A Tale of Love

I, unfortunately, do not own any of the wonderful Moulin Rouge characters, and I hope I do and adequate job of portraying each character to their fullest potentials. Thanks you, and I hope the flames don't fly too hot :)

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Christian sat, head in hands, after he had finished putting together the tale of his gem, his one true love, his beautiful Satine. His morbid, depressing thoughts mixed together with the still strong feelings of love he felt for Satine. His concentration was broken when he heard a knock on his door. Christian glared at the door, as if the person would go away if he stared hard enough at the door. No, nothing in the world was that easy. Eventually, the knocking would go away. It always did. It was Toulouse, the only one of his friends who had stayed with him. Satie, the Argentinean, and everyone had left him alone when they found the new Christian. The new, loveless, depressed Christian. Toulouse had stayed by his side, bringing him food every day, encouraging him to get a job, encouraging him to go out again. He never mentioned Satine. It seemed that Satine had disappeared from everyone's memory. Christian was snapped back to his small, dirty flat when he heard the knocking still going on. Christian threw an empty bottle at the door, but still the knocking continued.

In rage, Christian flew to the door, and pulled it open. There stood a telegram boy, looking around nervously at the filthy and seedy building. "What do you want?" Christian surprised himself when he heard his voice. It was rasp and hoarse, nothing like his old, vibrant voice.

"Le monsieur, j'ai un télégramme pour vous." the boy stuttered nervously holding out the paper. Christian did not understand what the boy said, but he took the paper and slammed the door in the boy's face. He pulled the paper open and read, his face turning into a fresh sheet of grief. He dropped the paper and feel to the ground, tired of life. Tired of being a failure. Tired of being only known as the one who loved a whore.

Christian dragged himself to his tiny kitchenette, and pulled out a knife. Preparing to thrust it into himself, he was startled by Toulouse bursting into his flat.

"Cwistian! How are-" Toulouse stopped short when he say Christian lying on the floor with a knife clutched in his hand.

"Cwistian...no...don't..." Toulouse started to say. Then he noticed the paper on the floor and picked it up to read it.

"Oh, Cwistian, I am so sowwy. I know that you and youw father wewe not cwose, but it still must be hard..." Toulouse trailed off when he noticed that Christian wasn't listening.

"Toulouse.." Christian whispered. "I have not seen my father for almost three years. Now he's dead. My memories have nothing but filth in them. I am filth. I am a failure. I failed everyone. My father was right. I am wasting my life away in remembrance of a woman who I could not have...I have no reason to live." Christian raised the knife. Toulouse leapt forward, with a sudden burst of energy. He grabbed the knife and pulled Christian to his feet.

"Come on. We have got a fuwneral to attend, and you are not a failuwe. Everyone that meets you woves you. Now come on..." Toulouse dragged Christian out of the apartment, on their way to a home that Christian had not been welcome in for three years.

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That was Chapter One. If ya'll like it, then tell me, and Chapter Two will be ready soon! If not, then well, I'll make Chapter Two anyway. Please tell me what I need to fix instead of just saying "This sucks" or "You are a sicko." Thanks!