Kenny was clearly a lunatic, Christophe thought as he watched the blonde run through pounding rain and sloshy, icy soil. His childlike cackling was drowned out by the thunder that followed each vicious crack of lighting shot through the bruise-colored sky. Kenny'd left his parka behind the heavy double doors of the school, just a few inches away from where the French student stood, observing (admiring) him. His thin, white undershirt clung to his skinny chest, exposing his pert nipples. His jeans, probably secondhand, rode low on Kenny's little waist. (He'd gone commando that day.) Christophe shook his head, his lips tightening around the cigarette held between them. He wasn't staring.

"Oy, poor boy," the part-time mercenary called loudly after expelling some smoke through his nose.

Kenny nearly gave himself whiplash to face Christophe. He was still grinning like a maniac. He sprinted over to the brunette, splashing through the muddy field. "What?"

Christophe didn't know what. "You're an idiot," he spoke with a thick French accent (probably fake, Kenny thought.)

This didn't faze the smaller boy, still standing under the rain. His bangs, overdue for a trim, swam over his eyes. He pushed them away, laughing. "Dude, you're an asshole." He began to leave.

"Wait!" Christophe suddenly shouted.

Kenny spun, brows raised expectantly. He kicked some mud Chris' way. It missed. "Huh?"

"Aren't you cold?"

Kenny shrugged. "It's fun."

"You look like a drowned rat." He caught a flicker of something more than just anger. Something sad. "And you're shaking."

Kenny broke into a sunlit smile once more. "Whatcha gonna do?" His smirk turned devilish. "Warm me up?"

Despite all the rumors he'd heard about Kenny's supposed promiscuity, Christophe never took the blonde for a whore. He was a tease, at most. A cute tease. "Bitch," Christophe began. "Come here."

Surprisingly, Kenny obeyed readily. On his way, he slipped out of his worn Chuck Taylors', leaving them on the steps. He pulled off his soaked shirt and let it drop to the tiled floor with a loud slap. He stopped so close to Christophe that the French teen couldn't help but blow smoke into his face. "What?" He began to tip-toe so he could look Chris straight in the eye.

And he slipped on the wet ball of his foot.

Christophe gazed at his wasted stick—the one that had flown from his hand to the doorway when he'd flung his arms out to catch Kenny. The blonde's chilled skin confirmed that the blonde was, in fact, freezing his stupid white trash ass off earlier.

Kenny began giggling in Chris' arms. The killer-for-hire hoped the kid hadn't snapped and lost it completely. Kenny looked up, and Christophe could count the freckles on his nose and his blue eyes became a hundred times brighter than usual. "Hey."

Christophe blinked.

"You wanna kiss me?"

And Christophe found out (through his tiny, very suck-able tongue, shooting between his teeth) that Kenny wasn't that cold after all.

uhm it's not very good, sorry

i just really wanted to post something :c