All right, ok, you can yell at me for this like Anna did. One point I have
to make though: I was desperate to write and my Dido CD was stuck on repeat
and gah! *throws arms in the air and walks off*
The song belongs to Dido and is called 'See the Sun' and Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz and co.
*~*
The doorway opened without a sound. He saw the light from outside slither in, but he chose to pay no attention. Things in the world were moving about him again, and he'd learnt to ignore them.
He closed his eyes as the door clicked shut, thinking he'd fall asleep. But when he pried open his eyes again, he wasn't in his dreamland but the same dirty place he'd been in before. Through slits in his eyes he watched his artist friend hobble around beside him. He could tell the little painter didn't know if he was asleep or awake.
I'm coming round, to open up the blinds
You can't hide here any longer
My God you need to rinse those puffy eyes
You can't lie here any longer
And yes they'll ask you where you've been
And you'll have to tell them, again and again
'Don't compose songs for me Toulouse,' He said bluntly from where he lay. Keeping his eyes softly closed, 'Don't even say a word,'
He rolled onto his back and let his eyes fall open to stare at the ceiling. Taking a few moments before he remembered to breathe and lolled his head to the side, away from Toulouse.
And you probably don't want to hear, tomorrow's another day
But I promise you; you'll see the sun again
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
And I promise you will see the sun again
'Go away Toulouse,' He whispered, lowering his voice to a dark tremor, 'Go.away,' he sounded just like he had on opening night, although more careless. The painter could've stayed or gone, ultimately he didn't care; he would switch himself off and become blind to the world like he'd taught himself to be.
Come on and take, my hand
We're going for a walk I know, you can
You can wear anything, as long as it's not black
You can't mourn forever; she's not coming back
And yes they'll ask you where you've been
And you'll have to tell them, again and again
He had taken himself into the place between awake and sleep. On one side of him was the green misty realm of his Absinthe induced dreams and on the other was the sound and echo of the little painter's voice. He lay in between them both, wishing to ignore both universes.
Do you remember telling me you'd found the sweetest thing of all?
You said one day of this was worth dying for
So be thankful, you knew her at all
But it's no more
'Shut up Toulouse,' He breathed out firmly, keeping himself between two universes, 'Shut up or go away,' the sun on his face from the window burned but he ignored it. The sun was part of the world he chose to ignore.
And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day
But I promise you; you'll see the sun again
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
'Toulouse.' he whispered with a tinge of threat to his worn voice, then composed himself, 'Go away,' his voice was steady and shivery at the same time.
The outline of the dwarf painter slowly and sadly hobbled past his vision. The door swung open and shut again. 'Promise me I'll see the sun again,' he whispered into the abyss that was the place in-between awake and sleep.
'I promise you; you'll see the sun again,' came the answer from his angel.
The song belongs to Dido and is called 'See the Sun' and Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz and co.
*~*
The doorway opened without a sound. He saw the light from outside slither in, but he chose to pay no attention. Things in the world were moving about him again, and he'd learnt to ignore them.
He closed his eyes as the door clicked shut, thinking he'd fall asleep. But when he pried open his eyes again, he wasn't in his dreamland but the same dirty place he'd been in before. Through slits in his eyes he watched his artist friend hobble around beside him. He could tell the little painter didn't know if he was asleep or awake.
I'm coming round, to open up the blinds
You can't hide here any longer
My God you need to rinse those puffy eyes
You can't lie here any longer
And yes they'll ask you where you've been
And you'll have to tell them, again and again
'Don't compose songs for me Toulouse,' He said bluntly from where he lay. Keeping his eyes softly closed, 'Don't even say a word,'
He rolled onto his back and let his eyes fall open to stare at the ceiling. Taking a few moments before he remembered to breathe and lolled his head to the side, away from Toulouse.
And you probably don't want to hear, tomorrow's another day
But I promise you; you'll see the sun again
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
And I promise you will see the sun again
'Go away Toulouse,' He whispered, lowering his voice to a dark tremor, 'Go.away,' he sounded just like he had on opening night, although more careless. The painter could've stayed or gone, ultimately he didn't care; he would switch himself off and become blind to the world like he'd taught himself to be.
Come on and take, my hand
We're going for a walk I know, you can
You can wear anything, as long as it's not black
You can't mourn forever; she's not coming back
And yes they'll ask you where you've been
And you'll have to tell them, again and again
He had taken himself into the place between awake and sleep. On one side of him was the green misty realm of his Absinthe induced dreams and on the other was the sound and echo of the little painter's voice. He lay in between them both, wishing to ignore both universes.
Do you remember telling me you'd found the sweetest thing of all?
You said one day of this was worth dying for
So be thankful, you knew her at all
But it's no more
'Shut up Toulouse,' He breathed out firmly, keeping himself between two universes, 'Shut up or go away,' the sun on his face from the window burned but he ignored it. The sun was part of the world he chose to ignore.
And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day
But I promise you; you'll see the sun again
And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness
'Toulouse.' he whispered with a tinge of threat to his worn voice, then composed himself, 'Go away,' his voice was steady and shivery at the same time.
The outline of the dwarf painter slowly and sadly hobbled past his vision. The door swung open and shut again. 'Promise me I'll see the sun again,' he whispered into the abyss that was the place in-between awake and sleep.
'I promise you; you'll see the sun again,' came the answer from his angel.