Shirts and Sweaters
Gregory chewed on the end of his pencil as he sat in the library of Yardale School for Intelligent Young Men. The library was silent, aside from the dull hum of flipping pages and the occasional whisper. Gregory leaned against the bookshelf, legs sprawled across the floor. He flipped through his book, underlining when he felt it was necessary.
"Gregory, up, now." A rough voice commanded from beside him. Before he could answer, he was being hauled to his feet.
"Christophe?" Gregory asked, looking at the boy in front of him. Christophe ran his hand through his messy brown locks.
"Oui. I.. uh... need your shirt." Christophe stuffed his hands awkwardly into his pockets, looking at the blonde with dark eyes.
"My what?" Gregory asked, a little too loud for a library. He was awarded for his increased volume with an irritated shush from the librarian.
"For la resistance against Yardale. Now off with it, allons-y." Christophe began pulling off his long sleeved green sweater.
"Resistance against Yardale?" Gregory raised his right eyebrow quizzically.
"It's a long story." Christophe handed his removed sweater over to Gregory, shaking his hand a couple times to beckon Gregory to give him his shirt.
Gregory reluctantly removed his tunic and swapped it for Christophe's sweater. The boys put on their "new" shirts, Christophe now looking like the dapper school boy he unquestionably wasn't, and Gregory looking like the regular teen he was exclusively on Saturdays.
"Bien. Follow me." Christophe roughly whispered to Gregory, scrunching the sleeves of the tunic up to his elbows. Gregory followed him out from between the bookshelves. He felt the stares of his fellow students as he pursued Christophe.
"Mole, what is going on?" Gregory asked. He saw his English professor glance disapprovingly at Gregory as he passed by the two boys in the hall. The tall, lean man scrunched his wiry eyebrows from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Gregory reddened under the harsh gaze, looking down at his overly polished black shoes as he walked, Christophe's muddied combat boots a few feet ahead of him.
"I need to find your headmaster." Christophe called over his shoulder, shooting stony glances at the doors lining the mahogany trimmed hallway. "Where'z his office?"
"This way," Gregory tugged on Christophe's elbow, pulling him down a darker hallway. "Why do you need to find him?"
"Mission details, I cannot tell you zat." Christophe gave Gregory a cocky smirk. Gregory sighed, continuing to pull the French boy down the corridor.
"Fine. He's in there." Gregory pointed to the door at the end of the wall. "Don't do anything stupid, Christophe. This place means a lot to me."
"I know zat, Gregory." Christophe walked toward the door, and took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. He hovered his hand above the doorknob, fingers twitching slightly. He turned to Gregory, giving him a lopsided smile. "You know, it iz a shame this place doesn't care about its students. I'll give you your shirt back soon. "
Gregory nodded, taking his cue to leave. He made his way back to the library, hiding in the far corner to avoid people staring at his, well, actually Christophe's green sweater hanging on his shoulders. Gregory was lost in the book he had found until he heard a loud siren ringing through the library. "Christophe," Gregory muttered as he left the school, standing on the impeccably manicured green lawn that surrounded the school.
As the rest of the school chatted to each other about the fire drill and not having to go back to class, Gregory watched as someone came bolting out of the doors, running towards Gregory. As Christophe got closer, he smiled manically, grabbing at the hem of Gregory's tunic and pulling it off his head.
"Enjoy the break, Gregory." Christophe smirked, tossing the tunic toward him.
"What break?" Gregory sputtered, thrashing his hands around in the air to catch the sweater, jogging to keep up with Christophe as he ran past.
"Well, they are going to need some time to replace your headmaster, non?"
"Replace him?"
"Oui."
"What did you do?"
"Mission details. Merci for the shirt."
"Don't you want yours back?"
"Keep it." Christophe waved over his shoulder as he picked up pace. Gregory stopped running, staring at Christophe's retreating, shirtless figure as he darted across the green lawn of Yardale. Gregory unfolded the sweater in his hands, finding crimson flecks on one of the sleeves. He crumpled the sweater into a ball and tucked it under his arm, hiding it from the curious eyes of the other students. As he re-entered the building, one of Gregory's professors pulled him aside.
"You're among the more attentive lot of these boys, Gregory. Did you see anyone who could have possibly broken into the Headmaster's office?" The older man asked, studying Gregory with steel-grey eyes.
"No, Sir." Gregory shook his head, giving the man an apologetic smile. Gregory knew when he had to play naive to protect Christophe's work. He wasn't a very good liar, but he was trusted, which made people believe him easily. "Would you like me to ask anyone else?"
His professor sighed. "No, no, that's alright. Carry on."
"Thank you, Sir," Gregory began walking back to his dorm, still tucking his blood-flecked shirt under his arm.
"Gregory?" His professor called after him. Gregory stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face his professor.
"Yes, Sir?" Gregory asked with a slightly shaking voice.
"Where did you get that sweater?"
Author's Note
I do not own South Park. Even if I did, I don't know what I'd do with it.
I really love Christophe and Gregory, I wish they could actually be in more than just the movie. So, this story was originally inspired by Pink's Floyd's The Wall, Part Two, (the song not the movie) although I'm pretty sure you cannot find any sign of that in here. I watched a lot of Doctor Who while writing this, and as a result, there's a teeny tiny, so-tiny-you-probably-didn't-see-it reference in there. And just for fun, I made Gregory's English professor look like my Child and Youth Studies professor.
Review if you wish, and thanks for reading.
~A.P
