There was a boy

A very strange

Enchanted boy

They say he wandered very far

Very far

Over land and sea

A little shy

And sad of eye

But very wise was he

And then one day

One magic day

He passed my way

And while we spoke of many things

Fools and kings

This he said to me

The greatest thing

You'll ever learn

Is just to love

And be loved in return

Paris, 1900

He sat on the floor, bottle of cheap wine in hand, like he did every night. It seemed nights like this had happened for years. He could remember when this room wasn't so lonely. He could remember all the love that once filled this room. He ran a hand through his dark black curls as tears once again started to fall from his hazel eyes.

I miss you so much...

The young man sniffed and glanced up at his typewriter, now dusty from lack of use. A pair of glaz colored eyes against porcelain skin flashed in his memory. He stood as the haunting, beautiful voice that often occupied his dreams came into his mind.

" Tell our story. Promise me..."

The young mad sat on the wooden stool in front of his desk, staring at the keys in the typewriter.

He needed to find the right words. He raked through his brain, trying to find them. He grabbed a blank piece of paper from the stack on his desk and ran it through the typewriter. The words came slowly but surely. Tears clouded his vision, but he didn't mind; he'd promised him, after all.

The Moulin Rouge. A nightclub. A dance hall for those individuals who preferred the company of men over women. Ruled over by William Schuster, it was a kingdom of nighttime pleasures where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and handsome creatures of the underworld. The most handsome and beautiful of all these was the man I loved. Kurt. An escort. He sold his love to men who often were with him unbeknownst to their wives. They called him the Porcelain Doll , and he was the star of the Moulin Rouge.

The man I loved is dead.

I first came to Paris one year ago...