Ok! Here is Chapter Ten. This one also didn't seem too right to me, but maybe I'm just paranoid now that I know people are actually reading my story (and waiting for more!). Please read and tell me what you think, and thanks to all those who have already done so. I hope that you will continue!!! :)
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Christian walked on, not even feeling the rain soaking his thin coat. He wasn't even paying attention to where he was going. All he could think about was Satine, and how beautiful she still was. How wonderful it was to see her, to feel her again. But a part of him could not accept it. Could not fall head over heels for her again.
When he thought she had died, it had killed a part of him as well. A part of him that could not just reappear, just because she was back. Not to get him wrong, he wanted to love Satine like he had. But he had been hurt, and it had taught him to be more cautious.
He suddenly found himself in one of the ritziest parts of Paris, not knowing whether the water on his cheeks was from the rain or his own eyes. He stopped in the middle of the street stared at nothing. Images were flashing before his eyes, memories from nine years before. Dancing with Satine in the Moulin Rouge, singing to her in the elephant, then on top of the elephant, singing their song, and holding as she 'died'. He looked up at a window, and realized that a little girl was staring out at him.
He smiled weakly and continued walking until he finally reached his home. He slowly walked inside, shut the door behind him, then dropped onto his bed, wet clothes and all. He then stared at the wall, lost in his memories.
The next day found Christian sitting at yet another cafe table. He had his tablet on his knee, but hadn't written anything. He also had a slight cold, but ignored that as well. He was staring out at the street, though he wasn't really seeing anything. He kept seeing Satine's face, no matter what he did. So lost in his thought was he that he didn't even see the boy coming until the chair across from him squeeked as the child sat in it. Christian looked up and saw Ryan sitting there, wrapped up securely in a thick coat.
Ryan looked at Christian curiously. Christian was wearing the same coat he had on the day before, which was much too thin for the cold weather that had befallen Paris. "Aren't you cold?"
Christian shrugged. "I can't feel anything."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Can't feel anything? That's weird." Ryan turned to look at what Christian found so interesting, but found nothing. Finally he turned back to the older man. "How did you know my mom? I saw the way you two looked at each other, and it was more than her saving you from somebody. You've known each other for a while."
Christian sighed. "I knew her once, long ago. Well, not that long ago."
Ryan frowned. "I don't understand."
"I came to Paris ten years ago. I met your mother and fell in love with her. Then I thought she had died, about nine years ago. So I went back to London." Christian said simply, leaving out three-fourths of the story.
Ryan nodded. "So you were in love. Did she love you too?"
"I thought so." Christian turned to the brown haired boy. "Have you always lived in Paris?"
"No. I was born in London."
This startled Christian. "London? How?"
Ryan smirked. "Well, that's where my mom was when she was pregnant. I think we stayed there for a few years, two. Then we moved to a little town near the coast in England. We stayed there for about a year my mom says. For the next four years we moved around Europe a lot. We lived in Germany at one time, but my mom hated it there. She speaks French and English, but all the people there talk German, and it made her mad not to understand them."
"How long have you been in Paris?"
"About two years. When we moved here my mom said something about being tired of hiding." Ryan looked up at Christian. "Do you know what she was hiding from?"
"Probably the Duke," Christian said, more to himself than to Ryan.
Ryan's eyes went wide. "Is that the creepy man that comes to our house all the time? My mom calls him Duke."
Christian turned to Ryan quickly. "The Duke comes to your house? Why?"
Ryan frowned. "He wants my mom to marry him. He even told her that if she didn't, he would kill me! He's a bad man."
"Yes, he is."
* * * * * * *
Christian walked on, not even feeling the rain soaking his thin coat. He wasn't even paying attention to where he was going. All he could think about was Satine, and how beautiful she still was. How wonderful it was to see her, to feel her again. But a part of him could not accept it. Could not fall head over heels for her again.
When he thought she had died, it had killed a part of him as well. A part of him that could not just reappear, just because she was back. Not to get him wrong, he wanted to love Satine like he had. But he had been hurt, and it had taught him to be more cautious.
He suddenly found himself in one of the ritziest parts of Paris, not knowing whether the water on his cheeks was from the rain or his own eyes. He stopped in the middle of the street stared at nothing. Images were flashing before his eyes, memories from nine years before. Dancing with Satine in the Moulin Rouge, singing to her in the elephant, then on top of the elephant, singing their song, and holding as she 'died'. He looked up at a window, and realized that a little girl was staring out at him.
He smiled weakly and continued walking until he finally reached his home. He slowly walked inside, shut the door behind him, then dropped onto his bed, wet clothes and all. He then stared at the wall, lost in his memories.
The next day found Christian sitting at yet another cafe table. He had his tablet on his knee, but hadn't written anything. He also had a slight cold, but ignored that as well. He was staring out at the street, though he wasn't really seeing anything. He kept seeing Satine's face, no matter what he did. So lost in his thought was he that he didn't even see the boy coming until the chair across from him squeeked as the child sat in it. Christian looked up and saw Ryan sitting there, wrapped up securely in a thick coat.
Ryan looked at Christian curiously. Christian was wearing the same coat he had on the day before, which was much too thin for the cold weather that had befallen Paris. "Aren't you cold?"
Christian shrugged. "I can't feel anything."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Can't feel anything? That's weird." Ryan turned to look at what Christian found so interesting, but found nothing. Finally he turned back to the older man. "How did you know my mom? I saw the way you two looked at each other, and it was more than her saving you from somebody. You've known each other for a while."
Christian sighed. "I knew her once, long ago. Well, not that long ago."
Ryan frowned. "I don't understand."
"I came to Paris ten years ago. I met your mother and fell in love with her. Then I thought she had died, about nine years ago. So I went back to London." Christian said simply, leaving out three-fourths of the story.
Ryan nodded. "So you were in love. Did she love you too?"
"I thought so." Christian turned to the brown haired boy. "Have you always lived in Paris?"
"No. I was born in London."
This startled Christian. "London? How?"
Ryan smirked. "Well, that's where my mom was when she was pregnant. I think we stayed there for a few years, two. Then we moved to a little town near the coast in England. We stayed there for about a year my mom says. For the next four years we moved around Europe a lot. We lived in Germany at one time, but my mom hated it there. She speaks French and English, but all the people there talk German, and it made her mad not to understand them."
"How long have you been in Paris?"
"About two years. When we moved here my mom said something about being tired of hiding." Ryan looked up at Christian. "Do you know what she was hiding from?"
"Probably the Duke," Christian said, more to himself than to Ryan.
Ryan's eyes went wide. "Is that the creepy man that comes to our house all the time? My mom calls him Duke."
Christian turned to Ryan quickly. "The Duke comes to your house? Why?"
Ryan frowned. "He wants my mom to marry him. He even told her that if she didn't, he would kill me! He's a bad man."
"Yes, he is."