You're a rich little boy
Who's had to work for his toys.
You've got all the sensibilities, oh
Of an upper class guy.
No, no I'm not your little slave
No I don't twist and turn that way.
Only got bad things to say
You're always asking what is up, up with me.
.::.
"Christophe," Gregory mumbled, "Please go clean your… tools someplace else. The room reeks of dirt and blood."
"If you don't like the smell then leave," The French boy seethed, sitting Indian style on the floor scrubbing the mess off his shovel.
"But it's my room, Christophe,"
"Oui, and it was your job request that I just filled. Be happy I'm still doing this shit for you for free,"
"Nobody's asking you to do it for free. You just do it," Gregory leaned back in his chair and inspected his nails.
"Does that mean you'll pay me?"
The blonde hummed for a second, pursing his lips as he thought, "…no."
Christophe stood, shovel held tightly in his hands as he growled, "Damn it Gregory, I'm not doing this because I like you. I'm doing this because I owe you, but do you know what today is?"
The boy shook his head, seemingly unaffected by the boy's sudden violent nature.
"Fuck, it's my birthday today Gregory. I'm 17 now, which means I'm out," Christophe angrily threw his shovel to the floor, causing Gregory to jump at the offending noise it made.
The blonde then laughed and waved his hand around, "Oh and where are you supposed to go, hmm? You've been living here for years and you have no friends or family willing to take you."
"South Park,"
"…what?" Gregory scoffed.
"I'll go back to South Park,"
Loud laughter erupted from Gregory's throat and he tossed his head back. When his laughter subsided he wiped nonexistent tears from his eyes and sighed, "How cute. Come now Christophe, stop being such a baby and pick your shovel up. You'll get dirt everywhere."
Christophe did as he was told, putting his shovel back in its bag that was slung across his shoulder.
"Good boy, now bring me some tea and then leave me alone. You're giving me a headache,"
"No,"
Gregory raised an eyebrow, "Excuse you?"
"I told you, I'm out."
Gregory huffed and looked away, "Fine but when you come crawling back don't expect me to accept you with open arms."
When the British boy heard no reply, he turned his head to look at Christophe but found the boy nowhere. He shivered as he felt a breeze and looked towards the window, seeing that it was open. He huffed and opened the book he had been reading before his environment had been invaded. When Gregory went to sleep that night he left the window open, in case Christophe wanted to come back.
He left the window open again the night after, and again the night after that.
When a week passed he closed it, cursing at how Christophe was taking so long to return.
It took about a year for Gregory to finally come to terms that Christophe had left him for good, and he cursed, wondering what South Park could possibly offer him that Gregory couldn't.