Dedicated to—Dom's Lover, constantine's lover, and jediapprentice. Thanks for your input on this sad love story, thanks for singing "Lady Marmalade" with me countless times, and thanks most of all for your friendship :)
Christian and Satine. Star-crossed lovers. The fate of the stars was against them.
Their love was doomed from its very beginning. Doomed to be and doomed to die. Destined for a wonderful start and a desperate end.
He didn't know it would end so soon. Her death was so sudden and unexpected, but he thinks that he should have known. He thinks he could have prevented it.
But there is nothing he can do now, and he blames himself. At times, he curses her in a furious rage and wishes he had never gone to Paris. He calls himself a fool for letting himself fall so deeply in love with a woman like her.
Other times, he falls far from anger, crying and longing desperately to hold her one last time. But he never again will taste her kisses or melt inside at the sound of her voice or see her wink and smile at him. Never again will he gaze at her face, except in the dreams that haunt his slumber.
And sometimes he wakes during the night, calling her name, only to remember that she is gone and will never return.
She was everything to him. And now that she is gone, he has lost everything. And he could not stop it; he felt so helpless, so powerless. She slipped through his fingers.
He has lost, along with her, his desire to hope. He has no reason to believe, to have faith, to live. The world is empty and holds nothing dear and nothing beautiful now that she is gone.
He had nothing before he had her. Now that she has been taken away from him, nothing will be the same as before. His heart is shattered and he has no wish to piece it together.
Something is missing as he rises in the morning. Something is missing as he writes of what was, what is, and what will never be. Something is missing each evening as he lies in bed and dreams of her. Something is missing and will never return.
Missing is the blissful excitement that lifted his heart in anticipation of seeing her. Now, in place of that excitement, lies only deep sorrow and terrible emptiness. The absence of her love and the presence of misery.
He walks through the streets of Paris and views the dreary gloom that he once deemed romantic. He now finds that it serves to give reason to his sorrow. The whole world is mourning for her death.
Everything here reminds him of the joyful days when she was alive. He only stays here because there is nothing for him anywhere else, and here he clings to the frayed thread of memory that he dares not sever.
He loved her dearly, and he can never forget the joy she brought to him and how she opened his eyes, if even for a short time. And how he is a bitter man, full of regrets and sorrows, wishing for what he had and will never have again.
He never took her for granted, never mistreated her, never harmed her. So why was she taken from him, torn from him and leaving him empty and meaningless? The one woman he has ever loved so deeply, stolen by Death's cold hands too soon.
He speaks to her sometimes, though she never answers. He cries out for her but receives no response. He pleads for her to return to him and hears only silence.
Come what may, he told her. He promised to love her, regardless of all obstacles.
But death. Death intruded and now she is gone. He could not stop death. Death! cursed death, that insisted upon meddling in the affairs of love and left a man desolate and alone.
He sees no comfort. And he will find none. For what comfort can there be for he who has lost everything?
His smiles were for her. She was the object of his love, the reason for him to live. Perhaps someday, those smiles will be given to another woman.
But not today.