Christophe's POV –
"We're going to be late for church!" My mother growled from downstairs.
Under my breath I couldn't help but detest the mundane task known as Sunday morning service.
God is a fucking rat.
Church what a bullshit waste of time.
Any comeback such as those who'd sufficed since I'd never understood why we believed in an invisible human who was told to live in the sky and had allow me to die and exist in hell for eight agonising year before returning to each, but I'd broke my mother's heart too often as a child and instead of an out and out rebellion against her faith I instead opted to humour her.
"Just finishing getting dressed mother, you know how tricky these ties can be." I replied as I heard the soft thuds of footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Christophe, you think after sending yourself away to a fancy French school would've taught you how to dress yourself." My mother teased, referring to the lie I'd told her upon my return.
I didn't want to lie to my mother, I had missed her while away despite the fact she was an easily led, nagging bitch. But how could you tell your mother you live in hell since you were eight years old and only figured out how to escape after eight years of the heat, the sounds of people being tortured and being turning into Satans sex toy. You just couldn't that just wasn't possible.
My mother tied my tie and I quickly pulled on my coat, straightening the collar just right.
Walking down the stairs I extended an arm for my mother to hold.
Mom, I'm gay.
I died and lived in hell, not a fancy school.
The words felt as if they could easily spill from between my pursed lips but would they be accepted. Highly doubtful.
I know it looks like I've become a mother's pet and one part of me had, but once all my duties in a day where complete I'd still lead resistance movements and was still sneaky as ever not to mention inventive with my lies as to where I'd been when mother caught me.
After reaching the bottom step my mother snatched up her purse and we left the house, walking down the streets of South Park I greeted everyone who passed us with a faked friendly smile and cheery sentiment, which always made me feel like choking on it. How much longer could I keep up this ruse? Would my falsified happiness and politeness be my demise? I didn't know.
Walking into the church I saw the familiar faces of the only boys my own age I knew in town. Eric Cartman the foul mouth fat kid I once knew had grown tall although still bulky, once he saw me his eyes widened and mouth hung open. I guess you could say he'd looked like he'd seen a ghost.
My mother and I took a seat toward the front and the service began. I thought hells tortures were horrible, but this church sermon seemed to be the worst things I'd ever sat through, that was until something caught my attention.
Across the room seated in the same row as me and my mother sat a tall, skinny blonde boy. About my age, his sapphire gaze shone light beacons in the night as he shot me the occasional sneaky glance and cheeky smile. I was captivated; he was handsome beyond any god a human mind could think up. The voice of the pastor began to fade until all I could hear was my heart beat in my chest and the sound of me struggling to draw breath. I had never believed in love, let alone love at first sight. But if it existed this was it.
Crash landing back to my reality, I noticed everyone beginning to shuffle around and stand. Had I daydreamed and awkwardly mooned over this man through the whole service?
My eyes were drawn away from him when my mother gently touched my arm and spoke.
"Christophe, time to go home my cherub."
Standing up again I allowed my mother to grip my arm as I began to lead her out. I couldn't help but smirk as I passed Eric Cartman who as soon as the service was finished had gathered up his friend Kenny McCormick and Stan Marsh. The three were staring at me and whispering between themselves, all I could do was stare at them and watch there mortified expressions. I knew I'd been gone a long time, but I now believed no one had ever expected my return.
My mother suddenly stopped and began an in depth conversation with a woman she called Sharon. Turning to me, my mother dismissed me and suggested I go reacquaint myself with the other boys.
"Indeed, reacquaint myself with those fucking assholes." I mumbled almost silently to myself as I walked outside.
Leaning against a nearby solitary brick wall I lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Glancing toward the blue sky I felt free, no stress or worries. I had to admit it was nice to be home, but I had a sense like I didn't belong here. No friends, no job, nothing and at sixteen that wasn't the best situation to be in, especially having to lie on a daily basis to the only person who accepted me upon my return.
Exhaling the smoke something compelled me to look forward. To my shock the cheeky grinning face of the blonde was ambling in my direction. I felt my heart beat increase as I noticed all the beauty about him. A loud ringing in my ears caused me to not even noticed he was now standing before me.
"Hi." The blonde chirped.
Calming myself I took another drag on my cigarette.
"Hello." I replied coolly.
"I noticed you in church, haven't seen you around here and thought I should introduce myself. I am Gregory and who might you be?"
"I'm Christophe and I'm not new around here I just came home to my mother after studying in Paris for eight years at an exclusive gentlemen's school." I lied. Gregory nodded enthusiastically.
"Well that's a lovely story; do you come too church often? I've been coming here ever since my family moved here from England, they always keep it fresh and informative." Gregory stated in attempt to make conversation.
"No, I only just came back. This is my first service with my mother. I never used to go with her before I left, but some occurrences happened in Paris, which have now made me believe there's more to life, you know?" I answered honestly, sharing my beliefs and wearing my heart on my sleeve for the first time ever.
Gregory smiled as I heard my mother call my name. I turned to the curly haired blonde and shrugged.
"I guess I've got to go." I explained. He nodded understandingly.
"So I'll see you around Christophe, perhaps next week we can sit together." Gregory suggested cheekily eying me like he was starving and I was steak dinner.
"I'd like that." I responded before moving off to my mother for the walk home.
As we walked I lost myself in the miracle that was Gregory, his perfect smile, cheeky as if he was hiding a secret, his incredible gaze which was kind and understand, his voice as he said my name which sent shivers down my spine. Gregory was the type who I would like to be with, but there was no way he'd be into men although I never backed away from a challenge.
"Christophe my sweet, did you enjoy church today?" My mother queried.
Looking up into her pretty features I couldn't help but smirk and opened my mouth to speak but before any words were able to escape I heard someone frantically and breathlessly calling my name.
I released my mothers arm as we slowly turned around to see Gregory running toward me a huge, bright grin plastered across his face.
The blonde came to a screeching halt before plowing into my mother and I and stood just smiling like an idiot. Nodding politely toward Gregory I met my mothers curious glance.
"Mother, this is Gregory. He is my friend." I introduced.
Mother nodded and smiled extending a hand toward Gregory.
The blonde politely accepted placing a gently kiss atop my mother hand.
"So what can my little Christophe do for you Gregory?" My mother quizzed.
My stomach knotted as a large lump in my throat formed rendering me speechless.
Without any hesitation or another word Gregory dug around in the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a marker, gently caressing my arm he softly dug his fingertips into my flesh with one hand as he scrawled something down with the hand clutching the pen.
With a kind nod and a bow toward my mother Gregory turned and left. Quickly I rolled the arm of my dress shirt down and continued walking mother home.
Once home I made haste toward my room and ripped off my shirt revealing the khaki tank I wore under everything. My eyes slowly scrolled down my arm until my gaze set upon the message.
Christophe, if we're friend you're going to need my number. Call me on 555-620 and we'll hang out some time.
After reading those words, I attempted to dry swallow but the nervous lump in my throat refused to leave and to make matters worse I felt my church pants begin to tent at the idea of what "hanging out" meant to Gregory. Throwing myself on my bed I couldn't escape the lewd thoughts of the blonde, what had I gotten myself into this time?