Title: Haven't Had Enough
Inspiration: Haven't Had Enough by Mariana's Trench
Words: 484
A/N: And then, sometimes there seems to be all the time in the world. This, actually, can be taken as a continuation of Cargo Pants and Blacklight Lust.
"No." Kyle swallows hard, shaking his head slowly but determinedly. He runs both hands through his red curls before crossing his arms and backing away from Christophe. "No," he repeats. "This is not happening again."
Christophe smirks slightly, cocking his head, and leans against the outside wall of his house next to his back door. He rests his chin on one hand and inquires, "Zen why are you 'ere, exactly?" The tone of his voice implies that he knows exactly why Kyle is outside his house at two in the morning on a Tuesday.
"I…" Fuck. Kyle tilts his chin skyward, watching the stars as he searches for something, anything to say that isn't the truth. He can't tell Christophe the truth. "It's wrong. Stan loves me." And you don't, he finishes in his head, hating how much he hates the truth in those last three words.
None of this was supposed to happen. And then when it did, it was only supposed to be one time. And then it happened again, and again. And now here they were, six months later, both of them cheating on their significant others constantly, and for what? A few minutes of satisfaction every couple of nights, followed by absolute soul-crushing guilt? It's not worth it.
That's the argument Kyle has with himself every time he makes the moonlight walk from his house to Christophe's, but lately it's been getting more and more difficult to keep fighting it. Because somewhere along the way, he'd fallen for the French mercenary, hard. The last time he'd been here, he'd actually come dangerously close to telling Christophe he loved him, for Christ's sake. He needs to stop now before things get worse.
"Ah." Christophe says, and Kyle lowers his gaze to see a thoughtful look on the other teen's face. "But do you love 'im?"
Kyle feels his face heat up. He instinctively wants to sputter out an indignant, "Of course I love him," but hesitates. "He's my best friend," he says, finally, softly. "I can't keep doing this to him for nothing."
His words hang heavy in the air between the two of them for a minute. Christophe mutters something to himself in French. Kyle looks down at the ground, shivering as the cold October wind swirls around him.
"If you wish me to," Christophe says, "I will leave McCormick."
Kyle's head snaps up, and he just stares at the mercenary, who is looking off to the side.
"Of course," Christophe continues nonchalantly. "If I do zat, zen you must also leave ze Marsh boy." His dark eyes meet Kyle's wide green ones. "If we are to 'ave more zan nothing, zat is."
Kyle nods, slowly at first, and then more vigorously as Christophe's words sink in.
The smirk is back, and Christophe holds out his hand, beckoning Kyle closer. "I zink, Broflovski, zat we 'ave some unfinished business?"