Pairing: Christophe x Gregory

Genre: Romance/Angst

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following one-shot, they all belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I do not own the quote within the author's note either.

Author's Note: Firstly, I'd like to inform everyone that since Christophe is older, I assume he'd become a little more accustomed to an American accent and thus, his French accent has faded a bit. I believe that if Christophe got a little upset over something, he'd return to his French roots and his accent would fall through. They're both high school seniors in this one-shot so don't get the wrong idea.

In addition, I'd like to think that the characters recall the war since it seems the residents of South Park had some memory of it when the town returned to normal as proven by Mr. Garrison's line: "Wait, wasn't I dead a moment ago?" (I may have messed up the line but it's basically to that effect).

The cool breeze whipped at my face as I leaned against the chain-link fence. I shivered and reached into my jeans pocket, feeling around for my cigarettes. So this is the end of high school, what a waste of my time. I groped around and I wrapped my fingers around my prize. As I brought it to my lips, I noticed Gregory talking to Wendy a mere ten feet from where I stood. I caught his gaze and chuckled as he averted his gaze, perhaps a little too quickly. My attention switched to the cigarette suspended between my lips. I lit the end and took a satisfying inhale. I leaned my head back against the fence and closed my eyes, taking in the final sounds of my former high school. I heard a few footsteps closing in on me, interrupting my train of thought and I opened one eye to see who the offender was. The blonde boy stood in front of me, his eyes fixated on my lit cigarette. "You don't have a spare period, do you?"

I laughed and tapped the end of my cigarette. "Of course I don't, after all, the idea of being locked away in a classroom as your life ends minute by minute is ridicule." I smiled, realizing my French had slipped into my English. "Higher authorities only want us in the classroom to mold our minds into believing the things they want us to believe. They're slowly killing us, Gregory." I inhaled and blew smoke out my mouth, around his head.

Gregory looked up, into my eyes and smiled. "Would you mind if I joined you? I have a spare period and frankly, after attending Yardale, the classes bore me to tears." Gregory zipped up his coat and gave a slight shiver. I gave a shrug and turned my head in the opposite direction, giving Gregory no attention.

"Gregory, do you remember ze war?" I inhaled and grimaced as the smoke burned my throat. "Ze one ten years ago?" I still refused to look at the blonde. "Where were you when I died?" I was surprised at the fact that I had even bothered asking such a stupide question. I hated to admit it, but whenever Gregory was with Wendy, something inside me would break. I'd feel incomplete. I cursed under my breath and realizing my friend's lack of response, I turned my head, only then did I see that Gregory had suddenly gone pale. "What, was eet something I said?"

"No, not at all." Gregory met my eyes and gave a weak smile. He took a deep breath and I was surprised to notice a few tears in his eyes. "I overheard some of my classmates talking about your death, how you died in the name of La Revolution. It tore me apart, you know. I had lost one of the best friends I could ask for. Imagining my life without you is simply inconceivable. I was relieved when we returned to our normal life, disregarding the events that had taken place that day."

That doesn't answer my question. I gave a mournful sigh and threw my finished cigarette on the ground, dousing it with the back of my foot. "Screw zis." I motioned for Gregory to follow me and with some hesitation, he slowly followed my lead. "If we are skipping la classe, we might ees well get out of this flipping weather." As we walked down the paved streets of this rat pit, we call South Park; I gave a slight nudge to the blonde boy. "You okay, mon ami?" Gregory, still quite pale, wet his lips as if he were about to speak but seemed to abandon the attempt and instead, give a small nod. I rolled my eyes and as we climbed up the steps, pulled out the house keys from under the doormat. Luckily, mes parents work during the day. I unlocked the door and ushered Gregory in, shutting the door with a slam. I took off my coat and uncaringly flung it over the coat hanger. I casually waited for my friend as he carefully fixed the two coats on the wooden coat hanger before following me upstairs into my bedroom. I reached under my pillow and grabbed a cigarette from my quickly depleting pack, my cigarettes had to be accessible at all times, no exceptions. As I lit the end, I locked eyes with my blonde counterpart. "Cut ze crap, Gregory. What's on your mind?"

Gregory jumped at the sound of my voice and gave a deep sigh. "Well, when the university acceptances went out, I noticed that I failed to receive one from Princeton. It was my dream to get accepted to Princeton, you know. I can't believe that the dream…died." I couldn't contain my shock. He was fretting over university? What the crap was zis? I gave Gregory one of my darkest glares.

"My dear Gregory, are you telling me that you're upset over an acceptance? Need I not remind you that you were accepted into five universities, all of them among ze best? Yet, you're bitching about not getting accepted into all six of your precious institutions." I firmly grabbed the boy's arms and pushed him to my bedroom wall, ignoring the crashing of a falling picture frame. "Let me tell you a story, Gregory. Once upon a time, there was a young boy. This particular boy's passion was to dig. He loved the feeling of the dirt parting from the Earth. Are you still listening, mon ami?" I practically spat the last two words out at the slightly frightened teenager. "Let us look upon this boy when he was just entering his teenage years, his parents no longer understanding who he was. The boy didn't believe in God or any great spiritual being like his 'perfect' parents did. His circle of friends was shrinking and he knew he could only trust a handful of them. His view on life was becoming more and more clear. Let us suppose that his only escape was the adrenaline from digging. No, any adrenaline was sufficient for zis boy. He soon realized that his life was nothing. He realized that first, he had to give up. He had to *know*... not fear... *know*... that someday he was going mourir." Seeing Gregory's slightly confused expression reminded me of my language error. "To die." Keeping one arm against the blonde's chest, preventing escape, I took a quick inhale from my cigarette as my dark eyes met his once more. "Anyway, one night, zis boy overheard a shouting match between his mother and father. Zis boy wanted to disappear and needed something to release his anger but he could not leave his room, his shovel was no longer a vessel for his anger. Zis boy did not cry, instead he found his pocket knife."

"Christophe…" Gregory looked, pleadingly into my eyes. "I'm sorry…" I brought my face closer to his, his nose wrinkling with the scent of my cigarette.

"I'm not yet finished, mon ami." I said with a slightly crazed grin. "Zis boy soon learned that he could achieve the adrenaline, he found by digging, within his own pain. The sight of his blood trailing down his arm put him in a state of ecstasy. He lived for the rush. When he craved it at school, he would get into fights. He would announce his beliefs about that 'beetch' known as God. Ze other kids would fight him and with every punch, with every surge of pain that jolted through his body, he was saved. His pain became his savior." I took another inhale and released the smoke. I cursed and pulled up my sleeve, revealing various scars among his arm. I reached into my pocket, producing the pocket knife and I lightly traced my scars with the blade. "Ze next time you have a problem, compare yourself to moi." I released my hold on the blonde and retreated to my bed. I fell backwards on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Gregory, stupide Gregory.

I closed my eyes and I heard Gregory's footsteps advance forward, stopping at my bed. "Christophe…" He took a seat at the foot of my bed. "I'm so sorry."

I scoffed and brought the cigarette to my lips. "I'm sorry for this abomination we call a government, I'm sorry that my mother stabbed me with a clothes hanger when I was in ze womb and I'm especially sorry that on a long enough timeline, ze survival rate for everyone drops to zero." My voice was dripping with venom. I suddenly felt a light touch on my forearm. I jerked upright only to see Gregory tracing my scars, I tried to move my arm away but he held it firmly in place.

"How could you do this to yourself, Christophe?" His gaze didn't show sadness but an emotion I couldn't explain. "How could you refrain from telling your closest friend what you were doing?" His voice was shaking. I was surprised at his sudden change of mood but I failed to show it, instead I continued to stare at the tan ceiling above my head. I was still angry at him and his little outburst wouldn't change a fucking thing. "Chistophe!" His voice became louder and more urgent. He leaned over and turned my face to look at him. "Promise me you'll never do anything like that ever again." I jerked my head out of his grasp and hissed.

"Suddenly, Monsieur Yardale believes he can lecture me on my life? You are so hypocritical, you know. You whine and complain about your failure to meet your high standards but the fact is, you've already met mine." I put out the cigarette and put it into the ashtray under my bed. I hated him so much, he had so much to look forward to and yet, he decided to waste it complaining to me. The last thing I needed was a lecture.

Gregory's eyes bored into my own. I narrowed my eyes as though to challenge him. He leaned forward, our eyes still locked furiously with each other. I propped myself on the bed, my back resting against the headboard. He continued to move closer, so close, that I felt his warm breath on my cheek. "What did you say?" His voice had suddenly grown soft but a hint of anger still resided, at least the feeling was mutual. This was not our first fight, our friendship faced hardships in the past but pulled through gracefully and I knew in the back of my mind, this fight would yield a similar result.

"You heard me." My dark eyes met his, neither one of us giving up the eye contact. There we were, silently having a competition to see which one would break our gaze, to see who was more dominant. Unfortunately, our anger with each other only fueled the competition.

I watched as the blonde leaned forward and I felt his lips, just next to my ear. "Are you sure?" I, involuntarily, felt a chill go through my body. He moved back, to meet my gaze once more. He leaned in closer to my face, our lips just a few centimeters away. He paused, his eyes half-closed, before he closed them fully and our lips met. The feeling was certainly something unworldly. I didn't push him away nor try to resist, I instead, fought for power. I channeled all my anger and hatred that had grown towards Gregory in the past fifteen minutes and I forced all of it into the kiss. My arms wrapped around his neck and found a place on the back of his neck. I pushed his head closer to mine to deepen the kiss. It seemed that Gregory had a similar idea. While I fought for dominance, Gregory had decided to use the headboard to his advantage. He pushed me towards the headboard while the other hand snaked its way around my waist. I gently bit his bottom lip and forced my tongue into his mouth. Our tongues wrestled with each other and I felt a sense of victory when Gregory let out a low moan. Not to brag, but French kissing was my element. If there was one thing I could do right in this godforsaken world, it was kissing. I pulled away for a mere second as I pulled on Gregory's shirt, taking the time to mutter 'I hate you so much.' under my breath. Gregory smirked as he took off his shirt revealing his bare chest.

"I think I'm beginning to dislike you as well." I took a moment to admire Gregory's half-naked body. I hadn't really given a second thought to the blonde teenager's body; I now realized why Wendy was practically throwing herself on him. Today, Gregory belonged to me. He grabbed at my black shirt and helped me take it off. I brought us closer for a more, passionate, rough kiss. I felt Gregory's body start to mold itself against mine. I knew I was winning. I knew that soon he would succumb to me. Our chests touched and I moved from his mouth to his neck, gently tracing it with my tongue. Gregory gasped and placed his hand against my head. Our fingers laced together and I pushed Gregory backwards on the bed so that I was on top of him, a grin plastered on my face.

"Just warning you, ze French are quite rough in bed."

"I accept that challenge." I dove down on him, tracing his chest with a finger, giving him chills. I grabbed his pants and carelessly threw them off. I let my tongue drag from his neck to the downward part of his body. This will teach Gregory to never provoke me again.

~..~

I lit a final cigarette as I watched Gregory, curled up against my chest, sleeping soundly. He looked like an angel and I was careful not to disturb him. I glanced at the digital clock on my night stand. It read 3:06pm. Gregory stirred and murmured something in his sleep. As I inhaled the cigarette, my mind wandered. I let my free hand ruffle his hair softly, sticky with sweat. I chuckled and closed my eyes. It's a wonder what hatred for a person can do to you. I let out a puff of smoke and smiled. I rested my head on his blonde hair, knowing all to well that he couldn't hear me. "Je t'aime, Gregory."

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You know, I think that if parents would spend less time worrying about what their kids watch on TV and more time worrying about what's going on in their kids' lives, this world would be a much better place.

– Stan Marsh