This is just a short little one-shot. It, I suppose, would have taken place sometime in season two.

Disclaimer: I do not own House of Anubis, Jerome Clarke, or Mara Jaffray. If I did, they would already be a couple and Mick would have never existed.

Mara P.o.v.

November 17, 2012

I know this scenario has been overused, but right now it fits my life better than anyone can comprehend. My boyfriend and I broke up and it hurts. No, not the aching pain that most girls have felt after a bad relationship, it feels as though my heart was ripped out and shoved through a meat grinder. But, I suppose it is my fault. I'm the one who felt that Mick should go and fulfill his dream, leaving me behind in the process. I know he never wanted to go, but I had to let him. You know the phrase, "If you love something let it go," but I don't think it was meant to be used in this context. If you love something, you wouldn't be willing to let it escape your grasp. You would hold on with every ounce of strength you possess. But, I didn't. And deep down I know I let him go because I love him and wanted him to be happy. But, now I'm not happy and I fear I won't be again.

~Mara~

As I finish signing my name at the end of my entry, I heard my door creak open. Jerome poked his head in and I slammed the journal closed. He looked at me, confusion filling his eyes. I gave a nervous laugh and stood up, quickly slipping the thin book behind my back. I invited him in and he opened the door fully, a slight smirk gracing his lips. He had his hands behind his back and for a split second I was worried he was going to play a prank on me. He held out a small cream colored box. I looked at it then back at him, all the while not fully trusting him. He must have noticed the hesitation because his smile disappeared. He gave me a hurt look, but his resolve didn't fade. He grabbed my hand and placed the box in my grasp. He gave me a sweet smile before turning to leave. I watched his retreating form, feeling a little guilty I didn't trust him at first. I looked at the small box and proceeded to untie the thin white ribbon. I slid the lid off, and my heart leapt in my chest. There was a red rose with a beautifully written note tied to the thin stem. I picked it up and smelled the sweet scent. I closed my eyes and sighed. After I carefully removed the note, I laid the rose on my nightstand.

It can be described as many things.

The platitude, papery hearts lined with fragile lace.

Or, a rose bud, as it unfurls its sheets of velvet.

But, unless you make something of it, it stays just as a color.

And for me, red describes love.

The forbidden love that consumes your heart in a flare of passion.

Somehow giving you hope, but breaking your will, as well.

Love for love.

A dream for reality.

And a rose for my broken heart.

I bit my lip and placed the note next to the rose. Somehow, in those brief moments, I no longer cared for the love I thought I had lost, but the love I had found.

I rushed out of my room and down the stairs toward Jerome's room. I pushed open the door and he shot up off of his bed. He stepped toward me, his fingers brushing my arm. He looked down at me, his eyes asking for permission to simply touch me. I licked my lips and placed my hand on his cheek. "I love you, too."

He pressed his lips against mine, as my arms draped across his shoulders. His hands slid down my sides, creating a trail of fire. I lost sight of the world, as blackness consumed me. The only thing I could sense was the taste of his tongue. The heat suffocated me, but somehow I found it easier to breath. I could feel the drive of his heart through my palms and the vibrations through his chest and he let out a low growl. He placed small kisses down my jaw and bit down softly on the side of my neck. I let out a breathy moan and leaned against him. We fell back onto his bed and I looked at him, getting lost in the liquid crystal of his eyes. I smiled and leaned forward, locking my lips with his again.

Love for love. A dream for reality. And a rose for my broken heart.