True to my word.... the moment I got all of your wonderful reviews i began to write this chapter. I really liked the first two chapters of this story... and then from there they just seemed to be really really REALLY bad... h ehe... well i really liked this one.. and i hope you all do too! please read and review and have a GREAT day!

sydney

Dying Roses : Dying Roses

Logan's hand brushed some pre-pulse video cases, their plastic cover slightly yellowing but still not concealing the bright colors of a mermaids on a rock, three fairies with pointy hats, a weeping willow whispering to listen with your heart, a young fox with a hunting dog, and young princesses in flowing beautiful dresses living their happily ever afters.

Max was supposed to be his princess, his damsel in distress, his *one*. She just fit so perfectly. The way her eyes sparkled when she smiled and enhanced every one of her beautiful features, The soft heart that he knew was hidden behind her rough exterior. The intelligence her every thought was laced with. The magnificence that came from the inside and shined out. There was just one thing that didn't fit. She didn't love him. Every princess was supposed to love her prince, need her prince. But that still didn't drown how perfect she was, how he could never imagine her as less than his princess. He could only wish his Beauty could fall in love with the beast he was.

He had never imagined that anyone could fall in love with this beast, this crippled monster that he was. But no matter what she said to him he knew, she *had* loved him. She proved that by searching for the cure as long as she did, she proved it by the tone of her voice, by leaving. Max left, Logan had to come to terms with that.

They were a fairy tale come true in a decaying world.

It had been hours since he had seen Max, but the hurt, that was everywhere, hadn't even begun to feel better. His heart was slowly shattering, he thought it had already but it was only just the beginning. Like a rose, it died slowly. First wilting under the pain. Wilting because of the pain in her eyes, the hardness of her voice, the emptiness of his apartment. And then, gradually, the petals dropped. The rose grew too weak to hold the weight of the petals. The weight of every second he wasn't with her, every time he opened his eyes and she wasn't there, every breath wasted on not saying "I love you."

His rose-heart, his twinkling, shining, beating, red rose heart was dying, losing it's magic. It was breaking.