He wasn't sure why he crashed these high school parties. Boredom, perhaps, although he supposed maybe, just maybe there was some part of him that was lonely and wanted to feel like a normal teenager, for once. Of all the words that could be used to describe Christophe, "normal" definitely did not make the list, however, maybe sometimes it was fun to pretend, he mused.

Or maybe that wasn't it at all. Despite hating nearly everyone he'd ever met, Christophe really did enjoy people watching. There was a lot you could learn by just sitting back in a crowded room, observing the people around you. Most of all, it made him glad that he tended to remain uninvolved in the bullshit teenage shenanigans that went on at these parties. Drunken girls wearing too much makeup, throwing themselves at drunken boys who spent the whole evening posturing, trying to look tough and macho for the drunken girls. Hook-ups, break-ups, the whole drama of people who were too young for these situations, trying desperately to act older than they really were. It made Christophe sick to his stomach, but he still snuck into these parties on occasion, hoping to quell whatever part of himself that told him to go. The part of him that said, "This time things will be different."

This particular party was at the biggest house in South Park. He'd been out on a walk when he'd noticed all the lights in the house on, the crowds of people around his own age loitering on the lawn, and heard the thumping bass, which called to him like a siren's song.

He entered the house without hesitation, figuring if nothing else he could steal a few beers and be on his way. The living room was packed. There were one or two couples dancing in front of the massive stereo, and there were a few couples making good use of the sofas against the walls, but most of the kids inside were milling around in small groups, talking and sipping from their red, plastic cups. They were all people he'd seen around town, but most of whom he'd never spoken to before.

He slipped through the crowd, trying to find the kitchen, being careful to avoid making eye contact with anyone. The last thing he needed was to get into some trivial conversation with one of these idiots.

He found the keg, and poured himself a drink, receiving a suspicious look from a pretty girl with black hair, who was standing nearby, her arms around a tall, good looking young man.

"Who are you?" she asked kind of snottily, stepping away from the boy she was with, who only looked at Christophe curiously.

"I am no one," Christophe answered, setting his beer on the counter and fishing in his pockets for a cigarette. She scowled at him as he went to light it.
"Well, no one," she said, "You can't smoke in the house. Token is going to be really pissed if he sees you!"

He lit it anyway, watching as the expression on her face changed from annoyed to furious. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but he brushed her off with a wave of his hand.

"Fine, fine," he said, grabbing his beer and heading toward the back door. As much as he hated being bossed around, he wasn't really in the mood to argue with anyone.

He slipped outside, surprised to find that the back yard was nearly silent; empty, save for a skinny redheaded boy who was sitting on the porch railing with an unlit cigarette in his hand.

"Got a light?" he asked as Christophe went to sit a chair across from him, "One of my friends stole mine."

"Sure," Christophe said, setting his beer on a patio table and walking over to light the boy's cigarette himself, instead of just handing him his lighter. The boy smiled a bit at the oddly chivalrous act, as Christophe studied his face. He was good looking, in sort of an unconventional way, with a short, frizzy poof of hair, and designer glasses perched on his long nose. He looked vaguely familiar, though Christophe couldn't place where they might have met. He never socialized with kids in South Park.

Through with his inspection, Christophe pulled away and sat back in a chair across from the boy and sipped his beer.

"I know you from somewhere," said the boy, still smiling a little.

"Do you?"

"Hmm, yeah," he answered, taking a long drag on his cigarette, "But I'm not sure where... Obviously you don't go to school with us, cause I'd know you if you did. Small classes and all that. What's your name?"

Christophe stared at him thoughtfully, wondering if he should give the kid his real name. He gave off a weird vibe of sort of reluctant confidence that Christophe found appealing, like he knew he was a little odd, but couldn't quite bring himself to care.

"Christophe," he answered, finally.

"Huh. Don't think I know any Christophes. I'm Kyle," the boy said.

Christophe sat for a minute, staring at him and trying to remember any Kyles he might have met over the years.

"Oh," he said, finally, "La Resistance, yeah?"

"Yeah... Oh. OH! The Mole, right? That was you?"

Christophe laughed and nodded. No one had called him that in years, not since he and Gregory had stopped speaking to each other.

"Yeah, that was me," he said.

Kyle grinned at him around his cigarette.

"Dude, that was what? Like 8 or 9 years ago? Do you still live in South Park? I kind of can't believe I haven't seen you in that long."

"Well, maybe you 'ave but just didn't realize it," Christophe said, chucking his cigarette butt into the yard, not really caring where it landed. "I am, ah, good at not being seen by people, if you know what I mean."

"On purpose, or by accident?"

"Oh, both? I guess it depends on the circumstances, maybe," Christophe said, reaching for his beer and taking big gulps from it. He was way too sober for this philosophical shit.

"I can understand that," Kyle said, thoughtfully, "I like to blend in most of the time... the less attention I get from most people, the happier I am. But I don't know... there's some people whose attention I'd really like, but I'm mostly invisible to them, too, I think."

They both turned to look as the back door slid open, and the tall boy from the kitchen stepped out.

"Here you are," he said, looking at Kyle.

"Oh, hey Stan," Kyle said, his whole face lighting up, "Do you remember Christophe? Or, the Mole, rather? I think you guys didn't get along too well back then, if I'm remembering correctly." He grinned at Christophe as he said this.

"Who?" Stan said, checking his phone, not really paying attention.

"The Mole," Kyle said, sitting up straighter, "He helped us that time we had to rescue Terrance and Phillip from the army, remember?"

"You mean when we had to rescue Terrance and Phillip from your mom, you mean?" Stan said, grinning, but still looking at his phone.

"Right, well, technicalities," Kyle said, waving his hand through the air, dismissing Stan's statement, "He doesn't look familiar to you at all?"

"Nope," Stan said, finally pocketing his phone, "But then, we all don't have crazy photographic memories, do we?"

"Stan," Kyle sighed, seeming exasperated, "I don't have a photographic memory, I just pay attention to things."

Christophe sat silently through this whole display, lighting another cigarette as he studied Kyle's body language. He'd seemed excited when Stan first came out, but his posture grew increasingly bad as the conversation carried on, as if it wasn't quite going the way he'd hoped. He leaned sort of pathetically on the porch beam next to him as the dark-haired girl from before joined Stan on the porch, wrapping an arm around his waist as he smiled down at her.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked Stan.

"Oh, just checking in with Kyle. Ready to go back in?" he asked the girl, running his fingers through her long, dark hair.

She giggled at leaned up to kiss him, not even sparing a glance at Christophe or Kyle.

"Whenever you are," she said, sweetly.

"Kay," Stan said, and finally looked back at Kyle, "Make sure you come say bye to me before you leave, ok dude?"

He allowed himself to be pulled back inside without waiting for Kyle to respond. Kyle sat there for a moment, looking dejected, before chucking his cigarette butt into the yard and reaching into his jacket pocket for another.

"Can I trouble you for a light, again?"

"Sure," Christophe said, moving over and sitting down next to Kyle on the porch railing. He lit his cigarette for him, watching his face as he took a drag. He wasn't sure why he was so interested in this boy. Most teenagers bored him to tears, especially when it came to their meaningless relationship woes. But there was something about Kyle that was intriguing to him. He was obviously intelligent, but not obnoxious about it, and he seemed like the kind of person who was used to the dull loneliness that being your own person earned you at their age. It was rare for Christophe to find anyone even remotely interesting, but somehow Kyle was. He wanted to know him better.

"Want to get out of 'ere?" Christophe asked.

Kyle looked up at him in surprise, but didn't answer for a minute, watching Christophe with suspicion.

"And do what, exactly?"

"Go for a walk or something. You don't look like you're enjoying yourself, and I've 'ad enough of the crowd."

Kyle shrugged, but stood up to follow Christophe as he walked around the side of the house. They walked down the sidewalk, Kyle silent beside Christophe with a look of confusion on his face. He looked at Christophe with a tight smile on his face when he realized he was being watched.

"I only come to these stupid parties for him, you know," Kyle said finally, staring at his shoes as they walked, "Stan, I mean. He's my best friend, you know? And every single time he ditches me for Wendy," he paused and took another drag off his cigarette, "I mean, I get that she's his girlfriend and all but he always spends the entire week convincing me to come with him when someone has a party, and every single time he ditches me within the first ten minutes. It's stupid."

"Maybe 'e thinks you will make new friends?"

"With who? I know all those people, dude. I've known them all since Kindergarten. There's nothing new I can learn about any of them."

"Well," Christophe said, smirking, "Maybe it won't always be the same people at these parties."

"Yeah but who – Oh, I get it. Cute," Kyle said, looking a little angry, "The mysterious Frenchman is supposed to show up and sweep me off my feet, is that it?"

"Well, no, but maybe 'e is right. Maybe talking to new people would be good for you? Because, I am sorry to say, but being in love with your obviously straight friend probably isn't good for you."

He watched with satisfaction as anger swept across Kyle's face, only to be replaced with sad resignation as he went back to studying his shoes. He loved it when he read people correctly.

"How did you know?" Kyle asked, softly, not looking at him.

"I'm sure it's obvious to anyone who pays attention. Your body language gives everything away."

"How so?"

"Oh, your posture, the expressions on your face, just how you react in general. I doubt any of your high school compatriots even notice. I just 'appen to be good at reading people."

"Oh, well you're wrong about that. I think everyone knows how I feel about Stan except Stan himself. I get ripped on for it all the time, and he just sort of laughs it off like it's some big joke."

"Well, maybe 'e knows, but 'e is not comfortable with it."

Kyle sighed heavily. "Yeah, maybe," he said, "Do you have best friend?"

"Ah, I did, once. But, I was in your same situation. I told 'im 'ow I felt, and 'e stopped talking to me. This was years ago."

Kyle stopped in his tracks, staring at Christophe dumbfounded, but whether it was because of Christophe's revelation or the thought that his best friend might do the same to him, Christophe wasn't sure.

"I see," he said, after a moment, and started walking again.

"Yes, so. Maybe it is better if you try to move on, I think."

"Hm," said Kyle, mulling this over, "So uh, where are we going, anyway?"

"My place."

"Your place?"

"Yes."

Kyle was eying him warily again. Christophe wondered if he was enough of a narcissist to think everyone wanted him, or if he was just naturally suspicious.

"Ok," Kyle said, "but I'm not sleeping with you."

Christophe laughed and lit another cigarette.

"It hadn't even crossed my mind," he said, lying.

X

A/N Hi, yeah, starting another fic before I finish up my Style one. Sorry, to anyone who is reading that. I swear I will finish it.