Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you are waiting for the bus.
You wrap your arms around yourself, your eyes scan the snow-covered street from just above your hand-knitted pink scarf. The bus was late again.
You're trying not to shiver in your knee-length black skirt and Squiddles t-shirt, but failing miserably. Glancing quickly back at the house, you inwardly curse your mother, who is currently lounging in her warm study sipping a martini. You try rubbing your hands together to create warmth, but to no avail.
Finally, the headlight eyes of the bus pierce the fog and come closer, pulling to a stop in front of you. You let out a foggy sigh of relief and sling your messenger back over your shoulder. The doors squeak open, and you board. Immediately you are bombarded by insults and snickering bullies.
"Hey, Lalonde, how's your imaginary friend? Or does it hate you like everyone else does?"
Laughter follows, but you ignore it, instead taking the first empty seat you see. You put in your headphones and jack the volume as high as possible, the soothing sounds of Apocalyptica steadying your hazardous emotions. You always try with all your might to ignore the bullies, to block out what they say. It was so hard, though, and your resolve was breaking down. You didn't want to live in a world where you were constantly being teased, shoved, and hit.
In fact, you'd already prepared to end your own life that very night. There was a razor blade and a bottle of vodka sitting on your bedside table. All you had to do was make it through one more day of hell.
The ride to school goes by quickly for the most part, and soon you're stuffing your iPod and headphones down into your bag and heading to your first class. You're always the first one in, but today is something different. There's another girl sitting in your seat, head buried in a book.
You walk up to her, glancing briefly at her long red skirt and her black t-shirt. "Um, excuse me, but you're sitting in my seat." You're relieved to find that your anxiety doesn't reach your voice.
The girl looks up and- oh my, she's absolutely beautiful. Short, dusty black hair, forest green eyes, and pale, flawless skin. "Oh, I'm sorry," She says quietly. She stands, grabbing her purse and sitting in the desk behind yours.
You sit down, too, contemplating whether or not you should try and talk to her more. You turn around to look at her, throwing caution to the wind. "Are you new here?" You ask.
She nods, smiling politely. "Why, yes. My name is Kanaya Maryam."
What a beautiful name…
"Oh, why thank you." Kanaya says, smile a little wider.
A blush heats up your face. You hadn't meant to say that aloud. "W-well," You clear your throat. "I'm Rose Lalonde."
"What a suiting name."
You give her a confused look. "What do you mean?"
"Only the most beautiful of girls should be given the name of the most beautiful of flowers."
You force back the urge to giggle, instead smiling shyly while you blush goes an even shade of red.
"What the fuck? Take your lesbian shit somewhere else, you fucking freaks?" Comes a sudden voice.
You look around and see that you'd been so caught up in the moment with Kanaya that you hadn't noticed the other students filing in. Depression settles over your heart, and you stare down at your desk.
Kanaya's soft hand lifts your chin so that you're looking into her eyes. "Do not worry, everything will be okay."
You stare at her wide-eyed for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay…" You mutter softly.
Class after that was a blur of nonsense- your teacher spouting facts about American literature and some kids to your right trying to flick paper balls at him. You sit daydreaming about the girl behind you. Where did she come from? Was she single? Did she date girls?
As soon as the bell rings, you gather your things and turn to talk to Kanaya, only to find that she's already left the room. Disappointment washes over you in thick, suffocating waves. Perhaps she didn't like you after what that boy had said earlier. You swallow your sadness and go on with your day, ready for it to just be over, for everything to be over.
Finally, the last bell rings and you leave your last class to go to your locker. You were still unhappy about what had happened with Kanaya, and what made it worse was that you hadn't seen the girl once since first period. It wouldn't matter soon, though, because as soon as you got home, you were going to end everything.
You get to your locker and stop a few feet away from it. Sticking out of the side is a folded piece of paper. Curiously as well as tentatively, you pull it out and unfold it, revealing perfect script.
'There May Be Those Who Discourage,
Just Pretend You Do Not See.
You Are A Rose, A Perfect Rose,
The Most Beautiful, Rose, To Me.'
You read the poem over and over, shock evident on your face. Finally, you carefully refold it and place it in your bag. You then open your locker, gasping at what's inside- a single perfect rose.
"I hope I was not too forward in my advancements."
You turn around quickly to see a smiling Kanaya standing behind you.
"No, no this is all so… beautiful. Do you mean all of those things?"
She nods. "Every single word."
"But where were you today? I looked all over the school during the day…"
"Well, actually, I skipped most of the day to plan this out. I had to purchase the rose and compose the poem, the get the combination for your locker." Kanaya offers you her hand. "Now, would you please join me in getting something to eat? Frozen yogurt, perhaps?"
Now you're smiling, truly happy, and you nod. "I'd love to." You say, taking her hand.
Perhaps you could put away the razor blade and the vodka. Perhaps you could live through another day, another week, another month, another year.
As long as Kanaya was by your side, of course.
There you are, just a short little bit of Rosemary. Reviews are welcome. :33