A/N: Onwards!
Ps: Last chapter. I don't know if it offended anyone or portrayed God wrong or what. But...just in case it offended someone, I am sorry. I'm not exactly the religious type so I'm really just trying to imagine what possible things that might be said.
SO. yeah. Sorry if I'm messing up or something but uh, take it as it is. I'm not changing it :3
Now that that's out of the way, enjoy~
He sat on the wooden pew in the ghastly silence, staring down at his bandaged hands. The archdeacon had told him not to worry, that God would keep him safe so long as he stayed within the church. But Kyle knew better. He grew up on the outside, he could never last very long being kept locked up like this. However the boy also wasn't stupid. Cartman was devious. He would be true to his word, keeping guards stationed outside at every possible way out to catch him.
Kyle knew that he was fast, but he wouldn't be able to escape all the men again if he just fell into their hands.
He gritted his teeth, his gaze locked on his blood-stained bandages. They still hurt from earlier when he'd grabbed that soldier's sword. He sighed, looking at his worn fingers, feeling the aching of his tired legs and feet. He was so used to being constantly on alert, keeping lookout for any signs of authority that the church would send to raid the gypsy's camps. He wasn't used to letting his guard down, or just relaxing in general. He had never noticed how tired and sore his muscles were, the way that his feet were calloused from the relentless twirling around the rough cobblestone streets. His fingers were torn and cracked from the way he worked day after day.
This was not the kind of life he thought he'd still be living.
He sighed again, listening to it echo around the room and shaking his head. This was terrible. The old man told him to be careful, that Cartman was still able to roam around the cathedral. He wasn't allowed to touch the gypsy, but that didn't mean that he couldn't antagonize him and make him weak enough to break. He told him that he would be okay, that he was strong enough to ward of Cartman's attacks, that earlier in the town square was just a fluke.
Kyle wasn't too sure anymore. Everything about the way that Cartman went about taunting him seemed to be getting to him. The only thing that was keeping him sane anymore was Nate, but none of the other gypsies were permitted into the cathedral. Kyle was alone. He was alone in the fat man's territory nonetheless.
The archdeacon called it a safe haven. Kyle called it Hell.
He got to his feet, unable to stand the relentless stares of Mary and Jesus and the saints as they gazed down on him. Accusing him, blaming him, shadowing him in what he had been raised to believe: That he was a heretic. He didn't belong in this building, he didn't belong in the home where the heart finds hope. His faith was to be placed in the skills that he had acquired on the streets. His own heart was his god, his sanity his savior.
His parents and brother had thought otherwise. They put too much faith into what could be. Nate was the same way and he'd been taken prisoner once before. He'd escaped but his parents had not been so lucky. They tended to pray instead of really making the effort to get away. Kyle learned quickly that the only thing he could trust was himself. It was a world of every gypsy for himself, anything else would result in almost immediate capture.
He walked along the cooled stone floor of the church, looking around at the ominous light beaming through the arches from the rows of candles lining the pews. He rubbed his arm, cringing slightly at it all. It seemed too clean for him, it seemed all-too pure. He was so used to nothing but the lowest of the low. The dirtiest of the filth. This kind of sanctuary was not meant for people like him. It was made for those who their god deemed worthy. He was nothing but a menace to that kind of god's society.
His ears perked as he heard a faint sound as he neared the wall. The old man's room was on the other side of the church, so this wasn't the sound of him. He kept walking, hearing some sort of tapping noise and raising his skinny brow. He strolled along the wall until a crevice came into his view. He paused, looking into the hole and finding a staircase, the tapping noise emanating from above them.
He licked his lips in curiosity, cocking his head and looking behind him for any sign of a watcher. He found nothing but the statues watching him and slowly placed his hand on the inside of the wall. He started cautiously making his way up the stone stairs, braced for any kind of attack that could result from Cartman being the source of the sound. The noise got a bit louder and he narrowed his eyes. It sounded more like clapping the closer he approached it.
He looked up at the end of the flight of steps and noticed that there was a large wooden door at the edge. He hopped up the remaining steps, grabbing the round handle at the end and pushing the door up. He slowly peeked his head up, looking around and finding a bare wooden room sans a mattress on the floor and a small table. He ducked down a bit and found himself looking up at the great bells of the cathedral.
The clapping was louder still and he looked for the source, hearing it coming from further outside. He took a deep breath, pushing the door the rest of the way up and over his head, sliding it out of his way and crawling up onto the stable floor. He carefully placed the door back in its place and got to his feet, looking at his surroundings.
"Wow," he whispered aloud in awe, staring up and going around in a circle as he stared at the massive bells just hovering over his head. He stopped as he still heard the clapping and cocked his head towards a small exit out towards the balcony. He slowly made his way over on his toes, peeking his head around the corner and finding another boy sitting outside, his blonde hair gleaming in the pale moonlight.
The boy was humming a rhythmless tune, clapping blankly as he stared out over the ledge. Kyle debated going back downstairs and leaving the boy on his own before hi curious nature overtook that idea.
He took a deep breath, stepping outside and clearing his throat. The blonde turned in shock and fell off his crate, staring at him fearfully. "No, no, no, it's okay," he shook his hands defensively. "I don't bite," he assured him. "I'm sorry, I just heard a noise and wanted to see what was going on. I didn't mean to scare you."
The boy stared at him a bit more, backing away slowly on the ground. Kyle stared back, biting his lip awkwardly. "H-here," he said, extending his hand out. "Do you need help getting back up?"
"Who are you?" a meek voice escaped him.
"My name is Kyle," the boy said, his hand still outstretched.
"You're the boy from earlier today," the boy said, his lips twitching into a smile as he took Kyle's hand.
"Yes, I guess everyone can recognize me now," he chuckled tiredly, pulling him to his feet. "Who are you? Why are you up here?"
"I'm...I'm Kenny," he stated with a lopsided grin, staring at the boy intently. Kyle raised his brow but gazed back, a bemused smirk over his face. "O-oh!" he said, rushing back into the room. "I-I should get you a seat," he stated in a rush.
"No, I'm fine," Kyle laughed softly, "Don't trouble yourself." Kenny ignored him, grabbing the crate at his table and toting it out and putting it beside his one on the balcony.
"Sit," he insisted, gesturing for him. Kyle smiled softly, taking the seat and watching Kenny quickly sit down next him in excitement. "I...I really liked your play," Kenny mumbled out.
"Thank you," he grinned.
"I-I mean, I'd never seen one before so yours was the first but I bet it was...one of the best ever," he rambled. Kyle smiled wider as he continued, "And what Cartman did to you was terrible and d-don't worry because he's gonna-" he stopped staring at Kyle with wide eyes.
"What?" Kyle asked. "What's Cartman gonna do?"
"It's...hair?" Kenny blinked.
"Ex...excuse me?" Kyle raised his brow.
Kenny leaned forward a bit, raising his hand up Kyle's cheek. Kyle sat in bewilderment as he ran his fingers up his face and up into his hair. He twisted some curls around his digits with everloving care. "It's so...beautiful," Kenny breathed out.
"My hair? What? Why?"
"It's...it's so pretty," he smiled. "I've never seen this color hair."
"Oh...," Kyle trailed before chuckling as Kenny continued messing with his curls. "My mother had this color hair. I got it from her."
"Wow..." he breathed out. "It's so curly, too...everyone else has plain hair...at least...everyone I've seen," he frowned. He continued playing with the redhead's scalp before he saw Kyle looking at him amusedly and quickly drew his hand back. "I-I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I just...I've never..."
"It's fine, it's fine," he laughed, patting Kenny's hand. "Kenny, why are you up here?" he asked. "Do you live here?"
The blonde stared at him, feeling his hand still in Kyle's and gulping. He nodded slowly. "Yes. I live up here."
Kyle looked around him, "It's not much of a home, now is it? Why do you live up here?"
"The archdeacon makes me," he shifted uncomfortably. "My parents died and he decided to keep me up here."
"Wait, so he adopted you?"
"No...not...exactly," he looked away. He sighed and took his hand back, turning and looking out over the ledge. "He thinks I'm too different to live anywhere else. He won't let me leave."
"What?" Kyle asked. "He...he's keeping you prisoner?"
"No, no, no, I mean...he still makes sure I'm taken care of," he defended the old man. "He just doesn't like me being seen."
A moment of silence passed between them, Kenny biting his lip anxiously with the fear that Kyle would see him as too different as well and would leave him alone again. His heart jumped as Kyle started to speak, "I remember a story from when I was only about ten," he said softly. "Everyone said that there was some kind of angel living up in this bell tower," he looked up at the grand instruments then back to Kenny. "That's why no one was allowed up here."
Kenny flinched and Kyle smiled. "So it's true?" he whispered. "Kenny, are you the angel?"
"I...I don't think so," Kenny looked at him with sad eyes. "Angels...aren't they supposed to be like your angel in the play?"
Kyle tilted his head, "What do you mean?"
"I mean don't they...serve a purpose? Aren't they supposed to be here for some special reason?"
"Who's to say you're not?" Kyle questioned, scooting closer to the blonde. "Who's to say that you're not the savior of this town or something? Has someone told you otherwise?"
"Cartman," Kenny mumbled.
"Cartman is nothing but a fat bastard with no regard for other people," Kyle scowled. "As you saw today, he's more interested in just getting what he wants."
Kenny stared at him sadly, "He wants people to hurt. He wants you and me to hurt."
"Sounds like it," Kyle nodded. "Seems as though we have a common enemy."
Ken sighed, slouching down slightly. "Today was the first time I've left this tower in almost...sixteen years," he stated miserably. "Cartman got so mad when he caught me..."
Kyle stared at him, grabbing his hand and holding it. "Ken, if you're an angel...it's your job to fly, isn't it?"
"What if I'm not an angel?"
"Obviously they think you are for some reason," Kyle replied. "Here," he said, letting go of his hand and taking his face between his palms. "Look at me," he directed. Kenny shyly looked up into his eyes, his stomach twirling as he locked into the deep emeralds glimmering in the moonlight. "I think...," he started softly, "That you're an angel in your own right. You're right, angels are here with a purpose. And I'm sure that one day, yours will be fulfilled just as it's supposed to be. But right now," he said, brushing some of Kenny's bangs back with a smile. "Your wings have just been clipped."
"Clipped?" he repeated in a whisper.
"But they'll grow back," he smiled gently at him. "They'll grow back and you'll be able to fly off and be free again. You just have to wait until they're ready for you to take flight. Don't rush yourself or you'll just end up falling back to Earth and have to start all over again."
Kenny stared at him before smiling back widely, taking Kyle's hands from his face and holding them in his own fingers. "No one's ever been kind to me before," he admitted softly. "The old man gave me a home, but..."
"But there's a difference between a home and this," Kyle finished. "I understand. I have the same problem. There's little that one would want to live with constantly when you live on the street as I do. And don't worry, few have been kind to me in my life as well."
Kyle's eyes drifted to the ground sadly and Kenny squeezed his hands. "Did...did Cartman really...wh-why..." he couldn't find his words and Kyle looked back at him with glittering eyes.
"You really are an angel in your own way, Kenny," he smiled sadly. "You don't have the same undeserved hatred of my people."
"Are you one of those...gypsies?" Kenny asked, recalling the girl from earlier that day who's shoved him away.
Kyle nodded. "Yes. Gypsies are merely street performers. We dance and sing and tell stories for money from people who wouldn't mind a moment's entertainment."
"Why are people so cruel to you then?" Kenny asked, holding his hands tighter.
Kyle sighed, "I...I honestly haven't the slightest idea. My parents said it was just because we're different. But if that's the truth, why do we not hate the miller or the baker as well?" Kenny narrowed his eyes in thought and Kyle chuckled. "You and I are very much the same, Kenny. We're trapped in our worlds and no one seems willing to let us out without stepping on into another life being our only salvation."
"What...what can we do then?" Kenny asked innocently.
Kyle grinned madly, clasping his hands back and leaning in towards him. "We run," he whispered.
"What?" Kenny blinked.
"We can escape as the heretics that they claim us to be. You and I, Kenny. We could go somewhere completely new and free from the wretched memories of this town and the people who inhabit it. We could start new lives, not as an angel and a gypsy, but just two boys making their way through the world."
Kenny could hear the excitement, the pure need brimming in Kyle's voice. "But...Cartman..."
"If we escape, he'll be out of our minds forever," he told him. "We'll never have to worry about his cruelty again."
"But what if he catches us? Or just you?" Kenny asked worriedly. "Kyle, you haven't heard him talk about you like I have. He really wants you captured. He wants you all for himself."
"He won't get that chance if we just run," he assured him. "He won't keep you locked up anymore. He won't keep trying to catch me."
"He'll look for you," he insisted.
"Then let him look! Let him look to the ends of the Earth but so long as you and I keep on our feet, he won't be able to find any trace of either of us! Kenny, come with me. We'll find a way out of this horrible cathedral, we'll run out of this town, and we'll keep going until we find somewhere where we can rest and begin anew!"
"I...I want to," he bit his lip.
"Then do it," Kyle whispered. "Kenny, I've never been captured. This is the closest I've come. I can lead us on the escape. They won't be able to track us no matter what tricks they have up their sleeve."
Kenny bit his lip harder, looking over the edge of the balcony and darting his eyes worriedly. He could be in more trouble than he could imagine if he was caught trying to escape, trying to escape with Kyle of all people, nonetheless. What's worse is if Cartman caught the small gypsy, he was doomed. The church couldn't save him once Cartman got his hands on him outside the cathedral walls. He would be put to death in an instant...It was almost too much for Kenny's conscious to bear. But on the other hand...He looked up at the boy again, staring at his pleading green eyes and feeling his heart melt and trickle down his system.
"I...I know a way down where the soldiers won't be able to see," he said hesitantly.
"You do?" Kyle grinned. "Kenny, this is wonderful!"
Kenny brought his hands up and gripped him tightly. "You're the only person who I've ever met outside of a church member here..." he gulped. "Do you promise that if I take you out of the church, you'll stay with me?" he looked at him pleadingly.
Kyle's face fell. "Kenny, of course I do," he assured him. "Don't let anything you've heard fool you. Gypsies are true to their word. I need you and you'll need me. Besides, what kind of rogue would I be if I didn't accept the help of some kind of guardian angel?" he smiled crookedly. Kenny bit his lip again and Kyle laughed. "Kenny, I promise. I'm not going to leave without you, all right?"
Ken smiled at him and nodded, "Thank you."
Kyle grinned back and sighed as he felt Ken clutching his hands tighter in joy. "We're both outcasts of society," he said softly. "But now we can be outcasts together. I think that's more than my band of gypsy friends could be any day. Our code is to live by our own rules and should one of us get caught, the others are not to interfere. It's every man for himself...," he trailed off. "I'm tired of living like that. I've never had a friend or anyone I could ever count on."
"You can count on me!" Kenny interjected quickly.
Kyle smirked at his playfulness. "I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to hear that for the first time," he nodded, his eyes gleaming gratefully. "Tomorrow night, Kenny. Tomorrow we'll break out of here and no one will ever hear from us again."
Kenny grinned, his own excitement starting to boil. Away from this tower, out of sight of Cartman and his abuse, of the old man and his excuses. And best of all, away with Kyle, who made his stomach a fit of trapped moths in the pale moonlight, the one who assured him that he was truly a godsend, but in his own way. He smiled widely, feeling his slender fingers clenching his own back and feeling his heart beating wildly.
Tomorrow could be his day; Tomorrow with Kyle, he could take the first steps before finally reaching the flight proclaimed of him so very long ago.
A/N: Oh those silly little misfits. They want to make their own little island. /wheretheyhavebuttsecks
What? I didn't say anything.
...It's 6 am. I need to sleep x_x
Thanks for R&Ring! :3
