'Even after eating the forbidden fruit

I felt not ashamed.

It was me who had killed God

And it is me who will be killed by God.'

-amazarashi "Anomie"

Chapter Six: 13.5

Under the covers of his bed Kyle was still wearing his day clothes, ready to slip out of the house once he got his shoes on. It was not even ten yet, but Kyle had declared that he had a long day and no one questioned it. Finally as he waited patiently for over an hour, Kyle could hear through the gaps of his window that someone had left the house, and he knew who it was even without listening to the heavy footsteps of his boots. Christophe had gone out, and it wasn't for a midnight stroll.

Kyle leaned up, letting the cover slide off his body, and slipped out of his bed to get his shoes on. He didn't know exactly where Christophe had gone, but he knew who his final destination was. Kyle knew where he had to go, but he couldn't deny the anxiety in his stomach when he thought of meeting White again. He grabbed a pocketknife from under his bed and put it in his back pocket, just for precaution and to lessen his anxiety, and left his room.

Damn— the light was still on in the office. But fortunately Gregory wasn't in the room. He heard a small clutter from downstairs and guessed that the blond had gone to make a coffee or tea or something. As swiftly and quietly as he could, Kyle rushed down the stairs and jumped out of the house without breathing, only taking a deep breath once the cold outside air engulfed him. Gregory had not seemed to have noticed.

It took him a fifteen-minute bus ride and a twenty-minute walk to get him to the church. He knew that there would be no more busses for his return, but he did not care to give a thought to that. He just hoped that he would find Christophe, and that Christophe wouldn't find him.

At the last minute, Kyle wondered whether the church would be open so late at night. He could detect a few lights glowing in the window, but the bright streetlight making the church glow distracted him. He hopped up the stairs and tried the door, and fortunately, it opened.

The church was dark inside, but comfortable to a follower, probably, only lit by a couple of dim orange lights hanging from the ceiling. Kyle wasn't sure about them though. It made the chairs, the stand, and Jesus hanging on his cross adopt an eerie shadow. There was no one there though. Kyle wasn't sure what to do, so he slipped into one of the chairs and leaned his arms into the back of the one in front of him. He sighed and looked around, and then entwined his fingers and hanged his head down as if in a prayer.

'I'm a Jew, praying in a church, waiting for a child molester be "taken care of" by a friend. God, this isn't awkward. Not at all—'

At that second he heard the door open and he swang his head up. In the dark ahead he could see a shadow, but it quickly drew into the light, making Kyle's heart thump.

'Hi Father.' White stopped at Kyle's voice, but quickly put on a smile.

'Ah. Kyle. It's great to see you again, and so soon. It's a bit late though, are you okay?'

'Yeah,' Kyle smiled, 'I just decided what to do, so I came here without much thinking. I thought you would be sleeping, so, I wanted to at least pray here if I couldn't talk to you in person. But you're here so I guess I can tell you now.

'Tell me what?' The man's smile tensed in his eyes.

'I just wanted to thank you because your advice really helped. I thought about what was more important: to keep a promise with my friend or to stop a bad guy and have him punished.'

'And what did you choose?' His smile was slowly loosening on his face, but Kyle's was only growing.

'I'm going to tell the secret, even if it means breaking a promise. I mean, I can't keep a criminal from not being punished, especially when I know the truth. Don't you think so? I thought that maybe, you would like to know.' Kyle stood up as White watched him, his smile gone. 'Thank you, Father. And good night.'

He turned to leave feeling a little more confident than when he had come in. He had come to make sure that White was still alive and ended up with the bonus of making him feel uneasy. And besides, White didn't look as intimidating as he thought. His eyes looked desperate and powerless, not angry. Kyle's footsteps echoed without hesitation, but when he lent his ear to his footsteps, he noticed that another pair was echoing too. He looked back in confusion, and he thought he saw the holy bible.

He heard himself hit the ground. For a moment he could hear heavy breathing before he was grabbed by the legs and dragged until he was thrown up onto someone's shoulder. He couldn't move or speak, or even see properly. Everything was fuzzy, blinded by the light in his head or the shadow of the night.

When Kyle woke up, he felt a mind-numbing smell in the back of his nose and immediately guessed it to be wine. Why would he smell wine? He didn't know, but that was what felt like that woke him up. The temperature was cool, but not freezing as it was outside; it was more of an artificial coolness. When his vision began to clear and focus, he found out why that was, and at the same time, was taken by confusion. He was lying in a cellar, a wine cellar. Kyle tried to lean up to have a better look in the dim light, and his heart strained with panic. He was lying in a cellar with his hands tied behind him as well as his feet.

God! He cried, Damn it! But it only came out as a moan. His mouth was taped as well. He moaned more and loudly as he tugged at his hands but he simply remained panicked and helpless until the door finally opened above him. He cringed at the sudden light but rolled over to see, and felt a sudden uncomfortableness in his back pocket. His eyes widened, and then thinned. White began to come down into the cellar.

'Such a shame…' White murmured once his feet had landed beside Kyle. 'If you were weak and cowardly like everybody else than I wouldn't have to have hurt you. I don't like hurting people.'

Kyle groaned behind his tape disapprovingly as he glared at the priest. White sounded generally sad and remorseful, but Kyle couldn't care less if he was laughing at the top of his lungs as he watched him squirm.

'Don't look so mad. Would you like to say your prayers? Is that what you want? I'll let you, you know. I let people say their prayers.'

He leaned down and gently tore the tape away from Kyle's mouth. Kyle hissed, but it didn't hurt as much as he thought he would, although his eyes were watering when he opened them again.

'Oh look. Your lips are all swollen…' Kyle couldn't say anything, but leaned back as White extended his hand to brush his fingers against his lips. His heart seemed to be thumping in his throat, blocking out any words from coming out. He could hear White's shallow breath and see his shaking pupils. 'Such a shame…' White repeated as he caressed Kyle's skin. 'How old are you?'

'I'm not a fucking kid you child molesting fuck!' Kyle spat. White tensed and wiped away a spit that flicked onto his cheek, but he still seemed calm and collected.

'I don't normally touch a boy so grown… But then again, you are so young. So soft and pretty. Even for your age, you are so young.'

Kyle shuddered again as he felt White's hand slide against his neck, and then his collarbone. He felt almost paralysed, but his heart was about to explode. It felt familiar. This fear, this darkness, he felt like he knew it.

'Chris—' Kyle breathed as he edged away from White's touch and felt a cold wall behind him. He sat up and leaned against the wall, still looking White straight in the eye. Christophe wasn't going to help him this time, that much he knew. This time, he had to help himself. Kyle's fingers subtly slid into his back pocket and he felt a smooth metal: it was the small pocketknife he prepared for himself earlier. He scissored it subtly under White's gaze and slowly dragged it out of his pocket.

'You know, if I'm going to say my last prayer, I'll rather do it alone.' Kyle said defiantly, although he could feel his breath shaking with fear. He was glaring into White's eyes, and then he could see a slight change in its colours.

'You can say them later—'

White leaned in and covered Kyle's mouth with his. Kyle froze and gagged in disgust, but he regained himself in a second and began to give himself into White. He opened his mouth a little more willingly than he liked, and switched his mind to his hands behind him. He had managed to open the pocketknife without being noticed and began to saw at the duck tape around his wrists as quietly as he could. He cringed as the knife dug into his skin, but continued on with watering eyes. Come on… Come on… He chanted in his head with each little saw, until the tape finally cut in half and broke his hands free.

Kyle pushed at White with his strong, free hands, sending him tumbling back onto his back. Swiftly, he flicked the blade through the tape around his ankles as well and jumped up onto his feet. He forgot his fear and run to the ladder, until a fierce hand grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him down. The pocketknife flew out of his hand, but his ankle flew free too. Without looking back he climbed up the ladder and ran out through unfamiliar rooms, looking for the exit. He could hear White climbing out in the distance, making him panic, but at the same time his eyes caught the front door and he dashed straight for it.

The piercing cold air attacked him and to the side he noticed the church he had entered probably not too long ago. He looked around the street, but there were only a handful of cars parked and no people around in the quiet street. He heard White's footsteps and kicked his heals without much thought of where to go. He crossed the street and White followed behind him, and with the single second he took to look back, he saw his pocketknife in White's hands. He was going to be killed. If he was caught, he was going to be killed. Kyle took the next gap left into an alleyway, but at that moment a hand grabbed his collar by the back.

'No one will come,' White muttered as if to himself as he pinned Kyle against the brick wall by the neck. There was no sign of "shame" in his eyes anymore, just simple desperateness. Kyle saw his pocketknife gleam in the dark in White's left hand. 'No one will know.' White's eyes were red and glistening. 'They never do—'

The knife tore through the air, aiming at Kyle's neck, but Kyle caught White's wrist an inch before the blade hit his skin. His wrists were bloody from his own blood and the red had been trickling down to his arms. It was painful, but Kyle couldn't feel it. White pulled his hand back and skewed it at Kyle again, but this time Kyle caught it with both hands. They tugged at the knife furiously and Kyle could feel more blood leaking out of him with the pressure. Blood trickled down his wrist and seeped in between white's hand and knife. His fingers slipped, and the knife went into Kyle's hand.

Desperateness had taken Kyle this time. White's hand was still pinning him to the wall by his neck and he was beginning to lose clarity. He swang knife back and forth through the air to back White off, but a second hand grabbed at his neck, and this time, they squeezed. He stopped swinging the knife and choked on the closing gap in his throat. He was losing vision and hearing and touch, all disappearing behind the sound of his pulse in his ears. His hand rose up in the distance and swang one last time before he lost all his strength, and he let the knife slide out of his fingers and clutter to the ground.

He watched the small pocketknife with hollow eyes turning to black, knowing that that was going to be the last image he would see in his life. He watched it, and then he thought he saw a hand pick it up. And then he thought he heard someone call his name.

Kyle hit the ground and grunted in pain. Air burnt through his throat as he coughed for more. It felt like each gasp for breath was sending in new energy into him and giving him a new painful life. He began to see and hear again, begin to feel and think. And as he leaned up he realised what had been happening to him until a second ago, and he swang his gaze up.

Fear froze him. White was floating in the air on the tip of his toes, hanging by a set of hard hands grasping his neck. This was not right. That was meant to be Kyle, that was Kyle a few seconds ago hanging with his toes barely touching the ground, but now it was White. And when Kyle looked closely his face collapsed in horror. There was a knife sticking out of White's neck.

No one was choking him any more, but he couldn't breathe or make a voice. His lips quivered and his eyes watered as he stared without blinking, petrified. The knife slowly moved against White's neck as the hands continued to choke, until it finally jiggled out of the meat, muscle and skin and cluttered to the ground as blood spluttered out like a fountain. But the hands didn't stop. They continued to squeeze even stronger than before, ripping the neck further apart, and they only stopped finally when Kyle felt himself being ripped apart.

The body fell to the ground but Kyle wasn't looking at him any more. He was looking at the other man, the man who was choking him and ripped him apart. He was the man that saved Kyle's life. But he was more horrifying and terrible than anything Kyle had ever seen. It was a demon that killed the villain, and Kyle knew who it was.

'Tu vas bien?' The man asked as he took his cigarette out from between his lips and ran to Kyle. Kyle couldn't answer, but simply stared at his saviour. Something had disappeared from his eyes, like a candle being blown out in the wind. He felt himself being grasped by strong arms that were caring, yet desperate enough to squeeze him too tight it hurt.

'Why the fuck are you here, Kyle?' Christophe shouted under his breath as he hugged Kyle for dear life. 'Why the fuck are you here?'

'I'm sorry…' Kyle whispered as light began to return to his eyes. They glistened until the water finally ran down his cheeks. 'I'm so sorry!'

He hugged Christophe back, not caring if the brunet broke him from holding him too tight. He regretted everything he had thought a second ago. Christophe wasn't a demon. He wasn't horrifying or terrible. It was Kyle that had made him that way, for the second Christophe killed that priest. For the second he saved Kyle's life.

.

Kyle hadn't said a single word since Christophe had taken him home. Gregory stared in disbelief when Christophe had come home with an injured Kyle silent with his eyes wide with shock. Kyle had never seen Gregory so absent of his usual calm, even if it was for a second that he had opened the door to let them in. Christophe had left Kyle in Gregory's care as he went to take a shower. Gregory didn't say anything. In silence he bandaged Kyle's wrists and gave him a pack of frozen pees for the lump on his head that White had created with the holy bible.

Finally after he finished, Gregory sighed long and hard as he went back to his chair, filling the room with a human voice.

'Oh, Kyle…' He said. Kyle blinked and fluttered his eyes at Gregory's voice but didn't respond to it. But Gregory continued to stare at Kyle, his eyes tired. 'How did you get yourself into this?'

Kyle reached for his computer sitting on the coffee table and opened it up. He began typing, and Gregory's computer woke up from its sleep. The blond blinked in confusion and looked at the screen. His word processing program had opened up automatically, and Gregory's eyes widened as a single word began to be typed up on its own.

" y"

'You hacked into my computer?' Kyle kept silent as Gregory hissed in disbelief. 'For God's sake Kyle…'

They sat there, both in silence for another long time. The cold was beginning to hurt his head more than anything and the ice inside had turned into water. Kyle took the pack of pees off from his head and placed it on the coffee table.

'I didn't know anything…' Gregory took his palm off his eyes from hearing Kyle voice for the first time since he came back. 'I just— didn't want to be left out. All alone, worthless.'

'You aren't worthless Kyle,' Gregory said with exasperation. 'You just can't see that can you?'

Kyle felt the most regret and remorse as he listened to Gregory. He didn't know anything, but worse than that, he couldn't see anything. If he had tried he could have seen how weak he was compared to Christophe, how childish he was compared to Gregory, and how ignorant he was compared to the both of them. Ignorance that he now knew and didn't set off to find out.

'Do you know what I saw today Gregory?'

Gregory frowned.

'You saw Christophe kill someone.'

'Have you ever seen him do it?'

The frustration flowed away from Gregory's expression as he began to listen more carefully to Kyle's words.

'No.'

Kyle nodded and turned silent again.

'Listen Kyle. Me and Christophe, we both have something in common that we don't have to you, and you already know it. You, and any sane average person today, would think what we are doing is completely criminal and would make our parents suicidally disappointed, well, the one left at least. But we are both doing what we think is right, even if that isn't what the modern day person would agree on.'

'How are you not doing it for the money, or because you enjoy it?'

Gregory smirked at Kyle's challenging words.

'I'm the one who chose this dump of an apartment and not because of financial necessity. And as for your second suggestion.' Gregory 's expression dropped. 'Does he look like he enjoys it?'

Kyle looked down and blinked as Christophe's image crossed his mind. The way he almost killed Derek, the way he talked about death, and the way he killed White.

'No.' Kyle answered. 'He doesn't look like he feels anything.'

The next time Kyle looked up, there was a slight shadow of desperateness and fear, but with determination that made Gregory feel taken aback.

'I'll do it from now on.'

'What?'

'I'll work in Chris' stead.' He stood up to emphasise his determination. But Gregory didn't look impressed at all by his words.

'You will kill instead of Christophe?'

'That's right. Just make sure they deserve it like Brian White did today.'

'I don't understand what you mean by "deserve", but if you mean "sick bastards" then that's how we work anyway.' His frown was tight. 'But no.'

'Why not?'

'Why not? Why not, are you fucking serious, Kyle? What would make you think that I would let you do that? You would get yourself killed or sent to a mental asylum or both!'

'Gregory, I just saw my best friend kill someone saving my life! And I am fine!' Gregory shut his mouth as Kyle's strong voice and stared. The redhead looked down and his voice dropped with it. 'Somehow, when I was small I never thought that death was a foreign matter to me. I mean, I almost died once, or twice, from sickness but that's not it. It's more like— I've had a person dear to me die almost every week, although I've never had a close friend die or anything. It just— felt that way for some reason. Like when I was in elementary, death was something more close and common.'

'Well… if that was true than it means that we all have something in common.' Gregory said softly. Kyle looked up.

'Even if you don't let me, I'll do it anyway. I'll do it and I'll try to do it before Chris could do it before me. That would make me so reckless that I'd either get myself killed or caught.' Gregory knew he meant it. His eyes just didn't seem to bend.

'Fine…' Gregory said after a long silence. 'I won't give Christophe any more jobs of assassinations.'

'You promise?' Kyle's eyes widened. Gregory nodded.

'I promise.'

Kyle felt himself breathe a little easier, but he didn't smile. Gregory didn't either. He felt a sense of pity and despair deep in his heart.

.

When Kyle returned to his bedroom the lights were turned off, but he could see Christophe sitting on his bed waiting for him with the blue light of the moon and orange light of the streetlights leaking in from the window.

'Were you listening?' Kyle asked. Christophe nodded. With that simple gesture Kyle felt as if a tight string holding his heart had snapped in half and drew away. He felt himself shake, and then tears came flowing from his eyes quietly. He didn't say anything or even sob, but suddenly collapsed from his knees down. Christophe caught him before he could hit the ground, and gently held him on the bed. Kyle couldn't feel any strength. He couldn't even feel embarrassed for the tears that kept on flowing down his cheeks.

He shuddered when he felt warmth on his face, but he didn't open his eyes. He knew it was only Christophe wiping his tears away from the way he hushed him so gently. But even so he couldn't stop crying. He leaned away slightly, feeling remorseful that Christophe was trying to wipe away the tears that wouldn't stop, but was pulled back softly by the palms wrapped around his face, and then he could finally open his eyes again.

Kyle thought that for a second his tears had stopped because he could see so clearly, but then he could feel the same tickling on his cheek. He was staring into Christophe's hazel-green eyes that were searching into his.

'Your eyes are olive colour—' Kyle murmured, and then chuckled weakly. 'Like what they call your skin. Olive, the symbolism of life, resilience and peace…'

Kyle could finally smile. It didn't show on his lips, but his eyes adopted a little of the moonlight that was shining through his window. Christophe found himself lost as he looked into them and listened to Kyle's words, and he couldn't help but bring their lips together. They lingered on without moving, but for long until Christophe finally drew away when his mind took over his body.

'You told me to remind you to stop me the next time I did that,' he said, looking away from Kyle face. Kyle's face was blank, but his tears had now finally stopped. His hand moved up to Christophe's cheek and tilted his face up to see his eyes.

'Don't stop.'

Christophe's eyes widened, forgetting to shut as Kyle linked their lips again. When he did finally close his eyes he drew Kyle down onto the bed to kiss more deeply, and Kyle didn't protest. He welcomed Christophe whole. He welcomed his skin and breath, his eyes and hands. He welcomed the pain and the heat and welcomed whatever feeling they made together. It hurt as Christophe entered him but he knew that it didn't hurt as much as it could have. He was glad that he was finally touching somebody, and having somebody touch him to his will and not against it. He felt embarrassed but pleased with the noises Christophe made him say. He was pleased. It could have been worse.

When they finished Kyle was amazed by how much breath he was trying to regain and how much heat he was trying to lose. When he slowly came back he came back to Christophe's eyes— his olive eyes. They were smiling and Kyle knew he was too. He knew that he would fall asleep naked in only a few moments, and when he woke up he would wake up also naked, and as a completely different person. Life would never be the same again, not while he had lost both his ignorance and innocence. But if it only took that much to keep Christophe from killing again, keep him from being so close to death, then, he would be happy to kill himself and become anew. He would be glad for self-immolation.

'So this is how it begins for me… Hey Christophe? There was always something I wanted to ask, that I was always afraid of asking. I was afraid that, if I asked you, then something would definitely change in our relationship, the same with Gregory too. But what does that matter now? When everything is about to change? I wanted to ask about your time before America. How did this all begin for you?'

Christophe had his eyes shut, but he felt and listened to every detail from Kyle. As Kyle lied there with Christophe on the edge of the cliff, somehow even as his old life was about to end, he didn't feel regret or remorse, or even fear as he listened to Christophe's story of himself and Gregory, no matter how dreadful it was in his soft voice. He only felt warmth, like a baby in a womb waiting to be born.

A.N- The end. I actually have a whole story behind Christophe and Gregory but I feel like I missed my chance to tell it here. But that's fine.

Thank you for reading!

And thank you for reviewing Alice, S.J, kyle brovfloski and Guest!

And now, good bye!