Love. Oh how cruel it was the way the feeling had ripped him to shreds taken what he once was and spit him out a garbled mess of who he once was. Ounce upon a time Christian would have been jumping up and down at the prospect of falling in love and now he was suffering the heartache of Satine’s death.

Why was love so cruel? What had love torn him apart like a beast leaving nothing but a crumbling soul.

He didn’t know when was the last time he had taken a shower or even left his dingy apartment Toulouse tried to pull him out of his depression. Yet the Bohemians knew that his heartbreak was catastrophic for him and his identity.

When he had started writing about what had happened the tragic tale of his love story he didn’t think much. He didn’t even think the story would be popular yet here his story was all over Paris. The book had charted, adaptations of the story were being made to be placed on the big screen..

Yet it didn’t fill the gaping hole in his heart. Why did love have to be so cruel? Perhaps his father was right there was nothing for him in Paris. He had even grown out a scruffy beard that didn’t suit him at all wallowing in his pain a soft knock at his door pulled him out of his mind. Groaning he stands up slowly walking and opening the door.