Author: Dazzling
Email: glitter_and_glam@hotmail.com
Disclaimers: I do not, and will never, own the characters of JAG. I also don't really own the story line; it's mostly a JAG rewrite of 'Moulin Rouge' (excellent movie) complete with quotes from the movie and everything, set in 2001 in America. I've twisted the storyline a little to fit in with what I wanted. I didn't write the songs they sing either, they belong to Westlife, the Moulin Rouge soundtrack and whoever wrote them.
Notes: The French title means 'Above All, I Believe In Love', and was taken from one of Ewan MacGregor's many speeches in 'Moulin Rouge'. Written in Harm's POV. WARNING: Character death.
Spoilers: Moulin Rouge. If you haven't seen this movie and want to, I suggest you don't read this.
Category: Angst/Romance. Harm/Mac.
Rating: PG-13
Reviews and Feedback: Please? Even if it's to tell me how much it sucked compared to the movie.
SURTOUT, JE CROIS A L'AMOUR
If I were to tell of my greatest adventure, of my greatest love, and of my greatest loss, I would tell our story. My name is Harmon Rabb Jr, I am a writer, and I moved to New York a year ago to seek fame and fortune. I found all that and much, much more. I found a drunk Australian who crashed through the door of my hotel room and led me to my fame, I found a temperamental transvestite who helped me make my fortune, and I found a beautiful nightclub dancer named Sarah who inspired all my works, and taught me this:
The greatest thing you will ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.
Our story is one of truth, beauty, freedom, and above all, love. This is it:
Sitting at the battered desk in my budget-price hotel room one night, I was attempting to write a love story to sell to my publisher. I had barely finished the title when the drunk Australian mentioned above was thrown into the door of my room. Being flimsy as it was, it broke, and my dear Aussie friend landed in an ungraceful heap on my dirty doormat.
No more than three seconds later, another man came rushing through the door. It seemed as though my hotel room was the place of the moment to congregate. This man, who briefly introduced himself to me as 'Sam', picked the Aussie up of the floor.
"Sorry," he apologized in a heavily accented voice. "He has a tendency to do that sometimes. Don't worry about it."
"No problem," I stammered, watching Sam drag Oz, as I had dubbed him, out of my room and back up the stairs. Seeing the script that Sam held in his hand, I followed, curious.
I trailed after Sam into a room that was quite large, given the rest of the hotel accommodation. It was full of people, dressed in wigs and costumes. Sam laid Oz out on a mattress on the floor, and quickly explained to the others what had happened.
"How can we go on now?" a woman wailed, rather over-dramatically. "Now that Augustus has gone and knocked himself out - AGAIN - we have lost the main character."
Augustus. So that was his name. Sam turned to me, a gleam in his eye. "Young man," he said to me, "how are your acting skills?"
As it turned out, my acting skills were no more than mediocre at best. The others found it to be quite annoying that I would try to change the words to make them more poetic. They would get aggravated when I turned their carefully written phrases around to make them rhyme, or sound romantic. I was a big believer in romance.
Finally, after yet another of my suggestions to 'change it to a love story', Sam looked aghast at the writer of the play, Celia, and then turned to me.
"You seem to have quite an affinity for words, young man."
"Ah, the name's Harm," I corrected him, smiling slightly.
"Well, Harm, I can't help but think that maybe you should be the writer of our fine production, not an actor."
I agreed with him immediately, and was soon re-writing the script. Celia didn't like this, and stormed out, throwing down his pen and slamming the door behind him.
Due to Celia's absence, I was now the sole writer of the production, aptly called 'Absolutely Fabulous'. The others, Sam especially, seemed to think that I had a gift, and I wrote all the words and music.
"Um, where is this musical to be performed?" I asked hesitantly as I wrote a scene that would require quite a lot of stage room. Sam twirled around to look at me, script pages flying everywhere.
"It is to be opened in a theatre that has not yet been built. The building is a nightclub at the moment. In fact, we are headed there this evening. Care to come?"
I did love nightclubs, but my lack of money had prevented me from ever going to many. I nodded my agreement eagerly, wanting to scope out the venue where my masterpiece was to be viewed.
Sam smiled, and motioned to the others. "Come now, that is enough work for one day. Let us meet at the nightclub at, say, nine?"
The others nodded, and rushed out the door. Sam turned to me, looked me in the eye. "The nightclub we discuss is called 'The Dome'. Ask around - everyone knows where it is. You must see the lead dancer - she's a piece of eye candy if I ever saw one."
He slapped me on the shoulder and walked out. I strolled back downstairs to my hotel room, having found no ideas for a story, but a way to spend the evening.
Later that night, I met Sam, Augustus (who had evidentially woken from his stupor and been told of the plans) and everyone else save for Celia outside the Dome. We paid our fees and were admitted in.
Inside, it was unlike anything I had ever seen. Flashing lights illuminated the tables, chairs, and dancing stages. Girls in various stages of undress swung around on poles, danced on rotating platforms and generally gave the men a good eyeful.
We grabbed a table and sat, with Sam ordering drinks. Augustus leaned over to me. "See that man over there, the large one with the moustache?" I nodded, looking. "He is the owner of this, ah, establishment. His name is Jack Hartley. They call his dancers Jack's Hearts, and the lead dancer is the Queen of Hearts."
"Where is the leading lady that I have heard so much of?" I asked Augustus, and the table in general. One of the men with a minor role in the musical smiled at me.
"Patience, Harm. She will come. She likes to make an entrance."
At that moment, the lights faded, and the entire nightclub was shrouded in darkness. A single spotlight appeared over one of the platforms, and everyone except me cheered, knowing what was to come. The young man who had told me to have patience smiled again.
"Here she is," he said, clapping as loudly as everyone else. I kept my eyes focused on the lit platform, waiting. There was a collective gasp, and I looked up. A woman was being lowered down on a trapeze-like swing; her legs crossed demurely, her eyes downcast and shadowed by the top hat she wore.
She looked up when she was about halfway down, and my breath caught in my throat. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her long, curly brown hair swung around her shoulders and down her back. Her chocolate-coloured eyes were captivating, drawing me in, and her full red lips were pouted. She was dressed in a variation of what the other dancers wore - a black leather bustier, black fishnets, black stilettos, and a very short black leather miniskirt with a split up the side, edged by diamonds.
"What's her name?" I asked, enthralled by her.
Sam looked at me, laughing when he saw my eyes lit up. "Her name's Sarah," he told me, "but don't even bother. She's engaged."
My heart sunk straight away. "Then why does she still do this?" I asked Sam, who was cheering as Sarah hopped off her trapeze and strutted along her platform. "Why does she torture us?"
"Because the man she's engaged to is the man who is paying for the transformation of this place into a theatre. Sarah is an aspiring actress, you see." Sam took a swig of beer and grinned lopsidedly at me. "Just do what we do, my man. Sit back, enjoy, and dream of what you will never have."
Watching Sarah dance, doing a modern day version of the can-can, I did just that. I was taking Sam's advice and dreaming of what I never would have when Sam leaned back over to me.
"I have, though, taken the liberty of setting up a small meeting with you and Sarah for later. It seems as though we need a female actress to play one of the leads, and I believe Miss Sarah Mackenzie will do perfectly. As writer of the musical, we felt that you should get to know her, ah, style, shall we say."
I looked at him, wondering if perhaps my mind was playing tricks. Apparently it was not, for the other men were slapping me on the back and wishing me well. As the show went on, and Sarah enthralled the men around her, I sat back with a goofy grin on my face. I had only been here three days, and already, I had been offered an opportunity that most of the men in this club would only ever get in their wildest dreams.
The end of Sarah's show finally came. With a final whisper of luck, I was sent up to her dressing room by Jack Hartley, who had heard of the arrangement and thought it an excellent opportunity for his 'queen'.
I walked up the stairs and to the room in a sort of daze. Knocking on the door, I heard a sexy voice telling me to come in, and I did so. I sauntered in, attempting to portray a sort of cool-laid-back-writer vibe, but was stopped in my tracks when I saw her.
There she was. Sitting at her stool, her make-up still on, dressed now in a pair of short shorts and a tank top. The biggest shock, though, was her hair. It was short, cut in a bob style that framed her face and made her look delicate, rather unlike the saucy creature that had entertained the crowds.
"Your...your long hair," I managed to stammer. "It's...it's not real."
"No," she said in a musical voice, laughing. "It looks better on stage when it's long and flowing and curly. Personally, I couldn't stand having long hair."
She swivelled around in her chair and looked me in the eye. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm Sarah. Sarah Mackenzie. You must be Harmon, right? The writer?"
"Yes, that's right. I'm here to speak to you about the role we have for you in a musical we're writing. That is, I'm writing."
Sarah rose off the stool and sat down on the couch, making herself comfortable. "Speak away," she said, smiling.
I tried to keep my eyes on her beautiful brown ones, and not on her other assets. "Well, ah, my friends and I have created a musical between us, and I have the privilege of writing the words and music for it. It came to our attention, however, that we needed a female role, and an actress to play it. You came to mind, seeing as how you work at the very place where the theatre will stand, and the production will play."
Sarah uncrossed and crossed her legs, looking at me. "Well, it is true that I would simply love to be an actress. However, I think that I'll need to see some of your work before I'm totally convinced. So, read me a poem, sing me a song, whatever. If I like it, I'll do it."
Now I was in a predicament. I had no idea what to perform for her; I had too many thoughts running through my head. Finally, though, I hit on one. I turned back around to face her.
"Alright," I said, nodding. "The song I'll perform is one from the end scene, with the lovers. He is a poor writ-, that is, a poor guitar player, and she is a courtesan, and he is serenading her, telling her of his love."
Sarah smiled slightly, a gleam in his eye. "Sounds good. Go on, then."
I took a deep breath. It was now or never to impress her. I just hoped, prayed that my voice would not desert me. I had rather a nice voice when I sung well. "Here goes nothing," I whispered to myself, and launched into the song.
"I would die for you
Lay down my life for you
The only thing that means everything to me
'Cause when you're in my arms
You make me prouder than
Than anything I ever could achieve
And you make everything that used to seem so big
Seem to be so small since you arrived
On angel's winds, an angelical formation
Angel's wings, like letters in the sky
Now I know no matter what the question
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings
And I often wonder why,
Someone as flawed as I
Deserves to be as happy as you make me
So as the years roll by
I'll be there by your side
I'll follow you wherever your heart takes me
Cause you make everything that used to be so big
Seem to be so small since you arrived
On angel's winds, an angelical formation
Angel's wings, like letters in the sky
Now I know no matter what the question
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings
Now anyone who's felt the touch of heaven in their lives
Will know the way I'm feeling, looking
In my baby's eyes
That's why I can't bear to be too far away
I know that god must love me cause
He sent you to me on angel's wings
On angel's winds, an angelical formation
Angel's wings, like letters in the sky
Now I know no matter what the question
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings."
As I finished the last note, I looked into Sarah's eyes, and saw tears glistening there. She applauded me, before standing up. "I'm in love," she said, twirling around, "with your work."
"And I'm in love with you," I said quietly, but obviously not quietly enough. She laughed slightly, embarrassed.
"I'm engaged," she told me, sitting back down at the stool and doing her hair. I remembered Sam's advice, and then made the bravest, and possibly the most stupid, move of my life.
"You don't love him," I replied, holding my breath, waiting for the yelling and screaming that would usually come when a man tells a woman she is not in love with her fiancée. Surprisingly, it didn't. She simply turned to me and looked me in the eye. Whether the touch of sadness I saw in there was really there or just a figment of my imagination, I had yet to find out.
"You've known me for twelve minutes. Who are you to know? Besides, I'm a dancer, who wants to be an actress. Opportunities such as this don't come every day. I may not love him completely, with the whole of my heart, but he can make me happy and give me what I want," she said, looking away again and brushing her beautiful hair.
"What about what your heart wants?" I asked her softly, wishing with all my heart and head that she would say that her heart wanted me.
"I've learned to ignore my heart," she replied, matching my soft tone. Then she looked at me, and I saw something in her eyes. Something that made me believe, if only for a moment, that we would, somehow, be together. "Even when my heart tells me to pursue a gorgeous writer who serenades me."
I brushed my hair out of my eyes and looked at her. She was smiling ever so slightly at me, although her eyes told a different story. She quickly glanced away as the telltale red of a blush came over her cheeks.
I turned around and made my way out of the room, my heart breaking at the thought of leaving her, but knowing I had to. "Listen to your heart," I whispered, before walking out and closing the door behind me.
Email: glitter_and_glam@hotmail.com
Disclaimers: I do not, and will never, own the characters of JAG. I also don't really own the story line; it's mostly a JAG rewrite of 'Moulin Rouge' (excellent movie) complete with quotes from the movie and everything, set in 2001 in America. I've twisted the storyline a little to fit in with what I wanted. I didn't write the songs they sing either, they belong to Westlife, the Moulin Rouge soundtrack and whoever wrote them.
Notes: The French title means 'Above All, I Believe In Love', and was taken from one of Ewan MacGregor's many speeches in 'Moulin Rouge'. Written in Harm's POV. WARNING: Character death.
Spoilers: Moulin Rouge. If you haven't seen this movie and want to, I suggest you don't read this.
Category: Angst/Romance. Harm/Mac.
Rating: PG-13
Reviews and Feedback: Please? Even if it's to tell me how much it sucked compared to the movie.
SURTOUT, JE CROIS A L'AMOUR
If I were to tell of my greatest adventure, of my greatest love, and of my greatest loss, I would tell our story. My name is Harmon Rabb Jr, I am a writer, and I moved to New York a year ago to seek fame and fortune. I found all that and much, much more. I found a drunk Australian who crashed through the door of my hotel room and led me to my fame, I found a temperamental transvestite who helped me make my fortune, and I found a beautiful nightclub dancer named Sarah who inspired all my works, and taught me this:
The greatest thing you will ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.
Our story is one of truth, beauty, freedom, and above all, love. This is it:
Sitting at the battered desk in my budget-price hotel room one night, I was attempting to write a love story to sell to my publisher. I had barely finished the title when the drunk Australian mentioned above was thrown into the door of my room. Being flimsy as it was, it broke, and my dear Aussie friend landed in an ungraceful heap on my dirty doormat.
No more than three seconds later, another man came rushing through the door. It seemed as though my hotel room was the place of the moment to congregate. This man, who briefly introduced himself to me as 'Sam', picked the Aussie up of the floor.
"Sorry," he apologized in a heavily accented voice. "He has a tendency to do that sometimes. Don't worry about it."
"No problem," I stammered, watching Sam drag Oz, as I had dubbed him, out of my room and back up the stairs. Seeing the script that Sam held in his hand, I followed, curious.
I trailed after Sam into a room that was quite large, given the rest of the hotel accommodation. It was full of people, dressed in wigs and costumes. Sam laid Oz out on a mattress on the floor, and quickly explained to the others what had happened.
"How can we go on now?" a woman wailed, rather over-dramatically. "Now that Augustus has gone and knocked himself out - AGAIN - we have lost the main character."
Augustus. So that was his name. Sam turned to me, a gleam in his eye. "Young man," he said to me, "how are your acting skills?"
As it turned out, my acting skills were no more than mediocre at best. The others found it to be quite annoying that I would try to change the words to make them more poetic. They would get aggravated when I turned their carefully written phrases around to make them rhyme, or sound romantic. I was a big believer in romance.
Finally, after yet another of my suggestions to 'change it to a love story', Sam looked aghast at the writer of the play, Celia, and then turned to me.
"You seem to have quite an affinity for words, young man."
"Ah, the name's Harm," I corrected him, smiling slightly.
"Well, Harm, I can't help but think that maybe you should be the writer of our fine production, not an actor."
I agreed with him immediately, and was soon re-writing the script. Celia didn't like this, and stormed out, throwing down his pen and slamming the door behind him.
Due to Celia's absence, I was now the sole writer of the production, aptly called 'Absolutely Fabulous'. The others, Sam especially, seemed to think that I had a gift, and I wrote all the words and music.
"Um, where is this musical to be performed?" I asked hesitantly as I wrote a scene that would require quite a lot of stage room. Sam twirled around to look at me, script pages flying everywhere.
"It is to be opened in a theatre that has not yet been built. The building is a nightclub at the moment. In fact, we are headed there this evening. Care to come?"
I did love nightclubs, but my lack of money had prevented me from ever going to many. I nodded my agreement eagerly, wanting to scope out the venue where my masterpiece was to be viewed.
Sam smiled, and motioned to the others. "Come now, that is enough work for one day. Let us meet at the nightclub at, say, nine?"
The others nodded, and rushed out the door. Sam turned to me, looked me in the eye. "The nightclub we discuss is called 'The Dome'. Ask around - everyone knows where it is. You must see the lead dancer - she's a piece of eye candy if I ever saw one."
He slapped me on the shoulder and walked out. I strolled back downstairs to my hotel room, having found no ideas for a story, but a way to spend the evening.
Later that night, I met Sam, Augustus (who had evidentially woken from his stupor and been told of the plans) and everyone else save for Celia outside the Dome. We paid our fees and were admitted in.
Inside, it was unlike anything I had ever seen. Flashing lights illuminated the tables, chairs, and dancing stages. Girls in various stages of undress swung around on poles, danced on rotating platforms and generally gave the men a good eyeful.
We grabbed a table and sat, with Sam ordering drinks. Augustus leaned over to me. "See that man over there, the large one with the moustache?" I nodded, looking. "He is the owner of this, ah, establishment. His name is Jack Hartley. They call his dancers Jack's Hearts, and the lead dancer is the Queen of Hearts."
"Where is the leading lady that I have heard so much of?" I asked Augustus, and the table in general. One of the men with a minor role in the musical smiled at me.
"Patience, Harm. She will come. She likes to make an entrance."
At that moment, the lights faded, and the entire nightclub was shrouded in darkness. A single spotlight appeared over one of the platforms, and everyone except me cheered, knowing what was to come. The young man who had told me to have patience smiled again.
"Here she is," he said, clapping as loudly as everyone else. I kept my eyes focused on the lit platform, waiting. There was a collective gasp, and I looked up. A woman was being lowered down on a trapeze-like swing; her legs crossed demurely, her eyes downcast and shadowed by the top hat she wore.
She looked up when she was about halfway down, and my breath caught in my throat. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her long, curly brown hair swung around her shoulders and down her back. Her chocolate-coloured eyes were captivating, drawing me in, and her full red lips were pouted. She was dressed in a variation of what the other dancers wore - a black leather bustier, black fishnets, black stilettos, and a very short black leather miniskirt with a split up the side, edged by diamonds.
"What's her name?" I asked, enthralled by her.
Sam looked at me, laughing when he saw my eyes lit up. "Her name's Sarah," he told me, "but don't even bother. She's engaged."
My heart sunk straight away. "Then why does she still do this?" I asked Sam, who was cheering as Sarah hopped off her trapeze and strutted along her platform. "Why does she torture us?"
"Because the man she's engaged to is the man who is paying for the transformation of this place into a theatre. Sarah is an aspiring actress, you see." Sam took a swig of beer and grinned lopsidedly at me. "Just do what we do, my man. Sit back, enjoy, and dream of what you will never have."
Watching Sarah dance, doing a modern day version of the can-can, I did just that. I was taking Sam's advice and dreaming of what I never would have when Sam leaned back over to me.
"I have, though, taken the liberty of setting up a small meeting with you and Sarah for later. It seems as though we need a female actress to play one of the leads, and I believe Miss Sarah Mackenzie will do perfectly. As writer of the musical, we felt that you should get to know her, ah, style, shall we say."
I looked at him, wondering if perhaps my mind was playing tricks. Apparently it was not, for the other men were slapping me on the back and wishing me well. As the show went on, and Sarah enthralled the men around her, I sat back with a goofy grin on my face. I had only been here three days, and already, I had been offered an opportunity that most of the men in this club would only ever get in their wildest dreams.
The end of Sarah's show finally came. With a final whisper of luck, I was sent up to her dressing room by Jack Hartley, who had heard of the arrangement and thought it an excellent opportunity for his 'queen'.
I walked up the stairs and to the room in a sort of daze. Knocking on the door, I heard a sexy voice telling me to come in, and I did so. I sauntered in, attempting to portray a sort of cool-laid-back-writer vibe, but was stopped in my tracks when I saw her.
There she was. Sitting at her stool, her make-up still on, dressed now in a pair of short shorts and a tank top. The biggest shock, though, was her hair. It was short, cut in a bob style that framed her face and made her look delicate, rather unlike the saucy creature that had entertained the crowds.
"Your...your long hair," I managed to stammer. "It's...it's not real."
"No," she said in a musical voice, laughing. "It looks better on stage when it's long and flowing and curly. Personally, I couldn't stand having long hair."
She swivelled around in her chair and looked me in the eye. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm Sarah. Sarah Mackenzie. You must be Harmon, right? The writer?"
"Yes, that's right. I'm here to speak to you about the role we have for you in a musical we're writing. That is, I'm writing."
Sarah rose off the stool and sat down on the couch, making herself comfortable. "Speak away," she said, smiling.
I tried to keep my eyes on her beautiful brown ones, and not on her other assets. "Well, ah, my friends and I have created a musical between us, and I have the privilege of writing the words and music for it. It came to our attention, however, that we needed a female role, and an actress to play it. You came to mind, seeing as how you work at the very place where the theatre will stand, and the production will play."
Sarah uncrossed and crossed her legs, looking at me. "Well, it is true that I would simply love to be an actress. However, I think that I'll need to see some of your work before I'm totally convinced. So, read me a poem, sing me a song, whatever. If I like it, I'll do it."
Now I was in a predicament. I had no idea what to perform for her; I had too many thoughts running through my head. Finally, though, I hit on one. I turned back around to face her.
"Alright," I said, nodding. "The song I'll perform is one from the end scene, with the lovers. He is a poor writ-, that is, a poor guitar player, and she is a courtesan, and he is serenading her, telling her of his love."
Sarah smiled slightly, a gleam in his eye. "Sounds good. Go on, then."
I took a deep breath. It was now or never to impress her. I just hoped, prayed that my voice would not desert me. I had rather a nice voice when I sung well. "Here goes nothing," I whispered to myself, and launched into the song.
"I would die for you
Lay down my life for you
The only thing that means everything to me
'Cause when you're in my arms
You make me prouder than
Than anything I ever could achieve
And you make everything that used to seem so big
Seem to be so small since you arrived
On angel's winds, an angelical formation
Angel's wings, like letters in the sky
Now I know no matter what the question
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings
And I often wonder why,
Someone as flawed as I
Deserves to be as happy as you make me
So as the years roll by
I'll be there by your side
I'll follow you wherever your heart takes me
Cause you make everything that used to be so big
Seem to be so small since you arrived
On angel's winds, an angelical formation
Angel's wings, like letters in the sky
Now I know no matter what the question
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings
Now anyone who's felt the touch of heaven in their lives
Will know the way I'm feeling, looking
In my baby's eyes
That's why I can't bear to be too far away
I know that god must love me cause
He sent you to me on angel's wings
On angel's winds, an angelical formation
Angel's wings, like letters in the sky
Now I know no matter what the question
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings
Love is the answer
It's written on angel's wings."
As I finished the last note, I looked into Sarah's eyes, and saw tears glistening there. She applauded me, before standing up. "I'm in love," she said, twirling around, "with your work."
"And I'm in love with you," I said quietly, but obviously not quietly enough. She laughed slightly, embarrassed.
"I'm engaged," she told me, sitting back down at the stool and doing her hair. I remembered Sam's advice, and then made the bravest, and possibly the most stupid, move of my life.
"You don't love him," I replied, holding my breath, waiting for the yelling and screaming that would usually come when a man tells a woman she is not in love with her fiancée. Surprisingly, it didn't. She simply turned to me and looked me in the eye. Whether the touch of sadness I saw in there was really there or just a figment of my imagination, I had yet to find out.
"You've known me for twelve minutes. Who are you to know? Besides, I'm a dancer, who wants to be an actress. Opportunities such as this don't come every day. I may not love him completely, with the whole of my heart, but he can make me happy and give me what I want," she said, looking away again and brushing her beautiful hair.
"What about what your heart wants?" I asked her softly, wishing with all my heart and head that she would say that her heart wanted me.
"I've learned to ignore my heart," she replied, matching my soft tone. Then she looked at me, and I saw something in her eyes. Something that made me believe, if only for a moment, that we would, somehow, be together. "Even when my heart tells me to pursue a gorgeous writer who serenades me."
I brushed my hair out of my eyes and looked at her. She was smiling ever so slightly at me, although her eyes told a different story. She quickly glanced away as the telltale red of a blush came over her cheeks.
I turned around and made my way out of the room, my heart breaking at the thought of leaving her, but knowing I had to. "Listen to your heart," I whispered, before walking out and closing the door behind me.