Thank You for the Venom (Louis/Rose)

I shouldn't argue with you.

I know that. I'm not an idiot. But it's all too easy to set down the small sentence that makes the other retaliate venomously.

All we ever do is fight, but somehow you're my best friend.

Maybe it's because we've known each other for so long; maybe it's because of a more simple reason.

I can think of one. I bet you can't.

If I had it my way – which I don't – you and I would fight all day long.

That sounds ridiculous to an outsider, I know it does.

But to me, it makes perfect sense.

There's something about you that shines when you scream or fight or fire a spell at me. It's something that makes me believe that you're going to be okay no matter what happens to you. Maybe that's why I became your friend in the first place.

You see, you look so alive when we fight. You don't have to pretend anymore; you can just unleash your venom and strangled emotions out into the air, somehow hoping they'll pierce me, hurt me, but knowing they never will.

Because I don't get hurt by what you shriek at me; the curses you yell.

I know it's been hard for you and I don't think it would help anyone if I refused to speak to you for months on end like you do to me.

I care about you too much to let you go.

Through these arguments, you've told me your whole story.

How you hate being the daughter of two famous magical people. How you hate yourself because you got Exceeds Expectations on an Arithmancy test when you know full well I got Dreadful. You don't know why I took Arithmancy, do you?

My strengths lie in Quidditch and hot chicks and practical jokes; yet you never questioned why I chose the exact same OWL subjects as you, did you?

You go on and scream about how your little brother has borrowed your art pencils and not put them back in the right order. You yell about the girls in your House who tease you for your beautifully wild fiery hair and top-of-the-class grades. They're the kind of girls I date.

I don't date those kids out of spite. I go out with them because I know it will annoy you and make us fight some more.

Believe you me, it's not the same as spite.

You say you don't know why I date all of these "blonde bimbos".

You're exceptionally smart, Rosie, but you're not very observant when it comes to you and me. As in, us.

There is an 'us', I know there is. But it's hidden beneath years of fights and duels and insults and blonde bimbos.

Maybe if you stopped to think, maybe if you cleared your head from Arithmancy equations and Transfiguration theories ... maybe you'd realise it, too.

But I can't wait for that day anymore. Waiting for you is like waiting for Victoire and Dominique to stop being gorgeous, or waiting for the Weasley twins to willingly hand in completed homework.

It's useless, disappointing and a massive waste of time.

That's why I'm letting you know now what I think.

I don't know if you'll even read this; and in the rare chance you do, I don't know if it would be absorbed into your incredibly complex mind.

I'm an easy problem to you, one you can solve and move on from in a heartbeat.

You should pay more attention, Rosie. You can analyse and theorise anything and everything all you want, but make sure I'm included in that.

You need to understand so you don't make the same mistake again later in life; because I'm not going to be thirty and still waiting around for you.

Yell at me about that, please do.

I'm in love with you, Rosie, despite everything that's happened between us.

I'm sorry.