Disclaimer: I own nothing worth over twenty dollars. But I won the
characters in a lucky hand of poker. Hahahahaha. No, I just own Dominique
Colet, and a few other characters I may or may not decide to introduce to
the story.
Chapter Three:
Toulouse rubbed his throbbing head and stood up shakily. He looked out the window and cursed the rising sun. He walked into the bathroom and didn't bother to close the door.
"Wakey, wakey," Toulouse muttered. He unbuttoned his pants, and began to take a piss.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Satie pulled Dominique closer to him and kissed her hair. She turned over and looked at him.
"Morning already, darling?" Dominique drowsily asked. Satie nodded, and Dominique moaned, pulling the sheets over her head.
Satie got out of bed and began pulling his clothes on. He reached for his carpetbag and put it inside his trunk.
"What are you doing, Satie?" Dominique asked.
"What's it look like?" he replied gruffly.
"You're not really leaving, are you? Not after last night! Erik, please-"
"Dominique, shut up. I am not going to be pulled into another love affair like I was with Suzanne. I am leaving Montmarte, and I am leaving for good. Do not beg me to stay, it only motivates me to wish I had gone last night."
She stared at Satie for a long time, feeling numb.
"Leave then," she began to cry quietly.
Satie silently cursed himself. "Oh, please, please do not cry, Dominique. It only makes things one million times worse than they already are. Hush, now," he pulled her close to him, and held her. "I have to leave. I just can't stay here anymore. Take care of yourself. Please don't stay here long. Look what happened to.others. Don't stay in Montmarte long enough for that to happen to you. I love you, Dominique."
Satie gave Dominique one long, final kiss goodbye, grabbed his trunk and walked out of his tiny flat. Dominique watched as the door clicked almost silently behind him.
"But I never got the chance to say I love you too, Erik."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Christian gulped down the rest of his Absinthe, slammed the glass down next to his typewriter, and sighed. Someone knocked on his door, but he didn't care. He was too drunk to care. Christian wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and held back the tears threatening to spill down his dirty cheeks. The knocking became louder.
"Go away!" he yelled. The knocking persisted. "I don't give a damn who the hell you are. I am telling you to get the bloody hell away from my door!" The knocking ended with this profound statement and Christian sunk back into his drunken, depressed silence.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Outside of Christian's door, Satie sighed. He pulled a piece of paper and a dull pencil out of his pocket, and scribbled a note to Christian, Toulouse, and the Argentinean. He folded it, wrote Christian's name on the top and placed at the foot of the door.
"Good-bye, then," he said softly. Satie slowly trudged down the hallway and out the door, tossing his key to the insane old woman who ran the apartments.
Satie walked outside, into the streets. He looked at the Moulin Rouge, shining in desolate beauty. It really was as bad as everyone used to say it was. Satie was happy he was leaving. He really was. Even if Dominique didn't want him to leave. There was nothing she could do about it, and they both knew it.
Stopping for a minute to readjust his grip on his trunk, he looked back up towards his old apartment building. He looked at the old sign hanging just outside Christian's window. For a minute, Satie was sure he could hear Christian's typewriter clicking away, and he could see Toulouse painting away at his canvas, but Satie knew he was only imagining.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Sorry for the whole thing with Toulouse. If anyone out there has seen Schindler's List, you'll recognise that scene as one with Amon Goeth. I don't think Toulouse is a Nazi pig, honest. I just think he's a depressed drunk who doesn't care anymore. I just used that scene because I like Ralph Fiennes. Anyone who says there is no such thing as British sex appeal, you're WRONG!!!!! Moreover, Satie and Dominique's relationship is one big cliché, isn't it? Oh well! I shall use the cliché as I please! HAHAHAHAHA! YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!!! Err, I'll just continue with the story, then. And I am sooooooo sorry for not updating since forever!!!! ahhh!! *slaps wrist* bad mere!
Chapter Three:
Toulouse rubbed his throbbing head and stood up shakily. He looked out the window and cursed the rising sun. He walked into the bathroom and didn't bother to close the door.
"Wakey, wakey," Toulouse muttered. He unbuttoned his pants, and began to take a piss.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Satie pulled Dominique closer to him and kissed her hair. She turned over and looked at him.
"Morning already, darling?" Dominique drowsily asked. Satie nodded, and Dominique moaned, pulling the sheets over her head.
Satie got out of bed and began pulling his clothes on. He reached for his carpetbag and put it inside his trunk.
"What are you doing, Satie?" Dominique asked.
"What's it look like?" he replied gruffly.
"You're not really leaving, are you? Not after last night! Erik, please-"
"Dominique, shut up. I am not going to be pulled into another love affair like I was with Suzanne. I am leaving Montmarte, and I am leaving for good. Do not beg me to stay, it only motivates me to wish I had gone last night."
She stared at Satie for a long time, feeling numb.
"Leave then," she began to cry quietly.
Satie silently cursed himself. "Oh, please, please do not cry, Dominique. It only makes things one million times worse than they already are. Hush, now," he pulled her close to him, and held her. "I have to leave. I just can't stay here anymore. Take care of yourself. Please don't stay here long. Look what happened to.others. Don't stay in Montmarte long enough for that to happen to you. I love you, Dominique."
Satie gave Dominique one long, final kiss goodbye, grabbed his trunk and walked out of his tiny flat. Dominique watched as the door clicked almost silently behind him.
"But I never got the chance to say I love you too, Erik."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Christian gulped down the rest of his Absinthe, slammed the glass down next to his typewriter, and sighed. Someone knocked on his door, but he didn't care. He was too drunk to care. Christian wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and held back the tears threatening to spill down his dirty cheeks. The knocking became louder.
"Go away!" he yelled. The knocking persisted. "I don't give a damn who the hell you are. I am telling you to get the bloody hell away from my door!" The knocking ended with this profound statement and Christian sunk back into his drunken, depressed silence.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Outside of Christian's door, Satie sighed. He pulled a piece of paper and a dull pencil out of his pocket, and scribbled a note to Christian, Toulouse, and the Argentinean. He folded it, wrote Christian's name on the top and placed at the foot of the door.
"Good-bye, then," he said softly. Satie slowly trudged down the hallway and out the door, tossing his key to the insane old woman who ran the apartments.
Satie walked outside, into the streets. He looked at the Moulin Rouge, shining in desolate beauty. It really was as bad as everyone used to say it was. Satie was happy he was leaving. He really was. Even if Dominique didn't want him to leave. There was nothing she could do about it, and they both knew it.
Stopping for a minute to readjust his grip on his trunk, he looked back up towards his old apartment building. He looked at the old sign hanging just outside Christian's window. For a minute, Satie was sure he could hear Christian's typewriter clicking away, and he could see Toulouse painting away at his canvas, but Satie knew he was only imagining.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Sorry for the whole thing with Toulouse. If anyone out there has seen Schindler's List, you'll recognise that scene as one with Amon Goeth. I don't think Toulouse is a Nazi pig, honest. I just think he's a depressed drunk who doesn't care anymore. I just used that scene because I like Ralph Fiennes. Anyone who says there is no such thing as British sex appeal, you're WRONG!!!!! Moreover, Satie and Dominique's relationship is one big cliché, isn't it? Oh well! I shall use the cliché as I please! HAHAHAHAHA! YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!!! Err, I'll just continue with the story, then. And I am sooooooo sorry for not updating since forever!!!! ahhh!! *slaps wrist* bad mere!