What's Love Got to Do with It? (Christan; Moulin Rouge

Prolouge (Christan)

Christan was writing. That's all he did anymore. The one thing he thought kept his mind off of Satine. But part of the reason she fell in love with him too...it was getting easier, and he'd go days at a time without crying, but it still hurt.

"What come may," He finished singing as he broke down in tears for the first time in a weak. His voice came out shaky, before he let out a sob. "I- I miss you," he whispered to himself, looking out a window.

He missed Satine with everyone bone in his body. Which wasn't much anymore as he recognized. He was now a skinny, pale mess. His black hair was long and messy, his eyes with bags under them. His outfit even reflected it. It was a loose coat over a oversized t shirt, matching jeans being under it.

"Hey," Toulouse spoke. The man was almost the complete opposite. He looked very professional with his tight shirt and dress pants. He was just out rehearsing another of his plays with the new cast that was meant to be performing at the Moulin Rouge. The place Christan had met his love. Toulouse's hair was kept in a neat, blonde ponytail. "You know you can't stay in here and mourn forever? Get out of here."

"I-" Christan shook his head, "I can't stop thinking about her Toulouse." He had composed himself in front of his friend, but he really couldn't hide the pain.

"Fresh air will do you good," the man spoke with an air of comfort. "You've been in this room for days, take a walk."

"Fine..." Christan gave in. "Thanks," he spoke, silently thankful for the man to keep him grounded and out of his room. The room became plain after Satine died from Congestion. It was painted a simple beige, his bed having plain white sheets and a brown headboard.

The composer walked outside, but suddenly bumped into someone. More specifically a girl, who he immediately knew as beautiful. A weird thought to him. He hadn't paid attention to that after his dead lover.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, giving her a hand up. "I'm Christan Wynters by the way, who are you?"

"Nice to meet you," her voice sounded angelic to him. The girl had gotten up with his help, but was looking anywhere but him. Almost like she was paranoid. "I have to go, it was a pleasure," the girl took off, and like a shadow when the moon rose, disappeared. "Wait! I never got your..." he looked down, noticing she had dropped something from a pocket. It was a locket, with the letters G. J. I engraved into it. "G. J." He spoke. He felt drawn to it, "I'll find you again and give it back," he pocketed the item, going back into his house, a walk completely out of his mind.