Every girl dreams of a prince charming.
You know this. Hell, you lived it. But the thought still pains you. The ache is usually bearable-- a nagging little tug in your chest—but it blooms into something dark and brooding when you look at her lying next to you, fathomless eyes closed to the world, a small frown twisting her lips.
You know that she's dreaming. And when her breaths grow unsteady, when her elegant hands clutch at your arm, you know what she sees. Or who.
She whimpers slightly, and it tears at your heart. You almost say that you would sell your soul to grant her peace. But you know what that promise actually means.
Then she stirs and you escape to the bathroom, afraid of what she'll look like when she wakes and finds you watching her. She calls your name, and you slam the door like a coward, unwilling to see the emotion in her eyes.
But then she's there, and her hands are on your face, and her gaze is searching for something that you hope that she finds, something that the dark corner in the back of your mind fears is lost forever. She says your name again, her voice touching something deep inside, and you jerk away because you don't want to your shadows to haunt her anymore.
Her eyes well up with tears, and you wish that you were strong enough to wipe them away. Bet prince charming never had this problem. You watch her sob, watch her reach for you, and wish desperately that you were good enough to hold her. You ask her to leave, afraid that she won't listen. You know that you can never say no to her.
The door shuts with a soft click—she would never slam it—and it's the loneliest sound that you've ever heard.
Her friend's eyes know too much, and you look away, ashamed and angry. She puts a slim hand on your trembling one, and you can swear that you see something shining on her forehead, but then it's gone, and you're just staring. She tells you that you're safe, that you're forgiven, and you merely shrug, looking everywhere but her eyes.
You know that she forgives you. You just don't know if you can forgive yourself.
You drink to ease the pain, substituting the sting of their pity with the sting of alcohol. The drink burns your throat, but you down it anyway, wishing dimly for the obliviousness that you've never been quite able to reach.
You want another and ask the bartender what you're drinking. It's called a Happily Ever After, and you laugh until you cry.
She comes to see you the next day and you wish that you had a hangover because she's so beautiful and so small standing in the doorway. Suddenly you reach out and crush her to you, hard enough to bruise. You ache to show her tenderness, but know that you can't. Not now. Not when her mouth is so hot and inviting, not when the pain of missing her is so great. You're taller than her, but she stands on her toes and winds her small hands in your hair, and the gesture makes you smile against her lips, the first smile in days. You're on the bed, where you rest your head against her breast, seeking comfort in the steady beating of her heart as she calmly cradles you, stroking your head and crooning to you with liquid notes that you strain to catch and hold close. You're shaking, and she presses a kiss to your forehead, and you feel her tears. And for the first time, you let go and cry together.
Every girl dreams of a prince charming. You know this. Hell, you lived it. But the thought still pains you. You know she deserves one, just as you know that you can't be that for her. Then you open your eyes, and she's looking at you with a small smile on her rosy lips, her eyes filled with something you thought you would never see again.
You know that you're not strong enough to be anyone's prince charming.
But, for her, you'd try.
AN: This came to me as I was trying to write the next chapter of Forever. I wanted to try to get back into the feel of writing, so I challenged myself to write this up in about an hour (actually more like 50 minutes, but an hour sounds better ) Feedback would be lovely.
gets back to work on IGYF
