LeeLee-san: Well Hello all . I know this isn't exactly what you expected(and probably not what you wanted) But I thought, 'Hey why not give them something while they're waiting'. So while you are currently waiting for updates for Undying Love, I'll give you at least something to go on here.

Riku: Is she serious?

Sasuke: Yep..I think she is.

Riku: /sigh/ Well hmm there are probably going to be people other than the ones who are reading UL checking this story out.

LeeLee-san: Oh that's right! Hello to all new comers! Much love and huggles if you review..don't care what you say, just say something!

Sasuke: Hey I'm actually getting to say stuff here!. . .Even though I'm not in the story..darn it!

Riku: Hey I'm not even the lead..

Cloud:. . . I'm who?!

LeeLee-san: /sweat drop/ On to the disclaimer. Oh if you don't know who's playing whom, it'll be stated at the bottom of the chapter.

Disclaimer: Well if you read the summary you know this is pretty much the retelling of Moulin Rouge but with our very lovable KH characters. Don't like character death at the end, don't read. Here for a good depressing ending, well then you're in luck. If you love the movie, then I hope you love this story! Obviously it won't be exactly like the movie because movies have visuals and can jump around from part to part, so I hope you all are ok with me trying to tell it in a more practical way. I'll also be using some of the parts from the script they had written down originally but didn't put in the final product. Don't own the rights to Moulin Rouge or Kingdom Hearts, but that's obvious now isn't it. May contain some strong language, will contain sexual references as well as the act of sex in later chapters, but right now it's still very clean. Warnings will be given in later chapters if a lemon is contained in them.

"speech"
'thoughts'
Singing
Thought/Written Word/Main POV's Thoughts
(Dates/Locations)

Til the End of Time

There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far..
Very far..

Over land and sea..

Paris 1900

The grand city of Paris at the turn of the century, so different from the place it had been only a year ago. The illusions had faded away, and all those who had suffered it were finally given the cols slap in the 

face the rest of the world wanted them to have. Poor drunkards moved about in the street, call ladies walked about in their tattered clothes, some coughing from the sicknesses they caught and passed on. The streets were dirty now, most littered with the dead and dying. How things had changed in only months was a mystery. Even the buildings now lacked the luster they had been built with, paint peeling off, and words fading away. Some were even left alone to fall apart, their former tenants abandoning for many a reason.

Yet one such building lay falling apart, not bad enough to the point where it wasn't inhabitable, but there were certainly holes in the walls, ceilings, floors.. The fact that it leaked was more than obvious, but it's inhabitants learned to deal with this fact, it was a part of life in such a city, one inhabitant no longer cared. Almost nothing in his life really had meaning to him now. On his bed he sat, his eyes staring out his window towards the city. How much time had pasted? Days? Weeks? Months? Alcohol was the only thing that gave him an accurate judgment of time. He would have to go out when there was none left, and then he'd be able to look at the news papers, he'd remember the date before he retreated to his room once more.

A little shy
And sad of eye..
But very wise..was he

Sometimes he would go days without eating before someone came up and forced him to. He didn't put up much resistance, and most of the time he didn't even remember who it was who came to see him. He knew his state must have not been well by the way they all looked at him. They all gave him that look, they pitied him, and then they'd leave and talk about how sad his story was. How if he continued on his current path it would lead to his destruction. What were they too afraid to say things to his face? Did they think he didn't know that he was falling apart? He knew what he was doing himself, it may have been a slow process, but he knew it would eventually lead to his death. Wasn't it obvious that that was what he wanted?..No..not yet..he had to fulfill the promise he made. But every time he went to the typewriter nothing ever came to him. He'd simply sat there and stared at it before he couldn't take it anymore and returned to his spot on his bed in the corner of his room, returned to his sweet sweet alcohol.

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…

But today..he'd try again today. Setting down the bottle he clutched to his hand, he clutched the small blanket he had wrapped around him to himself. Hmm should it have been this hard to get up and make it over to his desk right near the window? Apparently so, he found himself shaking and stumbling over other discarded bottles before he seated himself roughly in the chair in front of the typewriter. He'd made a promise..and today he would begin the fulfillment of it. Like a gift from heaven his muse seemed to come to him, his fingers gliding over the writer as words began to appear on the old paper he had placed in it so long ago.

This he said to me:
'The Greatest Thing
You'll Ever Learn,
Is Just To Love,
And Be Loved..In Return'

The Moulin Rouge..a night club, a dancehall and a bordello..ruled over by Harold Zidler. A kingdom of night-time pleasures where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most beautiful of all these was the man I loved. Cloud. A courtesan, he sold his love to men. They called him "the sparkling diamond", and he was the star of the Moulin Rouge.

The man I love..is dead.

He paused, the hard lump returning to his throat once more. Even now the feeling was raw, cut like a knife into his heart, causing his eyes to water unwillingly. He had tried so hard to feel nothing, how he wished he could feel nothing, but every time he thought about it he felt all of those old feelings once more. The alcohol had made it go away..even if it was for those few scant moments where he could forget and feel nothing but the burning in his throat and stomach from the drinks. But such a fleeting thing that was, only lasting until the alcohol was gone and his buzz faded away. No..he couldn't allow himself to stop now, he'd started it, and he'd finish it..he couldn't stop now. So once more he forced his shaking hands to rise to the machine, pushing past his tears and only thinking of the story he was going to tell.

I first came to Paris one year ago, after having an argument with my father about my future. And there is where our story begins.

England, 1899

It was the turn of the century..so many new inventions being made..so much life going on out there. There was a revolution building, and not the violent kind. The world was changing, opening up to music, dancing, and written word. Oh how the world was becoming light and color. Well the world outside was becoming light and color, his world here was remaining dull and gray. Did anyone truly understand how he craved to be out there, part of the revolution, part of something that would be remembered by generations to come? No, his father's answers made that clear.

"The world's changing and I want to change with it!" Squall burst out, his frustration with this old conversation peaking once more. How many times had they had this argument before? Too many times for him to remember or even count, and once again his father invaded his room to have yet another talk with him.

"It's not time to make a change! Just relax, take it easy, you're still young. There's so much you have to learn. Find a girl, settle down, get married if you like. I was like you once, young and foolish, excited at every little change in the world, all of its new ideals. Believe me, wait things out, in time things will return to the way they've always been, and this so called 'Bohemian Revolution' will be nothing but a passing fad." The tall dark haired man replied. Others found it hard to see the resemblance in the two, Squall having managed to pick up most, if not all of his traits from his mother. But the eyes, that was the one area where he couldn't escape being like his father. No, his eyes were the same stormy gray blue color as his father's, not the soft blue green of his mother's he had sometimes wished he had.

A soft sigh left Laguna as he realized that his son paid not a single bit of attention to the words he spoke. If his son only listened he could expel all of his ridiculous thoughts of being a writer. If Squall listened he could have a future, a profitable future where he would never have to worry about where he was going to sleep or what he was going to eat. He would have a happy future! Why was the boy so stubborn? Certainly a trait he gathered from his mother. "Think of all of the potential you have! Don't you know how easy it would be for you to become one of the richest clerks in London?" With a frown Laguna turned and looked out of the window of his son's bedroom. "Forget this thought of a revolution, it will leave you penniless, a beggar, and there will be no one there to come to your rescue." He had to make his son understand, even if that meant he had to use harsh words.

"How can I try to explain? When I do you'll turn away again. It'll always be the same old story. From the moment I could talk, I was ordered to listen. All those times I cried, keeping all these things I know inside. But it's harder to ignore it..to ignore how I feel. I'll never be happy here, I have to go." For once he opened himself to his father, tried to get the man to see what he knew his mother would understand. But she wasn't here..she'd died giving birth to him..but he knew..he knew she would have understood. And he had to get this man to understand. "They're having a real Bohemian Revolution in Paris..I must go there..I must write of truth..of beauty, freedom..of love!"

That was it, Laguna had had enough of this talk. "Always this ridiculous obsession with love! Things won't turn out how you think. It's a village of sin! You'll end up wasting your life away in the Moulin Rouge with some can-can dancer!" His voice shook the walls as he glowered down at his son. He wouldn't allow it, no son of his would make a fool of himself! Yet Squall was just as stubborn as his father in this area, and he wouldn't yield, no not on this. Standing he locked eyes with his father, not flinching for a moment.

"You're wrong. Everything that I've ever dreamed of is waiting there for me. I won't let you make me miss this chance. I've already gotten my ticket for the ferry. I'll buy my train ticket to Paris once I reach the mainland. You don't have to worry about me, I won't come crawling back to you to beg for money." Not once did he turn away from his father, only at the end of his statement did he look to the suitcase he had already packed. "You've already decided Ellone's future; I won't let you have mine."

I was determined then..I guess I still am now. That was the last time I'd see my father alive.

LeeLee-san: And end chapter one! That turned out better than I thought.

Riku: /sigh/ why am I not surprised this story's about Leon and Cloud.

LeeLee-san: Would you rather it be about you and Sora?

Riku: /shakes head/ no no, Leon and Cloud is fine.

Cloud: /pouts/

LeeLee-san: Stop complaining all of you! Be happy with what you get!! You make other people happy with these stories! Or sad..eh, whatever they want to take from it.

Sasuke: Ahem, aren't you forgetting something?

LeeLee-san: Oh that's right, who plays whom!!

Squall/Leon : Christian
Cloud : Satine
Riku : Zidler
Sora : Toulouse
Sephiroth : The Duke
Rinoa : Nini Legs in the Air
Vincent : The Argentinean (XD)
Hmm don't believe there are any other really important roles that needs someone to replace them , so all other names will remain as they were in the movie. Laguna and Ellone were just mentioned here and won't be making an appearance in the rest of the story, except maybe flashback words.