When did we decide that in all fanfiction Draco Malfoy will be some sort of sex god? Are we looking at the same dork right now? He probably gets flustered from handholding. Let’s be real, Harry’s the one with the skill.
You go to see The Shape of Water in theaters. It’s spectacular. It’s awesome. It’s everything you imagined but better. Plenty of fish man camera shots to drool over. He’s adorable and kind. Eliza is a wonderful and fascinating character. She’s selfless and loving. You’re so glad she’s the central character. As you watch it, there’s nothing but unending love for the two of them and their unlikely romance in your aching heart. Your love for them only grows as the film plays. You can feel the warmth of their love radiating off onto you and into your soul.
The story is enchantingly dark and romantic. It’s a beautiful, touching story. It’s easily one of the best films you have ever seen. By the end of it, you swear someone must have started cutting onions in the theater.
You decide to stay to watch the credits, immobile by how breathtaking and gorgeous the film was, unready to leave behind such a wondrous film, reluctant to truly return to the bleak world we live in.