let them think that Scorpius Malfoy means nothing to you, that he never has and never will. But the truth is you're lying. Scorpius means more to you than anyone else in the world, and you resent that. You regret that.

You wish you didn't have any thorns.

A/N-Okay so this is for bring me the sun's dabble in a drabble collection with Rose/Scorpius and the prompt "thorns," prompt number 10: Roses from Lilybug134's Favorite Era Boot Camp, nik-edward is my love's The Love Gone Wrong challenge with Rose/Scorpius and the prompt regret, and Ralinde's Pairing Diversity Boot Camp with the prompt love hurts. I really hoped you liked it!