Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic, so go easy on me and it's Contestshipping with a bit of Pokeshipping. This story is based on the movie Moulin Rouge. Anyway, I don't own Pokemon or Moulin Rouge!


"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,

A 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"

The Moulin Rouge

Drew's POV:

I sad at my computer, watching the screen flicker in the darkened apartment. All signs of happiness or cleanliness have disappeared from my room, with food debris littering all of the surfaces. The last of the food had been raided out of my pantry, and pizza boxes layer the floor.

"The Moulin Rouge, A nightclub, a dance hall and a bordello, ruled over by Gary Oak. A kingdom of nighttimes pleasures, where the rich played with, the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most beautiful of all these, was the woman who I loved. May. A courtesan, she sold her love to men. They called her "The Sparkling Diamond." And she was the star, of the Moulin Rouge."

I shudder at the memory. My love, my only love, is … dead.

I sad down to the computer brushing the keys with my fingertips, and began to write form the very beginning of my story…

It was a year ago when I first came to California, a fresh screenwriter ready for adventure. I knew nothing of my love at that time. I was young and new, not yet worn down from constant critics, and I wanted, more than anything, to get my idea across to the public, of truth, beauty, freedom, and above all other things, love. The very idea sent shivers down my spine, for on screen, anything could happen. Through the effects of movies, an entire audience could fall into arms of the cast, believing every word they utter from their perfect lips. I wanted that, whatever my old-fashioned father said to me.

He could not alter my college degree in screenwriting, or my decision to move to where it all happened, Hollywood. I was ready. Or so I thought.

The only problem was, when I sat down at my computer and was ready to type, I had no inspiration. I had never been in love.

Luckily for me, just at that moment, an unconscious purple haired boy fell through the roof of my apartment, followed closely by a raven-haired boy dressed as a ballet dancer. It you could guess, I was very shocked at this new turn of events.

"Oh, I am so terribly sorry, sir! You see, we are practicing a part for a new adaptation to a show, and our friend, Paul, seems to have fainted again. Not to worry, not to worry, he is all right" The raven-haired boy then leapt up and began slapping the unconscious boy, trying to get him up. "You see, he suffers from narcolepsy. Silly thing, once he falls asleep, he can't wake up." Slapping the boy on last time, he stepped of him, shaking his head. I stared at him dumbfounded, making sure not to look at his lover half with his tight tutu.

As I looked up at the huge hole in the ceiling, three heads popped through to peek at he purple haired boy with slightly peeved looks on their faces. Each of them wore eccentric clothes or hats, and I realized immediately that they must be writers of a kind as well.

"How is he?" Another purple haired, but gay, boy twittered to the raven-haired boy, patting no attention to me even though I was close to the hole. He was wearing a hilarious cap with a feather stuck artistically in the rim, a bright pink shirt under a striped vest with a satin kerchief falling out of the ruffles at his neck.

"He's out for the count, I am afraid." The two writers were having a conversation through the hole in the ceiling, as if this was completely normal. I was dumbfounded, trying to find any logic in this situation.

"Oh, how horrible!" The gay boy, who I soon learned to be called Harley, said in anguish, wringing hands, "The main idea for the play is due tomorrow, and yet we don't even have someone to practice the part of a young, sensitive Swiss poet goat herder! Oh, how will we ever find someone on such short notice?"

Suddenly, all of the heads turned to me, while I was staring around at all of the events quickly unfurling in front of me. Before I knew it, I was up in the room above me, to practice the part of the young, sensitive Swiss poet goat herder.

"The hills animate,

With the euphonious symphonies of the descant" sang the raven harried boy, named Ash.

"No no no!" You are ruining my perfect lyrics with your horrible screeching!" Hayley screamed at Ash, who was trying to unsuccessfully make put the intentions of the song.

"Well, what about-" I tried to put a suggestion, holding up a hand, but no one was listening. Every time I started they would keep talking.

"Um-"

"What about-"

"How do you like-"

No one was playing attention. Ash and Harley still yelling at each other. So I just let it out.

"The hills are alive, with the sound of music" My voice was loud and deep, and hearty tones from a string orchestra sung from nowhere. Everyone looked up at me in shock, the musician pulling his hands away from his head slowly. I took this as a good sign and decided to go on.

"With songs they have sung, for a thousand years" Again the music resonated from nowhere, and I let my voice trail off at the end, waiting for everyone's response.

It was immediate. Ash cried out "Brava!" throwing his arms in the air. And Harley looked sulky. I was shocked at what I had just done. I had never really enjoyed singing before, but that might be that I had nothing to sing about.

"That was beautiful! Harley, how about you and …"

"Drew"

"You and Drew write the songs together? He sure has talent, and it could only make the show better!"

"Write the songs together?" Harley was looking at us all in horror, as if we had just told him to cut off his own limb. "I will rather die!" And with that, he ran out the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Ah, don't mind him, Drew. I will bet you will do fine all on you own."

"But…" I looked at Ash in shock. "But I've never written a play like this before!"

"But you are a writer, no?"

"Yes …"

"And you believe in freedom?"

"Yes of course."

"Beauty?"

"Yes …"

"Truth?"

"Yes!"

"Love?"

"Love? …" I looked at them all in the face. "Above all things I believe in love." I went on earnestly, "Love is like oxygen. Love is a many-splendored thing. Love lifts you up where you belong, all you need is love!"

"Oh, I just love it!" Ash began dancing around the room, throwing his hands in the air. "That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard! You will make a great writer!"

"But what about Harley?" The musician, named Misty, spoke up for the first time. "Isn't he the writer that we signed up for writing the script with?"

"Oh yes …" Ash had to think about that for a moment, and then a light bulb went off in his head. "Ah ha!" I've got a marvellous plan!" And with that, we all huddled together, me still in shock.

Ash plan was that we would dress me up in nice clothes and send me off to a fancy nightclub called Moulin Rouge where all of the rich and talented men would come to dance and socialize. I would pretend to be a famous English writer, and talk to May, a courtesan that the group had set to be a part of the show. I would give her a poetry reading that would amaze her completely. If we got her on our side, than the whole company have to go along, too, forgetting all about Harley and letting me write the play.

The plan seemed simple enough, but I couldn't help but become a bit frightened as I put on their best clothes, and got into a taxi with the rest of the group, making my way to my first adventure.