rosé imagines

the cheerleader

< high school au >

* * *

You always found yourself staring at her during lunch breaks. Roseanne Park—Rosie to everyone who knew her—was the embodiment of everything you weren't. While you preferred hiding behind your camera lens, she commanded attention with her mere presence. Your heart would skip a beat every time she performed with the cheerleading squad, her honey-blonde hair catching the sunlight as she moved with grace that seemed almost ethereal.

Your camera's memory card was filled with countless shots of her—at games, during practices, and at school events. You told yourself it was just for photography practice, but deep down, you knew better. Your sister Jisoo had caught you once, editing photos of Rosie in your room.

FLASHBACK

"You should just talk to her, Y/N," Jisoo had said, her voice gentle. "She's actually really nice."

You had just shaken your head, clutching your camera closer. The thought of actually speaking to Rosie made your throat close up. Your social anxiety was bad enough with regular conversations, and this was completely different.

"I can't," you'd whispered, your voice barely audible.

END OF FLASHBACK

That had been months ago. Now, you were working on something special—a video montage for Rosie's upcoming birthday. You had been collecting clips throughout the year: Rosie laughing with her friends, practicing routines, and helping underclassmen with their moves. You knew it was probably creepy, but you couldn't help yourself. It was the only way you knew how to express your feelings.

"Y/N!" Jisoo's voice echoed through the house one Friday afternoon. "I'm having some friends over for movie night!"

Your stomach immediately knotted up. You knew exactly who those friends were: Jennie, Lisa, and... Rosie. You quickly typed out a message on your phone and sent it to Jisoo.

You
I'll stay in my room.

"No way," Jisoo said, appearing in your doorway. "You're at least sitting in the kitchen to do your homework. You can't keep hiding forever."

You wanted to argue, but the words wouldn't come. They rarely did when you were anxious. Instead, you just nodded, gathering your laptop and books.

* * *

Later that evening, the sound of laughter filtered in from the living room as you sat at the kitchen table, headphones on, alternating between your chemistry homework and the video project. You could hear Rosie's distinct laugh, musical and bright, even through your headphones.

"This movie is so bad it's actually good!" Lisa's voice carried through.

"Shh, this is the best part!" That was Jennie.

You glanced at your laptop screen, where you were putting the finishing touches on a transition between clips of Rosie at last week's game. The footage of her performing her signature moves flowed seamlessly into a shot of her helping a freshman with their routine. You had spent hours getting it just right.

Suddenly remembering you needed your external hard drive from your room, you quickly switched to your homework tab. You didn't want anyone accidentally seeing the project, especially not Rosie. It wasn't ready yet, and you weren't sure it ever would be.

As you headed upstairs, you heard movement in the kitchen but didn't think much of it. That was your first mistake.

When you returned a few minutes later, your heart stopped. Rosie was standing at your laptop, a bowl of popcorn forgotten in her hands, her eyes wide as she stared at the screen. Somehow, the tab with your folder had been opened: the folder labeled "Rosie."