Sad Beautiful Tragic | Rossian

"Because you act like you are."

This conversation was getting worse by the moment. Part of her had expected that Cassian wouldn't take this well, but she'd never thought it would all somehow get turned back on her. "How?" she asked, genuinely not understanding how she behaved like she was fragile. She got upset sometimes, yes and that was usually when things got hard, but...

"You're doing it now. Here. When I asked if the bad was all you saw, I meant about you. I know you see the best in me, and I know you've cheered louder than anyone else. I know you think I'll conquer the world someday, but what about you? Why don't you see what you do? You keep saying it's all too much, and it's how you feel, and I get that, but how come you never talk about how you let me discover me again and how you gave my soul a place to call home? It's always that your family is awful and you're too much. You see me collapse, and it makes you collapse. What am I supposed to think?"

She didn't know what to say. The girl quieted, the weight of his words falling on her shoulders. Why didn't she extend the same grace to...herself? What did that mean?

Rosalie had a fairly good idea of who she was. If she had to list out all of the things that made her 'Rosie', it would go far beyond just being a good Quidditch player and a decent pianist. She was someone who cared about people, who saw the good in others and wanted good for things for them. She was someone her friends leaned on and shared all their troubles with, knowing she was a good sounding board and someone who wouldn't judge them. At her core, she was kind, loving, forgiving and craved praise and acceptance.

Did that still mean she didn't see the good she did? Cassian said she'd helped him discover himself again and gave him a place to call home. Did she also think she did those things? She hadn't done anything other than be herself and try to make him feel loved. Was that something worthy of grand gestures and self-congratulation? Of indulgency in self-appreciation?

"I do spiral. I've spiralled for years, even before you. You see me spiral, and you think it had to be you. You don't think 'he came back to school and wants to keep trying because of me'."

Was that how he felt? That he wanted to keep trying and get better...because of her? Rosalie Gretchen Laurence was a humble girl. Where countless others in her position may have grown into a sniveling brat, demanding and spoilt, a superiority complex large enough to rival Goliath, it had never been the case for her. From the time she could speak, Rosalie had been soft in her portrayal and thoughtful with her words. She had never seen herself as anything but the quiet, obedient daughter of a dynasty that was built on the backs of people stronger and more charismatic than her.

She was just Rosalie. She wasn't anything exceptional, anything to be sought after or prized. She was just a girl who tried to make the boy she loved feel seen and accepted.

Did she self-deprecate because it was the truth, or because it made it easier for her to pull away when things got hard? Did she really believe she was 'too much', or was it just the easy thing to say to release them both from the accountability of their relationship?

Was she weaponizing her trauma? If she was, at sixteen, would she even be able to recognize she was doing it?

"If you saw you the way I see you, gorgeous, you'd never think you were too much again."

Her eyes softened, dry now from the tears that had spilled over, and she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweet warmth that desperately wanted to penetrate the walls she was erecting around herself. "I didn't think I was doing that, but you're right," she agreed softly with a little shrug, "I want to be strong for you and be what you need, but when you hurt, I hurt. I can't help it."

She sighed, pulling her knees back up to her chest and hugging them for comfort. "How...do you see me?" The question was more hesitant, not out of wanting him to shower her with compliments, but because she wondered if she actually was capable of seeing herself in the same way he did.

He didn't try to protest when Rosie got off his lap; instead, he let himself fall back into the sand. His curls would be full of sand by the time they left the shoreline, but Cassian couldn't think of a single thing that might have mattered less while the pair engaged in a conversation that had already caused several adrenaline spikes within him. The boy had been trying to get a read on her and where her head might be, certain he wouldn't be able to handle any more surprises.

He was currently dealing with her desire to be 'just friends', doing what he could to change her mind. Whether he was effective, he couldn't say, but Cass would be damned if they fell into a state they hadn't truly been in since the summer they'd met at the summer conservatorium.

"I want to be strong for you and be what you need, but when you hurt, I hurt. I can't help it."

He crossed his arms beneath his head, wanting to provide some cushioning against the coarse ground. With his eyes now trained on the sky, he let her words sit for a moment. Cassian already knew them. They'd been words he'd tried explaining to her for some time now, but she'd always taken them the wrong way. "I know," he said quietly, relieved she was finally seeing things from his point of view. His eyes shifted briefly to where she sat hugging her knees before returning to the bleak sky above. "It's not that I don't want to let you in. You're my best friend. I reckon you know more about me than just about anyone else. And I know you. You're built for worry, you can't help it," like she'd said, "and I guess...it's been my way of trying to protect you."

There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Rosie would've found some way to blame herself for his drug use. It was a special talent of hers. The girl would've taken on his burdens, worrying herself into nothing trying to figure out how to help him get better, then they'd be...here, sitting on the shore of the black lake with her realising he was fucked up long before her and harder to fix than a few 'I love yous'. He saw the way the realisation of that crushed her.

It was the road he'd been trying to avoid.

"How...do you see me?"

How?

Was she really asking?

"Like the sun, after a week of rain," he shared. They weren't just flowery words meant to flatter her; they were a vivid retelling of the images that played in his mind when he thought of her. When he thought of Rosie, Cassian didn't think in straight lines; he thought in colours and patterns and colours and feelings. Rosalie Laurence was a whole experience for him.

"I see you like an open door after trying so many before and having them not budge or slamming back in my face. You're the calm in every storm, that warm hug after an afternoon out in the cold. I see a girl who loves, even when it hurts to, one the stars want to follow across the sky every night they appear, hoping they could dazzle half as well. I look at you and I see my heart pumping even on days it doesn't think it wants to."

He didn't see a girl who was 'ruining his life' or whatever other nonsense Rosie had convinced herself of.

Had she caused him trouble? Of course. Would he have a better chance of seeing his 25th birthday if she weren't around? It was a near certainty. Yet, it would be a half-life, one so monochromatic and dull he would struggle to leave his bed every morning.

She watched as he laid back into the sand, hugging her knees even tighter against herself. The last time she'd felt this distanced from him, it had been that horrible week in January two years ago. She'd cried nearly every time he touched her then, her heart shattered by the thought that he might want her friend more than he wanted her.

This was worse. So much worse. January was the month from hell, she'd decided.

They were only sixteen. Why couldn't things just be easy? Didn't their age dictate that these sorts of relationships be fun and carefree, full of love and magic and everything that indicated that the world was full of possibilities? It had felt that way with him, for a long time. Somehow, somewhere along the way, it had stopped feeling so light and started feeling heavy with all of the darkness that surrounded and threatened them.

"It's not that I don't want to let you in. You're my best friend. I reckon you know more about me than just about anyone else. And I know you. You're built for worry, you can't help it, and I guess...it's been my way of trying to protect you."

"I don't want to be protected," Rosie protested. They'd been over this before, and it felt like they were going in circles. She understood his stance now, she really did, and she would try to do better with her worrying. "Not from you, anyway. I know I don't make things easier," she sighed a little, her shoulders shrugging in resignation, "And I'll try to worry less, I suppose. I just get so scared sometimes, and you having an overdose didn't help." It wasn't his fault. She wasn't blaming him for what had happened. She knew now that he didn't mean to, but he had been reckless. "I can't give my heart over to recklessness, because if you don't come back next time..." she trailed off, knowing he hated when she hyperbolized final outcomes.

Instead, she shook her head and left it at that, dropping her eyes back to the sand. She didn't want to make him feel worse than she knew he already did. There was no point to it and didn't serve anybody. She just wanted to make him better, but knew it wasn't something she could do. This was all him, and she could support and love him through it.

But then...

"Like the sun, after a week of rain."

Slowly, she looked up, watching as he studied the sky above them. The sun. It was how she had always seen him too. He was warmth against the cold, wakening her soul from quiet hibernation each time she'd been separated from him.

"I see you like an open door after trying so many before and having them not budge or slamming back in my face. You're the calm in every storm, that warm hug after an afternoon out in the cold."

Her face softened, her eyes widening slightly as his words seeped slowly beneath her skin. For a second she forgot how to breathe. All the fear she’d been gripping like a lifeline loosened its hold, replaced by something quieter, almost painful in its tenderness.

"I see a girl who loves, even when it hurts to, one the stars want to follow across the sky every night they appear, hoping they could dazzle half as well. I look at you and I see my heart pumping even on days it doesn't think it wants to."

Words. Beautiful words, and not a speck of grandiosity to them. Her sweet theatre boy had always been larger than life when he'd wanted to be, his flirtations taking on that dramatic flair of insincerity when he'd wanted that little rush. She knew him, intimately now, and could easily tell the difference between his more casual statements and the ones that he held deeply in his heart. These ones were real. He saw her in a way that she'd never pictured herself, but the way he illustrated it, helped her understand.

Because it was exactly the way she saw him. Every time she'd sat at his feet, leaning against his knees as he lost himself in a script. Every time he went on a tangent about his newest fixation. Every time he smiled at her in that way that melted her insides and made her want to promise her entire future to him. Every time he touched her.

Every time he told her he loved her.

She saw him the same way. She understood now. She would never say Cassian wasn't good for her. He was the only one for her. He was her soulmate, the love of her life. He felt that way about her too, so how could she ever be 'bad' for him?

Words were lost on her. She broke the hold she had on herself, and moved quickly towards him, laying herself on his chest. She couldn't fix him; she knew that now. But she could hold him while he tried to get better. She could love him fiercely through it.

While her heart pounded against his chest, Rosalie cupped Cassian's face to make him look at her, before her lips captured his in a deep kiss.

"I don't want to be protected. Not from you, anyway."

She'd said.

It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation either. Rosie wanted to stand at his side, not behind him, not hiding in the next room while he handled things, but shoulder to shoulder, staring the same perils in the face. While Cassian understood the sentiment--appreciated it, even--he'd always been a practical boy beneath the pomp and flair. What Rosie wanted to do and what she was capable of were sometimes very different things, whether she liked to admit it or not.

"I know I don't make things easier. And I'll try to worry less, I suppose. I just get so scared sometimes, and you having an overdose didn't help."

"Rosie..."

"I can't give my heart over to recklessness, because if you don't come back next time..."

This he understood, too. The boy, without ever meaning to, had set off a string of reactions when he'd made that fateful decision alone in his bedroom. Cass was still discovering the consequences, many of them popping up when he least expected them. This one didn't take him by surprise. Of course, she'd been worried after something like this. Before, it had been easy to insist everything was fine and that he was coping well. The overdose had put new fears in her mind, ones he had no right to tell her she couldn't have.

"...Alright, yeah" No protests, no insistence that he knew better. "We'll try it your way." Cassian recognised the give and take he would need to take part in for this to work. It wasn't fair to keep asking her to just trust him if he would only fall apart. In the same way, she couldn't expect him to let her see him fall apart if it would only make her crumble, too. It was something they'd both have to work on, but a concession he was willing to make nonetheless.

The shuffling in the sand caught his attention. Before Cassian could fully grasp what was happening, Rosie was lying on top of him, looking at him the way he'd feared moments ago that she never would again. It melted him down to his core, disarming the boy at once.

There was no need to hope, no need to place his trust in blind faith. In an instant, the girl he was so crazy about had her lips on him.

It was the lifeline he'd been splashing about in the tumultuous waves, trying to find. The rollercoaster that had been their conversation had blindsided him, leaving him unsure of what to expect except perhaps imminent heartbreak if he couldn't find a way to course correct. The boy knew that he could hope all he wanted. If Rosie had truly had her mind made up, if she were truly done, he knew there was nothing he could've done to change her mind.

Thankfully, that wasn't the case.

Cass finally allowed himself to relax, releasing the tension that had been building inside his muscles. He wrapped his arms around her as gratitude swirled inside him. He was relieved to have survived the storm, and with his mouth moving against hers, he thought he could finally see to the other side.

For the first time since he sat down on the sandy shore, Cassian felt like they would be alright. Not suddenly better, but in a place where they wouldn't crumble.

It would probably be confusing to say that Rosalie felt relief when he returned her kiss, feeling his arms slink around her again.

It had been her suggestion that they break up. Her thoughts that had pushed the idea to the forefront, and her words that had caused the cataclysm of nerves and heartache that pulsed between them.

There had been not a single part of her that truly wanted it.

Rosalie was consistently playing referee between her heart that cried out for him, and her mind that swirled with inadequacies. Now, with the silencing of his words, the ease of which he shared his thoughts, her own finally slipped away, letting her heart take center stage where it always belonged. The taste of sweet cinnamon melded with tart cherry, reminding her of all they had stood to lose if she had really lost the battle with herself.

If Cassian had lost the battle with himself.

Her heart finally began to slow as she felt his muscles relaxing beneath her, their kiss deepening as her fingers grazed along his face, wanting to recommit every inch to her memory. He'd said they'd try things 'her way', and in any other instance, Rosie may have felt grateful that he was willing to. Yet with the tenderness of his kiss enveloping hers, the warmth of his chest searing into her own, all she could focus on was him and the urgency that was now coursing through her.

She broke the kiss, hovering over him for a moment as she studied him, a finger tracing over the freckles that ran beneath his eyes. "I have a shift in the library right now," she said softly, dipping down for another kiss. "Come with me? Or meet me on the rooftops after?"

Either way, she wouldn't be parted from her boyfriend any longer than she had to be. The world had kept them separated long enough.