Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge

I look up from my typewriter and gaze out of my window. In the middle of the night, I see the Moulin Rouge, old and empty. Cold and barren. The bright fluorescent lights are off, as it has been for the past year, but I still see their glow, the way it brightened the dark sky every night. I hear the loud music and the hysterical laughter fill the night as the creatures within pleasured their willing costumers. I hear Harold Zidler's voice boom throughout the bordello, entertaining the rich and powerful. I can see the colourful skirts of the "diamond dogs" as they lift them up to lure in their hungry prey. And finally, I hear the hush that covers the dance floor as she descends from above, like an angel, and whispers a song to them with her beautiful voice.

I close my eyes and feel the tears run down my face. I don't wipe them away. I have long since cared who saw my tears and my pain. So instead, I let them race down my cheeks, cling to my chin and finally, drop to my lap. I open my eyes with a shaky breath, the images of before, of bright lights, loud music and her gone. Now, all that my eyes see is the empty shell of what Moulin Rouge used to be. Never again will I see this nightclub alight with lively laughter and dance.

Tears continue to flow and I tear my eyes away from the window. I gaze at my dark and chaotic room, unseeing. Papers, both crumpled and blank are thrown everywhere. Wine and Absinthe bottles are gathered in a corner, covered in light dust. My bed is unmade and is barely slept on. The wallpaper on the walls is scratched and tearing. Everything has collected dust. The hole on my ceiling is covered in a brown rug.

Toulouse and the others have stopped visiting and consoling me months ago. Not because they have given up, but because I have given up, given up on life and happiness. The only thing keeping me from truly giving up is my promises. My promises to her. To Satine. My breath catches abruptly as I think her name. A quiet sob racks through my body.

My promises to her keep me where I am. They keep me from slipping away from the grasp of the bitter reality that I so badly want to escape. The promises she made me swear and the promises I made to her keep me here, the place where everything fell apart. The place where she…she left. A quiet sob escapes me.

She made me promise to write our story. To write of our love and the obstacles we overcame together. To share to the world the things we had to go through to express our love. To show everyone that our love was unlike any other. And I have. I have written our story. With ink and paper I've written down our experiences, reliving every happy, sad, loving, tragic and blissful moments we shared, making my heart ache more. But, I have yet to share it to the world. I look at the stack of papers placed neatly next to my typewriter, the only thing in the past year that I have handled with care. Our story. Our love.

And I promised her, through our song, that I will love her with my everything, until my dying day and until the end of time. This promise I am still trying to fulfil since my time is yet to come and the end of time is still upon us. But, I will continue to love her with my every breath and every tear. I slam my fist onto the table as a sob erupts from my lips, my face drenched in tears.

One promise I can't keep though, was her plea for me to move on, to love and give again. It was foolish of her to think that after she has captured my heart, that I will ever fall in love with another again. She was foolish to think that I would ever share the feelings I shared with her for another woman. My heart still sings for her, every beat aching for her. My heart pounds against my chest, longing for her.

I grip my fists in my hair. I know that this is imprudent of me, silly to still obsess over her love, our love. I know this. I have tried to move on and to accept her absence, to accept that she will never come back, but the pain slaps me and the pain doubles as my mind reminds me that never will I hear her beautiful voice sing our song and whisper against my ear, or that I will never feel her flawless skin against mine. I will never feel her heart beat against mine. Never again will I vanish and be lost in her soft lips, nor gaze into her sweet eyes. Cradling her beautiful face in my hands is lost in the sea of possibilities. These cold realization stabs me every time I remember and I am numb. I block those thoughts out with the memories of us together, but in the end I am left with more longing and yearning, leaving my heart raw with the emotion and ache.

I sob quietly as I slide my hands from my hair to my wet face. My hands are immediately drenched in tears and silent sobs shake my body. There is no escape. Everything reminds me of her; of her face, her eyes, her lips, her voice, her passion and her bravery. And every time I try to forget, I am only splashed with more memories of her. The way her hands fit in mine perfectly. The way our voices sound as we sing together. The way our bodies mould together as I love her. The way she whispers 'I love you' to my ear.

Yes, there is no escape. I will forever be reminded of memories that both leave me content and hurt. I will be reminded of her beautiful smile and her angelic voice. Her sweet eyes will stay in my mind. I will always feel her soft lips against mine and hear her sing softly, our song, to my ears. With her soft voice ringing in my head, I close my eyes, spilling the last of my tears. I have yet again to try and survive another day. I will keep my promise and share our story. Tell our tale and show our love. I cannot give up until the day I have fulfilled this promise.

With that as my last thought of the night, I lose myself in her voice, trapped in my mind. I see her smiling at me at the back of my eyelids and her words repeat themselves over and over in my head, until I am pulled to unconsciousness.

'I love you, until my dying day.'

Word count: 1,152

I hope you guys like this one-shot. I worked really hard on this, although I think it is too rushed.

Moulin Rouge is my favourite film of all time. I first saw it when I was 9 I think and I've loved it ever since, even though back then I only liked it because the songs were cool and that Nicole Kidman was pretty. But, I recently watched it again and I was so overwhelmed with the emotion I felt and I finally really understood the whole meaning of the story, so I decided to write a one-shot about it. I hope you guys like it.

To those who don't know what this one-shot is about or doesn't know what Moulin Rouge, I deeply encourage you to watch the film. The film is amazing. It has everything; humour, Drama, Romance, Jealousy, Tragedy, Angst, Singing, Dancing, Pretty girls in lingerie, nightclubs and Nicole Kidman. What more can you ask for?

Anyway, thank you guys for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, because I enjoyed writing it. If you like it please review and favourite. Thanks guys!

-kayla-thebored