Disclaimer: I do not own YGO or Moulin Rouge. This is a piece of fanfiction (4 mini fics!) for entertainment only, not profit.

Scent: Myrrhe Eglantine, Hermes

Photo set: the four seasons

"Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide/But I'll love you until the end of time."

-Come What May, Moulin Rouge

...

"Run away with me," Yugi mumbles into the tangle of hair spilling across their pillows. He's not quite awake yet, so he's actually murmuring into the sienna-colored fur of their cat, but Dumblepurr seems to understand, and the sound of Anzu's laughter echoes when he attempts to kiss the cat's paw is enough to power to equal a couple of coffees, at least.

They go walking in the green spaces after breakfast. It's spring and they can smell, but not see, the blooming irises in Central Park. Their garden is just a small stone bench and the mummified bonsai Joey managed to smuggle in for Christmas from Domino. The plant looked it it had shared some good times together, once. Now, several years later, all of the tinsel is fading and the angel figurine on top is cracking. But Yugi links his fingers to Anzu's and thinks how lucky he is, for even when the whole of their world is only a couple hundred feet wide— there's enough sky in her eyes to fly through, forever.

...

"Run away with me," Atem says into the haze of smoke obscuring her side of the bed. He's not quite awake, so he hasn't realized that it's all very, very wrong yet. Whoever it was seemed to understand, even though the hair's too light, eyes too bright, and the voice much too frightened for screaming fits in the early morning hours.

Everything is OK if his eyes are closed. She's still next to him, one warm, slightly calloused hand atop his (wait, when has Anzu ever had calloused hands?), and the other smoothing the tears from his hair (wait, since when did he begin growing it out?). Any minute now she'll start making that God-awful tea in the rust-stained pot downstairs. He'll get up, walk downstairs, and she'll have exactly one slice of toast and three eggs in the pan and no regrets at all about taking the last spoonful of marmalade.

Any minute now.

There are no colors, no stars, in this kind of darkness. Oblivion is sweet and smooth without any of the sharp edges of remembrance. If he opens his eyes he will see the sunlight and know that it's another day without her. If the day goes on he'll know her family is gone, too, taking with them the shards of his heart his family broke.

It's not OK right now, this kind of night lasts and lasts and lasts; it may not be OK for a while.

So he doesn't open his eyes.

It's summer and the cigarette-covered asters on her side of the bed are long gone, forever wilted, because all of the Mazakis are gone.

Obliterated.

All because they only existed in his imagination on this plane.

...

"Run away with me," Anzu says to the empty space in her heart where he used to reside.

Let's leave it all behind and just go.

We can go back to California, to the cliffs, or to New York City, to the park. We can go back to where we first met, in the playground by the classroom with the snow falling in whispers along the grass and sea. We can go anywhere we want from there— anywhere you want, Atem, as long as you come back to me and you want to try again.

Atem's gone, of course. Not gone gone, as in dead and gone, but gone gone, as in permanently left, leaving behind a person that talked like him, looked like him, and felt like him but wasn't him. Atem was a ghost, hiding in the shell of a human being that she once knew. The imprint of him wasn't ever coming back, not the way he use to be, and it wasn't fair to hope that Yugi would ever morph into even a portion of who Atem used to be.

She was in love with a ghost, forever chasing after already fallen leaves in the dead of winter when the world has already move on to spring.

...

"Run away with me," Yugi says, and she's by his side, taking up all the available real estate in his mind. He finds he doesn't mind it at all. Even the spaces that he didn't think would ever have any occupants— he's taken all the curtains down and dusted the rooms to make a place for her. There were missing pieces that he never even realized until she fit herself around them.

Falling in love was easy, even easier than pairing the right trap card with the right monster card or falling together into the ice when they tried skating for the first time (spoiler: holding hands? Great look, not so great of an idea in practice). It was the first whiff of flowers in the spring, the shadows across the pond in the summer, the bite of cold in the fall, and the feel of snow in the winter— love was just constant, all around him, suffocating and surrounding him while he drank it in like a man clinging to a mirage of water in the desert.

They were together now, through all the falls and struggles not to fall. Every dream he had was Anzu; every nightmare was somehow never not Anzu related in some way. Usually it was Anzu being hurt in some convulsed or improbable way. Sometimes it was some improbable yet likely in his subconscious way that they would lose each other somewhere. Sometimes it was the feel and touch of a phantom who was no longer there.

He woke up scared and alone after each nightmare and she's always there, willing to run away with him to the place where dreams come true.