He likes a good freakshow and she likes a nice prince.

She just watches him really closely.  She's memorizing every expression on his face and his movements.  His silly grin. The way his shoulders shake when he laughs. The way he he shakes his head and dances because he's bored.  

He's next to her and that's all she needs.  They're laughing about some absurdity she has committed.  She's that weird.  That freaky.  That slutty.  But he doesn't judge.

He tells her about his hopes.  His dreams and nightmares.  She tells him, nothing he could do would ever be a problem for her, and nothing he asked her to do could be a problem.  She lives to make him happy.  She lives for his smile.  His laughter.  His comfort and ease.

Because she knows he deserves it.  She knows there's nobody else in the world who's better than him, and is so glad she gets to be in his life.  Even if it's not in the way she wants.

That's how she knows it's real for her.  There's no turning back, no question of reciprocation.  It's unending, unrelenting movement to impact him.  He deserves to be happy.

At least one of them should be.