Disclaimer: Do not own them.
Title: Number Eight: Innocence
Summary: Gregory has a dream but Mole doesn't see what's so special about it. Light!ChristopheGregory
Warnings: Yaoi Cussing PWP (Kinda)OOC
Couple: Light!ChristopheGregory
Written By: Shino
Inspired By: Watching some butterflies.
Comments: Sorry, but this totally seems like a Gregory thing. . . . . . Or maybe it's a butters thing. Hmm.
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Number Eight: Innocence
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Gregory sighed, looking out the window. His elbows were propped up on the brown sill, chin in his palms, blonde hair parted, but not fixed, so he could see clearly. His dull grey-blue eyes watched two butterflies twirling and twisting around each other just beyond the glass. One was a silky looking brown colour, the other a shiny emerald green. They fluttered about, never straying to far from the other, slowly ascending towards the sky. Then, they disappeared from Gregory's sight. Sighing again, he turned away in time for the owner of the room he was in to return, tugging at his pants, a towel around his neck.
"Vat are you looking at?" The teen spoke with a French accent, one hand abandoning his pants in favour of running it through his messy, wet brown hair.
Gregory glanced back outside. ". . . Nothing." He said finally, standing to move to a hard, disheveled bed near-by. "You know, Christophe," He started slowly, sitting down and smoothing a spot on the bed next to him. "When I was a mere child." Looking up, he felt a hand run over his own head affectionately. "I used to dream of being a butterfly."
Mole lightly passed his calloused fingers across the British teen's cheek. "Okay?" He sat next to Gregory and set upon the task of drying his hair.
Looking away, Gregory continued. "It's just. . . . They're so beautiful." He smiled down at the floor. "It's like they can fly anywhere on their wings. If anything were to ever go wrong. . . they could fly away." He peeked at his companion. "What do you think?"
"I zink zat butterflies are veak and delicate." Mole shifted so he could face the other. "Zey can't fly if their vings are touched. Sounds like sheet to me. Zey are only meant to be looked at. Never touched, yet, people are alvays capturing zem and pushing pins through zem. Zey are veak."
Gregory looked away, a light blush dancing across his cheeks. "I guess you're right." He laughed nervously and did an odd thing, he ran a hand through his hair and mussed it. "It's a stupid dream." He smiled at Mole weakly. "I guess I'll never have wings of my own, huh?"
Mole frowned and his brows furrowed together. He patted the teen shoulder and went back to his hair. "Just because ones person's opinion doesn't mean you should change your perspective on something. Especially mine. I 'ave a bleak outlook." Mole looked over at the blonde. "Plus, you have vings. I can see zem."
Tears gathered at the corners of Gregory's eyes as he stared at Mole. "Oh, Christophe." Then, he threw himself at the teen for hire. "That was sweet. Thank you."
A light red could barely be seen under Mole's tan skin but he hugged the boy on his chest back. "Your velcome."
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I really need to learn what a French accent is. Cause I know this isn't right,
D
But, HA! YEW CAN'T BEETCH NEW MOE, RAH! I WROTE SOME FLUFF! . . . . I think. O.
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