Just something that wouldn't leave. Curse my muse. It never comes back when I actually want it to. Sigh...

October 21st, 2029
Paris, France
10:43 P.M.

It had been exactly six months since His death. Six long, agonizing months of non-stop grieving for Gregory. He didn't know if he could go on like this. He didn't think he could last much longer. Not without Him.

He had died protecting Gregory. It was his fault that He was dead. He still remembered it, and it oft haunted his dreams.

April 21st, 2029
Ireland
Unknown time

A shot rang out, followed by a thump and a panicked yelp. Another shot sliced the air, and another thump. You could hear someone crying softly.

"C-Chris?"

Christophe smiled slightly as blood oozed down his cheek. "Don't call me zat, Gregory. I 'ave told you zees many times."

A crimson puddle grew underneath the Frenchman, and Gregory knew he could do nothing. "Why…"

"Puisque je t'aime." He replied, his eyes half-lidded.

Gregory let out a soft sob, his hand wiping off the blood from Christophe's face. "I love you…" He said, a single tear landing on the brunette's face. He pulled Christophe into his lap, ignoring the blood that was now dribbling onto his lap rather than the ground.

"Je t'aime…Gregory…"

The blonde let out a mournful cry as Christophe closed his eyes forever.

As the memory faded, Gregory realized that he was crying again. He gripped Christophe's pillow tighter, closing his eyes and burying his face in it. After six months of squeezing and crying into it, the Frenchman's scent had long perished. That didn't make it any less important to Gregory, however. Regardless of whether or not it still smelled like his love, he still clung to it as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to the present. Which, in a way, it was. At least, it seemed that way.

Several minutes passed, and the only sound Gregory could hear was his own quiet crying. Until, that is, someone got into the bed with him. He lifted his face from the pillow to see his six-year-old son, Dominic, looking up at him with large hazel eyes, the same as Christophe's. The child's short blonde hair was messy, like he'd been tossing and turning in his bed for a while.

Unable to say anything, he only looked at his son with sad blue eyes. The boy hadn't said a word since he learned of his father's death, refusing to talk to anyone. He had taken it hard, locking himself in his room for long periods of time.

Dominic scooted closer to Gregory, removing the pillow from his pale hands and wrapping his small arms around his father's body. "Don't cry, Daddy…" He said. His French accented voice was tired and sad, but concerned, and scratchy from being unused for so long.

Gregory encased the boy in his arms, holding him tightly to his chest. He petted Dominic's short hair, thin, nimble fingers running through it with care. "'M sorry, Domi. Go to sleep." He said, voice wavering.

It was only after he was sure that Dominic was asleep that he allowed himself to fully relax. He made a vow to himself to never let anything bad happen to his precious son. Ever.

I wish you were here, Christophe…I love you… He thought, before finally drifting to sleep.

You know, I've only ever read one story that has Christophe die instead of Gregory. So, here's the second one.

It's also my second ever South Park story! Though I've started writing a couple, and have another one fully planned out...hmm...

Reviews are very, very much appreciated. Constructive criticism would also be helpful if you have any advice. Flames will be used to destroy all the dead bodies that Christophe brings in. :D

PS: I DO NOT SPEAK FRENCH. The only word I'm sure of is "Je t'aime", which means "I love you". Everything else came from an online translator, so if you have corrections, those would be helpful as well. Here's what they told me:

Puisque je t'aime: Because I love you.
Je vous manque: I miss you.