A/N: So this is something new. I've always wondered how Rosalie felt about Jacob. Um, also, this excludes Breaking Dawn. Tell me how it is.
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It's not that Rosalie Hale hates Isabella Swan.
It's just that she's really fucking jealous sometimes.
Rosalie knows she's the most beautiful girl in the world. And it's not an exaggeration—she doesn't need to count the number of catcalls and whistles she's gotten (and she wouldn't be able to, anyway) to know that it's true. She can see it clearly every time she looks in the mirror: from her long, gold hair and her perfect skin and body, she is absolutely flawless.
But Rosalie doesn't care about all that. She isn't the vain little princess that scoffed because her diamond ring wasn't big enough that she used to be when she was human. And everyone thinks she's so stuck up, but that's not it. She's just so fucking depressed all the time. She is going to survive forever as nothing but a pretty girl. No ambition, no real family left, no purpose to live—if you could even call it living, this dead-end existence that slows every day into an endless, drowning pattern.
All Rosalie wants is to be gone. But she's so scared and cowardly that she can't even do it. She was almost impressed when Edward went to the Volturi and asked for death. Because perfect Rosalie Hale is far too afraid to give up her lovely face.
And then there's Bella.
Sweet, innocent Bella with her big brown eyes and pretty blush. Bella with her clumsiness that everyone seemed to find so fucking endearing; Bella with her sleep-talking and selfishness, Bella with the blood in her veins and the scent that no one can resist. Bella who gets to keep her thoughts to herself; Bella who falls in love with the vampire; Bella who takes everything for granted.
Rosalie understands Edward's attraction to her. As much as she hates to think that a boy, even one she didn't want, could pick human Bella over princess Rosalie, she understands. Edward had lived over a hundred years knowing every little thought in the minds around him. He knew when girls wanted to fuck him (which was often), and when they thought the things they were too afraid to say. And then came Bella, this insignificant little girl, and he doesn't even know what she is thinking.
It makes sense that he would want her. Falling in love was just the natural thing to do. Bella seems different to him because she is different, and it's obvious that he would find her silence so intriguing.
What Rosalie doesn't understand is the werewolf. She can hate him all she wants but she doesn't deny that he is beautiful. And he's so head over heels for Bella she can sense it a mile away, hear the howls and screams when she breaks his heart, see the perfect servitude in his eyes every second they lie on her.
But Bella isn't sweet. She isn't innocent or endearing and she certainly isn't smart. If she was smart, she would realize what she's giving up, she would take Jacob's hand and run away and she wouldn't look back, not at the monsters she fell in love with, not at the soulless existence she would be giving up. To Rosalie, it's not a contest. She would face the ends of the earth to be human again. And Bella doesn't even think it fucking over.
The day they got married, Rosalie's throat burned from something other than thirst. She was so disgusted with the girl, so ashamed and broken. She loved Edward like the brother that he had become, but she couldn't watch as this stupid little girl gave up her life to be with him.
No one noticed when she left the ceremony. No one noticed when she sat at the edge of the house and cried—dry, wrecking, hopeless sobs that shook her body and reminded her of all the things she couldn't do. And that was when she decided that she really fucking hated Isabella Swan.
Rosalie writes her a letter: you know you're an idiot, right? You know you will never get this life back; you will be dead for every day of forever, and you will regret it for longer than that—and she throws it out because there is nothing she can do.
Her breath catches in her throat when they come back from the honeymoon and she's still alive. She doesn't really understand why this girl's life means so much to her. Let Bella make the same mistake that Rosalie could not, let her scream until she no longer needs to breathe, let her feel Edward's cold arms and forget what it's like to be alive.
It's not that she feels bad for her. But she finds herself staring at Jacob Black and his tall, dark frame, watching how long Bella holds on to him, wanting to be her, not because she doesn't love Emmett, but because this fragile, human love is something that she never had to have. It's so different from the strict bond that holds her and her family together. This love could end at any second, and yet Rosalie knows that it won't. Jacob Black is giving up his heart for a girl that won't even give him a promise. Rosalie knows what it's like to have someone lust for her, someone who won't get anything in return, but no one has ever loved her like that. And she envies Bella. Because she has a choice.
The day Bella is changed Rosalie's dead heart breaks for Jacob Black. And she finds him, alone in the woods, crying the way that she wishes she could, hard and wet, and she sits next to him and ignores the stench because Jacob and Rosalie are very much the same.
They both would die for something that they can never ever have.
And fucking Bella Swan won't even live for it.
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END