Yes, this is the same story. I deleted the others until I figure out what to do with it. I got rid of the accent, I don't write it any more. Just annoying, you know?

I don't own these little boys.

I remember how we first met. It seemed so long ago. We were both eight, I presume, or at least I just turned eight. It was cold that night, and I was walking to Starks Pond alone, for some particular reason. It was freezing out, but I was a stubborn child and refused to wear a coat.

So there I was, in my usual orange button down shirt and black gloves in the middle of February, walking and walking until I approached the Starks Pond sign. I could've sworn I saw you at the other side of the pond, but back then I assumed it was my imagination and continued walking.

The next thing I knew the ground disappears from under me and I fall into a hole face first, about 4 feet deep and perfectly round. I coughed up dirt, wiped some from my eyes and climbed out. I felt pathetic and embarrassed, but I simply brushed myself off and kept walking. I looked back to the hole, confused. Who could've dug such a perfect hole? It's like it was made by a giant Mole.

I looked back to my feet to discover I was on the frozen pond. I stiffened. Some parts of the pond had thin ice, I could easily fall in. I took a step back a little too hard, felt my feet slip from under me, and I broke through the ice and fell into the pond.

I was so shocked I couldn't move, feeling myself drift deeper and deeper into the pond. I came to my senses and forced a hand out of the water, trying my hardest to push myself up to the surface. No good, my clothes were too heavy. The heat from my body was replaced with agonizing cold, but I wouldn't give in. I kept splashing and trying, my one hand still above the water. After what felt like forever I gave up. No one could help me, there was no one out at this time of night, I opened my eyes. The water was so black, so calming. All my fears disappeared. I felt peace, I felt the air in my body slip away, and I was sinking.

I felt something clasp around my hand and pull me up and out of the water. I was too exhausted to cough or wheeze, so I simply lay there on the ground, with you over me. You pressed on my chest, trying to get me to breathe. After a few tries I finally coughed, water dribbling from my blue lips. I could breathe again, but it was so cold. I shivered and shivered, my teeth chattering, couldn't even bring myself to talk. I slowly brought myself off the ground, sitting, hugging my knees to my chest. You simply sat beside me in silence, staring at me with worried eyes. After a few minutes of silence you finally spoke.

"Are you alright?" You asked me in that thick accent of yours. I shuddered, wheezing. I was fine, I didn't have hypothermia, nor was I even close, but I was still freezing.

"I-it h-hurts to b-breathe." I whined. I heard you sigh.

"Just breath deeply," You told me. "Exhale longer." I tried, and it helped.

"S-so, what's your n-name?" I asked, still shivering uncontrollably.

"Christophe." You snapped, pulling a cigarette out of your front pocket and lighting it with a match you got from God knows where. "Et tu?" You asked, the cigarette dangling casually in between your lips, smoke blowing from your nose.

"M-my name is Gregory. I j-just transferred here f-from Yardale." I replied.

The look you gave me was priceless. Eyebrow raised, eyes widened, mouth open slightly, the cigarette falling from your lips.

"What the fuck is 'Yardale'?"

I couldn't answer your question, I was laughing too hard.

"A S-school!" I finally choked out from my laughter.

Your eyes darkened and narrowed, and I could tell you wanted to kill me with that shovel that was slung on your shoulders. Speaking of that shovel…

"Did you dig that hole back there?" I asked, forcing my laughter to stop, my voice getting stronger. I pointed to the distant hole with a shaky hand, skin pale white in the moonlight.

"Oui." You answered, a new cigarette suddenly between your lips.

"Well I fell into that hole earlier, you shouldn't dig in random places, someone could get hurt."

You replied with a noise I can only describe as a snort as you took another drag of your cigarette.

"I...I was just going to say how…well done the it was. Perfectly round…You dig very well…like a Mole."

"A Mole…."

Then you lit another match, and I caught a good glimpse of your face. Your hair was brown and scruffy, you had horrid bags under your eyes, your lips were chapped, and there were smudges of dirt all over your cheeks and forehead.

Then you looked at me, and I swore my heart skipped a beat.

"You're still shivering like crazy." You pointed out, taking a huge drag of your cigarette, before squishing it in your fingers and flinging it away.

"Yeah, It's frightfully cold out, and my damp clothes don't really help."

The next thing you did I'll never understand. You shifted closer to me, wrapped an arm around me and brought my head to rest on you chest. I felt my breath hitch in my throat, my heart racing. And you knew it too. I felt that silent chuckle in your chest. After sitting there in your embrace for awhile, I stopped shivering. But I wanted to stay in that position forever.

"I think we should both be getting home, oui?" You broke the silence, unwrapping your arm and standing up, lighting a new cigarette.

I sighed. "I suppose.." I murmured, getting up off the wet ground.

"Hopefully we can see each other soon?"

"Y-yeah I'd like that…Christophe…" I smiled at you.

You gave me a half smile back. "Call me Mole." And then, Christophe, you walked away. I stood there for awhile, before turning and walking home.

That day Christophe, you saved my life, and I never thanked you.

So thank you Christophe, thank you for saving my life, not just that time, several other times after that. Thank you for being there then, and thank you for being here now.