A/N: This happened because I was listening to the Elephant love medley way too much.
I don't own Moulin Rouge!
We could be heroes...
It was dark.
It wasn't that it was night or even that the room was dark; the curtains were wide open and the bright rays of excellent sunlight shone through to his desk and unmade bed. The sun hurt his eyes as it reflected onto the mustard pages and into his eyes.
His mind was a dark place.
He blinked a few times before moving the pages haphazardly to the floor, pushing his hands into his hair that seriously needed a combing and perhaps a wash.
He'd just finished rereading his story, making sure there were no errors and typing the page over were it needed. A simple grammar mistake had him re-typing an entire page: their story couldn't have any written errors, even though their story lacked the biggest thing a love tale required - a happy ending.
His tale was one of love. Pure, passionate, foolish. That was what they had been, wasn't it? Foolish. But he didn't mind being a jester for her.
In any story there was a protagonist; and from his own point of view, he was the hero of this story. The duke was the antagonist, the bad guy, the one keeping him and his love interest away from one another.
Though, he thought, from the duke's point of view, he, Christian, was the bad guy, because he'd not only stolen Satine's affection, he'd won it too.
A story where the antagonist won - wasn't that something?
Christian still smiled at Satine's words, where she tried to deny her affections for him, "I can't fall in love with anyone."
Her voice was sweet. It was like gentle bells, or honey, or raspberries... Anything sweet was worthy to be compared to her voice, especially when she sang, and he made use of numerous comparisons in his story.
Christian still thought a life without love would be utterly terrible. He thought love was above food, sleep and clothes. He'd happily be a naked, scrawny man for love than obese and empty inside.
He picked the papers with the corrections on them up and drew his finished manuscript closer too, putting the pages in their rightful places. It took him a while, seeing as he hadn't numbered the pages.
Their story was a story of a love that would never end.
But for him, that love had died, quite literally, with the death of his love.
He still loved her, he always would, but never again would he be able to hold her, to kiss her ruby lips or to talk to her about... about anything!
Her love was etched painfully into his heart. As if a sharp stone had made the jagged markings of her name.
"We could be heroes forever and ever!"
A cry into the moonlit sky, a cry of love and devotion and everlasting affection and a promise shouted from the rooftops, or rather a large decorative elephant.
A promise that was ironic, but would still become true, if he had his way.
"Nothing can keep us together."
They stole time; midst a stressful time in their lives, and also, unbeknownst to Christian, a very dangerous time in his life. He was certain that, had the duke found out about their affair earlier, he would be a very dead man.
But all the time they'd stolen, all the perfect moments and thieved seconds... It didn't keep them together. Because she was gone. Drawn into the depths of darkness that he was sure death held.
"How wonderful life is now your in the world."
It had been wonderful. It had been amazing. She was forbidden to him, and that why she drew him in. Like a stupid moth to a very hot flame and he got himself burned as a result.
He rather liked that simile - like a moth to a flame; it spoke of the forbidden fruit hidden behind lies and more lies, fruit he was not allowed to touch, but like a little boy wanting a sweet in a shop, he just took it. No thought of what could and probably would follow.
Though he treasured those burns. He loved her and didn't mind filling the role of a moth.
He loved her with every fibre of his being. He loved her so much, it hurt.
"We could be heroes..."
He glanced down at his book, now bound together, and smiled, despite being unbelievably heartbroken about it all. He missed her. He would always miss her. He would never love anyone like he loved her... but that didn't mean he wouldn't love again.
He would love again, of course he would, he was too entranced by the Bohemian lifestyle not to fall again. But no woman ever would be his lovely Satine.
She'd been right when she said they'd be heroes forever and ever. Just not in the way she thought; they'd be heroes in written word, and he knew this word would last forever.
So, they would be heroes forever and ever.
. . .