Author's Note: God, I'm awful. A little short thing about Satine...dying. Written one night during a rebellion against studying for maths. stay in school, now. ha.
Dedication: To my maths teacher, who should learn that I really don't givea damn about index laws and surds.
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind
Echoes of half whispered voices run and twist through her mind, deep down she knew it would all come down to this eventually, (and what a romantic way to go) but it seems to have come along faster than she expected and there are things she desperately wants to say but there's not enough life left in her to say them.
I love you. You saved me. Remember me. Hold me. I'm cold. I'm dying.
She can't even tell him not to cry, here come his tears – his own kind of diamonds – in imperfect rivers down his face. His transformation from joy to sorrow is complete in moments, the rose petals around them mimic the liquid clotting at the corners of her mouth and the insistent drum of applause outside the curtain makes it even harder for her to get through to him, her voice fading as her throat fills up with blood.
I love you. You have to go on. Be brave. No crying. I can't breathe. Christian.
Her vision starts to blur and she doesn't know if it's with tears or because she's fading. Shards of his beautiful black hair brush against her stony flesh as he kisses her once more – does he think it will revive her? Love is oxygen, after all – his tears wet her cheeks and her chest contracts once more as she struggles to get just a few more words out. But he doesn't hear her and the lights from above burn down on her from the rafters where Toulouse once stood hidden, she wonders if she'll haunt this place when the dying is all over. She looks at him again, her blue eyes glazing and refusing to focus, staring out almost blindly.
I love you. Tell our story. Talent. I wont go far. Christian. Always.
Oh, she can feel it now, practically see it, the world melting from around her and she can't distinguish anything. There's a momentary lapse of nothingness as she closes down, chokes, suffocates – is it painful? No, she's got love to help her through – and she's sure, in those last seconds, or maybe she is just dreaming, hallucinating, pretending that underneath the heartbreaking sob that propels itself from his chest, she can hear those soft, enchanting words he whispered to her that first time they met – now hauntingly beautiful, coaxing her to surrender to that forever sleep and finally leave him.
I hope you don't mindI hope you don't mind
That I put down in words…
