The idea for this has been floating around in my head for a little while now. It's going to be a little dark, and so far I don't know how many chapters it's going to be, I have at least three planned, but there's bound to be more.
Can I just say that 'Tophe's accent kills me and I have to say it out loud to write it properly and I feel like an epic dork.
Reviews are for love, let me know how you feel about this
-Kami3
Disclaimer is on profile
In The Dark - Prologue
The smoky atmosphere of the room had been the same since he was eight years of age. Although now it had taken on a sultrier feel, a mysterious vibe that seemed to draw everyone to him.
The Goths wanted him once. They had overheard him telling off Cartman in a low, growling voice.
"What does eet matter to you, fat boy? In ze dark, we are all ze same, zere iz nozing past ze moment of ze kill, of victory. In ze dark, you are only as rich as ze fear zat fuels you to run away."
They had hounded him for weeks and it took him threatening their existence with his shovel to get them off his back.
Next to him a warm body shifted away from his side. He didn't even glance over, a general air of disinterest surrounding him. His cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth, smoldering away without a care.
He pondered why people wanted him. Was it the accent? No, it was mocked more than anything. He assumed it was his general hate for God, his mercenary traits, and the fact he preferred to be on his own. People romanticized him into something he had no intentions of being. Some said he was depressing, others said he was deep, others classified him as a man so lost in his inner turmoil to understand anything.
He was just a guy with a job, emotionally detached to do said job. He enjoyed freedom and sunlight and a good laugh. He watched movies and television, he hated his parents. He was just like the rest of them, and most were blind to this.
Except for the one snoring softly next to him.
Christophe did not bring people home, he did not sleep with people, he did not form relationships with people. He had acquaintances, Kyle and Stan being among them. But close relationships were dangerous for him, intimacy was dangerous. What if someone discovered this? It would be a weakness to be exploited.
Finally he turned his dark eyes to the sleeping form beside him. His blonde hair was splayed all across the pillow, body rising and falling with his gentle breaths as he lay stretched out on his stomach. Sinewy muscles twitched beneath pale skin in this dream state.
Perhaps now it would be alright to throw these rules into the wind. For this boy who seemed both popular and invisible. He was there one day, gone for the next two. People cared for him, it was obvious, but he was another soul wandering in the background noise of their day to day lives. A solid ghost.
Kenny McCormick was one of the most interesting creatures Christophe had met in his short eighteen years.
He did not bring him home, Kenny followed him for weeks and then finally snuck in his window one night. Kenny did not push sex on him either. For someone with a reputation for being a man-whore, Kenny did not seem the part to Christophe. And best of all, Kenny never pushed a relationship onto him. He didn't even claim them as friends.
Christophe put out the cigarette butt in the ashtray on the floor next to the mattress that was his bed. He rolled onto his side and stroked a calloused hand over the smooth flesh of the blonde's back.