Yes, sue me. I wrote this fic such a long time ago. Anyway, here's my
latest and LAST chapter.
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Christian releases you from the kiss. "I love you." You say once more. He smiles but his reply did not make you smile. "You can't love me. Not when I am like this." He tells you.
"How can you say that, Christian?"
"Your love shouldn't be given to me, Christian James."
"Then why did you kiss me?"
"I was merely a sign, like all the things that you have seen."
"So it was real, right? I wasn't going crazy or anything."
"No."
"What sign are you talking about? What do the signs mean?"
"When you entered the Moulin Rouge, you felt things, didn't you."
"Yeah. . . I guess."
"Close your eyes, Satine. Tell me what it was you felt."
You didn't even flinch once when he called you the wrong name. You closed your eyes and a familiar scent filled the air. The scent of the past. "I felt the hunger of women, the cold air that was warmed by lust. The make-up that created the faces of hell. The voices that sang for their freedom. And then, I felt love. It was a love that would last forever, for a lifetime. It was my love." You are a bit shocked that these words just rolled out of you.
You open your eyes and find that Christian is gone and suddenly something was lifted from your shoulders. You knew it was over. . .this ghost thing. You go join your friends finally deciding to forget it all.
"Where were you?", Gordon asks. "I was meditating." You reply. "Sure you were." He says. Fernando and Marius were nowhere in sight. "Where are the others", you ask. "They're somewhere getting drinks." He tells you.
"Gordon?"
"Yeah?"
"I know that you've noticed the strange things that have been happening to me and you probably think I'm crazy. But just to let you know, it's all over now."
"You were always nuts."
"Oh, thanks a lot."
"But I'm even more nuts."
You give him a strange look. His expression however, is serious. He grabs you and then kisses you. There was something about his kiss that felt so. . .familiar. Maybe somewhere, he already kissed you before. In a place where real love was forbidden, a place where absinthe cured the saddened hearts, where bohemians sang all day. A place and time when the courtesan and the writer promised to meet again despite time and death.
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Christian releases you from the kiss. "I love you." You say once more. He smiles but his reply did not make you smile. "You can't love me. Not when I am like this." He tells you.
"How can you say that, Christian?"
"Your love shouldn't be given to me, Christian James."
"Then why did you kiss me?"
"I was merely a sign, like all the things that you have seen."
"So it was real, right? I wasn't going crazy or anything."
"No."
"What sign are you talking about? What do the signs mean?"
"When you entered the Moulin Rouge, you felt things, didn't you."
"Yeah. . . I guess."
"Close your eyes, Satine. Tell me what it was you felt."
You didn't even flinch once when he called you the wrong name. You closed your eyes and a familiar scent filled the air. The scent of the past. "I felt the hunger of women, the cold air that was warmed by lust. The make-up that created the faces of hell. The voices that sang for their freedom. And then, I felt love. It was a love that would last forever, for a lifetime. It was my love." You are a bit shocked that these words just rolled out of you.
You open your eyes and find that Christian is gone and suddenly something was lifted from your shoulders. You knew it was over. . .this ghost thing. You go join your friends finally deciding to forget it all.
"Where were you?", Gordon asks. "I was meditating." You reply. "Sure you were." He says. Fernando and Marius were nowhere in sight. "Where are the others", you ask. "They're somewhere getting drinks." He tells you.
"Gordon?"
"Yeah?"
"I know that you've noticed the strange things that have been happening to me and you probably think I'm crazy. But just to let you know, it's all over now."
"You were always nuts."
"Oh, thanks a lot."
"But I'm even more nuts."
You give him a strange look. His expression however, is serious. He grabs you and then kisses you. There was something about his kiss that felt so. . .familiar. Maybe somewhere, he already kissed you before. In a place where real love was forbidden, a place where absinthe cured the saddened hearts, where bohemians sang all day. A place and time when the courtesan and the writer promised to meet again despite time and death.