She was never a white rose, she was a rose with red thorns.
When he was young, he longed for roses, just like a drowning man longs for driftwood. It is the instinct of longing for sunshine when he is in darkness.
But love is not, love is that even if he knows that there is no light here, he is willing to stay here.
"I used to yearn for roses, but now I love the thorn rose itself."
Mission: Heroes are everywhere