Disclaimer: The following songs and their respective singers/writers/publishers/whatever do not belong to me.

"Yesterday" - Beatles
"Can't Get No Satisfaction" - Rolling Stones
"More than Words" - Extreme

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The rest of the day flew by in a nonsensical blur. Christian simply shut down and mechanically went through the familiar movements of his daily routine. Fortunately, no one clued in on the fact that while he was there in body, his mind had already all but died.

Over exaggeration, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel that way.

He hadn't talked to Satine all day. He didn't think he could bear it, not feeling so naked and exposed as he was. And so, he deliberately avoided her. It was an easy task considering that she had remained glued to the Duke's side all day, coming over only once to ask about a vague statement in the script.

He still wasn't sure whether to feel relief or bitterness.

The sun was setting low over the horizon as he made his way through the park situated at the outskirts of Montemarte. It was easier to breathe and think here, away from the hustle and bustle of the village. Or rather, the darkness and never-ending subterfuge. Christian plopped down on a stone bench and leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands.

He wished he could be jealous, but how can you be jealous of something you've never experienced? It would be easier if he knew for sure that Satine loved him; at least then he could have a claim to his feelings.

All of this uncertainty was driving him mad.


I...can't...get...no...sa-tis-fac-tion...
I...can't...get...no...sa-tis-fac-tion...

Christian clenched his eyes shut against the barrage of images assaulting his brain.

Stolen kisses under the stars.

Making love while the candle burned low.

The silky feel of skin against skin.

The pleasure of fulfillment that now felt empty.

Whispers of "I love you", always declared in the night, never during the day; at night where faces were hidden, secrets could be kept, promises broken.

"I'm paid to make men believe what they want to believe."

Satine running her fingers through the Duke's floppy brown hair.

He doubled over in mental agony. A voiceless scream erupted from his mind as words tumbled from his lips.

'Cause I try, and I try, and I try, and I try...

Christian lost himself in his anguish, the words coming faster and faster in a chanted mantra of protection until, finally -

I can't get no - !
I CAN'T GET NO - !

The last word rang loudly in his ears. Chest heaving, Christian took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He was kneeling on the grass. His head hurt where he'd clenched his hair.

An overwhelming sadness swept over him. Spent, he sat back on his heels.

All he wanted to know was if she loved him.

Christian raised blurry eyes to the sky.

Yesterday...
All my troubles seemed so far away
Now they're coming here to stay
Now I long for yesterday

He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, I believe in yesterday

Christian stopped and sighed. If wishes were fishes, then seafood wouldn't make him so ill. He was getting tired of wishing and dreaming was starting to loose its appeal. A few days ago, he would have been shocked at his own defeatist attitude, but right now, he was too drained to care. The glamour of being able to seduce the Rouge's top courtesan and the excitement of the dangerous game they played had given him an irresistible high that he eagerly accepted and cultivated in his mind as some sort of fairy tale. But now, it was starting to loose its shine and he was starting to realize that he was living an impossible reality. He was deluding himself if he thought that they could make this work, make a happy ending out of this particular story.

Love was a two-way street and to his reluctant sadness, he just wasn't strong enough to hold on for the both of them, not in the way he had foolishly thought he could. He loved Satine; she was the other half of his soul, but as selfish as it was, he needed more than that. He needed to touch, and to be touched, but most importantly, he needed a good reason to keep going.

He wanted something real.

Like a child, he had thought that he could be happy with anything that she offered. But he supposed his expectations were higher than she was willing to reach.

He was such a fool.

Christian stood and half-heartedly swiped the grass of his knees. He fell heavily onto the bench once more and leaned back on one hand. Faint light of the moon reflected on gray-green orbs.

Saying I love you
Is not the words I want to hear from you

He sang softly, idly, too depressed to even bother putting any muster into his tone. And like every time, the music obeyed his whim, drifting through the sky like a sad prayer to God.

It's not that I want you
Not to say, but if you only knew

"How easy it would be just to show...me..." His voice hitched. "How you fe-e-el..." There was a tight knot in his throat. Christian took a deep, shuddering breath. "More than wo-ords is all you have to...do...to," He gasped. "Make it re-al."

Then you wouldn't have to sa-a-ay that you love me...

Christian swallowed hard, blinking back tears before whispering, "'Cause I'd al-rea-dy know..."

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end.chapter.2

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