Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.... but oh if I did....

Who Knew?

Grestophe

Inspired by P!nk's song Who Knew.

I believed you, quite naively, every time you said that you would be fine. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that in your line of work, it would be near impossible to remain riding on this streak of luck that you have been on for the better part of your career, but I would have rather believe in the words that you said than logic and reason.

I remember the one time that someone questioned our relationship. I was standing with Kyle, Kenny, Stan, and Cartman, and we were talking about you and I. Kyle, Stan and Kenny were talking about how dangerous your job was, and how big of a risk it was any time that you left. This was before Kyle joined the missions, and subsequently the danger. While we were talking about how I felt about you taking that risk, I responded that you promised to always be as careful as you could and that you would always be there for me. It was after that that Eric Cartman made a comment about how you would be gone in, at the most, three years. That one statement voiced my deepest fear, you leaving me, and I punched him. I punched him hard enough to split the skin on my hand, and knock him to the ground. After he hit the ground, I ignored the throbbing pain in my hand and put one foot on his chest, pressing hard enough to hinder his breathing. I stayed there, pressing steadily and steadily harder on his chest, until he finally apologized. I was furious and I stormed off to meet with you. You and I had a great laugh at my reaction, you saying that you didn't know that I had it in me, to which I replied that if it had to do with him, I was capable of really anything.

---

That day that you died was just like any other day of a mission, you got your things together and packed everything you would need, you kissed me and told me the same words, that you would be careful and you would at the very least come back alive if not completely unscathed. Though this mission was not just a normal mission, it was one of your indulgent missions, which you only rarely took on. You were careful for the most part, but every once in a while you would take a mission for the sole reason of getting your heart pumping, and your adrenaline rushing with the prospect that you may not come out alive. I did not like those missions, but I saw how excited you got over them, and I did not have the heart to ask you not to do it. I watched your figure retreat into the car and speed off into the darkness of the night, praying every second that you would come back.

I prayed for you every time you left for a mission, and usually those were answered, but not this time. I did not stop praying for your life until you died in my arms. Kyle, who had accompanied you, had brought you back and immediately after seeing you with bullet wounds and bite marks from those ever hated guard dogs, I ran towards your body. You were still breathing, and even still sort of awake. You didn't speak, but I could see the regret in your eyes, I assured him that he would be okay, I knew that I was lying by the arteries that had been obviously slashed, but I solely wanted to comfort you.

It came as a surprise to me that I did not shed a tear before you had died, I simply sat there and held you in my arms, your blood soaking my orange shirt and leeching into the fabric, the colors contrasting starkly with my pale skin, creating horrifying stains, but I simply didn't care. There was nothing I could do for you, It was already too late, and any attempts would have been futile and only cause you more pain than you already were in. I looked in your eyes, watching the color that I had grown to love, the color of the dirt that you were ever so fond of, dull with the loss of blood and life. I sat there saying over and over that I loved you and I always would, hoping to offer some comfort to you. As I held your head to me, I felt your last breath on the crook of my neck, and then you simply went limp. I don't know how much longer I sat there, but I do remember Kyle coming over to me after a lengthy amount of time and putting a hand on my shoulder.

I shrunk away from the touch, not wanting to let go of my only love. I ran my hand through my hair, spreading the blood of my lover in the golden locks, mussing the carefully slicked back style. I was attempting to warm the cooling body in my arms, much like you would a child who came in from a chilly day, as if transferring my body heat to him would give him life, but it was futile. His tanned skin became paler and paler, gaining a chalky pallor that did not suit the well built mercenary. I could feel the blood, still in his veins as he grew colder and colder, his lips turning a deathly blue.

That was when I cried my first tear over you, over your lifeless body still in my arms. One fell, and a flood of them followed. I simply could not stop the waterfall escaping my eyes. I felt Kyle's hand be placed lightly on my back in a comforting gesture, and this time I welcomed it. I gave his body a final embrace, before standing up, him still in my arms, and moving him to my bed. I walked back into the living room, silent tears running down my face. I felt dead inside, and I instinctively knew that I would never be whole again. He was my life, he was my reason for living, he was my only hold on this world.

I grabbed Kyle and held him close to me, I just needed something to hold onto so I would not slip into the hole I could feel forming at my feet, I laid my head on the shorter boys shoulder and soon, his shirtsleeve was soaked with my grief stricken tears. I composed myself after an immeasurable amount of time, straightening my back, and without a word, I did the only thing that made any sense at the moment. Silently, I went to the guest bathroom in my house, not wanting to lose my coolness at the sight of his body on my bed, and I climbed into the shower, fully clothed, turning the knob to an almost scalding temperature. I collapsed under the spray of water, pulling my knees to my chest. I did not cry though. I have no clue whatsoever, about how long I stayed there, all I know is that I did not move, I barely breathed, as I tried to pull myself together and pull my mind out of the black hole of thoughts of the easiest way to kill myself, because I obviously had nothing else to live for. I broke out of the thoughts of slashing my wrists, drowning myself, hanging myself, and all of the other conventional ways of killing myself, knowing full well that, were I to meet Christophe in heaven, he would be furious at me for ending my life on his account.

He was buried under a tree in my backyard, that I had loved to sit under and he had loved to climb as we planned missions. It was only Kyle and Stan and I, Stan was called over on the day that he died to try to help Kyle with me.

It was three days after he had died, before I took off the bloodstained shirt. It was a week before I left my property, my pantry was almost bare, though I had not touched the foods that I kept there for Christophe, such as the coffee he insisted he have instead of the tea that I was so fond of, and the oddly favored animal crackers, which he loved. I left those things alone, trying to avoid looking directly at them, for fear of breaking down again, like the three other times that week.

When I finally left, It was for food. I had run my pantry and refrigerator empty. Kyle heard the door open, he had not left me alone for fear of me committing suicide, and came running out with me. I had cleaned myself up, my mother had taught me to never be in public looking anything less than presentable, and I had kept to that rule, even for something as simple as the grocery store. That was the first time of many times that I went out after his death.

---

Now it is three years later, and I am still with nobody else. I cannot bear the thought of forgetting you and moving on. I know that people think that you would not want me to be like this, but I cannot go on. I will never forget you, and I cannot wait to see you again, and that is why I am doing this. I know that you do not want me to end my life in this way, but there is truly no reason in my living any longer. I will see you soon, be it in heaven, hell, or anywhere else. I love you Christophe, you are my world.

Thanks for Reading! R&R