Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews...gosh, I'm surprised so many people liked it. :) Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter. It's a bit weak - I got stuck about halfway through. Ah well. Attempt to enjoy. :)
Chapter Two: Seeing Stars
"We don't let ugly people stay here."
"Come on!" Christian wailed.
However, the adamant old landlady just shook her head, glaring at him.
"You're ugly!" he pointed out desperately.
She sneered at him, then hissed dangerously, "What was that??"
"Meep!" Christian said weakly.
"WHAT?"
"Er...nothing, nothing." He was quiet for a moment before a plan blossomed in his mind. "What if I could get you a date with the most handsome man ever?"
The landlady leaned forward, interested. "Keep talkin'."
"Well, he's tall, blonde, brilliant smile, British accent..."
"Ooh!" squealed the landlady in delight. "I do love a good British accent."
"Hey," Christian cried defensively. "I have a British accent! Why don't you love me??"
"Please, kid," the landlady drawled. "You're Scottish. Quit the whole 'I'm from London! Honest!' act. Now, when can I see this guy?"
"I just need to negotiate for a minute," Christian said quickly before turning skyward.
"Star?" he asked weakly.
The world around him froze.
"Hey, Star," he said nervously, forcing a bright smile. "Starita, beautiful! Starziekins! Star, baby-"
"Don't sweet talk me," I, the brilliant She's a Star herself, instructed, stepping out of thin air and studying him quizzically. "What do you want?"
"Can you bring Gilderoy in here for about five pages or so?" he requested, then promptly added, "You know I love you, darling. I mean, if I had to choose between you and Satine-"
"You'd choose Satine," I finished snappishly. "Because you two are meant to be together. Riiiight?"
"Right, right, right," Christian nodded vigorously. "Satine. I love Satine."
"And why do you want my Gildykins?" I asked suspiciously.
Christian gulped. He wasn't too sure if Star would let Gildy be subjected to such torture.
But he needed his garret, by golly!
"You just made me think 'by golly'," Christian accused angrily.
"Baby, I can make you do anything I want," I retorted wickedly. "Now, tell me why you want Gildy."
"Well," Christian said nervously. "I just...uh..."
"Spit it out, Claremont."
"I...yearn for his sparkling company?"
Christian was gay.
Yup, he liked men. He realized this now. Lord, he wanted everyone from Zidler to the Duke! Women had never been his cup of tea, really.
Nope, he wanted a big, strong, buff man-
"STOP IT!!!!" Christian pleaded, throwing himself to the floor and cowering.
"Why do you want my Gildy?" I repeated menacingly.
"This lady," he said, gesturing towards the frozen landlady. "She wants a date. Otherwise she won't let me have my room."
After studying the woman for a moment, I concluded, "No. No way. No way would I do such a thing to my Gildykins."
"But I need my garret!" Christian wailed.
"Christian, darling, are you functioning mentally?" I asked dryly. "I am the supreme ruler of the universe in this story, remember. If you ask me nicely, I can get you that room before you can say 'Star is the supreme ruler of the universe in this story'."
"Why not just 'Star'?" Christian inquired.
"Don't push me, buddy," I warned.
"Right, right," he said quickly. "Well....pleeeease can you get me my garret? Pleeease?"
I sighed. "I guess. Just because I'm feeling generous."
With a snap of my fingers, the world resumed its turning, and the woman studied me curiously.
"Who're you?" she demanded. "How did you get in here?"
"Oh, I'm just a girl," I responded with a sweet smile. "Who happens to be the sole creator of this fanfic."
"Ooh!" the woman cried at once, looking nervous. "She's a Star! Star! You're looking gorgeous today, may I say? I-"
"Just give my buddy Christian here his room, okay?" I asked, shrugging one arm around Christian's shoulders.
"Of course, Miss Star," the landlady said, nodding vigorously. "At once."
"Thank you," I said, grinning. "Ciao, darlings."
And with that, I disappeared.
"I'll show you to your room," the landlady said quickly, leading Christian up a rickety staircase...and another rickety staircase. He narrowly avoided a collision with a rat roughly the size of a large terrier.
"You've got rats," he commented weakly.
"Yeah," the landlady grunted. "Here."
She gestured at a door that very clearly did not lead to Christian's garret.
"But that's not my garret!" he protested.
"It's where you're staying," the landlady said shortly.
"No it isn't!" Christian argued. "I need my garret so I can stare out at the Moulin Rouge! Plus, the Narcoleptic Argentinean has to fall through my ceiling!"
The landlady studied him as though he were a raving lunatic.
"Hey, lady," Christian said slyly. "You know She's a Star?"
The landlady nodded slowly.
"Well, me and her? We're like this." He pressed his two pointer fingers together to demonstrate. "And if you don't give me the room I want..."
His voice trailed off threateningly.
"Right, right," the landlady said at once. "Pick whatever room you want."
"That's better," Christian smiled, then walked over to the door to his garret and stepped inside. "Ah, home sweet home."
Humming brightly to himself, he began to unpack his things, but winced when he hung the mirror and it immediately shattered.
Staring dejectedly at the glassy shards for a moment, he sighed, then sat down at his typewriter.
Oh no! he thought, right on script. I've never been in love!
And then, luckily, a very familiar Narcoleptic Argentinean came crashing through the ceiling. Very surprisingly, a dwarf dressed as a nun burst into the room as well.
"How do you do?!" he asked with a toothy grin. "I am Henri Raymond..."
His voice, however, trailed off before he could list all of his names.
Christian gave the little artist a friendly smile, which caused poor Toulouse to wince and shield his eyes.
"What are you doing?" Christian asked, prompting Toulouse's line.
"Oh yeah," Toulouse said, dazed, as he stared in disgust at Christian. "We were...uh...uh..."
"Rehearsing a play?" Christian offered.
"Yeah, yeah, wight," Toulouse said, a visible shudder shaking his body. "I'm sowwy, I'm not too cohewent when I look at you. You'we just...disgusting. I think I should be going now."
"But wait!" Christian yelped. "Don't you need someone to read the part of the young sensitive Swiss poet goat herder?"
"Nope, nope," Toulouse said quickly. "That's aww taken cawe of."
"But the Argentinean's passed out," Christian protested desperately.
"He wiww come too!" Toulouse assured him, attempting to escape the garret.
"But Satie has to finish the music before you present it to the financier tomorrow!" Christian howled. "And he'll never be able to now!"
"How do you know aww this?" Toulouse asked suspiciously, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
"Never mind," Christian said impatiently. "Listen, I need to read that part!"
"Wisten..."
"Christian," Christian supplied.
"Chwistian," Toulouse said. "Wisten. I know I weawwy shouldn't say this because I'm not vewy handsome myself, but...you'we a sickening sight to behowd."
Wait a second! Christian thought irritably. The Duke wasn't this bad-looking!
Christian?
Who are you?
It's Star.
Oh. Hi. WHY AM I SO REVOLTING?!?
Well, darling, it makes the story funnier, don't you think?
No!!! How will Satine fall in love with me now?!?!
That's for me to know and you to find out.
Original.
Thank you.
"Listen," Christian said desperately. "I'm trapped under an evil spell, and I'm really a handsome prince!"
Toulouse studied him skeptically.
Now, that was original.
Could you have done any better??
Sure.
Then help me!!
Nah.
Bitc-
WHAT was that?
Oops.
Beautiful?
You're lucky I'm so nice to you.
"And you see, I've come here to save the fate of your production," Christian continued weakly. "You see, I'm blessed with extreme musical talent, and I can save you."
Toulouse studied him doubtfully. "I'ww give you one chance."
"You'll be dazzled!" Christian assured him, beaming again and causing an innocent passing-by bird to fall, dead, from the sky.
Wrinkling his nose skeptically, Toulouse announced, quite pained, "Just come up alweady so we can get this ovew with."
Quite satisfied with himself, Christian climbed up the magically appearing and conveniently placed ladder into Toulouse's studio. The Doctor and Satie studied Christian in horror, jaws dropping as they were cursed to witness his sickeningly hideous countenance.
"What an ugly, nasty coot," Satie muttered to the Doctor, who nodded in agreement.
"What was that?" Christian asked, confused.
"Er...uh..." Satie searched his brain desperately for a moment before announcing, "Frank is living in my foot!"
Christian studied Satie, befuddled, for a moment, before fixing his 'I'm-such-an-adorable-penniless-poet-slash-lyrical-genius-don't-you-just-love-me' grin on his face.
Big mistake.
Satie collapsed into a heap onto the floor without a single word, and the Doctor seemed frozen in place. Christian immediately stopped smiling and instead replaced it with a menacing smirk that seemed much more at home on the Duke's repulsive face.
This, he thought miserably, Is going to be harder than I thought.
Don't you just love it?
No.
Why ever not?
If you weren't in control of the entire universe and my destiny in this story, I would be incredibly angry with you.
Fear not, m'dear. Things will get better.
...Really?
...Nah.
~ * ~
The singing of 'The Sound of Music' was more difficult than Christian had ever imagined. For one thing, everyone kept passing out in disgust at his inconceivably sickening appearance before he had the chance to open his lips. Then, when he'd finally come up with the brilliant suggestion that they all close their eyes and simply listen to him sing, they'd all been in awe. So much awe, as a matter of fact, that they refused to believe that that had been him singing, and spent another half an hour trying to find the hidden source of the voice.
By the time they'd actually arrived at the Moulin Rouge, the diamond dogs were scheduled to be halfway through their performance. However, they discovered, much to Christian's chagrin, that there wasn't a performance of any kind. Instead, all of the can-can dancers were gathered around someone blocked from view, pushing and fighting to be able to stand in the front of the circle.
His heart sinking, Christian had the feeling that he knew what they were gathering around. Ignoring the repulsed stares of people he passed, he made his way over to Harold Zidler.
"Excuse me?" he asked politely.
Harold turned around with a wide grin on his face that faltered the second he laid eyes on Christian. Looking rather pained, he forced the smile back onto his face.
"Er...yes?"
"Who are the girls over there all gathered around?"
"My financier," Zidler responded, chortling. "Quite the handsome fellow...Count Von Groovy, I think his name is."
"Count Von Groovy?" Christian asked incredulously. "Don't you mean the Duke?"
Zidler studied him as though he were insane. "No...Count Von Groovy."
"Oh," Christian said weakly before making his way over to the circle of dancers to visit his dear ol' good looks. One of the dancers swooned violently and fainted right on the spot, and a few others dropped to the ground beside her in concern, attempting to revive her. Christian stood near where they'd been and himself...er...the Duke...er, Count Von Groovy came into view.
He looked like...well, himself, only he kept twitching his mouth into a strange sort of smile and widening his eyes - he was doing the dreaded Bedroom Eyes!
And crazily enough, it looked good.
"Now, now, ladies," a deep, flirtatious voice that sounded not at all like the Duke's but rather, quite like She's a Star's beloved Gilderoy Lockhart's said, "Do be calm. It's just little old me."
He laughed at this, and a few more girls fainted.
Star? Christian thought desperately. He just couldn't take it anymore! He needed to look like himself again, gosh darnit! Staaaar!!!
. . .
Star? Hello? Are you there?
Huh? What...? Oh, oh yeah. Hi.
Star, you've got to help me! I just can't handle this! I really can't! I give up!
Christian, buddy, you wanted this. Now, I've just gotta...
...
...
Star?
Huh? Oh yes. Sorry. Keep getting distracted.
By what??
He's really gorgeous, isn't he? I mean, he's no Gildy or anything, but that is one hot hunk o' man. I mean-
STOP! STOP! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT ANYMORE!
Fine then. I just won't help you.
No, no, no! Never mind! I just...Star?
Star?
Helloooo?
Great, Christian thought bitterly. Now I haven't got anyone to help me.
He studied all the pouting tuxedo-clad rakes who were being completely neglected by the enamored can-can dancers.
"This sucks," one announced to the other.
"Damn straight. Let's go."
All of the men filed out of the Moulin Rouge, but no one seemed to notice. They were all still completely bedazzled by Count Von Groovy.
Wow, Christian thought, admiring the Count, He actually is kinda nice looking...very handsome, really. I...
He stopped at once, an expression of utmost revulsion on his face, as though he'd just looked into a mirror.
Star, please tell me you made me think that.
Nope. Sorry, buddy. Kinda disturbing, darling. I never expected you'd turn into a twisted narcissist.
Shut up. I get so much abuse.
Fine. Just for that, Satine is standing right behind you.
What?! No she isn't, she has to sing her number, and I-
"Um, excuse me?"
Christian spun around to find, surprise of all surprises, Satine standing right behind him.
"H...hi," he said nervously, giving her a weak half-smile. She winced.
"Are you the Count?" she asked, her perfectly shaped nose wrinkled in disgust.
"No-"
Oh, no no no. You are the Count. Don't kill my plot, Christian.
But I'm NOT! I can't lie to the woman I love!
Baby, she's never falling in love with you if you don't.
"Yes," Christian said at once. "Yes, I'm the Count."
"How...wonderful," she said with a faint smile. "Let's...dance?" She spat out the words as though they caused her great pain, then added at once, "Unless you don't want to. Actually, on second thought, you look so exhausted. I'm sure that you don't want to dance. I'm sure that you want to go home. You look sick. Are you ill? You really look that way. Maybe you should leave right now. You know. And never come back."
"No," Christian said, a bit dazed. "I'd love to dance, actually."
"Great," Satine said, looking as though she were about to be sick.
And this, my dears, is where things start to get interesting.