No More Fairytales

I really just want him beside me. The hugs, the kisses, the laughter, the smiles, the conversations...all of it.

Driving to Cookout when we had a new writing idea to hash out.

Waking up to see him dancing in the kitchen because he was excited about the pizza he was making.

Laughing at his imitations of animals -- the "sad panda", the "fat hummingbird" -- and his characters.

Seeing him talk and hearing the warmth and passion he had for beautiful stories.

Watching him cry when a story moved him.

Clinging to each other because we'd both been rejected our entire lives and were astonished that we'd found each other.

Talking about our plans and dreams -- creating stories together, wanting to buy the Han and Leia wedding rings for our fifth anniversary, getting a couple tattoo, naming and creating personalities for our kids and pets, and dreaming up a house, or driving through neighborhoods cobbling our own place together.

Getting him to try new foods and meals and getting excited when he liked them.

Laying in bed together on a Saturday, him playing on his phone and me with a book.

Being comforted during one of my werewolf episodes because he held me and prayed over me.

Guessing where we'd be in 10 years. I thought he'd be winning an award for a script he'd written and that I'd acted in.

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I guess I thought our love was strong enough to protect us.

That no matter what, we'd always have each other.

That we could never be separated.

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Why would two people who loved each other so much be ripped apart in such a cruel and twisted way?

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I don't believe in fairytales anymore.

My love wasn't strong enough to save him.

Belle couldn't save the Beast.

The Prince couldn't wake Snow White.

Rapunzel couldn't save Flynn.

And I couldn't

couldn't

save

him.