Disclaimer: Do not own them.
Title: Please
Summary: Kyle's thoughts as Mole lay dieing in his arms.
Warnings: Yaoi Cussing PWP (Kinda)OOC
Couple: Hint's to ChristopheKyle
Written By: Shino
Inspired By: The South Park movie.
Comments: Real, crappy, I'm sorry. . . . 'I can change. I can change. I know I've been a dirty little bastard.'
'Text' - Flashback
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Please
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"Please, Mole." My voice is soft and fearful; somehow knowing this won't end nicely.
"Sheet! Fuckin' guard dogs. Sheet!" A bloody hand grabs the edge of the hole and another follows. A groan and a small body pushes from the hole, collapsing shortly after. "'old me." His voice sounds tired, drained.
I drop to my knees, pulling the boy close, hand gripping the others tightly, but the return hold is weak. "Please don't." My voice is low enough for only him to hear and he looks in my eyes sadly.
I sigh sadly, sitting on the curb pouting. My best friend Stan has turned 'Goth' and won't talk to me, and every time we see each other I'm called a 'fucking conformist'. I don't even know what that is but it pisses me off. Stupid bastard.
"Vat in the name ov fucking Christe are you doing you stoopide American." My head snaps up at the heavy French accent, just to see a brunette sucking on a cigarette. Since when do kids my age smoke? We're, like, eight.
I look back down, "My best friend dumped me because his girlfriend has dumped him again." My arms tighten across my chest when the boy sits down next to me. "I think it has something to do with me never being in love or kissing a girl."
Smoke streams past his lips and he flicks the nub to the ground. "Doesn't 'ound like 'ez ah real freend to me."
I look at him sideways, a pout still set on my face. "He's my best friend though. I have to understand him. He's. . . . He's my best friend."
"Pft." A shaky hand runs through brown, mussed hair. "So 'ow do you zink you're going to achieve zat?"
I thought for a moment, lips turning into a real frown. "I have to kiss someone. If I kiss someone I think I might understand what he's going through better." I shift, pressing my elbows into my knees and resting my chin in my palms. "I just want to understand."
"Is zat realleh 'at you 'ant?" I look at him confused just to feel pressure against my lips.
What the-?
Then he is on his feet, lighting a cigarette. "Did zat 'elp?"
He walks away after that, not waiting for an answer or reaction.
My fingers touch my lips as I watch him walk away. My tongue darts out and lick were my finger traced. Tastes like nicotine.
His voice washes over me, his grip lessening more and more. "No Mole, hang on." I whisper. "We'll get you home."
He is still watching me, his voice dieing, his eyes growing hazy.
"I can't face my mother." His hand goes lax within my own. "Not alone."
I let go, and step back. This is just weak.
Stan and Cartman stand by me staring at the dead child.
"Shit!"
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EDIT: Added an accent to Mole. Thou, I don't know if it's French. I speak German. :D
Shit.
I don't even know where this came from.
Sucks ass man.
Ass.
Yes.
And after the war Kyle forgot completely about the now-back-alive boy.
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