Disclaimer: All characters belong to Baz Luhrman and his writers.
Author's Notes at the end.
Dedicated to Bohemian Storm.
Let Me Fly
~I've always wanted to fly…~ he thought to himself.
The darkness was cooling and calming to his senses, but it did no good.
Christian was dead. He'd contracted the dreaded disease consumption from his love, and now he'd joined her in the grave. The handsome young poet and the beautiful young actress, gone before their time.
"Only the good die young…" he muttered.
He hated that expression. Because for him, it said that he wasn't good enough. He should have died in his youth, being so frail and sickly. Should've been released long ago. Instead, he'd been shackled to this mortal life for far too long, trapped inside a twisted, crippled shell.
Never free to fly…
And what had he gotten from it? How had he benefited from this miserable existence? He'd seen his dreams dashed to pieces. Truth, beauty, freedom, and love… they'd all died that night. He'd seen it come crumbling down, falling around him in a tragedy.
His wings were broken…
The moon's soft light stole across his face, and he almost shied from it. But instead, he limped towards the window of his garret and gazed out at the landscape.
The city looked almost peaceful at night, the creamy touch of the moon wiping away all the sins of the day and hiding the sins of the night. But not cleaning the sorrow in his heart…
Outwardly, in the year after the tragedy he had remained the same. A little sad, but still flamboyant and exuberant. He hid the darkness within him from them. His friends… his only friends…
The only people who didn't see him as some twisted little dwarf. The people who saw him as some great Bohemian revolutionary.
He was a fraud. And he hated himself. He'd made them all believe that he really was worth something, really worth being a member of their company. But he was nothing… A little freak who wanted to shake the world, but couldn't…
Broken wings can't fly…
Sighing bitterly and wretchedly, he moved away from the window and over to the table. There it was, sitting there so innocently, beckoning him and promising relief. The bottle of absinthe, full to the brim. He walked over to it, studying it and scrutinizing it like he'd never seen it before.
In a fit of sudden and vicious rage, he grabbed the empty glass sitting next to the bottle. He glared at it, like it was the source of all his problems. If only it was that simple… if only he could find one problem and erase it forever…
He wanted to fly…
Howling with fury, he hurtled the glass to the ground where it shattered into tiny pieces.
"Why won't you let me fly?" he screamed, his voice alarmingly high-pitched and his lisp twisting the words horribly.
Looking at the bottle, he grabbed it greedily. In the faint moonlight, it seemed to glow with a green fire within.
"I want to fly…" he whimpered.
Tipping his head back, he put the bottle to his lips and began to gulp down the fiery drink. His head was spinning and sweat was pouring off this face, but he couldn't stop. Not now.
The empty bottle exploded in a burst of glass when it crashed from his shaky grip to the floor.
The world was distorted and twisting, and a white fire burned behind his eyes. He grabbed his head in agony, feeling hot tears spring to his eyes. When he looked up, she was there…
The Green Fairy. She had visited him many times before, but never had she looked so beautiful. Sparkling, she hovered before him. And he was entranced, not by her, but by something she had…
Wings…
"Let me fly with you…" he whispered.
And his hands reached forward desperately. She laughed and flew around him.
"I'm the Green Fairy." She teased.
"I want to fly!" he begged. "Please let me fly!"
A feeling of weightlessness raced through him…
~
The Argentinean and Satie had expected to come back to the flat late that night and fall asleep. But when they entered the door, they saw him standing stock still at the window, his arms outstretched to something that wasn't there. The broken bottle and glass were on the floor around him. They raced to him, grabbed him, and laid him on the bed.
"Little fool…" the Argentinean hissed, more out of fear than anger.
His hands still grabbed at the air. His clothes were drenched with sweat, and his skin was deathly pale. Bloodshot eyes looked past them, over their shoulders, at something only he saw…
"Time to fly…" he said hoarsely.
"No!" they cried.
They shook him and they begged. They pleaded and they wept.
But he flew at last…
~The End
Author's Notes: This one's for Bohemian Storm. Babe, you rock! I wasn't going to post this one (too dark), but then I read your fic 'Broken Man'. Genius! So here's my dark fic. :) And everybody else, read 'Dance Like the Devil' by Bohemian Storm! It rocks!!!! Anyway, please review. Reviews make me very very happy. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. :)