Purple and pinks danced across the clear morning sky, painting the mountains a deep violet, softening the deep chasms of the mountain ridges as the dawn light seeped across the heaven's above. Fog danced across the fields, whisping along the tall, dried grass, tickling along the fenders of the black truck parked in the field. Sounds of nature was the gentle alarm that pulled them from slumber as birds tweeted merrily in the dawn light and rustling nearby sounded as deer loped through the open field. It was a beautiful testament to their previous night alone under the stars.
It wasn't the sounds of nature or the freedom of being outside of the town's edge that made Christophe's heart leap, it was the groggy way the blonde wiped sleep away from his long-lashed eyes, and the tired smile that was thrown his way. It wasn't just the warmth from Tweek that seeped under the covers and filled the Mole, it was te chap-lipped peck on his cheek that lit his insides on fire. It was a feeling unlike any other he had experienced, a feeling that rivaled the adrenaline that spiked through his veins during operative missions, a feeling that rivaled the high of digging his nails into fresh soil and taking in the scent in freshly tilled earth.
And it wasn't just the surprised squeak as his alarm went off that ended the morning as Tweek shook him desperately by the shoulders to get back to town before he was late for work. It was the realization-as he dropped the hurried blonde off outside the door of his family's coffee parlor-that he wasn't the only one bidding for the boy's tangled heart.
As much as the blonde had tried to shrug off the spiteful attempt by Craig to get under his skin, Christophe had seen the momentary hesitation opening that text message, the way his breath hitched, the pulse jump in his carotids, the slight widened set of those deep caramel eyes. He had seen the hurt wash over his best friend at the sight of Craig tangled with the tattooed blonde in firelight, and watched it dissipate just as quickly...well, almost. If anything, Christophe knew his best friend, and seeing the slight creasing between his brows, the wrinkles at the bridge of his nose signified a worry that Tweek couldn't let go, as much as he tried to save face.
And as much as Christophe tried to keep the blonde emotionally at arm's length, he couldn't help getting swept into the volatile storm that was Tweek Tweak. The warm, buttery feeling that pulsated through his very being around his friend was not one he was use to - sure, he had pangs of feeling before this mess when the needy blonde had demanded a migraine rubbed from his temples, or had tucked his frightened face into the Mole's sweater during one of Clyde's zombie movie marathons, but this completely enveloped him. It was like the first nervous kiss sopping wet on the bank of Stark's pond had plunged him over a precarious cliff with no escape, just a dizzying spiral down into the depths of his own emotions, emotions that were foreign to him. Anger, sarcasm, wit, frustration, indifference, those were all things the Mole was proficient at...but the flittering emotions associated with fondness over someone else? That was new and scary and left him fumbling.
On top of it all, he found the edge of fright entwined with constant ache of need around Tweek, a fright built by the knowledge that Craig was still a huge part of the blonde's life, despite what he otherwise would have wanted. Taking that step over the edge with the kiss had pushed him into a place he could no longer return from, a place held in uncertainty of the blonde's heart, a place he knew would never be the same. And as much as it seemed like Tweek enjoyed his company with his carefree smiles and tittering laughter, Christophe knew, he could very well lose this part of himself that was wrapped so deeply in Tweek.
There was one piece of the puzzle, though, he wasn't quite sure where it sat, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to find out. Which is why, half-past seven o' clock in the morning the Mole slipped through the dirty panes of a cracked window with ease and settled into the threadbare chair at a chipped and dented desk with papers scattered across the scuffed wood. The room had unchanged over the years, the broken closet door leaning to the right off the track, walls a mix of rock legend posters over discolored paint and bikini-clad women, with the occasional candid photo tacked to the walls in a disarray. There were two pristine objects in the otherwise chaotic room, the black electric guitar on a stand in the corner, and a framed photo of a beautiful young mousy-haired girl with a large bow in her hair and a gorgeous braced smile.
Christophe hid a smile behind his hand seeing the photo of Karen among the discord of her brother's belongings. Karen had beat the odds of the hand she was dealt in life by excelling tremendously with her grade to the point of finding herself in trouble due to boredom elicited from having no challenge. Winning mathletes, spelling bees, odyssey of the mind, she had been offered a full scholarship to a private school just outside of Denver. And as much as it had tore Kenny up to let her go, he had pushed his youngest sibling to accept the offer and make something great of herself. She dormed on campus of the prestigious school, and returned home for holidays and the part of the summer she wasn't attending academic camps and tutoring younger students. As much as the absence hurt her brother, the way he lit up talking about his personal angel spoke volumes of how proud he was as her brother.
"I'm just going to pretend you didn't break into my room and go back to sleep, how's that sound?" a voice echoed from under the brown comforter of the bed as a splindly arm emerged to flip him off.
Christophe rolled his eyes, finding no insult in the blonde's gruff morning demenor. This, really, was not anew occurrence for them. Whereas the other kids in the town knew of Kenny's intimate relationship with Death, they brushed it off as the norm. Very few cared when the blonde disappeared from the living realm for days, but Christophe did. As someone that had also spent a time debating the tragedies of life with Death during the Canadian war, he found himself tied to the boy cursed to live in death. .Which is why this particular confrontation was one he wished he didn't have to have.
"Kenneth, get up, we need to talk."
"Another time, another day, Chris. I got z's to catch, man."
"I was not giving you an option," he growled, voice a deadly calm that bolted the blonde upright in bed, pierced brow raised into his hairline at the tone.
"Why so serious, Chris?" Kenny asked as he fluffed his dirty blonde hair with his tattooed arm, blue eyes cutting. "Didn't you have a nice date last night?"
Christophe barely moved a muscle at the question. "Kenneth, with all the breast displayed on your walls, everyone knows you are not gay. So why are you degrading yourself into being Craig's pawn, Craig's whore? You are better zen zat."
"What, I can't have a change of heart?" the blonde asked with a twisted smile as he chewed on his lipring. "Who knows, man, maybe the flat panes of a dude's chest and the happy trail really make me go wild. Maybe I just like the power struggle of a headstrong guy. Maybe I kissed a boy and I like it."
Christophe snorted as he rolled his eyes. "You don't and you know et, I know et, do not lie to moi. Et ez ze upskirt shots, ze curves, ze bossoms zat really make you 'ot and bozered. Come on, Kenneth, I zink I know you a little better zen zat."
"Why is it unusual for me to like a dude when the chiseled, rough and tough Christophe has a girlish crush on a boy?"
"Because you don't," the Mole said simply, settling his hard gaze on the boy in bed. "So why are you pretending?"
Kenny looked at Christophe seriously before melting under that stern gaze and sighing heavily. "Man, what do you want me to say? The one thing I'm glad more than anything is how far Karen ahas come in getting out of this shit hole. But me, I'm not smart like her. I can't make it on scholarships to college, or federal aid because my parents are the worst and can't even file fucking taxes. I have to pay my way, and the way I'm doing that is the band and my talent. Which means I can't piss Craig off if I ever want out of this town." He shrugged, those blue eyes turning hard. "So what if that means I have to play the whore, the homewrecker. I will do whatever it takes to make something of myself and get out of this bumfuck little town."
Christophe shook his head sadly as he considered the angry words. "You are better zen 'e will ever be. You 'ave more talent zen Craig's middle finger ever could. You do not need 'im to make et. Zere are better ways to pay your way out of zis town."
"Chris, he is the backbone of the band. He has a lot of influence in the musical field with Token backing him. I can't piss him off."
Shaking his head, Christophe couldn't fathom it. "I won't let you degrade yourself like zis. Work for me and I'll pay you better zen whatever you make with your gigs. Zere ez no reason you 'ave to be Craig's bitch. You only feed 'is ego by doing so."
Kenny shook his head with a sad smile, fist balling in the sheets surrounding him. "I don't have to do this, but I need to, Chris. And trust me, I hate it. I hate the idea that I'm hurting Tweek. I hate the idea that Craig's getting off on being the twisted asshole he is. But guess what? I'll get the Hell out of this town, and he'll lose anyway." At the questioning look, Kenny laughed. "Oh, come on, man. You can't really think that Craig's little ploys are going to win Tweek back? That blonde is lost to the undermining charm of yourself. And don't forget that."
"Now, get out of my room, man."
...
Monday morning, Christophe picked up a nervous looking Tweek for school with his talkative brother in the passenger seat, rambling on and on about the game that coming Friday, about Homecoming coming up, about everything under the sun, going a mile a minute with no input from the other two riding in the truck. Christophe watched from the corner of his eye as Tweek nervously pulled at stray locks of hair and knocked his knuckles together, fidgeting, unable to stay still, as Clyde rambled on to himself.
"So, like, if you two are dating or whatever, are you two going to the dance together?" Clyde asked with big curious eyes and a doofy smile. "How cool would that be! Y'all could double date with me and Bebe!"
"I'm not really a dance kind of guy, Clyde," Christophe mumbled nonchalantly, receiving a hard glare from the blonde.
"What, you don't want to go to the dance with me?" Tweek asked, voice as cold as his look, arms crossed stiffly over his chest.
Christophe glanced over at his brother, his eyes scornful as he swallowed hard under the scrutiny of the spiteful blonde. "I didn't say zat, did I, Spazz? I just said, in general, I'm not a dancey kind of person."
"Well, I want to go," Tweek huffed, glaring under his messy bangs. "And if you don't, you're loss."
Pulling up to his usual spot, Christophe was unsurprised when Tweek slammed out of the truck with a huff. Before his brother could sneak away, he grabbed him by the back of his school jacket and slammed his fist into his big shoulder with a growl.
"OW! What the Hell, Rissy!" he yelped, sniffling, rubbing at the tender spot on his deltoid. "It's not my fault you're insensitive."
"Et's not my fault you mentioned a stupid dance," he grumbled, glaring at his brother, stomping off toward the school building. It's not that he didn't want to go - he would gladly have done anything to see the lopsided smile that reached the blonde's caramel eyes - but it wasn't a place he was comfortable being. An area closely enclosed with people, laughing, dancing, having a good time, a social function enclosed in the tiny gym with the ol musk of sweaty boys lingering under the florescent lights and glitter arrangements, dressed up in a tight fitting suit that made him nervous and uncomfortable. It wasn't a place Christophe could see himself.
Lost in his thoughts of wanting to personally strangle his brother and drag him into the woods somewhere far, far away, Christophe was unaware of the people around him gawking over sheets of paper that seemed to spill from the hallways within the school. The girls, hands over the mouths in surprise as they stared at the paper, sent text pictures to the missing few dames within the huddled groups - the boys, laughing in surprised, completely dumbfounded over whatever was on that paper.
Maybe, maybe he could compromise with Tweek, he thought. Make an appearance, and then go off to do something solitary, away from prying eyes and scornful hate that emitted from Craig Fucker. Maybe that was a way to make him best friend happy, without making him completely uncomfortable for an entire evening.
Glancing down at his watch, he decided he had enough time for a quick smoke before first period and wandered back into the brisk morning air toward the football field, lighting his cigarette on the way. Inhaling the smoke deeply, he sighed, the edge of frustration melting from his shoulders as he leaned against the chain-link fence separating the bleachers from the field and stared out over the foggy green.
When he had arrived home early Saturday morning, he wasn't sure exactly how Clyde would react, having known if Craig knew about his outing with Tweek, then everyone at the bonfire would have too. Sure, his brother had been extremely supportive of the idea when the Mole had blurted out Tweek's name under pressure, but that had just been an idea without the physical proof backing up the claim. And Clyde had always been a little insecure about how he was seen; trying to hard to be popular, going on an extreme diet and exercise spree when he was seen as the "heavy kid", using his father's popular shoe store to get in with the girls of the town, before he fell hard for Bebe. So he had worried how Clyde would react, having a brother that was now seen as gay.
So he had been surprised when he found the doofus sitting up with bags under his eyes in the living room recliner, having stayed up all night in anticipation of Christophe's arrival. And the moment he walked through the door, with his routine piercing whistle to ward off the slobbery mess that was Rex, Clyde was on him, asking questions excitedly about his date, his plans for the future, whether or not he and Tweek were an item, desperately needing to know all the details as he bounced up and down like a puppy. It made it a little easier to breathe, knowing he wouldn't lose the one person that had been an annoying constant in his life for the last number of years.
Christophe was brought out of his thoughts with the pinprickle of danger raising the hairs on his neck as he sidestepped and ducked, hearing the jingling of the fence, coming uup into a defensive stance on the balls of his feet as he stared down at the attacker, to see Craig thrown off balance and sputtering, shaking his fist with a pained expression in his meadow green eyes. Christophe stepped back, putting enough distance between them to avoid any real threat the freckled boy could harbor.
"What ze fuck, Tucker?" the Mole asked bitterly.
"What the fuck? That's what I should be asking you, you stupid piece of shit," Craig spat, murder evident in his eyes as tension rang through his muscles tautly, leaving his hands tremoring as he clutched them into fists. "You stupid jealous piece of shit."
Letting his cigarette fall to the concrete, Christophe stamped it out, eyes narrowed dangerously. "What ze fuck are you even talking about?"
Without a word, Craig reached into his jacket and threw papers at him tha rained down to the ground in tantalizing horror. Glancing at the papers, Christophe's brows knit together as he realized each showcased the same thing; the picture Craig had sent Tweek of him biting Kenny's lip at the bonfire. Glancing up, he could see the accusations in Craig's eyes.
"They. Are. Fucking. Everywhere! Hundreds of them. And I know you were with Tweek when he got the fucking picture, I know you did this to ruin me you fucking bastard!"
Christophe saw the motion before Craig coiled back for the strike. The blue-hatted boy lashed out with a fist, but Christophe tucked his shoulder and and knocked the boy's arm sideways, leaving Craig floundering off balance right into the fence again.
"I hate you, Craig, for many reasons, but zis? I did not do zis. I always come to you wiz my issues, not hide behind anonymity formed from humiliation," the Mole growled watching closely as Craig righted himself and clenched his fists even tighter.
"You're the only fucking one that would, Weasel, the only fucking one with a grind against me. And I'm going to make you regret the fucking decision to fuck with Craig goddamn Tucker," the boy hissed before launching at Christophe again. The French boy had barely a moment to move when a voice shrilled across the playing field.
"Stop it Craig! Chris has nothing to do with this."
They both turned in surprise to the voice they knew so well, to see Tweek standing at the edge of the field with anger evident on his face. "Chris didn't make hte copies, Chris had absolutely no part of this."
"What...what are you saying?" Craig asked, his eyes widened a touch now, his own rage melting at the appearance of the blonde.
"I called Eric and I had this arranged," Tweek growled under his breath, crossing his arms defiantly. "It sucks loving an asshole, doesn't it?"
They both balked; Christophe in surprise at this heinous act Tweek had elicited from Cartman, Craig in surprise from the betrayal. Craig physically stepped back at the realization and floundered, swallowing back the words he couldn't find as Tweek glared at the boy. Finally, the Tucker boy sputtered, "Yeah? Well, fuck you too, Tweek," as he turned tail and ran.
Those caramel eyes landed fiercely on Christophe "You going to patronize me too?"
"Never, Spazz," he said slowly, eyes flickering down to the pictures littering the ground. "Come on, we're going to e late."
Throughout the day, Christophe caught the choppy conversations swirling about Craig's indecencies plastered across the halls of South Park high, Kenny took the swirling rumors with only a tight smile as he sat through classes, unable o afford to skip even a day, but Craig was no where to be found. He watched the jovial Cheshire grin of Cartman in the hallways, watched Kyle awkward have a conversation with the band members including the oblivious Kenny, watched the determined way Tweek walked though the scattered images that hadn't yet been pulled down by the janitorial crews, caught the questioning hazel gaze of Bebe across their history classroom.
Tweek had always been headstrong, but Christophe had never imagined he'd ever go to Cartman for revenge. And that's what nagged a the back of his mind the entire day; that Tweek cared so deeply to get so involved in such a plot. That mere thought is what bother Christophe; he had known Tweek was upset with receiving the picture, but he had no idea it went to this extent.
Which made his decision for him.
He was waiting at the truck for Tweek when the bell rang, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips as he watched the students flow out of the main doors in waves; Clyde laughing with Stan and Conner as they headed out to the football field for practice; Wendy and her entourage heading to her eco-friendly Camry. He raised a brow nonchalantly as the bobbing blonde curls of his friend broke from the girls and beelined his direction, stars hanging from her earlobes, lips a stunning crimson today, hazel eyes hidden behind aviator shades.
"Where's Tweek?" he asked as he stared down at the girl eyeing him like a cat.
"You look like you're about to do something incredibly stupid," Bebe said with a close-lipped smile as she leaned against the hood of his truck, ignoring the question. "And you know he's always the last one done with tests."
"Ez zere a reason you're making your girlfriends wait for your essential presence?" he asked, flicking his gaze over to the silver car where Wendy stood with her arms crossed and foot tapping in impatience.
That smile. "Because you make me worry, Rissy. You've been inside that brilliant, albeit suspicious, mind of yours too much today. It makes me think you've made a decision on something that's going to hurt."
He swallowed hard under the scrutiny of those hazel eyes, the twisted smile that knew too much. "But what you may not realize, Rissy, is that you're gonna hurt more than just yourself letting yourself go down in flames like this. You can't always be the martyr, you know. As much as you may think your needs are selfish, sometimes, they're actually the greater good." With that she leaned up, leaving a red imprint of her lips delicately on his scruffy cheek. "Try to love yourself, Chris."
He shook his head as his hand came up to cover the burning mark on his face as she bounced off toward the girls, leaving a trail of tragedy in her wake. He caught the disapproving look of Wendy under her pristine bangs before a short mess of a blonde caught his eyes as Tweek stumbled down the front stairs, spilling the armful of books to the ground with a curse.
Heaving a sigh Christophe took off at his usual pace and leaned down to gather up papers and texts that littered the ground. The blonde looked up nervously, a grunt of frustration echoing in his throat.
"You don't have to help me, you know."
"I know, but I like to, Spazz," he replied as he gathered up what he knew to be the world-history textbook covered with a cheap paper book cover. His hand hovered over the textbook, heart jumping to his throat as he saw on the corner of the book cover a small detailed heart drawn with the name Craig written in elegant scrawling. Swallowing back the instant rush of nerves, he gathered the book up and the last of the papers and handed them stiffly over to his friend.
"Well, thanks, Chris, for always looking out for me...and I'm sorry for this morning. I should have known Craig would come after you first, that was stupid," he said, eyes cast downward as he followed his much taller friend to the truck.
"What's done ez done and cannot be changed, so do not worry about et," he mumbled, trying to keep the edge from his voice as he cranked the ignition and put the truck into reverse. "Are you going 'ome, or are you closing ze shoppe?"
"Well, I thought we were going to your house to study tonight?" Tweek answered, brows furrowed as he stared at Christophe as he turned onto Main street. "I don't have to work and-"
"That's not going to 'appen tonight, Tweek," Christophe said, fighting the biting words as his mind tumbled with the thoughts that plagued him. He knew the blonde wasn't over Craig, knew it would take time, but never would have thought he still felt so much for the musician. He had all but admitted to still loving Craig at the edge of the football field that morning...and all Christophe had ever wanted was his friend's happiness.
And he, he Mole, was the reason why his best friend seemed to struggle with being happy.
there was only one thing he could do.
You can't always be the martyr, you know, Bebe's knowing voice echoed through his mind.
He slammed the truck into park in the lot next to the neighborhood children's park, , his gloved fingers grabbing into his hair none-too-gently. "Damnit, Tweek, I don't know what to do wiz you."
"What-what d you mean?" the blonde asked, eyes wide at seeing Christophe so shaken. "I mean, I'll go to the shoppe since it's closer and I'll just go home with Mom later, that's not a big deal, y'know."
"No, Tweek," he said shaking his head, resting his forehead defeatedly on the steering wheel. "That's not what I mean at all. I don't know what to do wiz us, when you still love 'im so much. I just don't know what to do at zis point."
"You man Craig? Are you kidding me? You think I love him?" Tweek asked, dumbfounded at the idea. "After humiliating him like that? Really?"
"For anyone else, I wouldn't, but you...you always wanted Craig to acknowledge you in public. Now wiz 'im outted wiz Kenny, 'e 'as no reason not to be seen wiz you. And you are ze kind to only seek revenge out of 'urt and betrayal - ef you didn't care, you never would 'ave done et to begin wiz."
"I don't...I can't...you're crazy."
A sad solemn smile crossed Christophe's lips as he turned to look at the blonde, grey eyes indecisive. "No, Spazz, I'm not, and you know et jus ze same as I do. You love 'im. And zat ez okay. All I ever wanted was for you to be 'appy. Your 'appiness means ze world to me."
"You think this is what I want?" Tweek asked, swallowing his heart in his throat, voice strained. "After everything, you think I don't care about you?"
"I know you do," Christophe said, closing his eyes against the accusation in Tweek's. "But I'm not what you need. You're torn, and I do not want to be ze reason for zat. We entered a precarious situation, ad I put you in a 'ard place. I'm sorry for zat. I don't want you to feel forced; I don't want you to feel like you 'ave to stay."
"If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here, goddamnit. What the Hell is this? Are you trying to break up with me or something?" Tweek asked, feigning anger even as he felt his eyes burn from the exhaustion of holding back his emotions.
"I'm sorry, Tweek...I give up. Craig wins zis round," he said tiredly, chest heavy as he tried desperately to ignore the sniffles that sounded in the passenger seat. He heard the rustling, the door open and slam with a creak. He glanced up to see the streaks down his friend's cheek.
"I'm sorry too, Chris," he said before turning and sprinting down the sidewalk towards the coffee shoppe.
A/N: Damnit, Christophe, why would you go and lay yourself out like that? What will happen now that Christophe has given up on the first thing in his life? With homecoming coming up, who knows! And how will Craig react to Tweek's twisted sense of revenge, and the knowledge that he's won? And where does Kenny fit into these shenanigans? Next time on Clear Skies Captivated, all this and more!
(*coughcough* sorry for a late update. School and work and adult life, oh my!)