#gregstopheweek

Christophe had never been one for games, but Gregory always insisted upon it. Gregory always enjoyed rallying up the rest of the school kids and playing some sort of battle between them, inviting new and creative ways to play. It was concerning to some of the teachers, but they never confronted Gregory's parents, to afraid to lose such a wealthy donor to their school. Christophe was used to it by now, even if they were only seven years old, the little Frenchman was well aware of the world around him and the true natures of people. Gregory was already a professional at hiding his own true nature from the world, except when it came to Christophe.

To the other kids, it was all fun and games, so as long as they were around he didn't have to worry too much. This time though, Gregory had a new idea. Christophe would be held hostage by the enemy, which was annoying, considering Christophe would rather die than play some helpless victim. Not that the other kids could properly contain him, they very well knew it too. Christophe wasn't exactly the nicest kid around, taking fights too far, even sending kids to the hospital a couple of times before the teachers could pull him off the victim. So pretending that he was helpless grating on his nerves.

Today was Gregory's birthday party though, doubling down on the fact Christophe really had no choice in the matter. So he had to sit there in the sand with his hands 'secured' in plastic cuffs. It was stifling hot in the park too, the playground equipment getting to the point that it was uncomfortable to touch really. The kids didn't care though, too wrapped up in their imaginary battles, storming the so called 'castle' where Christophe was locked away. Of course, it had to start with some long drawn out speech from Gregory, followed by negotiations and then eventually a fight.

Christophe looked up at his 'guard', one of the older kids who'd been held back a grade, slightly bigger than most which was why he was picked for the guard choice. Christophe was scrawny to begin with, though not as soft as the other kids his age. Already he was training, his destination in life had already been picked out for him from birth. He came from a long line of French mercenaries, nothing that was exactly to be proud of either, deplorable people from what his mother said whenever she thought Christophe wasn't listening in. Eventually, when he met up with Gregory, he started to embrace it.

"Could you get ze fuck away from me, you smell like a fat fuckin' pig." Christophe bit in annoyance, his accent thick on his voice. Most of the kids had tried to make fun of him for it, until they realized Christophe's temper was not something to be messed with. Now though, Gregory had told him to behave, to not fight back. That didn't mean he couldn't insult someone. He couldn't help himself, he was bored and wanted to goad the other boy into doing something, anything.

"What'd you call me?" The other kid seemed surprised, it wasn't often in these posh schoolkids heard such language. It was always surprising to hear it, no matter how much Christophe swore and cursed and spat on their polished shoes. Though, just because these kids were from rich families did not mean their manners while around adults remained while it was just kids. Some were tolerable enough, others tended to have verbal fights about who's parents were better than the others. Mostly it was non-physical except when it came to Christophe. Then again, his family wasn't exactly rich. The only reason he was here was because Gregory insisted upon it.

"Clean out your fuckin' ears. Or maybe you're just zhat fuckin' stupid." Christophe bared his teeth, like some sort of wild animal that Gregory had taken in as some sort of project he could fix. However, Gregory was doing the exact opposite of what people assumed.

Instead of some sort of dumb ass remark from the boy, Christophe's head was jerked to the side from the blow of a punch. He hadn't expected the other kid to hit him, dazing him but only briefly. He felt pain flare over his dirtied cheek, making his lower jaw ache. The kid had power, Christophe had to give him that. He took a moment to work his jaw, testing to make sure nothing was wrong before speaking up again with a hint of humor in his voice.

"Is zhat 'ow they hit around 'ere? Like your fuckin' grandma taught you?" Another hit to the face. He deserved that, he always had a bit of a lip to him but he didn't regret it either. He used everything he had in his arsenal to hurt his target, if he couldn't use his fists, it would have to be with his words.

"Not so tough when your tied up are you?" Ah, so that's where the courage to hit him came from, the other boy thought he was safe because of the flimsy plastic handcuffs. Was he really that dense?

"Now that is where I will have to disagree, good sir." Gregory's voice cut in, his voice having a sophisticated forced tone as he seemed to still be in play mode. "I told him to play nice and like a good dog, he obeyed." The other boy turned around to face Gregory, but that had been the wrong decision, it aimed his face right into one of Gregory's fists. Christophe was well aware of Gregory's fighting capabilities, usually ending up being his sparing partner during training. With Gregory's quick mind, he was able to determine the right angle and force to apply to his hit to send the other boy into the sand.

"And thusly, the hero saves the damsel in distress by defeating the dragon." Gregory dusted off his hands as if he managed to do some great feat. Certainly he impressed the other kids who were cheering over their victory, but quickly diverted when they heard one of the adults call them, drawing them in with drinks and snacks. Gregory moved over to crouch before Christophe, already that olive skin had a faintly darker tint to it, not yet a bruise but it would soon be. Gregory lifted his hand up, lightly touching Christophe's abused cheek, easily seen as something of pity or affection.

Christophe yanked at his own arms, breaking the plastic and reaching up to shackle one hand around Gregory's wrist. "I'm not fuckin' doing zhat again, 'ear me?!"

Gregory mocked a pout. "Oh come now, Chris. You didn't feel your heart flutter when I saved you from danger? Was it not love at first sight?" Gregory's brows knitted together as if genuinely offended that Christophe did not immediately swoon over him. Christophe was not like the girls in their class, who believed in that charming smile and those lying eyes. Gregory had been born to hold a facade of the ideal person. Elegant, sophisticated, brave and caring. It was easier to get his way when everyone thought he was the good guy. Christophe was well aware of all of these things and yet he couldn't help that small stirring within him. Something that Gregory all too easily preyed upon.

Christophe was used to it from his mother, who pretended to be the exemplary mother you'd seen in some sort of sitcom. Caring, loving, with a sweet voice like honey. She didn't use it maliciously, only to keep her sanity just enough to raise a child she didn't want, a child from a man who'd left her and ruined her life. At nights, when she though Christophe was asleep, he could hear her talk, muttering under her breath, needing to vent out her frustration that had built up over the day, it would only be a matter of time until that frustration broke her. Christophe was just waiting for that day.

"Fuck off." Christophe stated, his glare adverted to the ground, not wanting Gregory to see anything in them. In situations like this, when no one was around, was the most dangerous between them. Christophe needed to keep his guard up, losing this kind of game would be devastating on his mind, soul, and heart. As much as he claimed not to have one, he did and Gregory all too easily found it and every so often, he'd give it a squeeze just to see Christophe squirm.

"Aw, you get quite adorable when you get all stubborn like this." Gregory reached up, prodding Christophe's injured cheek, delivering a spark of pain. Always with the bullying from Gregory and there was nothing he could do about it. That he did want to do about it. He was more aggressive, more unpredictable and violent, as long as he didn't give Gregory time to think, he could certainly over power him. But he didn't. He couldn't.

It wasn't because Gregory was all soft and needed Christophe to protect him, but it was because Gregory let Christophe see a side of him no one else had, no matter how dark it was, it made Christophe feel special. They were what would be considered as best friends. Then again, a man's best friend was his dog. A dog would always forgive, would always be loyal if shown just the slightest amount of what could be perceived as affection. Gregory had given him a purpose in life, a life he cursed and cursed God for giving him. Gregory didn't need Christophe, but yet he kept the little French boy close. He would explain his goals, talk to Christophe in a manner he would with no one else. They were both very aware of their true selves.

A childish love some would call it. Naive little children who played house together and their parents would coo and take pictures of how sweet they were. That wasn't something they played, it was always dealing in something violent, sparing with weapons or with just their hands. Studying and plotting out make believe wars. Every year though, these little games were starting to get more and more intense and Christophe was beginning to realize how much Gregory liked it. It was a dangerous notion to think that Gregory would be anything others would wish from him. To become some political leader, guiding the country into prosperity when in reality Gregory would to lead it through hell first.

Christophe released Gregory's hand and pushed it aside. "I am not one of your little bitches, Gregory." He pushed himself up onto his feet, sand falling off his baggy brown pants and green shirt. Christophe had never been one to wear the school uniform, plenty have tried to force him to do so. Eventually the school gave up after Gregory's insistence they just leave Christophe be. Gregory was quick to stand up and take a step back just to avoid the downfall of sand, not particularly wanting to get dirty.

"No, of course not. You're much more special to me than any of them could ever be, my dear." The last two words were toned sickeningly sweet, something that made Christophe's lip curl in distaste. "But, for now we should go join the rest of the group. It is my own birthday party, so I should at least make an appearance to blow out the candles." Gregory held out a gloved hand, offering for Christophe to take it. The French boy was tempted to ignore it, holding hands with Gregory was a very bad decision. However, not doing so would incite his wrath later on and Christophe was already tired enough from today's antics.